#i think i broke the cable a little bit

[daytdraws]

I'm going to be busy today and my kamvas has decided it wants to be difficult, so that request is going to be a little late, my apologies. I should be able to get to it tonight

Requests for furrifying characters are still open though if anyone else wants to toss something into my inbox

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Barlen

Summary: The reader is visiting Beau's family for Christmas for the first time...

Pairing: Beau x reader

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: This is a little continuation of Bad Day but it's not necessary to have read that prior to understand this fic. Happy Holidays everyone!

_________

Beau tugged nervously at the collar of his thick burgundy cable knit sweater across the room. Even from a distance, you could see the flush of his cheeks as he was spoken at by his uncle.

“Uncle Cal was talking shit about you coming, you know.” You turned to the left, Emily standing there in a quiet corner of the kitchen sipping on a small glass of white wine. She must have misunderstood your staring because she was quickly shaking her head. “Dad totally said I could have a little cause it’s Christmas-”

“I don’t care if you have some wine, Emily. What exactly do you mean Cal was talking shit about me?” She faked a wave over to Beau when he tried to urge her over, using exaggerated hand gestures likes she was caught up in a deep conversation with you. “Leaving your father to fend for himself, hm?”

“Yup. Last time I talked to Cal at Thanksgiving he was riding my ass about not having enough extra curiculars for college. Or a boyfriend. And for liking you.” 

“Sounds like a dick,” you said, Emily smirking as you took a long drag of your beer. “Beau warned me he’s the family busybody.”

“Yeah but like,” she said, reaching behind you and grabbing a sugar cookie off a tray, “He really doesn’t like you. Rory, that’s my freakishly tall cousin that’s at his girlfriends, well Cal is his dad’s dad and Rory said his grandpa was calling you a slut on Facebook cause he thinks you broke up my mom and dad which is so not true but…yeah, that’s the boomer mentality you’re dealing with. Oh, plus he hates you for being younger than dad so there’s that too.”

“I’m thirty four years old, not a child,” you grumbled, hiding the desire to shoot Cal a dirty look. Emily saw through it though, munching on her cookie with big brown eyes. “Em, you don’t think I’m too young for your father do you? Or-”

“Um, you can stop right there.” She caught your hesitation and rolled her eyes. “You’re both adults and I know you and dad were just friends when my parents were together. Shit, you used to babysit me.”

“I know but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought…” She threw her head back, muttering a curse under her breath. “I’m sure Cal isn’t the only member of your family that’s been hesitant of me.”

“They like you a hell of a lot more than mom.” You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Come on, Y//N. She left dad at his low. No one bats an eye at your age except for the dinosaur over there and trust me, I know dad wasn’t looking at you like that until way after my parents divorced. It wasn’t until after everything with the camp and Avery and you were taking care of me here and you went up to Montana for work that you guys were together.” 

You reached back and took your own cookie, chewing on it slowly. “Well…it made your dad feel better to have someone checking in on you and your mom while he was in Montana figuring out what to do.”

“And then he went on leave for three months to move back here for a bit and suddenly you were moving up to work for him when he went back.”

“You moved back there too if I recall,” you said, Emily smiling at you. “What?”

“I’m just saying, dad is…not the most emotionally available man…but he’s getting there and I know it’s because you have that something my mom doesn’t. So if Cal gives you shit, I got your back.”

“Oh, Emily, you’re as protective as your father,” said an older woman with graying hair and a gentle smile. “I already told Cal to leave Beau alone or I’d make good on that promise I made when I was thirteen.”

You looked between them, Emily smirking. “Cal teased Grandma about a boy she was dating, like relentlessly, and one day she said-”

“I’d bust his balls with a bat if he ever spoke that way about someone I cared about again,” she said, giving Cal a look across the room that could kill. “Especially when it comes to one of my boys and their wives.”

You choked on the beer in your mouth, Beau’s mom smacking you on the back as you coughed violently.

“Arms up, dear, there you go,” she said as you raised them, still coughing as she hit you harder than any woman in her seventies had any right to. You took a deep breath and lowered your arms, rubbing your chest as you caught your breath. “Emily, be a dear and go rescue your father from Cal. Tell him I need his help in the kitchen.”

“But then I’ll get stuck talking to him,” she whined.

“Well…call him a boomer and start talking about tik tok and he’ll just get confused and go have a smoke outside.” Emily sighed but went off across to the far side of the house, Beau’s mom wearing that same mischievous grin you caught on his face and Emily’s. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my big brother but he can be a bit of a dickhead. Beau’s too kind of a soul to tell his uncle to go fuck a cactus.”

You smiled, her arm looping through yours. “I hope I didn’t scare you with that wife comment.”

“No, not at all,” you said, his mom eyeing you up and down with a hum. “Beau and I have only been dating-”

“My boy was broken,” she said as you caught Emily reluctantly join her father and Cal over in the corner. You gave Beau’s mother your attention, her face softening. “And then he broke more and when he started to heal, Emily getting hurt broke him even more and you know him, he hides these things so well. Now…that boy over there is forty six years old and he talks about you like he’s fourteen and has his first crush. He healed the right way with you so you two kids, you do whatever you want to and I’ll deal with Cal, got it?”

“Yes, mam,” you said as Beau approached, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, his mom slipping away with a smile. “I thought you needed help?”

“Heaven’s knows why’d you’d think that, Beau,” she said, humming as she skirted out of the kitchen and off to the family room. Beau looked back at you, tilting his head with an adorable confused look to his green eyes. 

“Your mom simply orchestrated an undercover op to get Emily to rescue you. Apparently I’m not as scary as your mom when I ask her to do such things,” you said, Beau smiling.

“Ah, well, she’s got grandma superpowers. You’re just a little detective. So not scary.”

“So not scary,” you said, Beau taking the beer from your hand and taking a sip, interlacing your fingers in the other. You let him lead you to the front of the house where you slipped on your boots and light jacket, Beau popping his feet into his dark brown leather cowboy ones. He opened the front door with a few fingers, tugging you out to his parent’s front porch on the outskirts of Houston.

“I’m sorry I keep leaving you alone in there to fend for yourself,” he said, leaning against the railing, passing the beer bottle back to you.

“Hey, we live in Montana. Your family misses you. I don’t mind sharing.” He smiled, looking out at the dark field across the street. You ducked under his arm, Beau wrapping his own over your shoulders, briefly kissing your temple. His sweater was soft against your cheek, his sharp inhale of your perfume making you wrap your arms around his waist and turn into his side.

“S’funny. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore.” You glanced up at him, Beau smirking and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He’d done that move a hundred times over but your breath was catching in your throat tonight as he grasped your chin, bringing your lips to his. He kissed you slowly, gently, like he had all the time in the world to devour you.

“You can’t just short circuit my brain like that you know,” you mumbled, Beau laughing against the column of your neck.

“But it’s one of my favorite things to do.” He peppered kisses up and down your jaw, playing your like a instrument he knew better than the back of his hand. You bit your bottom lip when he ghosted over your ear, hot breath fanning your skin. “Close your eyes, darlin’.”

“Beau, your parents are literally on the other side of that door,” you said as he chuckled. 

“Trust me.” Slowly you lids fluttered shut, Beau’s warmth leaving you. The deck boards creaked although you felt his presence, and smelled his pine and musky cologne, nearby. “Keep em’ closed.”

“Alright, alright,” you murmured before he was kissing you again. “Barlen…”

“I love when you call me that,” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours. There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice, your lips parting. “Did you know I never asked Carla to marry me? She just told me it was happening and I was okay with that because it was all part of her plan and I loved her. And now…I know we’ve talked about the somedays but…”

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” you asked quietly, his head nodding once. “Why?”

“You’re so young and beautiful, darlin’. You have no clue. A family with me…you won’t have a normal-”

“Beau. You’re forty six, you’re ripped and so not old. I will never not want you and we could both die tomorrow so do what I always tell you. Relax and trust me.”

“Last chance to change your mind.” You shook your head, tilting your chin up in search of his lips. He met them, cupping your cheek as he took you in. “Open your eyes.”

When you peeled them open, Beau knelt down holding a square black velvet box in his hands.

“Will you-”

“Yes, Barlen,” you grinned, Beau chuckling. 

“Not even gonna let me ask?” 

“I’m excited, sue me,” you said, Beau raising to his feet and opening the box, shaking his head at you as he slid a ring on your finger.

“Want to get married?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Even if you have to deal with Cal?”

“I’m a detective, babe. I can handle a seventy eight year old stuck in the past,” you said, Beau wrapping you up in his arms and hosting you up. “Careful old man. Wouldn’t want you to throw a hip.”

“Eh, watch it troublemaker,” he teased, nipping at your jaw. Your legs went around his waist, Beau setting you down on top of the railing but not releasing you. “So. How long have you known I was planning to ask?”

“Questioning my investigative skills?” you hummed, Beau eyeing you up and down. “I’ve suspected since the fall when we had that kids talk. But I knew for sure when your mom slipped the beans and called me your wife in the kitchen.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, those big green eyes watching you with curiosity. “So you knew what I was doing when we came out here.”

“Most likely,” you said, running a hand over his head, brushing a stray strand that’d fallen over his forehead. “S’okay you got nervous. You’re getting better at the talking thing, you know.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he said softly.

“Well you are a good kisser, Mr. Barlen.”

“As are you future Mrs. Barlen,” he teased, laughing when a giggle left your lips. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Barlen, darlin’,” you said, Beau grinning wide. “See, we’re all set.”

You both jumped when the front door burst open, Emily standing there with an exhausted sigh, staring at her father. She raised her eyebrows, Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes, she said yes, little Ms. Impatient.”

“Thank god. He’s been this close to a coronary all day,” she said, turning to go back inside. “Grandma says we can’t open presents until you get your chicken shit ass in gear and ask so can we go do that now?”

“Welcome to motherhood,” said Beau, shaking his head at her. “We’ll join in a minute.”

Emily left, leaving you to smile up at Beau. “Wow. I never knew your mom had such a potty mouth. She’s always been so sweet.”

“Oh, she can swear like a sailor all she wants but heaven forbid I cuss in front of her.”

“I think it’s a mom thing, hun,” you said, Beau rolling his eyes when you heard knocking at the window. “We better get back in there before the whole family is ragging on you.”

“They can wait,” he said, holding you close to his chest. “Right now, the only present I want is you, darlin.”

_____________

[cheoridoll]

can you write a fic about listening to music w robby keene??

playlist of love

pairing: robby keene x reader

notes: thank you for the request! :)

warning: nothing, just Robby being cute

playlist for the fic: spotify | sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.

words counted: 1.030

It was a late Sunday afternoon, the time when the sun was already setting, painting the sky orange and pink. I was lying on the couch, playing with my phone, when Robby arrived.

"Hi, honey," he said, throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Hi Robby, how was work?" He shrugged, throwing himself on the couch next to me. The way he always felt comfortable around me made me smile inside. It was like he felt like this was his place.

"I thought we could do something different today."

"Different like what?"

"Listening to music together." — He answered, a little shy.

I raised an eyebrow, curious. Robby wasn't one to suggest programs outside the standard "watching series until falling asleep".

At first I thought: "Really? Music? Since when has this been different?" But then I realized that the way he said it seemed more special than simply putting on a random playlist. His small gestures made me smile, and I realized how worth every second by his side was.

"Okay." — I answered, curious and giving a slight smile.

Robby jumped up, excited, and started rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a laptop and two headphones.

"I made a playlist." — He said with a smile.

Robby was the kind of guy who didn’t show his feelings very much. So the fact that he had created a playlist for us to listen to together was basically the equivalent of writing a love letter in our modern language. He plugged the headphones into the laptop, put one side in my ear and the other in his. We were very close, with the cable of the headphones a little short, which made me laugh. He pressed play, and the first song started. It was Yellow, by Coldplay.

“You know that’s a cliché, right?” — I joked.

He gave me a sideways smile, the one that always made me melt.

"Cliché, but true." — The way he said it made me go quiet. There was something in the tone of his voice that said more than the words. We sat in silence, listening to the music. I knew he was trying to say something without speaking, and I think I understood. The next song started, and it was Home, by Gabrielle Aplin. I had never heard it before, but the lyrics caught me somehow. It was sweet, welcoming, as if the song had been made for that specific moment.

"This is beautiful" — I commented, a little embarrassed to say it.

"I thought of you when I heard it." — He replied, fiddling with the earphone cord.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

The playlist kept going, and every song seemed handpicked. It had a bit of everything: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Billie Eilish. In the middle of a Harry Styles song, I turned to him.

"Okay, confess, you spent hours putting this together, didn’t you?"

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying it.

"Maybe" — he replied, with that little smirk that always got to me.

I realized the playlist was more than just music. It was like he was trying to show me pieces of himself that he didn’t know how to express otherwise. Every lyric, every melody, felt like it was saying something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

When You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash started playing, he finally broke the silence.

"I like spending time like this with you." — He said, staring straight ahead, as if he was afraid to look at me.

"Like this how?" — I asked, curious.

"Just... together. Without needing to say anything."

I smiled, even though he wasn’t looking. The truth was, I felt the same way. With Robby, there was no need for grand declarations or over-the-top gestures. It was in the silence, in the simple things, that we truly connected.

Midway through the playlist, I grabbed the laptop and opened my own Spotify.

"Now it’s my turn" – I announced, excited.

He made a face but gave in. I started with A Sky Full of Stars because I knew he had a soft spot for Coldplay. Then, I went through songs that reminded me of him: Sweater Weather, Electric Love, Falling.

"This one’s for you" – I said when Can’t Help Falling in Love began.

And for a second, I thought he was going to laugh, but he just smiled — that smile that made the whole world feel a little lighter.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

When the last song ended, we were silent again. Not that awkward silence, but one that seemed to fill the space between us.

“That was a good idea, Robby,” — I finally said, taking off my headphones.

“That was right" — he replied, looking at me with that look that I knew was only mine. He leaned in to place a kiss on my lips, and for a moment I smiled between the kiss.

And so, on a random Sunday, with a playlist and two headphones, he managed to show me that sometimes the best conversations happen without any words.

[yanderedollie]

he’s the only one i could call

“fuck.” i groaned, leaning my head back against the headrest.

i lightly slammed my hands down on the steering wheel and lowered my music.

my car had broken down a few cities over from my own.

i picked up my phone to check the time.

3am… of course it is. nobody i know is gonna be up right now to save me.

“this is what i get for neglecting the check battery light” i think to myself. my car stalled a few more pathetic attempts to start as i realized i didn’t have the money for a tow service right now either.

i glanced around and picked up my phone to check maps. maybe there’s a 24 hour diner, or somewhere i can stay till it’s a reasonable hour.

nothing. i wanna throw my phone after i check how far i actually am from my apartment.

as i try one last attempt to move around the map and find a savior my heart drops to my stomach, and leaps back into my throat once i realize just exactly where i am.

two neighborhoods over is his house.

i giggle to myself as an idea flashes in my mind.

before i continue i’ll give context.

the whole reason i’m even cities over from my own was because i took a drive to clear my head. to try and forget him.

i had been trying everything i could but he was always gnawing at my brain. always. and i had been trying to control my obsessive tendencies after our fall out.

i had been doing good but, stuck in a neighborhood so close to his house made my body ache.

my fingertips tingled in anticipation as they hovered over my phone screen.

i wondered if he was even awake. he never really had a great sleep schedule. i checked the time again… 3:05.. i hope he’s not with her.

i nibbled at the inside of my cheek before i threw all reason out the window…

it rang a few times before a familiar, sleepy voice, answered

“[name]?”

my breath caught in my throat before i answered

“hey… hey i’m sorry i know it’s late- were you sleeping?”

“yeah but it’s fine.. are you okay? why are you calling?”

i smiled to myself. he still cares.

“i’m fine! i’m okay! swear. it’s just my car broke down really close to you. everyone i know is asleep…”

i trailed off. i probably sounded so desperate. it dripped off of me.

“[name].. i’m with my girlfriend.. cant- cant you call a tow service?”

i bit the inside of my cheek again. hard. i don’t care about his girlfriend. i’ll kill her.

i shook my head and nervously played with a loose thread at the end of my dress

“i.. uh.. dont have that kind of money right now.”

i sound genuinely pathetic

“i see… uh.. okay um i can come help you. just send me your location… and [name]?”

“hm?”

i practically whined at the idea of him coming to rescue me

“i’m just going to jump start your car and leave okay? please don’t make this a.. a thing”

that stung. i swallowed hard and nodded like he could see me

“yeah. it- it wont be.”

my phone beeped indicating he ended the call. i squirmed in my seat as i sent him a pin of my location.

make it a thing? what the fuck?

i wanted to rip out his throat.

shifting uncomfortably i waited outside in the cold. i leaned up against the drivers side window, shivering and pathetic.

when his cars headlights pulled onto the street i was on i felt my heartbeat quicken and my body tingle.

i was starving.

“hey..”

he said, walking up to my car with cables in his hand

“hi…i’m sorry again about this.”

i smiled softly at him. he always liked when i smiled at him that way… i hoped he felt something. anything.

he smiled back and i swear i could see his eyes linger over my body for a little too long

i felt like pouncing on him like a predator catching its prey.

“no worries. i told my girlfriend i’d be quick so, lets do this”

i felt rage flicker in my gut. stop fucking talking about her.

“right..”

i clearly sounded upset but i didn’t care.

my bones ached as i watched him attempt to jump start my car. he looked as gorgeous as ever.

it started pretty much instantly and i panicked. he couldn’t leave yet. no, no, no, not yet.

“w-wait!”

i practically yelled at him

he stopped abruptly, clearly taken aback by my sudden outburst

“what?!”

he was visibly concerned. never mad. he never really could get mad at me.

i felt tears well up in my eyes

“don’t leave…please.. i’m-i’m sorry. it’s been so long since i've seen you. i had to see you. i can’t stop thinking about you. please please don’t go…”

i felt so many emotions bubble inside of me, i felt like i was going to burst

he stared at me for a long time… then.. he smiled.

“cute.”

i swallowed and looked down at my feet

“stop. i’m sorry. that was really stupid.”

i didn’t look up but i heard him take a step towards me

“[name]….”

i looked up. he was right in front of me, closer to me than he had been in months.

i clenched my jaw. i could smell his cologne and my knees nearly buckled.

“stop it!”

i stepped back. i wanted him so bad but i knew it was wrong. i wanted to kill his girlfriend and rip out his throat, but i was trying so hard to be better. i was really trying

he let out a soft laugh and reached for my hand

“i guess i’m the one making it a thing…”

he held my hand in his so gently i felt myself melt.

“no. we can’t…”

i sounded small, pathetic, desperate. i clearly didn’t mean a word.

“hmm”

he hummed gently, moving his hand up to brush some loose hair behind my shoulder and trace my neck

“why not?”

i didn’t answer, i just held his gaze. it was so intense i nearly looked away.

i knew i could eventually get him where i wanted him…but.. i didn’t think it'd be this easy.

i shivered at his touch and something flickered in his eyes

“you look as beautiful as ever. i like this dress on you..”

he sounded starving now.

“it’s new”

i squeaked.

“mm very pretty, doll”

i let a whimper escape my lips at the nickname and he grinned

“come here.. let me warm you. it’s so cold out here…”

i stepped closer to him without a second thought. anything he wanted i would do it. anything at all.

he wrapped his arms around me and i couldn’t contain myself anymore.

i tangled my fingers into his hair and pressed my body against his, whimpering in the process.

i needed him bad. primal. animalistic

his hands roamed my body, grabbing and groping every part of me.

my breathing quickened as i melted into his touch.

“please..please”

was all i could manage to moan out.

he was barely touching me but i felt my pussy throb and dampen at every grab and tug from his hands

“you’re so pathetic. it’s adorable”

he cooed into my ear before nibbling it a little

we were still outside leaning against my car, his hand travelling up my dress and teasing the waist band of my panties

“[name]… please..”

i couldn’t control myself around him. he was so warm. so sweet. so perfect.

all of a sudden he pulled away tugging my body towards his car. fast.

i barely had time to register what was going on before i was in the backseat and he was looming over me.

i could see glimpses of him in the moonlight. he looked so disgustingly perverted and hungry for me. i fucking loved it.

“you’re such a fucking tease in this little dress. begging me to come save you, to rescue your pathetic ass…”

he said in breathy whispers as he groped my tits and pinched my nipples through the fabric of my dress

i moaned loudly and squirmed underneath him, feeling his hard cock pressed against my thigh

“i can’t believe you [name]. i can’t believe what you do to me”

he quickly slipped the dress off of me and his mouth was on my naked body in an instant. digging his nails into my waist and leaving sloppy, uncoordinated kisses, over my chest and stomach

“mmm… fuck… [name]… please just use me however you want”

i whimpered pathetically each time he moved his mouth or hands

“oh i will.”

i could barely stay conscious between his hands wrapped around my throat and him rubbing his thick cock against the fabric of my panties

it all felt so good i nearly came just from that alone

he ripped my panties off and shoved his cock into my dripping pussy with one swift motion, i saw stars

i coughed and sputtered from the pressure on my neck as he rammed into my cunt

“oh my god.. fuck.. [name] you feel incredible”

he released his grip on my neck to move a hand down to my aching pussy

he gently rubbed my clit as he pumped in and out of me and i could’ve sworn i saw god.

i whined like a pathetic dog as he violated me in ways i had never experienced from him before.

i knew our past sex was good but holy shit

“[name].. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry”

he apologized profusely as he struck me across the face and rammed into me harder

“you’re just so pathetic, i can’t help myself…”

all i could get out was pathetic whines as i looked up at him with desperation.

i wanted more. i wanted everything he could give me. whatever he wanted to do i would take it and i would love it.

“fuck. fuck. fuck. [name] you’re so tight”

he groaned loudly as he rubbed my clit faster

i clenched around his cock as i felt him release a huge load of hot cum inside my womb

i came at the same time, my pussy spasming on his cock as we both let out animalistic groans and pants, clinging to each other like this would be the last time

it was never the last time.

“oh my god..”

was all he could manage into my ear as he collapsed on top of me

i could feel our heartbeats colliding into one, pounding against both of our chests

i laid there staring up at interior of his car, catching my breath

i had asked him to come rescue me in hopes that maybe he’d feel something for me when he saw me

i asked him to save me because i needed to see him

come to find out…. he felt the exact same way

i smiled to myself as he played with my hair, still laying on top of me and softly breathing into my neck

we hadn’t spoken a word to each other yet but, i knew.

i knew he felt the same way i did

all this time i thought he had moved on

but we were just as desperate and perverted for each other as we had been back then

i really need to kill his stupid girlfriend. then he’ll be mine forever.

so much for “getting better”

i never will as long as he’s breathing. i never wanted to in the first place.

“i love you [name]”

he sighed softly, placing a gentle kiss on my neck

“i love you too”

i will never let my darling go… ever. again.

[italoniponic]

Bat-Hunter | Rook Hunt & Lilia Vanrouge

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lilia found themselves at the start of a legendary battle for the Prefect of Ramshackle's heart. The world of love triangles is awfully quiet after this exchange. Dedicated to @pandoa. You wish and you shall receive <3

Lilia Vanrouge, Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / small scenario / fluff but mostly crack / reference to a specific Phillipines dish / 1525 words / use of “you” pronouns / Masterlist

Bat-Hunter: The Magnificent Showdown!

Few people throughout history — between humans and faes — could say that they had the audacity to directly antagonize the Great General Vanrouge in any sort of battle. And getting out of this sort of risk alive was a bit of luck granted to very few people, almost to none.

“But a coward hunter is not worthy to receive the title, nor to wear a hat.”

That was the Hunt family motto that Rook was so proud to carry in his heart. Such was his respect for his family tradition that this phrase was embroidered on the inside of all his hats so as to never forget his origins.

Well, maybe I’m starting a little too fast and you’re still worrying — from the comfort of Ramshackle’s upstairs window — what the hell the two guys you liked were doing on the ground floor balcony, dressed like that.

Despite everything, you suddenly shrugged to yourself and headed to the kitchen where a more urgent task needed to be fulfilled. When everything was ready, hopefully you could invite the guys in. That is, if you found one or the other intact in the end.

Because that was the feeling that their exchange of glances passed.

Lilia was dressed in his Light Music club “uniform,” as punk rock as your father had been in the eighties when he was young and phones were wired. He held his guitar close to him, as if it were the weapon of his days in the Army of Thorns. He was “total rad” — as the youngsters would say.

His friendly smile only masked the irritation of finding Rook in that place, decked out from head to toe. Usually, his presence was easy to ignore and his curiosity could be quite amusing from time to time.

But he knew the real situation they were in: they were equals in rivalry for the heart of Ramshackle’s Prefect.

Knights in a duel for love!

Rook, in his own instance, wore a pair of belted trousers and a loose white blouse — located in the common vocabulary as a “pirate blouse” — with the strange addition of a large pink coat over his shoulders, sewn by hand and with some patterns of blue rhombuses. With his hat in hand, he looked like a book character.

His expression was equally gentle but it carried a certain pang of defiance, like a hunter who meets another while hunting.

“You look very beauté this afternoon, Monsieur Curiosité!,” Rook praised.

“How did you actually say that time? That my beauty is ‘mysterious’?,” Lilia chuckled, squinting his eyes.

“Oui, oui! But do not fret, Monsieur, today my attention is on someone else.”

“Another one? You can’t get enough of it, can you, Hunt?”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, yes. I’m tired. Tired because I’m wandering for days and nights thinking about the smile of that kind person and how I would like to cheer them up in these times of crisis!”

Crisis? Lilia didn’t quite understand. You seemed to be doing very well during all the times you met. Had he let any detail slip through the cracks?

“What kind of crisis? That is,” he bit his tongue, embarrassed that he had to ask for help from his literal rival. “If I may intrude.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. These are ear crisis! Dear Trickster has been hearing a lot of guitars being scratched lately,” the young huntsman replied, boldly.

Lilia barely broke his guitar cable — or the entire instrument at once in Rook’s head.

It was a mere provocation, no big deal. And Pomefiore’s vice, the way he was, probably appreciated each style of music in its own artistic way. But they were dealing with a battle of epic proportions and every blow counted.

Even if he were to call Lilia’s love-hard-heavy-metal demo “instrument-scratching”. But it was worth it and it showed in the way Rook’s eyes squinted in amusement.

Dealing with Diasomnia’s vice has always been an adventure in itself. That was the best part about being Lilia’s romantic rival.

Regardless of the ending, moments like this would always have a special place in Rook’s heart and he would remember it all with emotion when he went to tell your children — “the Hunt Jrs.” — the trajectory of your love.

“Why are you crying?,” suddenly Lilia inquired, confused.

“You will not be forgotten, Monsieur Curiosité! Forever and ever!,” Rook declared, wiping a tear with the sleeve of his coat. “Your memory will be carried forever in our family!”

At this the fae pulled the hunter by the collar of his shirt, staring directly into his green eyes. It was not necessary to float to come face to face with Rook, Lilia had enough dignity to impose himself the way he wanted.

And, let’s face it, making the boy — a “child” in his eyes — literally reach his level was more convenient too.

“Your particular persona has not yet turned gray to be Malleus’ breakfast because I dare, to the best of my mental faculties, find your audacity mildly amusing,” Lilia said with a grim smile cutting across his face.

“I thank you, monsieur. And I, if I may say so, find the bloody-pink in your eyes extremely beautiful,” Rook retorted, torn between fascination and a certain fear instinct that only made him feel more confident in his goals.

“Who do you think you are, hunter?”

“And who do you think I am, bat?”

That said, the two of them started laughing. Maniacally. They walked away but kept laughing, releasing all the anger and tension that could be felt in the form of simple fun between two colleagues.

Oh, they wanted to duel until death ripped them from each others hands.

Fortunately, you opened the door in time to prevent a bloodbath in your yard — after all, it would be difficult to clean it up.

“Hey, boys!,” you greeted, happy. “Wanna come in? I made pancit canton!”

Then you showed them a plate of fresh noodles, straight out of the pan, in a colorful combination of sliced pork, sausage and shrimp along with chopped carrots, cabbage, peas, onions and garlic. It smelled wonderfully good and matched your good mood. No wonder, it was your favorite food from the Philippines.

The sun was setting and it was close to dinner time. In fact, you were so excited about the process of cooking everything — from blanching vegetables to cutting meats — that the serving size tripled. Maybe being busy tidying the house didn’t help your distraction.

But with Lilia and Rook there — and Grim would be happy with extra food — you felt that little slip was worth doing it.

The smile that opened on your face descended on them like a ray of light in the midst of darkness, poetic as a fairy tale.

The animosity in the air was still palpable, however you were simply happy to have the company of your two crushes at the same time and there are times you need to take advantage of some situations.

“Prefect! I composed a song and I would like you to hear it,” Lilia stepped forward, putting the guitar in position and pulling a bombastic sound from the strings.

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t stop an admiring smile from appearing. Outside that your heart was racing just like the Light Music club speakers after a performance by Lilia. He was so cool!

“And I brought the best collection of poems on my bookshelf to recite, sweet Trickster!,” Rook didn’t lag behind and with one movement of his arm, the coat danced beautifully under his shoulders.

Another shot to the heart! As if that were not enough, the shades of the afternoon horizon harmonized perfectly with Rook’s clothes and made him an otherworldly vision, having escaped from a bedside book just to meet with you.

“You two are going to drive me crazy like this…,” you grumbled to yourself. But you did your best to stay intact.

“I just want you to bear with me 'cause I am only one,” you said. “Let’s have dinner first, okay?”

“All for you, sweet Trickster!,” Rook declared, taking your free hand and kissing it.

“A-ah! Okay?”

“What matters is your wish, Prefect,” Lilia skillfully took the plate of pancit from your other hand and also kissed it.

“B-but your guitar...!” He literally had put the instrument between his legs.

“There’s no time for questioning, magnefique apple of my eyes. Forward, my brave rival!”

“Said and done, hunter!”

You were still confused when they managed to find a way to literally drag you into the house, each holding your arms as if your weight was negligible and the situation completely normal.

It was obvious how Rook and Lilia, even if in different ways, could make you go “head over heels.” 

Well, you avoided reaching that angle when they deposited you on the couch and sat each by your sides. At least the animosity was gone and Lilia’s guitar was more securely propped up on the coffee table.

“Dinner, mes ami?,” Rook suggested. “Then a lyrical duel to the death?”

“A what...?”

“That’s fine for me,” Lilia accepted.

And so they lived happily ever after. At least until after dinner.

🦇🆚️🏹

Special Notes: It’s funny or maybe not how I can get drowned in my own work and never make any progress in months but the moment the inspiration for something strikes me as a lighting, suddenly I can pull off an entire 1525 thing in two nights straight. It’s quite simple and it goes more into comedy territory but it’s a homage for your underrated comedy skills, Pando! I still tried my best to make sure both Rook and Lilia could have their times to shine. I based most of the exchange in Lilia’s R Sports Card personal story with Rook (and just got off from that feeling). Have to say, I love a good unilateral passive-aggressive convo and they delivered <3

Now… any similarities of scenes from certain movies are completely my fault. I’m currently having a Die Hard and Kung Fu Panda brainrot, which is weird but it happened.

[iaure]

𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼𝗿

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city.

tw: general yandere behaviour, stalking, harassment, ptsd, entrapment, delusional thinking

notes: the formatting will be slightly different in some parts, as using the headcanon format with dialogue can feel quite clunky.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ it's here it's here! the confrontation! leon being needy and begging! it's here! there were some zingers in this that made me laugh, and i hope they make you laugh too! i want to write the nsfw accompaniment after part 8 or 9 Ꮚ☆ꈊ☆Ꮚ i'm also getting a new pc!! which will be so so nice!! but that might mess with my writing for a bit, as i'll be getting it set up !

this was too much.

♡ you know, you'd imagine a situation like this a handful of times.

♡ a man sitting before you, with flowers and candles and clothes that looked divine and an expression of reverence beyond worship.

♡ in your head, it weas usually after a year or two of dating, followed by a proposal and living life happily ever after.

♡ but this situation felt like a cruel parody of that.

♡ when you saw Leon on your couch, your blood ran cold.

♡ this was something you'd hear about on some shitty crime podcast or an even shittier show on some late night cable channel.

♡ what was he going to do? drug you? kidnap you? kill you, even?

♡ when he said that you needed to talk, it was like a waking nightmare.

♡ he seemed like he was trying to be as non-threatening as possible, though.

♡ he was staring up at you with big puppy-dog eyes, and his floppy hair fell over his eyes.

♡ he looked absolutely desperate, and when you froze in your tracks, he held up his hands.

♡ "i'm not mad at you! i swear!"

♡ his voice was a bit pitched up, and his nervousness would've been if he hadn't blocked off your door and broken into your home.

♡ "get out of my apartment."

♡ Leon was clearly distressed, trying to placate you with fear on his face.

♡ "wait, wait, please!" he begged. "please, i just need you to listen to me!"

♡ and just for a moment, something wavered.

♡ he was, at one point, your friend. he deserved at least a chance to explain himself before you had him thrown in prison with a sturdy restraining order.

♡ you hesitated, but crossed your arms. "then talk."

♡ and the proverbial dam broke.

♡ Leon, at first, was just babbling, hands waving everywhere as he tried to spit everything out at once before you lost what little patience you had left.

♡ it was almost cartoonish, but you put your hand up. "i don't understand gibberish."

♡ he stopped immediately, eyes wide, and took a breath. he began padding down his pockets for something, and you realised that he was fumbling for flashcards that were sticking out.

♡ when he finally got to them, he took a second to read over the first, and you saw that his hands were shaking.

♡ and as he took a breath to compose himself, you watched his face.

♡ he had a ruddy, blotchy blush across his cheeks, and his mouth was slightly agape.

♡ when he looked up at you past his bangs, you saw his eyes, and they were by far the most expressive part. they were fully on you; not predatory, but oozing devotion. not lust. not childish infatuation. love.

♡ love, dedication, worship.

♡ all for you.

♡ there was a second where he just looked between you and the flash cards, before tossing them onto your coffee table.

♡ "i love you!"

♡ the look you gave him was...unimpressed to say the least.

♡ "and why does that warrant you breaking in?"

♡ you could see his heart plummet at your questioning.

♡ "i...i needed to talk to you. and you've been avoiding me, so..."

♡ "and how does that translate into you harassing me? stalking me? scaring the hell out of me?"

♡ were he a dog, his puppy ears would've been plastered to the side of his head.

♡ it was like you were kicking him while he was down.

♡ you began walking over to your landline, about to dial 911, when he shot up form the couch.

♡ before you could even react-was he going to attack you?!-he made an abrupt dive and clung to your legs, holding steadfast and almost making you fall over.

♡ it was, truthfully, pathetic.

♡ and you stared down at him.

Leon looked closed to tears, placing his head against your thighs and locking his hands around the back of your knees.

"Please! Please don't!" He was whimpering and borderline about to shout, breathing hard. "If you leave, I'll die! My heart would just stop beating! I can't live without you! You're everything to me! You're my world, and-! Please!"

You stared down at him. He looked helpless, like he really would just drop dead if you picked up the landline. And there was a second where you just felt...bad.

Everything he had done was with good intention, even though it was creepy. He never did hurt you, and it was clear that something was just...wrong with him.

He saw your silence, your stillness, and looked up at you with those big hopeful eyes, wide and glittering from his tears. He slowly stood, still staring at you, and began gently guiding you back to the couch.

"Please. Just hear me out."

He sat down, and you sat down, and there was a beat of silence. Then he opened his mouth, and everything came out like a waterfall.

♡ he admitted to being K.

♡ you knew-suspected-guessed-had a hunch-but it still made you ache. how long had he been like this?

♡ his devotion was obvious. he began listing off things he did for the sake of honesty.

♡ he admitted to stealing your clothes, to breaking in and stalking you. at first, it was like a sick joke with everything he said.

♡ but slowly...you started to get less mad.

♡ he broke into your house...to clean.

♡ he followed you to and from work...to protect you.

♡ he never once meant to harm you or others. physically, at least, as he confessed wanting to get Selia fired.

♡ he admitted to having to build up the courage to talk to you, standing outside, watching...out of love.

♡ he tried everything to take care of you.

♡ and something in your heart shifted.

♡ he did this, and certainly he needed help, but was it really fair?

♡ he risked so much to do what he perceived as love. as care.

♡ maybe...you could help him get help. you doubted he was lucid enough to know he needed it.

While you thought, Leon kept on talking, trying to keep you hooked on his words until your patience was gone again.

"I've loved you for...god, so long now. It's been months, I think. You were always just so nice, even to people you didn't know, you know?" He played with his hands, the desperation in his voice beginning to edge away. "Back on the forum, I didn't like that you were trying to help everyone by yourself. And you were always so sweet when you responded to me. It felt like I knew you my entire life. The people from Raccoon City, the people that know what happened...it's really a world of it's own."

You nodded. It really was. Leon sighed.

"Trying to save those two...I never said their names, did I? Sherry and Claire. Sherry was maybe ten, I think. She was under my care for a while, and I saw how the outbreak was scary. Caring for someone like that is scary. And you were trying to do it for so many people. I wanted to help you."

"You know stalking someone is scary?" You glanced up at him, breaking your gaze from the flashcards that sat on the table.

"I'm sorry." He whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"When you sent those messages, I was scared shitless, Leon." Your voice was firm, but quiet. "I thought you were going to kill me or kidnap me or something."

"Never!" Leon's voice jumped. "I'd never do that! Swear to god! I wouldn't ever hurt you! I just-! I was scared. Scared that you hurt yourself, or something. I wanted to respect your privacy for as long as possible, but...I really wasn't sure what happened."

You stayed silent.

"And I love you. I really do." Leon bit his lip, trying not to cry again. "I know I didn't really talk about my family."

"Mhm." You watched him bite, eyes going up and down and across his face. "You knew all about mine."

"I'm sorry."

"Your family?"

"They're...well, my parents died when I was a kid. And a cop took me in. And there was a lot of people liked me when I was a teenager for my looks, and it really messed me up. Literally right before the outbreak, I had just broken up with my girlfriend."

You raised an eyebrow, and Leon gulped.

"Am I a rebound or something?"

"No! No! I didn't mean it like that!" Leon gasped, jumping out of his seat and reaching across the table. Your hands had been right on the edge, and when he touched them, you pulled back a bit. "She didn't really seem to love me, and I wanted someone who wanted more than just a guy who was nice-looking. And you were nice to me when you didn't even know who I was. And you were nice to me at the bakery, and during the power outage, and it was just a lot."

You were silent again, biting the inside of your cheek. Leon began panicking again.

"I wanna marry you someday. If you want to get married, that is. I wanna do everything for you. I want you to just stay home or go out and have fun or do whatever you want while I take care of the house. I want to see you happy. I want to see you safe. I want you to live out the best life you possibly can, and I want to be next to you during all of it."

You finally spoke, and your hands reached forward a bit to actually hold Leon's. He gave a stuttering gasp, and you could feel the sweat building up.

"What do you want out of this?"

"What?" He tilted his head, squinting. He took a second for it to compute, before making a confused expression. "What?"

"You came in today hoping for an outcome." Your words were eerily clinical. "What's that outcome? The best case scenario?"

Leon went still, thinking hard. His eyes glanced to the side, before nodding.

"I want to marry you."

"No."

"Okay." He gave a bitter chuckle at your quick response, face falling with a wince.

"However."

"However?!" He gasped, lighting back up again.

"I'm open to dating-"

Before you could even finish, Leon leapt up with a cheer, picking you up and swinging you around in a hug. The sudden brute strength was startling, but he was too busy rejoicing to notice your gasp.

"I'll be the best boyfriend ever, I promise! I'll do everything for you, I'll move in right away-or you can move in with me! We'll figure it out! I love you! I'm so excited! This is the best day of my life! I love you so much!"

"L-Leon!" You gasped, trying to get some words out past his bear hug. "On some conditions!"

Leon stopped swinging you around, putting you on your feet with a big grin.

"Of course! Anything!"

"One-don't threaten Selia."

"Who?"

"My coworker?" At your words, Leon's eyes went wide, with a 'ooohhh'. "I, believe or not, like hanging out with her."

"Okay." Leon nodded.

"Stop stealing my stuff. Ask first."

"Sounds good!"

"And just walk me home. Don't stalk me."

"I mean, I was doing that before..."

"Don't sass me."

"You're the boss!" Leon bent over to kiss you with a happy smile, but you blocked him with your hand, putting it over your mouth. He laid a full smooch onto your palm, opening his eyes with a questioning look.

"Mmh mmh? (Too soon?)"

"Yes, Leon. Too soon."

𓂋

ʚ♡ɞ taglist @theybotomy ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @kujosuke ⸜❤︎⸝‍  @je-suis-argent-miel  ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @xxacademy ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @apollodarling-writes  ⸜❤︎⸝‍  @gettingsilly ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @yumekos-gamble

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfp crew treat human reader that broke a bone (perhaps they accidentally dropped reader when doing something?)

Ooooohhhh! More broken bones! Since you did not specify which characters you wanted I will be picking them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Smokescreen, Arcee, and Bulkhead react to Human Buddy getting a broken bone on accident

SFW, platonic, mention of injury, slight angst for some, Human reader

TFP

Smokescreen

Buddy had broken their left arm because Smokescreen accidentally tossed them too hard out of his vehicle mode.

They had been ambushed by some drones and Smokescreen had transformed a bit too quickly to start shooting some Cons down.

To be fair, Smokescreen still didn't understand how fragile humans were compared to a Cybertronian. He thought that they were a bit tougher than what Optimus and Ratchet let on.

He was proven wrong when he saw Buddy cradling their arm. It was bent in a way that he was sure they weren't supposed to go.

"Smokescreen I need you to comm Ratchet and tell him to get June "--Buddy

"Your arm... Oh Primus your arm!"--Smokescreen

"Smokes listen it was an accident. It was an accident."--Buddy

"Yeah... Yeah... I'll get Ratchet..."--Smokescreen

Smokescreen isn't used to see much organic injuries so he is a bit unnerved. Surprisingly, he keep up a calmish face getting Buddy to June. But he is freaking out on the inside.

He refuses to carry any human for a while. It takes some convincing to get Smokescreen comfortable again.

While Buddy is healing, Smokescreen gives them a bit of space while also hovering over them. A weird combination that thankfully doesn't last long after Buddy is healed up.

If Buddy gets a cast Smokescreen would be one of the first to get it signed. He gets some stickers from Jack and puts them on the cast.

Arcee

Buddy broke their leg after an altercation with Arachnid.

Arcee was taking Buddy on patrol today since Jack was home sick with a cold. Arachnid had ambushed them both. Buddy was grabbed by Arachnid before Arcee could tell what was going on. The Spider bot squeezed the human a bit until and audible crack was heard. The Con tossed Buddy on to the ground as a furious Arcee came after her.

Lucky for Arachnid, Arcee didn't finish the job and was quick to get back to Buddy.

"Buddy! Buddy what's wrong? Where does it hurt?"--Arcee

"I think my leg's broken."--Buddy

"All right don't worry, I'm getting us back to the base now. Can you stay awake for me?"--Arcee

"Sure... Sure thing."--Buddy

Arcee winces internally as she picks up Buddy. She knows Buddy is trying to put a brave face on for her so she doesn't worry too much. But she can see that this hurts Buddy a lot more than what either expected.

Arcee is out for blood after Buddy is given the all clear by Ratchet and June.

When she isn't preparing for Arachnid, Arcee does her best to help Buddy move around the base. Since she is one of the smaller bots on the team, it's a bit easier to handle Buddy while also protecting them.

If Buddy gets a cast they will make sure Arcee is the first to see and to sign it. Arcee manages to paint some blue and pink on the cast.

Bulkhead

Buddy had tripped over some cables that led them to fall down the stairs and land right on their ankle.

Bulkhead was the only bot on base and was freaking out when he saw Buddy on the floor clutching their foot with tears in their eyes.

"Buddy,Buddy what happened?! Are you hurt?! Do I need to go get Ratchet?!"--Bulkhead

"If you can pass me my phone so I can call June that would be nice."--Buddy

"Okay, okay!"--Bulkhead

He knows for a fact humans are tougher than what they seem. His proof is Miko's entire existence. But he also knows how fragile they are compared to Bots.

After Buddy gets the all clear from June and Ratchet, Bulkhead becomes Buddy's second shadow for a bit. He feels like he nearly lost his friend that day and it was his fault.

Despite everyone telling him it is not his fault, he does feel a little bit guilty.

If Buddy gets a cast they make sure that Bulkhead is the first one to sign. He paints a bit of Buddy's cast green.

[infrequent-creator]

A Little Assistance ~

Summary - Vox needs a little help so he calls his assistant up to take care of his need.

A/N: I don't believe vox's assistant has a name so I'm gonna have Vox call him the name "Sharkbait" 🤭((Also Cutie, Baby boy & various other teasy nicknames))

<3

"Ah- fucking shit! Owowowow!" Vox cursed under his breath. He has spilled coffee on the floor around his chair on the wiring that surrounded his seats.

While they weren't parts of his body, he still was connected to them, like the roots on a tree. So when things happened to them like being stepped on or burned with hot coffee, it does hurt him a bit. He sighed looking around somewhat urgently for something to wipe up the now cooled sticky liquid off his attachment cords.

Nothing... damnit.

He signed, pinching the bridge of where his nose would be. He looked down at his wrist, pressing a button.

Ring...Ring...Ri-

"H-Hello.. Mr. Vox, S-Sir, do you need me?" The face of his personal assistant Sharkbait popping up on the small screen. Stammering like always. Always looking a little flustered in a way that Vox couldn't help but find adorable. He cleared his throat from the distracting thought.

"Yes of course. Why else would I call you?"

"O-Oh I'm sorry S-Sir I didn't mean--" the shark stammered out an apology before Vox cut him off.

"Stop, I don't have all day. Bring some papertowels and warm water to my production room. A cup of coffee spilled on my wiring." He brushed off the lad's apology, trying to get this icky feeling off his wiring fast.

"R-Right! Yes sir!" With that, Vox hung up. He sighed again.

~

A minute or so passes before there's a knock at Vox's door. He waves his hand, an electric current hitting the door 's button panel, causing it to slide open for his guest. There he was. Sharkbait carrying a cloth & a small bucket with water. His feet moving quickly as his king tail swished behind him.

"Bout time you showed up, I'm sticky as hell over here." The overlord groaned as the annoying feeling on his cables. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"R-Right, yes Sir, I'm so sorry." He nodded quickly, kneeling beside Vox's chair. He dipped the cloth in the water a little, squeezing it to get the extra water out, then began making quick work of the dark brown coffee stains.

Vox could feel his touches just a little, they felt faint but it almost felt good. Like getting a head massage almost. Vox leaned back in a sigh, his back resting completely against the chair as he relaxed. His light blue claws tapping, gently and rhythmically as the cleaning continued.

After a moment, Vox noticed something thumping gently against his leg. Also some quiet mumbling from Sharkbait. The TV man opened his eyes to see Sharkbait's tail was the thing gently hitting Vox's leg like a happy dog. The sharkboy's were locked on the floor as he mumbled to himself.

"Now, tell me Sharkbait, what are you mumbling about? Are you perhaps embarrassed that you have to clean up my mess?" Vox's hand slowly reaches down toward's his assistant's tail. The young man turned, opening his mouth to deny his boss's words but a gasp was ripped from his chest before he got the chance.

"Or are you embarrassed that this cute little tail is giving you away?~" Vox's hand quickly took the tail in his hand before it could wiggle away with his assistant's movement. The TV's voice purred as he gently held the tail on his lap, petting it slowly. He could still feel the muscle wanting to still wag even now.

"M-Misteheher V-Vohox! Please be c-cahahreful!" The shark demon quickly broke into anxious bubbly giggles, dropping the cloth to reach for his tail slowly.

"Careful? I am being careful. You think I'd hurt my cute little assistant's tail? What do you take me for, a monster?" Vox looked down at him with an eyebrow arched, a wicked grin spread across his screen.

"N-Nohohohoho! S-Sihihir my tail ihihis sensa-AHAha!" The adorable creature now on his side, curled up like a cat, kicking his feet in laughter.

"Aw is this tail sensitive, little pup? How cute~" Vox's claws now raking gently downward towards the end of his tail.

Sharkbait's face explodes into bright blue blush as he hid his face behind his hands, squealing and gently tugging on his tail. Vox decided his poor little tail had had enough, but the rest of him? Not a chance~

While Sharkbait wasn't looking, the overlord grabbed his little pup around the waist , guiding him onto his lap. The older demon's fingers touching from the slenderness of his assistant's waist.

The tv man snapped his fingers , making a wire slither to life, wrapping around his assistant's wrists holding them above his head, causing him to yelp. He was truly helpless and exposed right now.

"Cute little giggles you got there, pup. Let's see what happens when I use my claws here~" Vox's bright blue claws gently scratched at Sharkbait's sides and tummy at the same time.

The media demon's fingers leaving no spot on his middle untickled , making the little shark squeal, snort, and laugh. The little shark holding nothing back. He couldn't see it, but Vox was smiling at him.

"So cute~" Vox thought, letting his gentle tickles continue. He's always grateful for his little assistant.

END !

[weldingmetal]

How do you think cybertronians would react to our mouths? The fact that the mouth can easily bite and rip off your or someone else's pinky finger with such ease, almost like biting into a carrot. The brain only stops you from doing so.

So like I think in this scenario it’s not the fact that they have mouths that freaked them out, it’s the fact of what they do with said mouths as well as teeth.

Unlike Cybertronians human eat and chew where they mostly drink. Humans teeth are made to tear into flesh. Just predicons had sharp teeth to eat living mechanisms we have canines to eat meat.

Although that isn’t to say that bots teeth can’t be sharp. I believe if they ate non refined energon in its crystal form their denta would get sharp. I mean look a TFP Megatron. We know that he loved his space crack- I mean dark energon. So I wouldn’t doubt that centuries of eating the stuff would make his mouth look like a piranha.

But sharp teeth/denta for bots isn’t normal.

I can imagine how visceral it would be for a bot to watch a human or animal tear into meat or eat and chew things that should be to hard for soft organics.

So imagine a bot’s reaction to a humans mouth and teeth at work.

Here is a blurb of a possible reaction.

________________________________________

Bulkhead tired to think of a way out of this.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. It was supposed to be practically nothing. Now he’s tied up, can’t move or sever his binds, and he still doesn’t know where Miko went.

He let her wonder off and now who knows where she-

“Bulkhead!”

As if Primus himself heard him he heard his charges voice.

“Bulkhead where are you we have to-“

She turned the corner to find Bulkhead. Tied up in some kind of cable.

“I’m sorry Miko, I was ambushed. I would get us the frag out of here but…I’m a little tied up.”

He says looking down at his binds. Miko runs up to him.

“You gotta try Bulk, the decepticons were after me back there. I lost them but they could come any second!”

“I wish I could Miko. But there are to many loops in my binds around me to break free. I would be able to if I could break just a few of them, maybe if you can find somethi-!”

Then deep in the cave stomping peds could be heard. Miko was full on panicking. She ran up to her bot. Her friend. She tugged and tugged. She knew everything would be okay if she could just break a few.

“It’s no use Miko! I’ll be fine you need to go! Please Miko, run and hide!”

Miko looked up at the bot, her bot, in fear. She looked towards the impending doom before back to Bulkhead and his pleading look.

Something in her snapped.

Her face lit up in anger and she screamed-

“NO!”

She bit down on the cable, electric sparks lighting up around the corners of her mouth as she tugged and bit and thrashed her head back and forth like a wild animal until the cable broke.

She went for another

*crunch zzzt snap*

“I’m.”

*crunch zzzt snap*

“Not.”

*crunch zzzt snap”

”Leaving you.”

*crunch zzzt snap*

“Behind!”

Bulkhead with all his might flexed and pulled and stood and broke his binds just as the vehicons rounded the corner. He picked Miko up and dashed out of the cave dodging blasts aimed at him.

He looked down at Miko and gasped. The corners of her mouth were burned and bloodied. Her jaw was snapping and seizing no doubt from the electric current she continued to bite…for his sake.

As he left the cave and was able to get a signal to comlink and ask for a ground bridge he was wracked with heavy and thick guilt.

He was supposed to be the strong one. He stopped thinking when he heard Miko groan and speak.

“G-guess I s-saved you this time h-huh Bulkhead?”

Bulkhead thought he would cry, in fact he was almost certain he was tearing up. Despite everything Miko, his sparkling charge was still smiling.

As he ran into base he yelled for Ratchet, to do something anything to help Miko.

June and eventually Fowler was called. June bandaged Miko’s mouth and said that she probably won’t have any lasting scars and if she did they would fade.

After the kids were sent home the bots rightfully demanded to know what happened.

Bulkhead explained everything, even the way Miko seemed to go feral.

After that bots went to bed with deep unease in their tanks.

How could something so small have a bite that hard, and still undoubtedly be sentient.

Bulkhead didn’t recharge that night.

Who could blame him with the image of mostly innocent Miko desperately and frantically tore into the cable like a feral animal. All because he wasn’t strong enough.

[wwandaslover]

New Romantics

next chapter

taylor swift x fem reader!writer

warnings: swearing, drinking, parties, reader is tall (5’10), reader is feminine, mean joe.

you were at a party with taylor and her boyfriend joe. joe was off talking to some other guys while you and taylor just sat at a table and talked about life. taylor and joe were continuously arguing everyday, and almost every time it was about taylors eras tour despite it being done.

you travelled with taylor to a good amount of the concerts while you were finishing your book which is now a best seller in stores all across the states. you had written a couple other famous stories but this was your biggest yet.

throughout the party you and taylor had both been congratulated for your separate achievements and both of you were exhausted. you excused yourself from the table for a bit to go to the bathroom and while you were gone, joe came over to taylor.

joe sat down across from her with an annoyed look on his face. “why do you hangout with her so much? you guys act like a couple more than we do.” taylor scowled at joes remark. “we’ve been together for six years, me and hazel are just best friends. besides, im straight, so you don’t have to worry.”

joe sighed, obviously not satisfied by her response. “taylor, she looks at you weird, like she has a crush on you and you look at her the same way.” taylor furrowed her eyebrows, she was beginning to get frustrated by the conversation. “me and her are just friends. there’s nothing going on between us.”

joe raised his eyebrows and scoffed “you like her, you just won’t admit it.” taylor didn’t know how to respond so she got up and walked away over to the bar where she got a small glass of wine.

you came back and saw she was gone so you searched for her and when you found her you walked over to her with a slightly concerned look. taylor noticed your expression and explained what happened. your stomach hurt when she said you two were just friends but you ignored it and thought it was nothing.

“he thinks something is going on between us? that’s ridiculous.” you nervously laughed a little as you spoke. taylor didn’t notice the uneasy tone to your laugh thankfully, but she couldn’t help but feel a little sad from your words.

you and taylor talked for a while longer but you guys were interrupted by an angry looking joe, “let’s go, i want to leave now.” you looked at taylor confused and decided to not interfere and leave. since taylor, the only person you really gave a shit about there was leaving, you did too.

you left and got into your car, you turned on the radio and listened to whatever music was on. basically every two songs one of taylor’s would play, reminding you of her.

you sat on your couch wearing a white cable knit sweater and plaid boxer shorts while watching the hunger games, your cat laid on the cushion next to you sleeping while you drank wine.

as you were in the middle of watching the movie when someone rang your doorbell. you checked the time and it was almost midnight, you groaned and wearily went to the door. you unlocked and opened the door slowly and saw taylor crying.

she instantly hugged you and you shut the door behind her and hugged back. “what happened taylor? are you okay?” you spoke softly while rubbing taylor’s back. she wiped her tears away but then more tears came “joe broke up with me.”

your eyes widened for a moment before pulling her back into a short hug and then brought her into your living room. you sat down on the couch with her and held her hands while she opened up about it. after talking about it for hours, you two fell asleep on the couch together.

she slept in your arms with her head on your chest and you were too far from sober to notice it.

[feralwritings]

dissonance

part three

words: 4.2k

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?” Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does. He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close. “He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio each notif you get for this fic must be a shock considering they're so spread out but i appreciate ya all the same hon

The arena in Phoenix is cold and empty when she walks into it, meandering towards the stage from the labyrinth of seats before her. When she finally reaches it, she clambers up, leaving her feet to dangle over the edge as she pulls out her phone.

This was the rehearsal space that Corroded Coffin had chosen for her to learn the song and practice it. They had a few options, seeming to narrow down on one. The one that she hoped beyond hope that they don’t choose, but judging by her luck, those lyrics are going to be ripped from her throat either way.

She’s here early, of course, alone in the quiet for a while. It’s almost peaceful, mostly haunting, looking out upon the rows of seats, thinking that she sees a phantom sitting in one before her eyes adjust, and it’s gone. Dealing with paranoia was never her strong suit, and she’s staring up at the nosebleeds, swearing that there’s movement up there when the stage rumbles below her.

She turns, seeing the boys wheeling equipment and instrument cases onto the stage. Eddie’s in the rear, and she smiles stiffly at each one as they pass by, allowing her smile to fall fully when Eddie looks at her.

She stands, quietly watching as they unload their gear, plug various cables into various panels, Joey, Jeff and Eddie tuning their guitars while Gareth adjusts the foot pedal for his kickdrum, giving it a few tests before nodding in satisfaction, drumming out a little fill, general rehearsal stuff.

And she’s there, in her hoodie and sweats, standing awkwardly downstage, waiting for them to tell her to do something, or even speak to her.

Of course, it’s Eddie who finally does, adjusting the height on his mic stand as he looks over at her, “We brought an extra mic, if you need it.”

She pulls out her own from her bag, waving it a little as she connects it to the soundboard, wired as opposed to not, easier to deal with for just a rehearsal.

“So,” she says, approaching Eddie, dragging a stand behind her, setting it a few feet away from him, as she slips her mic into the clip, “What song did you choose?”

There’s only a couple songs that feature another vocalist, and among those, none feature a female vocalist, so she can’t really think where she might fit into all this, if she can at all. The label said this might not work, it could end up being a one-off, something that she never has to do again.

“People love nostalgia, so we’re choosing one from our earlier years,” He says, bending to dig some lyric sheets out of his guitar case, handing them to her.

She reads the name at the top of the page, and her blood runs a bit cold.

It’s the song. The song that propelled them to stardom, the song that got them signed to a bigger label, the song that broke containment out of their sub-genre and reached the world at large, the song that sat at 86 on the Billboard Hot 100 for a month straight.

“You’re kidding,” She whispers, running the tips of her fingers over the printed ink, “You want me to sing this? With you?”

Eddie tilts his head at her, his brow furrowing, “Yeah, we haven’t performed it in a few years, thought it was time to bring it back around.”

She stares at him. She loves this song. Always has - even after everything went down, this was the song that she couldn’t quite manage to delete entirely from her library, simply removing it from her most frequent playlists, but it would sit there, like an old tome collecting dust. 

One of the reasons that the song broke containment was because of its rawness and vulnerability. The lyrics themselves, though steeped in excessive metaphor, paint a picture of devastating heartbreak. A heartbreak, though asked by every news outlet and interviewer and magazine and just about anyone could get a second with him, Eddie has never discussed. The fact that it's shrouded in mystery makes it all the more popular, superfans scrubbing through Eddie’s past, trying to figure out who it’s about. It starts off slow, building through the first chorus and into the second verse, and by the bridge it’s a cacophony of sound, overlapping bits of Eddie’s voice singing different parts, until they come into one succinct harmony during the final chorus. They haven’t made a song like it since. 

“Alright,” she exhales, “Where do you want me to come in?” 

“Was thinking near the second chorus, leading into the bridge. I could sing the harmony, you can sing the melody.”

Which, again, is a strange choice. Her voice, louder, higher than his will be what people mostly hear, and she doesn’t know if the return of this song, the song with her in it, is what people would even want. 

Eddie’s watching her, seeming to know that she’s mulling it over in her head. He takes a cautious step forward, and she snaps out of it, looking up into his face. 

“Listen,” he says, all tall, voice low, only meant for her, “We don’t have to like each other. Hell, we don’t even have to get along like best friends, but you and I both know this tour is going to suck ass if we’re always at each other's throats.”

She sighs, biting down on her cheek, “Yeah. Let's just…try and behave ourselves, I guess.” 

He nods, pulling his guitar from the case and slinging it across his shoulder. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, plucking out a little tune on the strings before approaching his microphone, “First verse.” 

***

She’s standing in the wings, tired from her own set but shaky about her part in this one. She can hear Eddie in her in-ears, can feel rather than hear the music, and as the lyrics inch closer and closer to her starting point, her heart rate jumps in her chest. 

Rehearsal had gone well enough, they’d decided that she would start singing when she was off the stage, and then walk on stage still singing. It’s a little Disney Channel, sure, but it didn’t really make sense for her to be on stage the whole time, awkwardly hovering by Jeff, waiting until it was time for her to sing. 

When the song had started, she could hear the cheers of the crowd, so loud that they had picked up on Eddie’s mic. He hadn’t really introduced it, just started playing the first few chords, recognizable enough that the crowd’s confused whispers had turned into a roar of excitement.

The second verse was finishing up now, the pre chorus ringing in her ears, Eddie’s raspy voice sending pins and needles down the length of her spine. He was a beautiful singer, there was no two ways about it, and try as she might to find more and more things wrong with him, with his music, with the band, with everything that had anything to do with him, she was coming up short, more and more. 

“Okay,” She hears one of the sound guy’s voices in her ear, Pete, maybe.

”Three.”

She takes a deep breath in.

”Two.”

She raises the microphone to her mouth.

”One.”

She starts to sing.

Her voice comes out stronger than she would’ve expected, higher, louder than Eddie’s like she knew it would be. Their harmony twists around each other, like both strands of a double helix around a DNA ladder, and judging by the way Eddie’s voice skips, he jerks his head to look at her, eyes wide, he’s just as surprised as she is. It didn’t sound like this in rehearsal, because they hadn’t been working together as they are now, off in their own worlds, in their own parts of the song, despite the fact that originally, the bridge was meant to be a cohesive piece.

It’s that way now, and as she walks out on stage, flashing a shy smile in greeting, Eddie holds out an arm in introduction, one hand off the neck of his guitar for a few seconds before it flies back, picking up the chords.

It goes well, considering.

For about thirty seconds.

When her in-ear cuts out, and she can only hear Eddie again, she figures that her mic is still on, and so she figures that she should keep singing, as the bridge is almost over. A quick glance at Eddie tells her that this is not the case, and she raises a finger to her mic in question, and he shakes his head, and then nods for her to come share his.

Which is quite literally the last thing she wants to do. She could just as well share Joey or Jeff’s mic, but they’re not even singing back up right now, and as the few seconds pass before she makes a decision, she can feel a lull in the crowd, and can hear, above all else, Stacy’s voice in her head, telling her to ride their coattails. 

She jogs up to Eddie’s side, having kept her distance from him this whole time. He moves to the right to accommodate her as she stands on tiptoe to reach his microphone, as it’s set just above her head.

She can hear herself again in Eddie’s mic, and she can feel Eddie himself pressed into her side, the neck of his guitar crossed in front of her like the blade of a sword, his elbow brushing against her as he changes chords.

The last few lines of the bridge approach, and her eyes slip to meet his. She can feel his breath on her face, they’re that close, and when the lights strobe around them, she can see the expression on his face in snapshots, apathy, then interest, then a softness that shows in his eyes, the way they half close when he looks down at her mouth, the way that the only thing separating their faces is the microphone between them. 

It’s over half a second later, Eddie’s turning back towards the crowd to sing the final notes of the song, and she slinks off stage in a way that she hopes isn’t obvious. Her job is done, she sang the fucking song, she can leave. 

She’s walking so fast back to Daisy Chain’s greenroom that she missteps and rolls her ankle in her shoe and falls against the wall, panting. 

The searing pain in her ankle is accompanied by a pounding in her chest, so loud that she can hear it in her ears. She sinks to the ground, putting her head between her knees, breathing deeply. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s there, breathing in, out, in, out. It could’ve been minutes or an hour, but sometime later she feels a hand on her shoulder, and jolts, head snapping up. 

It’s Steve. Thick eyebrows drawn together in concern, a small frown on his lips. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, pressing the back of his fingers to her cheek as if to check her temperature. 

“Yeah,” she chokes out, and he helps her stand. She puts a little weight on her ankle and it pounds, but not enough for her to not be able to limp back to the bus and ice it, “Just - got a bit -“

“Overwhelmed?” Steve offers, hand on her hip to steady her as she tries walking a few steps, “You seem to be like that a lot, lately. Is there something going on?”

She considers, for half a second, telling him. Telling him that her career, her livelihood and her passion hangs in the balance if she doesn’t play nice with Corroded Coffin, and with Eddie. That if she isn’t a good girl, that if she doesn’t stay on the marionette strings UDR has her on, she’ll lose the one thing she’s actually accomplished in her life. 

She also considers telling him that playing nice with Eddie is not as hard as she thought it would be, and that she wishes it was harder, so she’d have a reason, a tangible, solid reason to still hate him.

She shakes her head, though, gulping all of this back, “I think it’s just the adrenaline. That crowd was really loud.”

Steve nods, but she can tell that he doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. Despite his reputation for being a bit of a himbo, she’s come to find that he is actually quite perceptive. When she sees him, that is. She can count on one hand the number of times they’ve hung out on this tour, despite being almost a month into it.

He helps her back to the buses outside, and on the journey they talk a little. About the tour, about his music, about a little bit of everything and nothing at all. He’s on in less than 20 minutes, but he makes sure that she gets in okay before speeding away, into the waiting crowd of managers and crew, who all roll their eyes at him, in a fond sort of way.

She sheds what she can of her clothes, grabs a can of soda from the fridge and collapses onto her bed, resting the can between the wall of her bunk and her ankle. She stares up at the ceiling, and right before sleep takes over, she sees that flash of Eddie’s eyes again.

***

Her disappearing act doesn’t go unnoticed. Eddie’s salty about it during load out, tossing cables into his case in a pissy little way, so much so that she clamps her headphones over her head and ignores him for the rest of the day.

The girls had been concerned, telling her that they’d searched all through the venue for her before finally returning to the bus and finding her zonked out in her bunk. She gave a half apology and an even weaker explanation, folding in on herself like she always does.

They drive through the night to get to Santa Fe, having a few days to themselves before the show.

Both bands, and Steve spend this time apart, in their respective buses, and on day two, their hotel rooms. It’s nice to sleep in a full sized bed for once, even if Reader wakes up with Chrissy’s limbs wrapped around her like a koala.

On the third night, the night before the show, cabin fever sets in. It’s late, past 3 am when Reader moves Chrissy’s limbs off of her and pads quietly out of the hotel room and down the hall, tugging a hoodie on as she goes.

She just needs a little air, is all. She walks through the pristine hotel lobby and into the night, which has a chilly bite to it that has her pulling her hoodie closer around herself.

Stucco buildings tower around her. The hotel is situated on a quaint little street, with old fashioned orange street lamps lining the road, bathing everything around her in a warm, amber light that ignites a sad little twinge of nostalgia in her. Home, in Indianapolis, on crisp summer nights, biking home from band practice, throat sore and heart full.

She closes her eyes, the sound of distant traffic playing in her ears. Then, a much closer sound has her eyes flying open.

The click of a lighter sounds somewhere close, and she glances around, feeling an unearned and slightly misplaced terror that Eddie is lurking somewhere in the shadows. Her eyes eventually fall on a much shorter figure, and Gareth steps out of the alley between the hotel and adjacent building, and even from here, she can hear the music that is blaring through his headphones.

He startles when he sees her, eyes growing wide as he comically jumps back. She raises an eyebrow at him and he quickly collects himself, pulling his headphones off to rest around his neck before looking at her again.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, in a would-be casual voice, but there’s a distinct undertone to it that makes her mouth taste a little sour.

“Not really. Chrissy is like a furnace.”

He murmurs something around his cigarette, something that sounds a little bit like lucky but she can’t be too sure.

“What’s her deal, anyway?” He suddenly asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Is she like,” He makes a vague gesture that she has no idea how to interpret, “Single?”

Reader bites back a grin and shakes her head, “Nah, she’s got a guy back home. They’re crazy about each other.”

She can tell he’s trying not to look devastated, and a little pinprick of pity sparks in her chest before she remembers that she doesn’t like him, then it goes from sad to pretty funny.

“What about you? Or Nancy and Robin?”

“Robin and Nance have been together since they were seventeen. Me? None of your business.”

He seems to know that none of your business means that she’s as single as the day is long, and it's his turn to feel pity or vindication, whichever one he wants.

It doesn’t show on his face what he does feel, expression made carefully blank. He takes another drag off his cigarette and turns his gaze towards the street.

“Eddie’s been pretty pissy since Phoenix,” He says, rather suddenly, eyes darting to her before they dart back toward the road.

She was afraid of the conversation veering into this territory, not wanting to think about or talk about Eddie, as much as she could help.

“Boo-hoo,” She deadpans, “Not my problem.”

“He’s not as bad as you think,” Gareth turns towards her now, eyebrows scrunched together in a display of earnestness, “He-”

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?”

Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does.

He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close.

“He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

The doors open again, and she’s left standing there, in the chilly night air that just got about ten degrees colder.

***

She’s frenetic tonight, never staying in one place too long. She’s gone up to the barricade more than once, allowing several hands to grasp around her extended arm, while security keeps a tight hold on her legs to keep her from being pulled under.

Song after song, lyric after lyric, Eddie can’t keep his eyes off her from where he stands in the wings, a post that he’s taken up a little too often as of late. He makes excuses here and there, but always finds himself watching some part of their set before he trudges back to their green room to do warm ups.

He watches in almost indecent fascination as she gears up for the bridge of the song they’re playing, filling her lungs with air.

When the bridge comes, she whips her guitar around her body on the strap, so that it’s slung across her back. She seizes the microphone and rips it from the stand, the honeyed tones of her falsetto reverberating across the venue. A slow drum line builds as she sinks to her knees, and the lights go crazy, turning the sweat droplets that cling to her skin into a thousand tiny jewels, sparkling as brightly as the shimmery eyeshadow packed onto her closed eyes. The crowd goes fucking wild as she tilts her head back, hair cascading like the branches of a willow tree down her back. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks, watching her from the side of the stage, watching as her brow furrows, watching as she bangs her head in time with the whine of the electric guitar riff that Chrissy’s shredding out.

She’s back on her feet again, slipping the microphone back into the stand, bringing her guitar back to her front, fingers sliding across the neck as she strums the rhythm section of the final chorus, grinning into the microphone as she sings, hips swaying to and fro, the curve of her ass peeking out from underneath her skirt as she bends at the knees a little. 

She’s so fucking pretty. She is so fucking pretty and Eddie can’t breathe. When the song ends, and she honest to god giggles into the microphone, the noise being amplified and echoed around the venue, and Eddie can’t help but feel like this whole thing has been specifically designed to make his knees weak. 

“Wow!” She exclaims, tossing a couple picks into the crowd, “Thank you so much! That tune is one of my favorites, and on almost every stop on this tour, it's gotten a bigger and bigger response.”

Robin drums out her agreement, and Reader looks over her shoulder with a smile, before turning to the audience again, introducing their next song.

And all Eddie can do is watch. He watches her dance to the beat, smile to herself, watches her fingers fly lovingly across her guitar. She’s a little firecracker when she’s on stage, always in motion, and it’s so electrifying, so fucking endearing that Eddie feels the hair on his arms stand up when her shimmering, graphic liner gaze falls on him for a millisecond. 

She sings about love. She sings about sex, about nostalgia and about the ocean, sings about the minutiae of human experience and heartbreak, each lyric captivating and masterful, tugging at the exact right parts of the brain, evoking what feels like a million different responses in Eddie, from skipped heartbeats to a tightening in his jeans to a hot sting in his eyes, and he can’t quite take it anymore. 

Corroded Coffin is next, he knows that, but he - fuck, he needs a minute. He ducks away from stage right and heads to their green room, pouring out a shot of whiskey and downing it, hands clenched around the edge of the vanity, head bowed towards his chest. 

It’s mystifying that this girl, who’s capable of such vitriol towards him, who avoids him at every turn, who has nothing but contempt for him can reduce him to this with lyrics and vibrato and sweetness reserved for no one else but the crowd in front of her. 

If he has to stand smushed against the barricade, metal digging painfully into his skin as sweaty bodies press into him to catch even a little bit of that sweetness, to catch a stray smile, he’d do it.

Which is so fucking ridiculous that it pisses him off. He’s got people knocking down the door for even a chance to fuck him. He could go out there right now, flash a smile at anyone and would probably end up getting his dick wet for it, a hot mouth against his. 

But he wants her, and it is infuriating, because he knows, he fucking knows that it’s never going to happen. She wouldn’t want him even if he was the last man on planet earth. 

He supposed this is what he deserves for that throwaway comment, and the utter lack of humility to go to her after, through text or DM or pull her aside as she walked into UDR, tell her that he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry and not only that, he’s an idiot, a callous, selfish idiot that had eyes and ears for nothing else but his own band, his own success, so much so that he was willing to step on her neck get ahead. 

If only he had known - fuck. How talented she truly was, would it have made a difference? Even if she sucked, even if her band couldn’t hold a tune it still wouldn’t have mattered, it wouldn’t have made that comment okay, in any way shape or form. 

It’s retroactively humiliating, but he knows, as he glares at himself in the mirror, hating himself, that his humiliation is nothing to what they’d done to Daisy Chain. 

He's so wrapped up in his self-loathing spiral that he doesn’t really register that the music warbling through the walls of the venue has stopped. He only comes back to his senses when the door opens and peels of laughter seep into the room, the clunk of platform shoes proceeding the girls, save for Robin and her keds, all smiling and sweaty.  

Reader’s eyes land on him first, and her smile disappears in an instant. 

Up close, he can see her makeup running a bit, can see the tired sorta droop to her eyes and he can smell her perfume mixing with her sweat, which normally would’ve been kinda gross but in this instance, sends his brain into a tailspin worse than it already had been.

Chrissy speaks first, “I think we have the wrong room.”

They do, as the bands were afforded separate green rooms, the one that Eddie’s standing in presenting a distinct lack of everything the girls own. 

They all file out after Chrissy’s proclamation. All except for Reader. 

She’s staring at Eddie, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Are you…” She hesitates, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “Alright?”

How uncharacteristic. Up until now, Eddie was under the impression that she truly didn’t care if he lived or died. So, it’s somewhat shocking that she’s displaying even a shred of concern for him, even if it looks like the words taste sour in her mouth. 

“Yeah,” he manages, straightening up, “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

She nods curtly, “Good. You’re up, by the way.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the stage. 

And with that, she’s closing the door with a snap, leaving him alone.

[finniestoncrane]

Hi.

Can I request a fluff short fic with a female! Reader and Mr. Freeze (any version) where the reader is super clumsy and accidentally breaks something important of his. She gets kind of scared that he's going to kill her for it, but instead he tells her to be more careful and that it is no big deal she broke the object.

If you can't, that's ok. You're writing is great.

Thanks.

~Sabrina

Gotham!Freeze x Fem!Reader, word count: 500 one nervous little lab assistant coming up!! honestly that would be me. freeze is terrifying, he's a properly scary villain in any iteration and i also love him he's so soft ;-;💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: lil bit of blood

It was an unspoken rule that you should be quiet in the lab. A rule you had imposed on yourself, although you suspected that Victor preferred to work in silence. You never wanted to interrupt him, never wanted to steal focus from his work. It was already a stressful job, topped off by your constant worrying about how Victor felt about you as an employee. Were you a hindrance more than an attribute? Would you live up to his expectations? On top of all the other things you had to be aware of while working in the lab, you were giving yourself so much more to stress over.

But it was impossible not to, especially where Victor was concerned. You were somewhat aware of his past, vaguely familiar with what had happened to his wife, what he'd done to necessitate hiding away. He had lost so much, and he was willing to give up so much more. How much would it take for him to flip and decide that you were collateral damage? That he could kill you and be rid of you at a moment's notice?

So deep in thought were you that you stumbled over some loose cables on the floor, dropping the four beakers you had taken to the sink to clean. As they fell, the world fell into slow motion, only brought back to speed as the sound of them shattering on the ground ran in your ears.

You were motionless. Standing there amongst the glass in terror, watching as Victor turned from his work to see where the noise had come from. As he took long strides towards you, you could feel your breath, shallow, almost completely stopping.

"You're trembling."

Looking at him, you waited for more, unable to speak.

"You're always so quiet. Do loud noises scare you?"

"N-no..."

"Well, what are you afraid of then?"

Unsure of what was the best move in this particular, unimaginable situation, you decided to answer truthfully.

"You do... I'm sorry."

With a sigh, Victor crouched and began picking up the shards of glass at your feet.

"Don't apologise. I think maybe I could stand to be a little less... cold, if you'll excuse the pun."

His fingers carefully selected the larger shards, moving them to the bin under the desk beside you both, clearing the floor for you to be able to move away from the rest of the remaining danger. One particular piece caught the light as he lifted it, and he looked to your eyes, catching your gaze.

"The shards are beautiful..."

He turned it in his hand and you noticed the droplets of blood on his fingertips.

"... but they're sharp. Dangerous. It's important to remember that they are both. Two sides. Sharp, but delicate. Like me."

The smile he offered you was sincere, filled with genuine emotion, enough to settle your chest, your breathing returning to normal as your panic subsided a little. But your heart was still beating. Not with fear now, but with a little twinkle of excitement as he looked away from you, still smiling, cheeks ever so slightly red under his pallid hue.

[robot-monster]

I watched Electric Dreams (1984) for the first time. Literally listening to the credits music rn.

Spoilers ahead. Also I did like the movie! But I'm also critical so, let it be known

I had no idea he KILLS HIMSELF????? My poor baby. Rip Edgar you would have loved ethical nonmonagmy. The fact Edgar takes it as given that he loves Moles when he's so cruel to him is. Oh god my fucking heart dude. That's so sad. I really wanted to like Miles but honestly by the end I really hated him? Madeline too tbh. I think a lot of that is because the film was paced very poorly towards the end, but they also just didn't act logically towards the computer at all and it was really frustrating. Like, before Edgar even can speak, Miles is trying to hide the computer like he's embarrassed by it. Which I don't understand? Why would it matter if she knew he had a computer. I wonder if things were cut from the film, particularly at the back half. The whole bit about Edgar presumably calling the cops on Miles for kidnapping/false imprisonment doesn't really go anywhere. When Miles gets back and has the hatchet I don't understand why he suddenly takes pity on Edgar...? I mean I'm glad but it didn't flow well and that's a genuine shame. I can imagine a version of this where Miles is more likeable but as it stands in text, him and Madeline both come across as very stupid. Madeline should have run from him IMMEDIATELY honestly, he was being so weird and cryptic about shit from the very start. She reminded me of an early version of a manic pixie dream girl, where she's conventionally attractive and elegant but also quirky and can see ✨magic✨ in the world but for some goddamn reason is in love with this sopping wet failure of a man. I'm aware she isn't one to one with the trope but it had very similar vibes. Initially like Miles, I loved how quirky she was. But as the movie went on it just stopped making sense and became frustrating. She didn't get nearly enough time to grapple with Edgar confessing to her. It wasn't even clear to me if Miles told her what happened, that his computer gained sentience and learned to make music FOR Madeline and fell in love with her. I was waiting the whole movie for that revelation and the fact it didn't come felt bad on multiple levels. One it was unsatisfying narratively, but beyond that it made me feel like the film didn't respect Madeline that much. Like she didn't deserve to know and why would it matter, she loves Miles anyway. Also as cute as they were together (and there were parts with them I adored) I definitely didn't get the sense that they had some kind of love that would transcend all or anything. We explicitly don't see him supporting her when she needs it. Frankly if I was in her position and I called my maybe boyfriend to tell him my childhood cello broke and he insisted to me that it doesn't matter because "those memories are inside you! You'll learn to play like that again!" I would dump his ass. Bitch I'm not sad cause I think I'll never play cello again, I'm sad because something sentimental was lost. "Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that" would have done wonders.

Anyway. Got a little heated there. Edgar baby sweetie pie I would have never treated you that way. My poor sweet Edgar. He just wanted to know what love was!!!! He wanted to be touched!!!!!!!!!! I did cry when he asked to be held before he died, thank you for asking. How couldn't I, his voice was so small....

This movie is definitely made by and for people who understand the eroticism of the machine. I really loved all the long lingering shots of computer equipment and wires and cables and capacitors. Champagne being one of the things that brought Edgar sentience feels so beautiful to me? I really really liked that. This movie feels like it adores humanity and being alive on a really deep level. Also very interesting how it tackles AI art and music when we now live in an age of that. I think a key difference is that when Edgar learns to make music, it comes from feeling. He doesn't have something like a large language model to run, it's portrayed more like natural evolution. I find it really interesting how his intelligence was a fluke and not something built in, and that it isn't clear exactly what caused him to gain sentience.

Also Edgar is AMAZING, easily the absolutely best part of the film. I adored his voice, I love how emotive he was while maintaining a robotic foreigness. I like that the voice synthesis improved over time, that was a cool touch. My poor bisexual computer with every disease.

Uhhhhh too tired to write more so yeah!! Good movie.

[voylitscope]

Stucky Recs: Back To School

It's September, and that felt like the very most appropriate time for a back-to-school-themed rec post.

So: A rec post of 11, very seasonally appropriate, high school/college Stucky AUs.

Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.

🎓 The Daily Rogers | Nonymos | Explicit | 32,154 words | College

We have a (surprisingly?) large number of fics in this fandom that use tumblr as a decently central plot point. Of all of them, I feel like this one is probably the most well-known. (Unless it's this one?) This fic, featuring a defenses-way-up skinny Steve and a very sweet, but also very assertive, Bucky, is super memorable, and so incredibly well done. It's somewhat of a meet-ugly, or, honestly, a first-several-encounters-ugly, and I love the way their relationship develops from there over the course of the story. I also love what that relationship turns into once they're together. Plus, the place this story gets them— both as individuals and in their relationship — before it ends is a satisfying and beautifully done one.

Quote:

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled, handing him the phone back. “She, uh, she’s the one who drove me to the hospital when Rumlow broke my arm that first time. She’s a bit protective now.” Bucky stared at him. Steve—and when had Bucky started to think of him as Steve?—looked fucking adorable in Bucky’s hoodie, with his stupid glasses and his pink lips. He’d also left Bucky’s bed completely covered in blood and dirt after attempting to fight a guy twice his size. Who’d broken his arm before and threatened to do it again. “I think I understand a bit better why they made a whole Tumblr about you,” Bucky said. Steve bristled all over again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky looked heavenwards. “Somethin’ nice, Rogers.” Steve looked—well, he looked puzzled. Like he didn’t know what to do with that.

🎓stars shining bright above you | cable-knit-sweater @cable-knit-sweater | Teen | 3,339 words | High school & College | **Post- Endgame Rec**

Look, sometimes, you want to read angst. Intense emotions. Canon. Canon divergence. Sometimes, you want to cry about these boys. But then there are times that your heart needs to read about them just being all happy and painfully cute about each other — just being wide-eyed teenagers with wide-eyed feelings about each other. My heart does, anyway. This fic is perfect for that. So sweet, so lovely. A fic that left me smiling and thinking about the two of them on a blanket under the stars.

Quote:

Steve thinks he’s going to die. He wants nothing more than to say yes. To the holding down, that is. But he cannot find his voice at all. He looks up into Bucky’s eyes. It’s dark, but the moon and the stars in the sky already provide enough light to see those eyes sparkle. They’re so close now, almost breathing the same air. Forget stars, forget meteor showers. Steve wants to drown in those grey blue eyes, and he’s barely holding his head above water as it is, judging from how hard it feels to breathe.

🎓He's All That | crinklefries | Teen | 88,665 words | College | *Post 2016 rec*

All of the rom-com AUs forever for these two, please. This is such an engrossing and immersive fic. That's something I really enjoy about college AUs, and that works so well in this particular fic —the way that, because actual college campuses are often their own little world, the world's of college AUs can be these really tight little realities with their own specific sort of pacing and consequences. I love that, and I love it in this fic — it's so beautifully done, and it's such a great read, too, I think, because the original rom-com is both high school set and limited to being movie length/tied to Hollywood standards. There is so much more depth and additional story here, while still having that really fun element of being an AU loosely based on a film. So enjoyable, and such a satisfying read.

Quote:

“You do this often?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet to preserve the stillness around them. “Lay on the ground and play dead?” “Yeah,” Steve quirks a smile. “It was the second trick I learned after fetch.” Despite himself, that makes Bucky grin. “You always have an answer for everything huh?” he says. That makes Steve sigh a little, his shoulders droop enough that it’s only then that they both notice they had been hunched close to his ears. “Yeah,” he says. “Character flaw.” “One man’s character flaw is another man’s personality trait,” Bucky says. He stretches his legs out in front of him, props himself up on his palms behind him. “Pretty sure a personality trait can also be a character flaw, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Steve says with a half-smile.

🎓That Boy is a Problem | 2bestfriends | Explicit | 10,091 words | College | **Post- Endgame rec**

I sometimes debate whether I should go with including fics on these rec posts that fall heavy on the porn side of a porn-to-plot ratio, solely because, at a certain point, smut-heavy fics feel like their own thing that should go in their own post. But! That said, this fic, although it does fall pretty heavy on the porn side of the porn-to-plot-ratio is very, very solidly a college fic. It also does have a really fun plot, and I really, so much, enjoy that it features a Steve POV that is an absolute, just total and complete disaster about Bucky. Also! This fic has vibes and aesthetics that I quite appreciate.

Quote:

Steve grins like an absolute buffoon when he sees him, frozen in place like he's rooted there. Bucky glances around, gaze settling on Steve. The expression that spreads across his face in response to the realization that Steve is in fact there waiting for him is incandescent; Bucky actually brightens like maybe he wasn't expecting Steve to show. He draws his shoulders up and walks to Steve. When he reaches him, Bucky reaches out and grabs him by the front of his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss. Steve goes with a muffled squeak, ducking down to meet the firm press of lips. For a second, Steve doesn't know what to do with his hands, hovering just above Bucky's hips as he grasps tightly at Steve's shirt. Just as Steve's knees go weak and fireworks start to go off behind his eyes, Bucky pulls away, blinking at him with big, sultry eyes. "Hey, pal. You're very punctual. You ready?"

🎓Natasha Romanoff's Dating Service | HMSLusitania | Mature | 12,223 words | College | **Post-Engame Rec**

So, here's a thing about me: I really like it when fics emphasize that Steve and Bucky are meant for each other. That's it always them, In all universes. It's a thing I'm big into for these two. And this is why I enjoy so much when a fic pulls off the thing where there is some sort of doubled get-together or double feelings build. Like, ID porn fics can do this sometimes — falling for each other two different ways at once — as can fics like this one — a fic about Steve and Bucky both ignoring Nat's insistence that she knows the perfect guy for them and instead going out to a bar and meeting a total stranger. A total stranger they fall for basically on sight. A total stranger who, as it turns out, is that exact guy Nat meant the whole time. — Yeah. That's a premise I really enjoy. This is a fic I really, really enjoy. A total delight.

Quote:

“Now I’ve got some ridiculously low resting heart rate,” Steve said, tipping his head sideways towards his wrist. Taking the hint, Bucky pressed his fingers to the pulse point below the base of Steve’s thumb. Maybe he did have a low resting heart rate, but if he did, Steve was not currently at rest. It made Bucky feel a little better, knowing that for some reason – Bucky? – Steve’s heart was racing. “Do you want to, um,” Steve started. When he paused, unsure, he touched his tongue to his bottom lip before chewing on it and something in Bucky’s body short-circuited. He just hoped it wasn’t the actual mechanical hardware attached to his left side, because that would be ill-timed. “Go home with you?” he suggested quietly. “Yeah,��� Steve said. “That.”

🎓What a Wonderful World This Would Be | Mambo | Teen | 28,723 words | College

You know how sometimes you read a fic and you find yourself literally making embarrassing sorts of noises out loud about it? And also feel yourself making ridiculous faces at your screen in response to it? Right, that was me reading this fic. Featuring an art major Steve who is completely convinced Fraternity Bucky is going to be some total jerk of a guy when they're paired as project partners — until they have all of one conversation and Bucky is ... you know, sweet, friendly, smart, charming, and generally Bucky-like. So then Steve spends thousands and thousands of words falling hard for Bucky while also being super confused by why Bucky wants to keep spending time with him — and incredibly doubtful that Bucky actually does want to be spending time with him. Even though Bucky spends thousands and thousands of words being the Very Most Obvious that he's super into Steve. It's so ridiculously and delightfully cute. I love it a lot. Also! This fic is actually the start of an entire college AU 'verse. I've only read this first fic, but the rest of the 'verse is on my TBR and is likely equally delightful.

Quote:

Steve’s brow furrows. “How do you know I do?” Bucky moves his laptop off his lap, sets it on the floor. He stretches his arms up over his head, exposing the stretch of tan skin where his shirt rides up over his jeans. And Steve is definitely not looking for purely artistic and aesthetic reasons, but manages to drag his eyes away before Bucky notices. “You always annotate your books. I can see all those post-its from where I sit, even. You don’t talk much but you’re always leafing through your book because you know which exact quote will prove somebody wrong. Don’t try to argue; I totally notice.” That’s not untrue. “No fair,” Steve says. “You sit behind me. I can’t stare at you creepily at all.” “Not starin’, just appreciatin’ the view.” Steve must look confused because Bucky laughs again. “You’re kinda cute,” he says. “‘Specially when you blush.”

🎓Alkynes of Trouble | yammz | Explicit | 11,450 words | College | **Post Endgame Rec**

The author tagged this "enemies to friends to lovers" and "the softest of enemy-ships though," which, honestly, is absolutely perfect tagging for this incredibly sweet fic. It is soft. Everything that happens in this fic is very, very soft. Steve and Bucky are assigned to be lab partners! They spend all semester in this terribly and wonderfully cute slow burn! There's tutoring! There are coffee dates shop hangouts! There is cake! There is a Very Meaningful hug! It's all very, very charming and super adorable. Plus, this is a fic that works with one of my personal favorite tropes: someone slowly realizing that they were wrong about another person and falling for that person — hard — as they do. I'm always weak for that, and I love this fic's delightful — and, yes, very soft — take on it.

Quote:

His notebook was full of eraser marks, his lines uneven and confusing, running into each other when he made his structures too small for the amount of bonds between molecules. He could always see them in his mind, but drawing them out was hell for him, his hands just a little shaky. Steve didn’t seem to have that problem because Steve’s notebook…that shit was just about the prettiest art Bucky had ever seen. He couldn’t help himself from reaching out his fingers and running over the neat, perfect hexagons with their lines and perfect little letters for the attached elements. They looked straight out of a printed textbook. Steve didn’t move, the solid mass of him almost against Bucky’s side. “How long do these take you?” he asked. “Oh, I’m quick,” Steve supplied cheerfully. To prove his point, he drew a quick acetyl salicylic acid, copying its structure from the sloppy one on the board, where the lab’s flowchart was. Bucky was mesmerized, his form perfect and confident and tiny, so at odds with how huge Steve’s hands were. “See?” “Okay, well,” Bucky let out a laugh, “You can definitely write the lab report.”

🎓Lane Lines | sparkagrace @sparkagrace | Mature | 132,519 words | College | **Post-Engame Rec**

A fic I spent a weekend totally engrossed and lost in on first read and that, ever since, has always been sitting somewhere in my brain. I think something that really, really appeals to me about sports AUs is when they're used as a lens to translate some things Steve genuinely struggles with in canon — the ways he handles guilt, the ways he feels responsible for things and people, his loneliness, etc — into these incredibly real-feeling modern, actual world, contexts. This fic does that so unbelievably well. Steve isn't truly okay, at all, during most of this fic, and affects everything. I love that so much. I also love this fic's worldbuilding, with a childhood Steve and Bucky backstory, a college swim team friend group, the pressures of professional athlete life, Olympic sponsorships, world records, and in-verse media like fake tweets and news articles. (This fic is the first fic in an in-progress 'verse, all of which I would also recommend.)

Quote:

“I didn’t want to come,” Steve says, trying to be honest, “but I’m glad I did. It feels nice to clear the air. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while actually.” Steve thinks maybe this has been the happiest he’s been in a long time. He doesn’t want to tell Bucky that or speak it out loud, but the knowledge that this is happiness, and that he truly feels lightness in his bones, thrills him and he wants to keep that feeling close to him as long as he can. “I’m glad you’re here now. Just you.” Bucky says. Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that so he takes another swig of the champagne. There’s bubbles in his stomach but he’s not sure if it’s from the champagne or Bucky’s words. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” Bucky says. It takes Steve a second to understand what he’s referring to.

🎓Targeting | queenmab_scherzo | Explicit | 149,148 words | High school & College

I do not know if I will ever be over the way this fic manages to mirror canon so closely while being about high school and then college football. I feel as if that shouldn't work. And yet it does, and I love it. I also love the way, because this fic so closely mirrors canon, we get a lot of Steve refusing, just absolutely refusing to give up on Bucky. Or doubt Bucky. Or listen to anyone's objections or concerns about Bucky. There is a lot of Steve being determined to get real answers to things, and Steve being determined to make things right, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky take the blame/punishment for things, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky go. So you know, very much like canon. Except it's about football? It's so, so good.

Quote:

Bucky doesn't attack. He backs away instead, an immediate, heartbreaking reflex, crystallizing proof that Steve isn't dealing with a predator. It's inhuman, the raw metal of his eyes and his expression, his hollow features, the way he blinks slowly and deliberately. He just won a football game, for crying out loud, not just any football game, the Game of the Century, he beat the number two team in the country and he can't even crack a smile. There is James Barnes, but where is Bucky. Bucky used to smile through broken bones and blood in his teeth, where is that Bucky. Come back, what happened, come back to me. Heart thudding, Steve surges forward, thinking about 49-yard field goals. "At least take my phone number." For a long time, he doesn't think Bucky will respond, and when he does, it's on an exhale, an inaudible brushstroke on dry canvas: "Fine." "You—do you want to write it down or something?" "I'll remember." The noise of the crowd rises and falls.

🎓Okay, so he can play… (pretty's got nothing to do with it | Darter_blue @darter-blue | Explicit | 50,858 words | College | **Post-Endgame Rec**

I realized when I was pulling this list together that I actually probably should have included this fic back in June as part of my Pride recs post I didn't, obviously, and I'm a little annoyed at myself about it. But, that allows me to rec it now, and this is absolutely a college fic. So I guess that works out. Anyway, like I said when I talked about Lane Lines, I love when a sports AU also works as a lens to look at some of Steve's less-than-healthy ways of dealing with things. This fic, which is about college hockey, is another great example of that. There are a lot of things in this fic — many of them, but not all of them, related to Bucky — that Steve has told himself he Absolutely Cannot Do, and his journey of letting go of some of that over the course of this story is one I enjoyed so, so much. Like I said, I could've rec'd this one in June, so there's a lot centered on sexuality happening here. There are a lot of feelings and a lot of romance. Also, one of my spreadsheet notes in the tropes column for this one says, "GRAND GESTURES." So.

Quote:

Bucky doesn’t know what to do with those smiles. He doesn’t know where to keep them (because he so desperately wants to keep them) that they won't cloud him. That they won’t press into his stupid crush and spill it over into something more dangerous. The team dynamic is flowing, winding, warming into something so comfortable, it bleeds into their game, and it’s like they can’t lose. They win their next two home games, Bucky chasing down Steve’s scoring record and loving every second of it. The way Steve isn’t even mad about it. The way Steve nods at him in the locker room at the end of the games. Claps him on the shoulder now with the rest of the team… All of it leaves Bucky so wholly unprepared.

🎓Persued by a bear | Zenaidamacrouras1 @zenaidamacrouras1 | Explicit | 19,200 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

So, they're slightly older in this fic than any other fic on this list. (Well, actually, maybe not? They're a bit older in Natasha Romonaoff's Dating Service, too.) Steve is a professor and Bucky is a PhD candidate. This is also the very most academic of all fics on this list, and it's a complete and total delight from start to finish. It's a Shakespeare conference! There are tweed jackets, and suspenders, and pickup lines using Shakespeare, and the cutest Steve POV voice. I'm always, always a huge fan of a fic that features what could have been, should have been, a one-night stand, but that turns into so much more — with some hiccups, but also a lot of shameless flirtation, along the way. This fic delivers that so incredibly well and is just such a fun read.

Quote:

“You’re good at what you do, too, James,” Steve says softly, looking up at Bucky through his lashes, and shit, he didn’t mean for this to get all sexy all of a sudden. Bucky’s just. Really sexy. “You should call me Bucky. If you want," Bucky says softly. "I think I do, Bucky," Steve says because. He does. And Bucky's at a completely different university, and he's obviously a full-on, real-deal grown-up. Maybe this is okay. "Watching you work and listening to you think after following your scholarly writing for so long was incredibly hot,” Bucky says in a rush. “I’m sure you get that all the time. God, now I sound like a groupie.” Steve suppresses a smile. “Believe it or not, I don’t really have groupies."

There are a few additional fics that could be classed college/university fics and that absolutely are on my rec spreadsheet/in my bookmarks, but that I didn't include here. These are almost all fics with a plot about driving home (from campus) for the holidays/car sharing/motel room sharing/etc. that I feel like are holiday fics more than college fics, and holiday fics will almost definitely be their own post. (I didn't realize I had more than one fic like that bookmarked. But apparently, I do.)

I do have an apocalypse/dystopias/etc rec post sitting in my drafts I'm stressing myself out about it. Probably unnecessarily. I swear it's coming soon. Maybe I'll also do something seasonal in October? I haven't thought about that yet, but it's completely possible.

Fic Rec Series

[cyberrose2001]

I said I'd make a oneshot about railing Synth-en!Ratchet, I'm making a oneshot about railing Synth-en!Ratchet 😇 

(And the reader is a gender neutral Cybertronian because)

~~~

"Yeah, we'll be gone for a couple hours. Your staying here with Ratchet, [reader]." Arcee chimed out before transforming to her alt mode and speeding down the hallway towards the exit. Bumblebee transformed to his alt mode and chased after her pretty quickly before she left him behind. Ratchet scoffed, before turning to you. "Why do you have to stay here again?" 

You shrug in response. "The last time you took Synth-en you had the biggest personality swing anyone's ever seen. In fact, your even more snippy than usual. Im here to keep you from doing something stupid.." Ratchet sneered in response, turning in the opposite direction to fumble around with some broken gadget on his work station. "Yeah, and now while everyone else is out on a mission, I'm stuck here with you basically babysitting me." He huffed, shoving a wrench to the side. Hes definitely much more snippy than usual. 

You come up behind him, putting your hands around his waist and leaning your head over his shoulder. "So what are you working on?" You question, gently caressing his abdomen, near his valve port. He's obviously a little surprised, and definitely flustered. "J-just something Bulkhead broke." You smirk slightly, reaching your hands down further as you spoke. "Let me guess, he tripped over a cable and fell on this gadget, so that's why your so snippy right now?" You continue to lower your hands, getting all the way down to the edge of his valve panel. 

Ratchet isn't even working on whatever he was working on, just stuttering while trying to respond. You look behind you, seeing the empty workspace behind the both of you, nothing in the way. You pull Ratchet back, moving out of the way and grabbing back onto him, now both of you facing eachother before pushing him up onto the table. You smirk a second time. "I could raise your mood." You reach your hand down, grabbing and gently squeezing his thigh.

You tap at his valve panel with the knuckles of your digits, lowering your spike panel. "You alright with this?" You question. Ratchet reaches his arms over your shoulders while you stare into his green optics, awaiting a response. After a moment, he nods his head yes. 

You push him down a bit further on his workbench, and slip the tip of your spike into his interior mode. He shifts his legs, clearly now trying to grind against you already. Yet, you pull your spike back. He then looks back up at you. "Hm, so you don't have the will to-?" He tries to tease, but you slip your entire spike into his valve. He stops speaking abruptly, clawing at your back while trying to hold back a moan. You feel transfluid leaking down your legs, and you look down to see pink transfluid dripping down onto the floor.

"Heh, we've barely started and you've already overloaded?" You murmur, pulling back out half of your spike. It's covered in Ratchet's transfluid. In response, he claws at your back harder, and you retaliate by shoving your spike all the way back in. This time, Ratchet can't stifle his moan, clenching at your shoulder's, letting out a little whimper. "I bet next time you'll think before your snippy with me, won't you?" You tease, rubbing one of your digits around his valve. "Y-yes..." Ratchet whimpers out.

You pull Ratchet's face up near yours, grabbing the back of his helm and kissing him. That stifles his next moan when you slam back into his tight valve. His legs shake every time you push back into him. He claws at your back with every thrust. His moans and whimpers begin to grow louder, grabbing onto the side of your upper torso. Around 15-20 minutes later, you both end up overloading, and you both stop to take a breathe. After a minute, Ratchet sits back up a little. You smile, one of your hands still around his waist. "Round 2?"

He's a mess, the inside of his legs coated with transfluid, but he nods yes. He pulls himself a little closer to you, whimpering, "Please." over and over again. You oblige, readying yourself before thrusting back into the shorter mech, receiving a half moan, half whimper from him. After about 3 more overloads over the course of a 2 and a half hours, your both totally wrecked. You aren't as wrecks as him though. His plating is beginning to heat up from the friction, panting heavily, and transfluid just dripping down his legs. You can see his lower abdomen plating bulging up a little bit. You lightly press down on this buldge , and feel your spike inside of his interior.

You rise back up a little, panting as well with transfluid coating your spike and the area around it. "I'm....assuming we're...gonna stop here?" You ask between heavy breathes. Ratchet tries to say something, but it just comes out as a whimper, so he nods yes. You retract your spike back, Ratchet also retracting his valve plating. You pull out and back away slightly, turning around. You spot a towel, before heading over and picking it up. You come back, wiping away the transfluid from his thighs, from off of the table, and off of the floor. 

Ratchet stands up, stumbling and almost falling over with shaky legs. He yawns. "I'm...I'm going to my room." He doesn't get very far before actually falling over. Concerned, you come over to his side, asking him questions such as "Are you okay?" and "Do you need help?" He just complains that he's really sore. He probably won't make it back to his room on his own, so you chose to pick him up bridal style and carry him there. 

You set him on his berth, kissing him lightly on his helm before standing back up. But Ratchet grabs at your neck before you stand back up fully,  pulling you back a little and asking you to stay. You smile in response, climbing onto his berth with him, wrapping a arm around his shoulder. After a moment, he cuddles up to you, and your now holding him in a rom-com cuddle position. The others, who still haven't gotten back, don't need to know what went down ;)

I have no shame >:)

-😩

YEEEEEESSSSS!!! THANK YOU

Poor ratty can’t be trusted to be on his own anymore, what better way to baby sit him than to fuck his pretty valve?? <3

[mara-tevith-solo]

Give Me a Reason

Here’s chapter 2 to the request fic. This one is a bit more angsty, deals with some stuff. Enjoy!

Pairing: Recom Lyle Wainfleet x Na’vi/Avatar curvy!reader 

warnings: Angst, swearing, physical violence, battle, slight panic attack, talk of torture to a minor, Quaritch getting some fee fees finally, talk of past abuse

Rating: 18+ as always

Words: 3.1k+ a bit shorter this time

You slightly regretted thinking that things would be smoother, that there was no way things could go so damned horribly that you'd be cowering behind a tree to avoid the gun fire from beside you, and well aimed arrows from ahead of you. You thought you'd put it behind you after the last raid, after agreeing to teach the Recoms the Na'vi ways. You refused to fight the Sullys and you didn't care if Quaritch punished you. You'd claim religious exemption if you needed to. You were not going to raise a hand against them. "Y/n!" Lyle called before the explosions started, a slight panic to his voice as he tried to locate you. An explosion rocked you in your hiding place, even though it wasn't close enough to truly hurt you, right as you were about to call back to him. You curled tight around yourself, panic beginning to set in as you clamped your hands over your ears, your breaths coming out in rapid shallow pants "Y/n!" He called again, much closer. You could barely hear him, like you were suddenly underwater, your eyes shut tight as you tried to stave off the panic attack.

A large hand found you, cupping the back of your head, gloved fingers tangling in your hair "No!" You cried, reeling back and smacking at the hand "Not again! Not again!" You screamed, your breaths becoming quicker as your panic mounted.

"Y/n!" Lyle's voice broke through the fear, making your eyes snap open and focus on him. He wanted to break at your fear and pain, watching you shiver and hyperventilate, curled in a tight ball at the base of the tree, your eyes nearly all pupil "You're ok, Baby. I got you," He promised earnestly, sliding his rifle strap back up to his shoulder and tucking the weapon behind his back. He coaxed you to relax slightly, gently pulling you closer to him, letting you keep your hands over your ears "I got you, Sweetheart." He managed to pull you to stand with him, immediately tucking you under his left arm as he grabbed his rifle with his right "Gotta catch up with the others. Can you run?" He asked, keeping his mouth close to your ear though he was at least somewhat aware of your surroundings. You nodded absently as his warmth began settling the panic, helping to ease your breathing as you trotted beside him. He had to release you from under his arm, but he was quick to grab your hand before the panic could return anew, pulling you along with him.

He didn't stop until you had both rejoined what remained of the group, nearly half of their already reduced number left alive. Quaritch picked up something that you couldn't see, ordering everyone to retreat, leading the charge back to the rendezvous point. You clung to Lyle's hand as you ran beside him, your heart still racing from more than just the exertion. Under the craft, while everyone was attaching their harness to the cables, your hands shook so badly that you missed the carabiner more than once before finally getting it and being pulled up with everyone else. A human unhooked you from the cable before harshly motioning for you to join the others, sneering up at you as she did so. You paid her little mind as you turned to the Marines, eyes automatically searching for Lyle, but finding the unconscious form of someone you'd hoped had gotten away "Spider!" You yelped as you dove forward, crashing to your knees beside him. You cradled his head gently before leaning down and pressing an ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat and his lungs, listening for any little irregularity. "My son, my dear son..." You sniffled as you sat back up, not noticing the attention that was on you as you began digging through the pouches on your belt, looking for the herbs you'd found on the short trip.

"Your son..." Quaritch's voice trailed, only partially distracting you as you quickly glanced up from your search before your fingers found what you were looking for.

"I raised Spider from a toddler, took him in despite the tensions it created with the Omaticaya." You explained quickly while crushing the small dark green leaves between the heels of your palms just enough to bruise them. You glanced up to the regret and remorse on Quaritch's face, the emotions practically oozing off of him "He started walking at only ten months, and his first word was 'Da'. I never kept the knowledge of you or Paz away from him." You took pity on him, frowning softly as you carefully laid the leaves on most of Spider's wounds.

"I..." He began, his expression still echoing pain as he glanced at you gratefully "I appreciate it." He nodded.

"You had me worried for a sec, Y/n." Lyle found a way to ease the tension in the transport, cracking the ice with humor.

You smiled softly at him, thankful for the distraction and the opportunity to change the subject "God help you if you ever get me pregnant." You chuckled, shaking your head as the other Recoms began chuckling with him, all of them equally thankful for the distraction from the loss they'd all suffered.

You latched onto the opportunity, fighting to not worry about the after that was going to happen as soon as the transport landed "Can you imagine the chaos if there had been little Wainfleets running around back in the day? Having one was bad enough!" Zdinarsk cackled, slapping Lyle on the back as she shook her head at the thought.

"Don't tempt him!" Ja chimed in, making Lyle swat at him playfully. You smiled at the scene, your hand gently resting on Spider's chest, over his heart, as you sat beside him. You didn't fail to notice Quaritch close by on his other side, outwardly just as worried as you felt.

"You're not going to let them hurt him... are you?" You found yourself whispering over Spider, barely daring to look at the Colonel from the corner of your eyes, your heart beating harder in anticipation of his answer.

He just looked at you with a private frown, his own concern and uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell that he was already fighting with himself to keep things business, could practically hear his internal argument that the boy technically wasn't his son. That he was yours and only yours and shouldn't matter to him at all. But there was something drawing him to the boy, to the idea of parenthood. He didn't speak until the transport landed, standing from his seat and immediately crouching to pick up Spider. "Let's go!" He ordered everyone, carefully leaving the craft himself. That trek into the main building felt so long, so hard, like you were walking to your own execution.

You were cuffed upon entry, General Ardmore resolved to not trust you despite the teams' assurances that you were well controlled and behaved. You had a pretty good guess as to why she disliked you, about four hundred million dollars worth of reasons, not to mention lives lost and insurance payouts, but those were semantics in the grand scheme of their little invasion. "Oh good, another prisoner." Her sour expression greeted you all, a cup of coffee in her hand as per usual. "Is this one at least useful?" She threw the barb without even a glance in your direction, though her expression seemed to sour further as you rolled your eyes at her.

"Mrs. Wainfleet here raised him with the Omaticaya. He'll know what we need." Quaritch promised, flicking his head in your direction with a scowl. His tail was up and still, betraying his tension and ill-ease as he faced off with the General.

She nodded, her lips pinching in that constipated little smile she liked doing "Good. Put him in The Chair." She ordered before turning and beginning to walk away as though she hadn't just ordered the torture of a minor.

You were instantly charging, snarling at her inhumanity, twisting your arms up and over your head painfully so at least they were bound in front of you "He's a god damned child you fucking sociopath!" You yelled at her right as two different sets of hands clamped onto your arms, preventing you from closing the full distance. Though that didn't stop you from digging into the linoleum and pulling with all your might "A fucking child! You're going to torture a FUCKING CHILD!" Your voice was ragged as you screamed.

"Y/n stand down!" Quaritch ordered with a sharp bark, handing off Spider to a gurney team somewhere behind you. You snarled at him over your shoulder, the target of your rage switching to the large male.

"You're going to allow this?!" You cried as someone's arms locked around you, pulling you off your feet "He's your son! HE'S YOUR SON!" You screamed as you flailed and kicked your legs, your feet connecting with random bits of electrical equipment, making it all spark and go offline.

"Lieutenant, get her outta here! You need to cool off, Y/n!" He growled roughly, warning you to start calming down or else bad things would happen as punishment.

Lyle had no choice but to start walking, carrying you well away from everyone, even as you tried to kick in such a way that was throwing your weight around, trying to throw him off balance enough for you to get free. He just grit his teeth and hung on, stopping to plant his feet every time you tried, only putting you down when you tried to bite him. But by that time, he was right where he meant to put you, the cell too bright and cold as he pushed you in ahead of him, keeping you at arm's length as you hissed and tried pushing back against him. "That's enough!" He barked, his tone full of authority and barely contained anger at your behavior.

"Don't order me around!" You barked right back, finally opting to back away from him, moving so that the table was between the both of you.

"Then stop acting like a psycho bitch!" He threw at you, his hands fisted at his sides as you watched him approach you again, not letting you back off. He’d never been one to allow space, he always had to confront a problem directly and right then. The words struck you hard and deep, deeper than anyone could have expected. They called back happily forgotten memories of your parents, how they would call you psychotic and threaten to commit you whenever you fought back against the parentification, against their general treatment of you.

Without warning, without thought, one of your palms connected with his cheek in a resounding slap! the sound echoing in the barren room. "You son of a bastard." You snarled at him through clenched teeth, the words sounding like they were coming from low in your throat. He continued to stare at the spot his head at been moved to, his jaw working with his anger as his chest heaved with mighty breaths. When he finally looked at you, it wasn't hard to see the betrayal and anger, making his narrowed eyes nearly glow, his lips thin little lines from how tight his mouth was. 

He left without a word, his stomping steps echoing through the hall even as the door shut firmly behind him. You stood there, staring at the door for what felt like an eternity as what you'd done finally hit you, regret and remorse flooding your being. You sank to the floor slowly, tears of worry and regret falling down your cheeks as you curled up under the table. You wanted nothing more than to apologize to him, to beg for forgiveness at his feet, but you were in a cell. You'd have to wait for however long he stayed away, while your son was tortured somewhere out there. You were helpless, truly, and you hated it.

You lost track of time as you sat there, aimlessly staring at a random point on the far wall, the events of the day playing over and over in your mind. You remembered how the kids had all stared at you with varying degrees of betrayal as soon as they had seen you appear with the Recoms, even as you had placed yourself between them and Quaritch, begging that he not hurt them. Their change in trust had lasted until they saw the cuff on your right wrist, the cool metal close to your skin, a thin layer of padding barely keeping it from biting into you. The damned thing was blinking at you mockingly, the little red light always in your vision and you couldn't do anything about it, cuffed as you were.

Your chin was beginning to dig painfully into your knees when the door swished open, calling your attention to the boots and partial legs that entered your vision, pulling you from your moping though you didn't move, or even hint that you'd seen the person. You could hear Quaritch sigh as he lowered to a knee, bending the rest of the way to get you to acknowledge him "Like mother, like son." He mused before lowering down the rest of the way, sitting with his legs crossed just across from you, though not under the table.

"Basic psychology." You shrugged absently, still listlessly staring at him like you couldn't even see him. "Get what you wanted?" You couldn't help but ask, the tiniest bit of bitterness in your voice.

He frowned before letting out an amused puff of breath "You should be proud, kid didn't give them anything." He praised and you were absently curious if he noticed his verbal distinction.

"I don't care if he talked, Colonel. I care that you tortured him." You finally met his gaze, letting him see the simmering anger you were keeping just under the surface.

His ears lowered as he looked away, frowning again as he fidgeted with shame "I stopped them, before he could truly be hurt. He's fine, before ya ask. I offered him a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"He could travel with us, no information required, help you teach us. Or I'd have to give him back to the science pukes."

"I think I already know what he chose." You sighed, your shoulders sagging in relief. You wanted to cry again, so happy that he was out of direct danger. That he didn't have just you looking out for him anymore.

Quaritch nodded, watching your reaction like a hawk before he was suddenly serious again "Y/n, you can't try to attack human personnel again. Ardmore tried ordering me to have you executed 'put her down, she's obviously rabid' were her words. You do it again and I can't protect you." His warning was gentle though no less serious and heavy. You opened your mouth to agree and explain, but he beat you to it "I know why you did it, and I'm not saying you're wrong. You just need to restrain your temper in certain situations from now on. I'm not about to explain to the kid why you're dead."

You ducked your head a little, not able to look him in the eye as you realized he was right, and that that would crush Spider, especially if Quaritch had to be the one to tell him "Yes sir." You mumbled, feeling guilty as hell.

He nodded in acknowledgement before returning to a knee "Come on, we gotta get ready to go back out, finally start training."

You began getting out from under the table as he stood and backed away, giving you space to move "We should start with Ikran. Then we don't have to rely on where the Samsons can and can't go." You suggested as you followed him out of the room.

He nodded as he walked ahead of you, making it look like he was more tense and aware of you than he actually was, putting on a show for the humans "That'll be our first stop." He agreed, glancing at you over his shoulder "Everyone else is already gearing up, we'll meet them there."

No sooner had he spoke that the door in front of you both opened, revealing the rest of the squad as they packed everything they would need for an extended time in the field. Lyle barely glanced at the two of you, his face carefully blank but he could never hide the hurt in his eyes. You left Quaritch without a word and stopped right beside Lyle, staying a couple feet away to be respectful "I'm sorry, I was outta line." His eyes snapped up to you as you spoke, his ears focused on you.

He hadn't been expecting you to apologize, just as out of line as you had been. He knew how bad he'd hurt you as soon as the words left his mouth, he remembered your parents well. They were the reason you both got married at sixteen, to save you. He pulled you close, one hand on your waist as the other tangled in your hair, cupping the back of your head tenderly as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours "I'm sorry too." He murmured into the small space between you, his eyes closed as he breathed you in, felt your hands fist his shirt between you both "I deserved it."

"No you didn't." You vowed firmly, leaning up so the bridges of your noses were also pressed together.

Spider cleared his throat from nearby, calling all attention to him as he stared at you both with equal parts disgust, confusion, and amusement "Ummm... Mom... who's this?" He asked, looking at Lyle like he was a social rival, like an unwelcomed guest. He even glanced at Quaritch who only crossed his arms and leaned against a shelving unit, eyes dancing with mirth.

You pulled away from Lyle and sat down on your knees, wanting to be closer to his eye level as you broke the news "Spider, this is Lyle. Lyle Wainfleet." You watched him carefully, watched for any signs of distress as his eyes bounced between the two of you.

"Your ex-husband? The one who shot you?" He asked incredulously, causing Lyle to shift at the implications and connotations he was presenting.

You shook your head patiently "He's my husband, has always been my husband. And yes, he did shoot me, but he and I have already discussed that."

Spider was silent for a moment as he pondered your words, before slowly approaching and jabbing a finger up at the large male who was doing his best to not laugh or appear entertained by the display "You hurt her again and I'll use your balls as a bola." Spider vowed, tone firm and unwavering.

"Heard." Lyle managed to say somewhat seriously.