#i want knockout because he's still one of my favorites

[rustedhearts]

just friends (again) (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you’ve convinced everyone around you that you and steve are just friends. now you just have to convince yourself—but it proves difficult when steve finally admits how he feels.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ just friends (part one) ✶ the library

tags: pining, yearning, they want each other so bad they're so stupid, little angst/hurt/comfort, oh steve harrington the man that you are. didn't proofread so ignore any mistakes oops.

buy me a ko-fi! (my blurb commissions are also still open!)

“I’m having a little carpet picnic.”

Julia Roberts’ voice filled the living room with a familiar warmth. The pinks and whites of the Beverly Hills hotel room from Pretty Woman coated the couch and the surface of your face with a gentle glow. The Chinese food you ordered a few hours ago was starting to stink. Even Ted, who was curled at your feet for most of your movie marathon, could no longer stand the vegetative life and scampered away.

It had been a week since Eddie broke things off. After Steve punched him, you spent the Sunday post-knockout calling and texting, hoping to sort things out. But Eddie never picked up. Eddie never replied. You figured stopping by the shop was a bit too far—if he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve by now.

So here you were, spending another weekend on the couch. Single. Broke. Lonely.

“He thought I was cheating on him,” is the excuse you have for getting dumped.

But the look on Theresa’s face when you told her is the first time it made you recoil. The first time you doubted that Eddie was 100%, entirely out of his mind.

Theresa winced into the overpriced lattes you were drinking at a curbside patio on Wednesday. “Well…I mean…”

And you gasped, mouth agape and heart hammering in your chest. What the fuck did that mean? Because you were just friends. All Steve ever was and is: your best friend. Why did everyone act like you were having a secret affair when the doors were closed on the public?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

“I’m not defending the prick,” Theresa justified. “He was an asshole for talking to you like that. But I can see why he might have thought that. You and Steve are really close. Like…very close.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted.

And Theresa dropped it, holding her hands above her latte with innocent agreement. But her words haunted you the entire week. Every time Steve filled your coffee and had it ready on the counter for your commute to work (he even used your favorite travel mug). Every time he came home with a bag of peanut m&ms when he dropped by the store because it was the little treat you always asked for, but he didn’t even need to be asked anymore.

But like any other Saturday, the apartment was void of him for most of the day. He mumbled some excuse about going to the mall through your door this morning, and when he came home twenty minutes into Pretty Woman with an Abercrombie shopping bag, you knew he’d been date shopping.

“Hey,” he called to you, door clamping closed behind him. His keys jingled on their toss toward the table cluttered with half-opened mail.

Cheek squished against a throw pillow, body splayed flat on the couch, you cut him a glance sideways and adjusted the volume. “Hey.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and set his bag near the door, making your chest tighten when he immediately sauntered toward the couch. He turned to the tv with his hands on his hips.

He asked what he always asked, despite his eyes watching the very thing. “Watchya watchin’?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Did you already watch Mystic Pizza?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighed. “Damn. Alright, well, scooch over.”

When he plucked your feet up and flopped down under them, he smelled like the sickeningly sweet butter of a soft pretzel, and the overwhelming stench of Abercrombie & Fitch. You couldn’t believe he still shopped there.

His hands were still resting on your ankles, bracing your feet against his jean-clad thighs. His touch was warm, soft, all-encompassing—and suddenly all you could think about even as Richard Gere came on screen. Steve's touch, his heat, the body those hands came attached to resting just inches away. He was wearing blue today. He looked so good in blue.

You swallowed and coughed, cheek rubbing on the pillow. Steve’s finger twitched around your calf.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you croaked.

His eyes bored into you for a moment before he turned back to Julia Roberts. "Notting Hill or My Best Friend's Wedding after this?"

Your lips parted to reply, but then his finger began tracing shapes into the patch of skin between the bottom of your pant leg and the elastic of your sock. Air choked in your throat. Your eyes bulged on the glowing television screen. The muscles in the center of your body knotted and squeezed like nausea.

In your stock-still state, it didn't even occur to you that Steve somehow knew your entire I'm-sad-and-can-only-watch-Julia-Roberts-movies marathon setlist, but it certainly crossed your mind later on. You and Steve are really close. Maybe Theresa had a point.

"Um..." Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly-dry lips.

"You good over there?" Steve chuckled, head tipping to gauge the features and their current predicament on your face.

You buried it further into the pillow, as far as it could go without hiding completely. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine."

Steve pulled back, settling into the couch again. "Jeez, oh-kay."

He waited a moment, and you inched free from your pillow enough to bring your eye back to the television, doing your best to focus on the movie you'd seen a million times and not Steve's hand sweeping under your pant leg. He'd done that a million times, too. Touched you. Felt you.

He held your hand when you crossed the road like a child that needed guidance. He braced your back to move you which way he wanted, and to pull you close when public situational occurrences arose that made him uncomfortable. He brushed your hair once when you were victim to an ungodly illness that had you picturing death. He removed your makeup on your birthday last year when you got so drunk you puked in the doorway.

His hands were always so gentle. His touch was always so soft.

But, God, why did it feel so different right now? Why did it feel so good?

"Want a mall haul?" Steve asked, too uncomfortable in the sudden silence of the living room. He was already standing and placing your feet back on their own before you could reply.

In your periphery, he headed toward the door to retrieve the bags he neglected. "Got a couple shirts to try. Also, am I too old for that store? I swear, everyone in there was like a little Taylor Lautner wannabe from 2012—meaning they were fourteen and on steroids—"

"Steve!"

He stopped. Standing at the edge of the rug with both hands on the corded handles of his Abercrombie & Fitch shopping bag to pull it open. The snicker gathering in his throat hitched into a snort, smirk drooping into wide-eyed surprise.

You never yelled. Not at him. Not at anyone that didn't deserve it, like the neighbors when they were arguing too loud again and you were trying to nap. Like the guy that tried to steal Steve's package a few months ago that you nearly tackled down the hall.

But never Steve.

You shot up on the couch, hands flying to your pounding head. "Just...please! I don't want a mall haul, I don't want to talk, I just...—I just wanna be alone."

Steve blinked, cheeks colored pink. He closed the bag slowly, paper crinkling as he went. He took it in one hand and backed up, stepping off the rug foot by foot. He glanced at Ted, who skittered in surprise at your outburst and was standing with an arched back and black pupils near the tv stand.

"Uh...yeah, okay. Sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the nape of his neck.

Your shoulders slumped, deflating into the couch as Steve turned his eyes to the floor and tugged at the back of his hair. That stress tick again—the one you hated causing. He turned slowly, caution stiff in his spine. You watched his finger twist and wind into a lock of chestnut hair as he trudged into the hall. His door clamped closed a moment later.

A heavy, moaning sigh shuddered from your mouth as you flopped back on the pillow. Two arms locked over your head, pressing down on your eyes to blind them and the horror you created.

"Slippery little suckers," Julia Roberts snickered on the screen.

"It happens all the time."

✶ ✶

You ate dinner separately. It was the first time you'd ever eaten dinner separately within the same four walls. Even the night you moved in together, when you were nothing but a pair of strangers gauging how weird it might be to live with the opposite sex without something romantic or sexual in the undertones—even then, you ate a greasy cheese pizza together on the living room floor with an empty box as makeshift table.

He asked all the right get-to-know-you questions, and when he successfully made you laugh with all his snarks and quips, you knew Steve Harrington would be an alright roommate. You never figured he'd become your best friend.

Tonight, you pouted into the salad you regretted purchasing yesterday because a "healthy" lifestyle was born and had died within the span of your forty minute shopping trip. And now, you wanted nothing but another wet, shiny pizza, and Steve Harrington's dumb jokes.

He ate in his room. Shuffled out while you were finishing Notting Hill and made another bland chicken-rice-and-broccoli dinner. And then he shuffled past you, shut his door, and ate it alone. Never even giving you a chance to tease his unseasoned plate for the purpose of "gains." You thought he could remain just as toned and handsome with flavor on his food.

By the time you were showered, redressed, and gurgling with lingering hunger, you were properly sour with guilt.

And maybe the black sweatpants with the bedazzled jewels on your ass were pulled on with manipulative purpose before you shuffled to Steve's door. You lingered there a while, gnawing on the skin around your thumbnail and glancing between the wood grain of Steve's door and the plush surface of your yellow slippers. At this proximity, you could hear the low hum of his radio behind the door. He had a strange affection for the 70s and 80s station.

If only you knew that it was because Steve knew "the all time hits of the 70s and 80s" were your favorite.

The radio dimmed, and a moment later Steve's voice called through the door. "I can hear you lingering out there."

You jumped, stepping away from the door. Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth piercing the skin to nibble it away. The shuffle of feet and jingle of the doorknob came too swiftly for you to evade, and then the door swung open to reveal Steve in grey sweatpants and a tight red t-shirt. He looked good in red, too.

"Oh. Hi," you murmured, hand instantly dropping to your side.

Steve caged the doorway, biceps bulging on either side. You averted your eyes with a swallow.

He sighed. "Hi."

Steve watched you sweep a slippered foot back and forth like sloshing through water. He tipped his head and bit away a smile when he caught the edge of a jewel on your hip. His favorite sweatpants.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve sighed again, this time a little shaken with laughter. "No, kid. I ain't mad at ya."

To prove his point, he nudged the door open with his palm and motioned toward the bedroom behind him. "Come on in."

You flopped on the edge of his bed, bounced up and down by old springs. Steve swung the door closed and joined you, easing back against his wooden headboard to reassume his rumpled position. He reached toward the nightstand and turned the knob on the radio to lower the Elton John song playing.

Steve snatched the small plastic basketball from behind the radio and tossed it in the air. "So, what's goin' on?"

You watched the ball soar into the air and come back down into his palm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just...cranky."

Steve quirked a brow, catching your eye over an orange blur when he threw the ball again. "Yeah? That all?"

The corners of your mouth pulled down. "Yeah...? What else would it be."

Steve shrugged, chin turned up toward the ceiling as he watched the basketball fly toward it. Elton John died down and switched to Def Leppard. "Hysteria" was one of Steve's favorite songs.

"You tell me. You were having a Julia Roberts marathon."

"So?" Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth ripping at the skin.

"You only watch Julia Roberts when you're sad."

"Not true."

Steve fixed his head straight again, eyes narrowing into a pointed look. The basketball sat in his right palm against his chest. You huffed, angling yourself toward the door to glare at it instead of your roommate and his smug, all knowing expression.

He waited a while, like he always did—waiting out your stubbornness and refusing to let it break him. You could talk to him, you knew that. He wanted you to know that.

"I guess..." You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed with your arms locked over your eyes. "I guess I'm just upset that Eddie still hasn't called. I've been calling and texting him, but...he doesn't wanna see me."

Steve immediately felt every blood cell in his body curdle. Like they were burning and festering, irritated under his skin. He swallowed, bringing the basketball to sit between his knees where he could pick at the design with blunt fingernails.

"And you want to see him?"

You dropped your arms, letting them plop to your sides. "I mean...yeah."

Steve couldn't help it—he scoffed.

The sound had your head turning, brows furrowed his way. His head was shaking, eyes focused distinctly downward to avoid yours. All the smugness of his expression dimmed into something distasteful and angry.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing."

"You scoffed."

"I sighed."

"No, you scoffed."

"Well—"

This time, Steve did sigh. He took the basketball in his hands and chucked it toward the door, causing it to boomerang off the wood and catapult back toward the mattress again. The sharp smack had you jolting upward, and your eyes widened on Steve when he hopped from the bed and stood to his feet.

"What the hell—"

"He's not good enough for you!"

You paused on weak wrists used to push you upward. Steve stood a foot away from the bed with pink cheeks and outstretched hands. They curled back toward him to sweep through his hair and tug hard at the roots.

"Steve—"

"He sucks. Alright? All your ex boyfriends sucked, but especially Eddie. He didn't understand you, he didn't appreciate you. He made you cry, for fuck's sake, and you want him back? I just don't get it."

Your lips parted, but it felt like gulping for water on dry land. And Steve watched, helplessly, as you stammered for words in the face of his impending and inevitable confession. Inevitably painful, he knew, but he could no longer stomach the tireless routine of finding the body closest to yours in another dark bar, hoping she would comfort him enough to soothe the ache he had for you.

You, who slept across the hall and shared the sofa with your head on his shoulder. You, who looked at him like some sort of light source with those little round eyes. You, who made his heart pound and weep endlessly every second that you were near, and every moment you were away—leaving him in a constant, centrifugal loop of torture.

So—knowing it might ruin every bit of good the pair of you worked so hard to keep—Steve stepped closer to the bed and swallowed. He prepared himself to form the words he'd practiced a million times over in his head.

"I just figured that eventually...you'd get tired of all the wrong guys, and realize that...I'm here. That it was me, that you loved me. Because I love you—don't you love me?"

He paused, but it would never have been enough time for your mind to process his proclamation. He had a look of such anguish embedded in his features, all scrunched and screwed together with wet, shiny eyes.

"And I figured it was easier to sleep my way around than sit and watch you waste your time with these idiots. But they were never you. And I never bothered to get to know them, because I only wanted to know you."

Your breath hitched when Steve crowded your corner of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. You had to tip your head back to meet his eye, and you felt your arms shake in their locked position holding you up. The sight of him blurred with the onset of your own hot, salty tears.

Steve sniffed: a wet slurp proceeded by a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it quickly and sank to his knees before you on the bed, hands coming to cradle your bent knees.

"I just can't take it any longer," he whispered, and his hazel eyes were like shiny coins gazing up at you.

His lips were wet with his own tears. His tongue swept them away. Every breath inhaled rattled in his chest, and every exhale shuddered his cheeks full. He chuckled when he rubbed his palm into his eye and turned it red, sweeping his forearm over his face to clear the tears again but they just kept coming.

"Fuck, say something, please," he huffed, lacing it with laughter despite its absence of humor.

Your throat felt like it swelled to twice the size. Sickness rolled in your stomach. But it only grew at the thought of breaking Steve's heart with your silence. Because the longer he looked at you with those almond eyes, and the longer he sniffled and massaged your knees to comfort himself—the more your heart crumbled.

"I...I don't know what to say," you croaked.

Steve inhaled again, stuttering through a sniffle. He wiped his cheek on your knee and chuckled again. "Yeah. Yeah, of course—it's okay."

"Steve—"

"It's okay," he insisted, scrambling to his feet. He backed away toward the door and you finished pulling yourself upright.

"Steve, wait—"

"Really, it's okay, honey. I'm just gonna...—we ran out of ice cream, so 'm gonna g-go—go get some. Mint chip, yeah? Okay."

He sniffled again upon his exit, slipping through a small crevice he opened the door to. The front door slammed shut moments later, and you rolled onto your stomach to unleash a scream into Steve's mattress.

"Stay tuned for more all time hits of the 70s and 80s!"

✶ ✶

Steve did not return with the mint chip until nearly midnight. It came in a plastic bag that announced his arrival even before the clamber of keys. Yet, it was the squeal of old hinges that woke you from your couch slumber, and you jolted upright as the door swung open.

Steve closed the door and stood there for a moment, spotting you in the dimness of the living room. You rubbed your eye and he shifted on his feet. Ted scampered off the couch and butted at Steve's calf.

He held up the plastic bag. "Got the mint chip. It's uh...it's all melted now, though."

You wanted to reply, to make him feel better again. His eyes were still pink and puffy, and you hated the thought of him spending hours in his car or another dark bar agonizing over what you might be thinking. Worst of all, regretting any of what he said.

Because you spent the past few hours doing plenty of thinking. You laid in his bed, curled on your side, and looked at all the pictures pinned to a cork board above his desk.

The sepia toned film strip from a wedding last fall where you took him as your date. You were smiling in every one, and to the unbeknownst you might have already appeared as a couple.

The Polaroid from his most recent birthday, where you were sitting on his shoulders and clutching onto his hair for dear life. His sister took the picture.

The black and white he printed from his phone of just you on a park bench, feeding the ducks. You never even knew he had that one.

And when you shuffled to your room, you suddenly stopped. The clack of hard-bottomed slippers caught your attention, and you looked down at the plush yellow footwear around your toes—a gift from Steve.

You stood on the other side of your bed and stared at the windowsill full of miscellaneous yellow items all gifted from Steve. The movie ticket stubs shoved in your mirror and the hundreds thrown in a box on your dresser because you'd probably seen a thousand over the years with Steve, who loved movie theater popcorn and sitting close to you in the dark.

The birthday cards he wrote extensive messages of well wishes and gratitude for your friendship in with terrible penmanship. The purse he bought you for that you said you liked in passing but would never spend that much money on, and the note still tucked inside the zipper that came pasted to the bag on Christmas morning:

Because you deserve it.

Love, Steve

And then you ended up on the couch, falling asleep watching the door and waiting for it to open.

Steve trudged to the kitchen while you were lost in thought, and you hurried to catch up as he swung the freezer open. He wrapped the plastic bag around the pint of the ice cream and stuck it on the top shelf, hand reaching to close the door—when he was pushed forward by a force crashing into him.

And then there was warmth around his stomach: two arms curling around his ribs. Two hands pressing to his stomach and pulling him in. Steve stopped, immobilized in the open freezer door.

"I'm sorry," you breathed into his shirt, eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I was just so stunned. And I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, Steve, for letting this go on for so long. Of course I love you, of course you love me—God, I just never wanted to ruin everything. But you make me so happy, and I—"

Steve spun around, causing your head to lift off his back. You went to drop your arms, but he instantly brought them around his neck. Two hands, still frozen from melting ice cream, braced your cheeks.

"You mean it?"

You nodded in his hold, happy to see his hazel eyes free and clear of tears. "Yes. Yes, of course I mean it—"

"Oh, thank fucking God," Steve breathed, and then his mouth descended on you.

You curled to the tops of your toes to press into his kiss, whimpering at the warmth and softness of his lips. It felt exactly as you thought it would—anticipating their plushness every time he pressed his lips to your cheek over the years.

It lasted until the pair of you were breathless, and you heaved for air upon release. Steve brushed his thumbs over your bottom lip, smearing spit and hemming your airless grin.

He kissed you all night, and let his hands roam where they could not roam before. You fell asleep in his bed tucked under his arm, and when you woke you shared the refrozen pint of mint chip with one spoon.

And when Steve called his sister while you were showering to share the good news, all she did was laugh.

"Jesus, about fucking time."

[revelboo]

hello, wishing you a happy belated birthday ~! 🎂🎁🎈

I do have a question for you, would you consider writing something regarding Knock Out ? It is perfectly alright if not, I still wanted to wish you a happy birthday either way!

Thanks! I have wrote him before, but here’s part 2.

My Favorite Accident Pt 2

TFP Knockout x Reader

• Venting as he pulls alongside that ugly abomination of yours, he transforms as you climb out of your car. “You cheated,” he growls without any real heat as he stretches out a kink. Knows you’re not cheating, but still enjoys watching those angry eyes flash with indignation and your helmet covered head snaps up to stare at him.

• Taking your time pulling your helmet off, you bite back a smile. Because you can’t exactly tell the guy who literally becomes a sports car that you’re just a better driver than he is. Not and live long after with that fragile ego of his, anyway. And, truth be told, you don’t want to make him angry. You actually like these little impromptu races. No money involved, but just cutting loose. Learning exactly how much you can push him without it being too much. “I cheated? Me?” You snap back, falling into the persona you’ve adopted for the races. Because if any of the other racers actually realize you’re terrified of them? That you’re all alone and afraid? It’d be over, so attitude’s become your armor. Balancing your helmet on a hip, you huff. “Guess you’re blind and slow.”

• “Slow?” Bending he carefully catches you to lift you onto the roof of your car so he doesn’t have to bend so far to get in your face. Tries not to think about how insubstantial you feel in his hand. “You barely won that last time.” Because he’s learning from you, copying your unorthodox techniques. And enjoying the challenge you pose, the lazy arguing. Seeing headlight on the road above the culvert, he swallows a growl. Eases you back down onto the ground, aware of your little hands warm on his servos. “Humans,” he vents as he falls forward into his alt mode, but lingers because he’s not done with you just yet. Not ready to return to the Nemesis and just wants this to last a bit longer.

• Fingers gripping your helmet, you turn to track the other car. And they are headed down the access road. During the summer, the huge drainage canals are mostly empty aside from whatever garbage accumulated during the rains and that made them perfect for illegal racing. Sure, they’d been nearly caught a few times, but the local PD mostly just chases them off without any real effort to catch them. Probably just happy they didn’t race in the street, you guess.

• The black sports car with a laughing skull on the hood that pulls up is one he recognizes from the races. A particularly loud human who always comes in behind you both, and Knockout watches you hook a thumb in your back pocket. Stance relaxed, but he’s been around you long enough to know about the knife you keep there. Always keeping a hand near that pocket when dealing with the other racers. “Ricky,” you call out, tone flat despite the tight smile as the man steps out of his car.

• Fantastic. Deep breath in and out, you remind yourself. Play the part like you don’t care. “You two working together? Hustling everyone else?” He asks, smile taking on a mean edge as he stalks around Knockout to send anxiety needling through you. All he sees is you and two empty cars. He surfs a palm over Knockout’s fender like he wants to touch the car, but doesn’t. But when his head lifts, that look crashes through you, reminding you that you are in fact scared of him.

• No snarky comeback? Knockout shifts on his tires as he picks up on your tension. You don’t move as the man walks over, still smiling. “So where is your partner? Leave you out here alone?” And then he’s lunging, fingers closing on your wrist when you lash out with that little knife of yours. Making a little noise of pain as he squeezes your wrist until you drop your weapon. “We could be friends, too.”

• Heart racing, you try to hit him with your helmet and he shoves you down, no longer smiling. It’s the sound that cuts through your blind panic, though. That almost musical sound of Knockout transforming. Looking like a demon with those glowing optics as he actually snarls. And then Ricky is running away from Knockout and his car both as Knockout lifts his arm a weapon aimed at the fleeing man’s back and your heart stops. “Don’t,” you gasp, flinching when he stares down at you. “He’s not worth it.”

• Fury singing through him, he crouches to offer you a servo and you cling to him, letting him pull you back to your feet. Annoyed that you don’t want him to permanently remove this problem, because he wants to. Wants the human to suffer for touching you. “Can I at least destroy that ugly car of his?” He growls, baring his denta in a grin when you solemnly nod.

Previous

Next

[multifandoms27-blog]

First Kiss

Content: TFP! Megatron x Fem! T/O! Reader

Warnings: Drug use

Notes: The T/O above stands for techno-organic. Y'all already know I had to write about my favorite bot

• ───────────────── •

Entering the control room, you looked around at the unusually empty room. Normally Vehicons and Soundwave would be in here, but today, it's just Megatron. He had called for you over the comms, and you hoped you weren't about to get the Starscream treatment.

"You called for me, my liege?"

Megatron stood in front of the biggest screen that was currently off, and served as a window now. The stars and dark sky made him hard to see, if it weren't for the dim lights in the room. He had his servos clasped behind his back, and he slowly turned to look at you.

"Yes, I have called you. I wanted to...address something peculiar I heard." Megatron spoke...softly? Why was he speaking softly?

"And that would be?" You asked.

He let out a small chuckle and fully turned to you, letting his servos fall to his sides. In large strides, he was suddenly in front of you. Raising one servo, he placed it under your chin to ensure you wouldn't look away.

"Soundwave gave me some intel that was most...intriguing to me, and I wanted to double check with you first."

You weren't that high of a rank. You were barely at Knockout's rank, let alone Soundwave's or anyone elses. "Why me, sir? I'm no high ranked officer. Why not double check with Soudwave himself?"

"Because my dear, it is about you and your...feelings. Soundwave was gracious enough to tell me what you are too afraid to do."

You grew nervous. Did he know? "And...that would be?"

Megatron chuckled and looked over at the door. As if on cue, a Vehicon walked through with a tray in his servos. On the tray were two purple energon cubes...dark energon. You blinked in surprise, Megatron never shares his energon with anyone.

"Forgive my ignorance, but please no more dancing around the matter. What is really going on?" You spoke out of turn, you knew it, but you needed to know what this was about.

Megatron chuckled. "I know of your feelings for me."

The Vehicon stopped. Your heart stopped. Time seemed to have stopped. Megatron's smirk however, grew. So time didn't exactly stop. You felt the color drain from your face. How did Soundwave know? You felt a wave of betrayal wash over you. Unfortunately, that's how things go in the Decepticon ranks.

Megatron laughed and took both energon cubes and dismissed the Vehicon. "Do not worry, my dear. I return your affections. In fact, I asked you here today to toast to our new relationship."

"Relationship?" You were still lost.

"Well yes, we return each others affections, so its only natural we become one." Megatron's narrowed optics pierced through you.

"Yeah...yeah that is true." He handed you one of the cubes as you spoke.

"And what better way to become one, than to relish in Unicron's blood together?" Megatron placed one servo on the small of your back.

You were pulled closer to him, and you clutched the cube close to your chest. You had to remind yourself that you could ingest energon, but...what kind of affect would dark energon have on you? Regardless, your heart did all the thinking now.

"Okay. I accept."

Megatron's grin grew wider, showing more of his sharp teeth. He put the cube to his lips and drank the whole thing, and went in for a slow, sensual kiss. His metallic lips moved along with your fleshy ones. You felt the shock increase in your body, but you did relax.

Then you felt liquid enter your mouth, despite not drinking any energon. You thought Megatron had swallowed his...

The dark energon dripped down the sides of your mouth, and he slowly pulled away. He threw the empty cube to the side and caressed your cheek. "Feel the blood of Unicron take over your system, my dear. Soon it shall consume you, and we will be one in our shared interest."

The effects were immediate. You felt the familiar sensation of being high. Light headedness, delayed vision, sluggish movements...you were amazed at how fast it worked. You watched as Megatron slowly pried the dark energon cube from your hands and drank it himself, this time swallowing it. His optics turned purple and he placed both servos on your cheeks.

"We will rule the world, together, my love." Megatron grinned and kissed you once more.

You let the dark energon take over your system, and relished in the blood of Unicron with your new love.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my Transformers masterlist in case you wanna request something!

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! this is a repost because some bitch ass reported my original posting of this fic 🙄

warnings: asshole exes, anxiety, some alcohol

You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you always loved to spend time with him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored. 

But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the outfit never meant for his view. 

“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality.  A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed. 

You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”

He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”

A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”

He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text. 

As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it. 

“Are you sure…” you said, your voice timid. “Is it okay if I wear this?”

Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”

Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”

You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly though you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be. 

“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back. 

“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”

You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”

The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a group of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar. 

But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.

Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your tantalizing, magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.

And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for outsiders and made sure your drinks were safe- nothing felt out of the ordinary. 

And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention a creepy stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips. 

When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.

“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.

“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.

He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped your foot out of the tight shoe. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?” 

A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”

Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek.  “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. But he needed to know. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you.  He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.” 

A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”

“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.

 “I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.

He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided. 

He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt.  To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up? 

He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing. 

He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.

“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”

“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.

Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t need to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”

You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at.”

Bucky nodded and left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-”  He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.

You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”

“But what if-”

“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and came up empty, “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”

���Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.

“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous name. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets or those little pasty things, that’s your choice.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things eased the tension in your shoulders, the apprehension in your chest remained.

“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.

Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey. 

“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”

Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”

Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”

This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting. 

But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.

——————————

Taglist: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony  @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl  @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine  @evangeliamerryll l @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural l @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo

[rowiewritesstuff]

Is it possible for a tfp shockwave crushing on a cybertronian scientist reader? and he starts courting her without even knowing :)

TFP Shockwave X Cybertronian! Scientist! Reader

Okay what do you call the room where they eat? Because cafeteria sounds super goofy.

You were one of the most wanted on the Nemesis. You were kind, intelligent, and yet ruthless. You were one of Megatron’s most loyal followers- and yet you still called him out when you saw scrap come out of his mouth. You and Soundwave were probably the only ones allowed to do so. 

When Shockwave came aboard the Nemesis, you were excited. Finally, another scientist to help out! Knockout was okay, but he was better at breaking things than creating.

You introduced yourself to Shockwave as the head scientist of the Nemesis. He was first unsure how someone so bubbly could ever have the role of head-scientist for the Decepticons, but he realized the utter lack of general scientific intelligence on Earth. 

“I suppose I’m the second head scientist now, huh?” You grinned at him. 

Shockwave merely nodded at you, unsure how else to react to your general bubbliness.

Shockwave soon introduced you all to the Predaking, who you were in awe at. You praised Shockwave up and down for his creation. You assisted him meticulously with the rest of his work. He grew to see you as a partner in science- one that could actually keep up with him. Not many could do so. 

He didn’t realize what his feelings were for you at first. He’d never felt anything like this before. He thought that maybe he was sick, so he went to see Knockout- big mistake on his part.

“Oh?” Knockout had a shit eating grin on his faceplate. “I never thought someone like you could have a crush!”

Shockwave tilted his head. “Crush? Is that a disease?” 

A bark of laughter came from the red mech. “No. You have feelings for them.” Knockout patted the larger con’ on the shoulder. “Good luck, though- almost everyone has their eyes on them.”

Shockwave felt an uncharacteristic wave of irritation at the fact others wanted you. He went back to work, trying to ignore all of the feelings. ‘Illogical’ he thought to himself.

One day, he noticed you hadn’t refueled- so he brought you a cube. While he didn’t want to admit it, he adored the bright smile on your faceplates. 

A while later, he noticed that your favorite tool had broken- so he got you a newer, better version of it. You were so grateful that you hugged him. If he had a face, it would have been a bright blue.

One day, he was walking past the cafeteria. He looked in to see a Vehicon leaning over you. “Come on, just one date! I can be pretty romantic, ya’ know.” 

Shockwave was about to come over and pull you away when you abruptly stood up. “Sorry, I’m spoken for. I do appreciate the invitation, though!”

Everyone was shocked. Who had managed to snag you? Shockwave felt a pang in his spark that he couldn’t describe hearing you had someone. 

Your optics landed on him from across the room as an adorable grin plastered on your faceplates. “Speaking of my date! Come on, sweetspark!” You pulled the shocked mech away towards the lab. 

Everyone stood in shock, except for Knockout. “Finally! It’s like watching paint dry.” 

“Wh-when did we begin courting?” Shockwave stuttered- something he’s never done before.

“Uh, you brought me two gifts sweetie. Did you not mean it like that?” Your eyes looked up at him saddened.

“It was intentional.” He lied. “Come on, we have to finish the calculations we were working on.”

“Alright!” you cheered as you grabbed his servo in his. 

He didn’t know how this happened, but he hoped it would last.

[gffa]

hi Lumi, your posting about star wars books made me want to start reading them, which ones would you recommend?

Hi! There are a lot of Star Wars books out there and there's a lot I enjoy about them! Sure, I'll give a warning that I'm picking out the best moments and a lot of the books are not always great in their entirety, especially depending on how much you want to stay 100% true to Lucas' story.

A lot is going to depend on what you're looking for--are you a prequels fan? Are you more interested in original trilogy books? Jedi-centric books? Bounty hunters or pilots instead? Etc. Generally, I assume if you're asking me, you're here for the prequels books, but I have a more generalized list of recommendations here or you can browse my novels recs tag.

But I always generally recommend starting with: - Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Stover isn't a perfect book, I could nitpick some details here and there, but the heart of this book remains unchallenged as the best SW book there is, imo. It elevates the story it's adapting (already a high bar for me, I love ROTS), Stover knows how to turn a phrase to dig deep into a character's motivations, and there's a reason why we're all constantly quoting that book. It adds so much to the story and it's a compelling tale on its own, it makes me love the characters and hurt for them all over again, and there's approximately a thousand lines in this story that you could write an entire essay on.

- Padawan by Kiersten White cannot dethrone the ROTS novelization, but I would say that I think it wound up being my favorite of the Disney era books, because it's such a straight shot to my id. It's definitely on the lighter side, it's a happier look at Obi-Wan's childhood (which I think fits his character better), he struggles and has a lot going on, but overall he's pretty well-adjusted and happy, plus there is an absolute ABUNDANCE OF CUTENESS in this book, it was so delightful and whimsical and adorable, it just made me happy.

- Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule if you're at all interested in The High Republic. This is still my favorite book of the entire series, I think it set the stage incredibly well, it had some absolutely banger lines for someone with prequels brainrot like me, and genuinely made me excited for the entire line-up.

- Dooku: Jedi Lost by Cavan Scott, which is an audiodrama but has a script version available if you're hoh or just don't like them. It's a solid look at Dooku's time as a youngling and why he left the Jedi Order and backstory with Sifo-Dyas that'll break your heart. I prefer the audio version here because the Asajj framing works so much better with the actress' voicework, it really digs into her feelings about all of this as well, making it a nice gut-punch of a story.

And now I would add Padawan's Pride by Brian Q. Miller (audiobook only, unfortunately) because it's a lovely, charming look at Anakin's time as an apprentice. It's very deliberately written as a lead-in to the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic (which I think you're supposed to be keeping in mind as you read, so I'd suggest reading in release order rather than chronological order), showing the conflict between Obi-Wan and Anakin, between Anakin the Jedi way of life, yet all the love that's growing there and the hope that they weren't wrong to hold onto. Just the right amount of crunch and sweet.

I recently read The Living Force by John Jackson Miller and, while I have a couple of issues with it (it was less spiritual than I'd like, some clunky "attachment" discourse moments that clash against Lucas' definitions, etc.), overall it was a book I loved. It was laugh out loud funny at several moments, it showed the Jedi as deeply caring, it gave time and page space to Jedi who don't usually get much focus, it had some knockout administrative worldbuilding details, and a genuinely fun experience of a story.

There are more that I personally loved (Force Collector was really good for me but not an easy one to recommend, The Legends of Luke Skywalker was very dear to me for being so in love with the galaxy far, far away, Obi-Wan & Anakin: Choose Your Destiny is a Choose Your Adventure style book that's not going to be for everyone but I adored and got so much out of, that's where Theater Nerd Mace Windu came from, the first and third From a Certain Point of View anthologies had 3-4 incredible stories in them each, the ESB one didn't impress me, etc.) and a lot of comics that I think are just as good to read if you haven't started on those, but I think this is a good starting place for prequels nerds.

(I stuck mostly to Disney continuity, it's what I'm more familiar with, and the only Legends books I fully recommend are Revenge of the Sith novelization and Dark Rendezvous, not even my beloved Wild Space comes without a bunch of caveats, but if you're interested in Legends, let me know!)

[jellyfishjuliet]

my favorite thing about about the 90's young justice solos is that they catered towards three distinct audiences, and yet after all these years, the one that would have been LEAST likely to be projected into nowadays is now the MOST woobified out of the three.

tim: a story for white kids, by a white guy who hates poor people, and didn't really take itself OUT of that white-male-projective-state even after all these years. bonus note, now the gays can project into tim cuz timbo's finally out the closet, and chuck dixon wants to kill himself over it, but it's ok bc we like tim even tho we don't like chuck.

bart: a story initially about a time-displaced refugee whose narrative heavily mirrored a refugee's forced assimilation into a new culture WHILE also appealing to the adhd/autism crowd, which the writer was absolutely OK with because bart's story can be accepted by BOTH the refugee narrative enjoyers and the adhd/autism crowds without impinging on his narrative poignancy, plus mark waid actually loved bart and he loves that WE love bart. inshallah he will write his boy again.

kon: a story about teenagers who are being neglected, and so he's acting out every which way and partying it up because he was meant to appeal to the 90's teenage rage and show how easy it is for kids to get caught up with predators like knockout and tana because of the lack of structure and discipline in their lives, but when geoff decided to ignore nearly ten years of creator-run canon, we had to deal with his timkonnie dreams, and now geoff's leaving, so now we gotta deal with the yja nonsense and some lady's self-insert dreams going into a character whose writer is not only still alive, but actively on the bi!kon train but from the 90's crackhead era perspective. and HE'S the one most woobified.

it's absolutely facinating cuz you'd think kon would be the most hated out of the three bc of his issues with consent and the unhealthy ways he frames relationships, but instead it's BART who people hate the most! bart's being infantalized and discounted and used at a third-man-ship-prop, while tim's being rewarded for being an emotionally strugglesome white man who just came out of the closet, and it's not nearly as bad as how bart's getting his ass beat in the fandumb, but poor tim can't even date his high school homie in peace without someone crying about how he 'deserved' kon instead.

to think that the character with that many issues would be the MOST woobified character in the yj cast is insane, bc what are you even woobifying? his depersonalization? his lack of boundaries with women? his inability to read a room? the fact that nobody loves nor cares about him enough to protect him from the horrors of the world? the fact that he was a stellar example of a CSA survivor who didn't even KNOW he was a victim of CSA, and thus wasn't really able to understand the ramifications of his inappropriate behavior until years later when he forced himself into a masculine fold so he didn't fall into the trap of being like 'the old him' again?

kon's story was a story of self-hatred come to life in the most fantastical ways. he thinks it's ok to publicly date a grown woman other people are judging for dating a dumbass minor. he didn't know what a mother's love was, and had to witness it first hand with nanaue's mother. he thinks an emotionally unavailable and distant clone handler is his dad bc he doesn't KNOW anyone else who can fit into that mold. he thinks roxy's his sister but still has no problem sexualizing her in his head bc he thinks it's ok to find your older sister hot.

kon was the DEFINITION of the kids are not alright, nope, not at all, hell to the fuck no. geoff was the single biggest driver in stripping all the nuance from his character post-graduation day, but he not even here no more... what's the excuse in continuing to strip away at what makes kon, kon? i know dc's afraid to admit lois and clark looked the other way when a teenaged clone was dating an adult woman, but you woulda thought he woulda been a turnoff to the fandumb as well. he aint tho, so he suffers for it accordingly.

i can only hope karl kesel lands another contract after these new movies flop, so we can finally get a REAL follow-up to the 1994 solo. you could never make me hate that man's insane writing. justice for 1994 kon. if dc still had good writers, we coulda had a multi-year healing arc exposing how horrifying superheroing really is for people, and why clones deserve something to the equivalent of human rights. instead, he's doin fuckall and kissin m'gann. no shade to m'gann, she absolutely deserves more than the current caricature.

[bots-and-cons]

Hopefully this hasn't been done before, but this is a request for headcanons. In a world where Cybertron eventually gets rebuilt, what would Knockout/Starscream/Soundwave be eager to show to their human S/O? Perhaps a potential date locations/activities or maybe just as thanks for being willing to share Earth culture with them now that they finally have the opportunity to do the same for them? A chance for S/O to see what they're like in their element, when they're not worried about an ongoing war?

This was a bit hard to write, since honestly I don’t know much about Cybertron itself or the places there, so I just kind of came up with my own things. I mostly focused on the whole “A chance for S/O to see what they're like in their element, when they're not worried about an ongoing war?”, because that struck me as most interesting about this ask. Also I elected to ignore the fact that humans can’t survive on Cybertron without a spacesuit, because I felt like it would be an extra hassle. I didn’t do Screamer, sorry, and I feel like I went off topic… There's also this post that's a bit similar

~Soundwave~

•You’d taught him so much during the time you spent together on earth and now he wanted to return the favor

•There were also a lot of places he wanted to show you on Cybertron, of course a lot of them were still in the process of being rebuilt or still in ruins

•One that was being rebuilt was the amphitheater that once served as the venue for the gladiator fights

•He has some fond memories of that place, but back when it was destroyed he didn’t really have much of a reaction to it, it seemed insignificant at the time

•But now that it was being rebuilt, he felt like it was a new beginning somehow, the place where he’d met Megatron and started his life as a decepticon, was now being made anew, and he had a chance to make a new life for himself too

•He of course doesn’t quite explain it to you like this, but you have an inkling about why he wanted to show it to you

•When the war was going on, you always felt like Soundwave was in this perpetual state of being tense

•It’s not like he had much time to relax after the war ended either, but he’s not as on edge all the time anymore

•He’s most relaxed when he’s with you and he has this new kind of peace now that he’s home

•You very quickly realize that he was never like this back on earth

•It’s not like he’s much different, but it’s like with the combination of having you and being home, he’s found himself again

~Knockout~

•Oh boy, Knockout has so many places he wants to show you

•He drives you around the ruins of the biggest cities and shows you the places where he used to race

•There’s a ton of rebuilding going on now that Cybertron has been rejuvenated, and the refugees are returning to their home

•Knockout is definitely the nostalgic type, and he wants to show you all of his favorite places

•But the sad fact is, those places don’t really exist anymore, they’re mostly in ruins

•Knockout does manage to find some old pictures on a datapad that he had stashed away, and he tells stories about all the places he can

•It’s so nice to see him reminiscing about how his life was before the war, especially now that it’s over, and he doesn’t have to be in survival mode anymore

•Knockout has also come to the realization that he might want to spend some more time on earth, instead of staying on Cybertron

•Now that the war is finally over, he has come to realize that his time with you is limited, since your lifespan is so much shorter than his and he doesn’t want to waste a second

•During the war it was just a fact that anyone could die at anytime, so while he loved you deeply then too, he was always prepared for the fact that he might lose you

•Now that there’s not that kind of threat anymore, he isn’t so mentally prepared for the possibility anymore

•Anyway, Knockout is happy that his home is back, but he isn't really ready to return yet

[blighted-lights]

i have to do every meme u rb bc friendship code. but tfp soundwave, my most jealous wife. gimme the hcs 🫵🌸

(TFP Soundwave, IDW Sunstreaker, IDW First Aid, and IDW Ravage have all been asked for! Feel free to send in an ask for any character that isn't one of these four 🌸❗️Not limited to followers or mutuals, so go wild!)

First Impression: Oh, this design FUCKS. My first watch-through of TFP happened when I was very young so I cannot remember much of my first impressions of each character, but I do remember really, really liking how Soundwave looks in TFP. More than that, I LOVED the idea of Soundwave being a stealth aircraft + his full-face glass visor. While Knockout was, and is, my favorite character in TFP, Soundwave was also very up there when I was first starting to watch the show. Keep in mind I was a kid so I wasn't having many mega-brained thoughts on him quite yet. I thought he looked sick as hell, he was cool when he fought, and I wanted his gender.

Impression Now: It's a mix of two things. One, not only does this design fuck, but given the chance I'd tap in a heartbeat, no one could pull me out. And two, he's um... well. He's not much of an actual character, is he? I believe he is one of the Decepticons we see the most, but it feels like he's in the background for most of his scenes. And aside from his loyalty to Megatron and his care for Laserbeak, we don't really know that much about him. He doesn't really have personal relationships with the other 'Cons outside of Megatron and Laserbeak, he doesn't have any hobbies from what we can tell, he's got a bit of a snide sense of humor sometimes but not often, and he's mostly shadowing other characters when he is on-screen. Plus, we never get to see extra moments with him like we'd get with the rest of the Decepticons. It's a bit of a shame. He's still one of my favorites of TFP, but his rank is a bit lower on the leaderboard now that I've watched the show a few times.

Favorite Moment: Very hard pick. There are a handful of scenes that I really, really like with TFP Soundwave, but I think the one that stands out to me the most is when Laserbeak is injured by Wheeljack and Ratchet, he abandons his fight with Wheeljack to go to her once he gets her signal. This is probably the most characterization we really get to see for this Soundwave. I go back and forth on this scene a bit because it feels icky that Ratchet and Wheeljack refer to Laserbeak as an it/a drone so often, so it's one of my least favorite scenes in general, BUT it's one of my favorite scenes for Soundwave because we get to see his care for Laserbeak.

Idea for a Story: I would LOVE to read/write a fic or see art of Soundwave returning to the Decepticons after being captured by the Autobots and learning that Megatron intentionally did not go to save him. Like I am sure this is something Soundwave understands already, but I want to see him realize that he was essentially abandoned and left in Autobot hands by the one person who he'd sworn loyalty to above all others. Soundwave was going to be tortured. He could of died. And Megatron wasn't even willing to go after him, despite everything Soundwave did for him. I would eat this UP.

Unpopular Opinion: Do I... do I have an unpopular TFP Soundwave opinion? Not sure. I'm not sure if I'd really call it unpopular, but it's an opinion I don't see very often. I wish we got to see Soundwave outside of Megatron's influence. And I don't mean having Soundwave while Megatron isn't in charge- we had that before. I want to see him act outside of Megatron's will. The leader/servant dynamic is one that is only interesting to me if there is conflict between the two parties, OR if there is an equal level of respect and care between the two. That is not the case with TFP Megatron and Soundwave. Sure, Megatron values Soundwave, as Soundwave is one of the only consistently competent people around, but he doesn't care enough about Soundwave to protect him. Value ≠ care or respect. It just means Soundwave is useful to Megatron.

Favorite Relationship: Soundwave and Laserbeak. Easily. She's the only person Soundwave seems to give a fuck about outside of Megatron, and it's very clear that this care is returned, as Laserbeak was the one who went after Soundwave when he was captured by the Autobots. I wish I had more to say here but Laserbeak is even less of a character than Soundwave, so there isn't much to go off of. I also like that this Soundwave actually has a gap in his armor that Laserbeak docks to, rather than just his usual tape-deck. It makes it obvious that the bond he has with Laserbeak is singular, as there are no other cassettes present in the TFP show, and it makes it feel more personal.

Favorite Headcanon: Soundwave does not have a conventional face under his mask. I might not know WHAT is under there, but I do know that I hope it is cool as fuck, and a face isn't going to cut it. Give me a mess of wires connected to his glass visor. Give me a single glowing optic and a fucked up mandible mouth. Give me anything that isn't two eyes and an average mouth. Make him fucked up!!

[e-vasong]

For the director's cut ask game, any behind the scenes lore to share on Knockout? I'm so curious about the alternate backstories hinted at in that story. Anything you can share about the boys' encounters with the fae, or how they know Crystal in this 'verse or basically whatever you'd like to share!

For the end of year/start of 2025 game! Feel free to shoot me an ask if you have one. :D

Apologies for the delayed reply! <3 I have had an extremely busy few days, but I'm finally back....but still exhausted. :D (I see your other question too; I'll for sure get to that one tomorrow once I've gotten some sleep!)

There is. SO MUCH deep lore for Knockout. I really want to dive into it more at some point with another installment, because I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it.

I'm still undecided as to whether it was Simon, but Edwin caught the eye of a fairy who whisked him away to the faewild and trapped him there for some time. Rather than being traded back and forth, Edwin escaped relatively early in his imprisonment....and spent quite a bit of time wandering, getting kidnapped by other faeries, almost eaten by monsters, etc.

Is Edwin still from the early 1900s? FANTASTIC question. I don't know. I think time flows funnily in the faewild, and aging is messed up too. That combined with the unreality of it means that Edwin doesn't know anymore, either. He does have memories that would suggest him being from that time period, but that could just be as easily be an illusion. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Charles' backstory is more or less the same (though bumped up a few years to be in line with the modern day), except in this world, when he got shoved into a freezing lake...he pulled out a Very Important Magic Sword. This is totally fine. <- Lying.

I keep trying to think about how to describe Charles' abilities, because in my HEAD it's very cool, but when I try and write it out, I'm like.... damn, this sounds weird.

Basically, for Charles, I'm repurposing the idea of "aspects" from Hades - I love the idea that certain mythological archetypes carry on before, during, and after their "moments in history," and if you embody enough of their qualities the Universe goes "Meh, close enough, here you go again" and you can effectively end up as an "aspect/representation" of certain mythological figures.

Charles has a few Western and Hindu aspects; in the really early days, when he was going through the classic Biracial Kid Identity Crisis, he would lose access to them randomly or summon different ones from what he intended, but he's mostly got it under control now. Mostly.

Crystal is still psychic. She also has, like, a great grandma who was a fairy, though she's only been to the faewild like once, and she fucking HATED it. Too many bugs, too hard to tell which way is up and which is down.

She still had her demon possession arc when she was 16 - except the boys weren't there to help. David burned basically every bridge she had before she was able to get rid of him -- including her ability to do things like use her real identity without getting arrested. Possessed!Crystal, like, straight up murdered people.

She's a sort of general psychic/magic freelancer, in many ways a fellow of Johanna Constantine, except she has a magic gun and she is NOT afraid to use it.

I haven't precisely decided how she and the boys met. My current favorite idea is that a fairy in disguise hired her to go after Edwin under false pretenses, and after uncovering the deception, she teamed up with them to bring the attempted kidnapper down.

[nychta-luxury]

ooooo, I read your story of god's helper, and I took a headcannon from hell that is my head, that ''Helper'' does have a degree of power, but different from Darling Like, when the characters pass the limit of patience, which from what I've seen is quite difficult, he would just shout "Enough" and everyone would stop, because unlike Darling which is basically a request that is not denied The helper give orders that cannot be denied, While the Darling's voice when asking is soft and gentle, the helper's when ordering is heavy and powerful.

OOO this is a amazing concept! This would honestly be a great idea. Reader should have some sort of power due to their connection with Darling, and them being a person who commands is a great fit!

I can see how Darling would be seen as someone who wouldn't demand and being merciful, while the reader

I love the idea soo here is a side story!

Warning: Not proofread, Religious themes, Cult like behavior.

______________________________________

It's been a while since you have gotten isakaied in Genshin Impact with Darling, you have to admit that your were having a hard time taking Darling being a God part.

Even so things have been fun, going sight seeing with Darling, trying foods you always wanted to try, unlimited shopping.

However as time went on..you grew irritated, it's not because the world became dull or anything like that, it's just Darling's.. Acolytes. At first you were very excited seeing characters you adore, but even you can feel the hostility when their around you.

You did feel a bit hurt (you cried to Darling after your comfort characters glared at you) but soon enough you grew use to it. After all you did try to get along but sometimes it just doesn't work.

But that's not the problem. After they were more "fond" of you (aka them just not glaring at you) It somehow became a trend to ask you about Darling, you didn't mind at first because they just asked simple stuff, but then it turned from "What's Darling's favorite color?" to "What does Darling do on Monday morning of March"

Do they seriously expect you to remember EVERY Monday Darling did on March? Sometimes they don't even bother with small talk.

Oh. Just great you can see Childe and Zhongli in distance..how nice.

When Zhongli and Childe decide to come as a duo (to talk about Darling) they will talk to you for HOURS. It can go from 2 pm to 8 pm and they STILL are asking about Darling

"Hello, gentlemen" You say as you kiss your plans with Darling goodbye.

"Ah, what a delightful surprise." Zhongli says, your sure he's judging you, it's that look on his eyes you know?

"Ah! I wasn't expecting you to be here" Childe says, as if you don't come here every Tuesday.

You notice that no one calls you by your name nor a title. They don't call you comrade, traveler, moral, immortal, friend, etc. Maybe they just look down on you.

"Haha yeah I decided to go Third-Round Knockout, the food is good and-"

"Yes yes I must say the stories of their grace are quite astounding-" Zhongli interrupts as he takes a seat next to you.

"-Their grace has made a number of achievements in the world of Teyvat, hence why we would like to know more about their life back on the.. Earth I believe it's called?" Zhongli continued.

"Exactly, we wanted to ask you about Darling-" Childe says deciding to finally join the conversation. You decide to take a sip of tea, he then continued

"We wanted to know about Darling's life on Earth."

You paused, the cup still on your hand, to them it probably seemed like you were frozen in place.

Oh. Darling's life on Earth was not a good one. . In fact many can call it terrible, you still have bad memories about it. You witnessed how bad Darling's life was, you were there during the pain and sadness.

You still remember how happy Darling was to escape their life at Earth and start a new life on Teyvat. Not only do they have a fresh start, they also had you by their side.

Childe gave you a light shake on your shoulder, seems like you were a little too silent. You blinked a couple of times and placed down the cup of tea.

"My apologies but I won't be able to tell you about Darling's life on Earth, It's a very personal matter. I suggest you talk to them about giving me permission or you can talk to them about it yourselves." You say as you hoped they won't take it too badly.

You were then met with a very akward silence, welp looks like you can say goodbye to your tiny friendship with them, seeing how you can feel the galres from both men.

"As their Grace's acolytes shouldn't we have the right to know what their life is like on that world?" Childe says trying to persuade you, sounding more passive aggressive if anything.

"Ahem-" you wanted to counter however Zhongli decides to interupt you.

"I have to agree with Childe about this. You won't need to worry about the information getting leaked." He says, your patience is started to run thin.

"I would also add, if you prefer to keep this between immortals, we may go to somewhere without so many eyes and ears." Zhongli added, earning a glare from Childe.

"Look, I'm sure that you guys are trust worthy, however this isn't about worth it's more about Darling's privacy if anything." You say more harsher than you expected.

"Oh? And whose to say your worthy of knowing more information because you lived on the same world as Their Grace?" Childe says, perhaps trying to start a fight.

You sigh, you were really not in the mood for this madness.

"Look I apologi-" before you could continue, Zhongli decides to interupt you yet again.

"I must say, if this isn't about worthiness then how come you are calling Their Grace in such an informal way? More than once infact. Are you perhaps indicating that you deserve a better understanding of The Mighty One?"

Shit. You forgot that calling Darling by their name was seen as disrespectful. And yet they only decide to bring it up after you wouldn't say anything.

Just why can't they understand Darling needs some sort of privacy.

Your gripping your cup trying to not make irrational decisions. However your patience has lessened by each word that comes out of their mouth.

They took your silence as a way of victory.

"Now, would you please share your knowledge about Their Grace-"

"Enough."

Oh. The cup of tea broke, some shards of the cup is on your hand.

Zhongli and Childe were suddenly sitting up straight, not only that they seem to be frozen in place. You can tell time didn't freeze, however they were not the type to care for your words..

Just what is happening..?

An ancient ruin, it is known to be one of the great temples of the great one. That same ruin has been blessed by Celestia.

A rock drawing of The Mighty One can be seen, It appears Their Grace in their full power. There is a certain someone who is right next to them. A text can be read right underneath this depiction.

"Their Grace is merciful. For they will never demand but request. A gentle God who would never force their own creation submit to them.

Hence forth the creation of (Name). A deity who will demand for Mighty one's place to forever keep their gentleness. Their command is not to be broken. For they are created to control and balance this world

The Mighty One and The Helper That Orders"

_________________________________________

THIS IS NOT CANON ON THE "An Imposter or a God's Helper?"

I might write more about it, (if the anon is alright with me using their Idea) I will say it can be seen as the same world, but as a alternative timeline!

[revelboo]

How has our little elderitch communications officer been? Exploring more fun things? 🤭

(Tfp soundwave if my funny note was confusing. English can be hard)

Everyone’s favorite cryptid- somehow there’s 1500 of you guys now…

Bad Idea Pt 14

TFP Soundwave x Reader

• Head tipping to watch Knockout repair the damage, he vents softly. “You’re lucky I was called in,” the medic mutters, servos wet with energon. “This is mostly cosmetic. Certainly not an emergency.” Staring at the red mech until he becomes uncomfortable and falls silent, because he knew the damage wasn’t anything to worry over. But seeing you fussing over him being hurt, he hadn’t been able to just ignore it and let his self repair systems work to fix it. You’d been scared for him, worried, and it hadn’t sat well with him. Venting again, he studies Knockout. He’s aware the mech sneaks out, but right now? There’s an unfamiliar scent clinging to him. Many unfamiliar scents. Human scents. Curious.

• Pacing on the edge of his berth, you’re aware of big bird tracking you. Of the low, annoyed croaking sound he makes at you as you ignore him. Too focused on worrying about Soundwave. That had been a lot of energon, right? How much can he lose before it’s dangerous? Squawking at you, the drone launches from his perch and slams into you right as you turn. Screaming you go over backwards, little tendrils snaring your wrists as you and him both fall until you jerk to a halt, shoulders screaming as you slowly spiral down to the floor in his grip. “You jerk!” You shriek, trying to yank free, but he’s still got your wrists and when you pull, he retaliates by dragging you forward. “Soundwave.” Parroting that clip at you like he had when he’d used it to stop you and Soundwave before. “Soundwave.” Struggling, you finally give up and let the drone drag you in a circle. “Yeah, Soundwave, you jerk,” you mutter as he keeps pulling you along playing that clip over and over. Spinning you.

• Returning to his quarters, alarm spills through him when he doesn’t find you on his berth where he’d left you. But then you scream and he tenses, dropping into a crouch, tendrils coiling out from his frame to attack. And stops. Head tipping as Lazerbeak hoists you just barely off the ground by your wrists and spins with you while you kick like crazy to get free. Your emotions crash over him, anger and alarm. Relief at seeing him. Almost too much. Servos reaching for you and then cupping his hands as Lazerbeak darts to him and drops you into his waiting palms. Darting back to his perch, the drone flares its panels slightly, pleased.

• “Pretty sure he hates me,” you mutter, sprawled on your back in his servos. Slowly tipping his head at you, Soundwave catches one of your arms in his graspers, tugging you upright. And then lowers his head to you. Waiting. Going up on your knees, you play along and brush a kiss against him. “Don’t ignore it when you’re hurt. You just worry me doing that.” Tendril coiling around you, he tugs you flush against his visor. Side of your face and body pressed against his visor, and you’re aware of big bird croaking at you and winging out of Soundwave’s quarters. Leaving you two alone.

• Tendrils shifting to slide against your hip, to coil around an ankle and slide up your thigh, he vents. Stalking backward to his berth, he sits and mass shifts, hearing you squeak and shut your eyes. Feeling your momentary nausea at the sudden drop twist through him. Long servos touch your hair, watching your eyes open when your feet touch the berth under you. Brushing your hair away from your face, he catches your wrist and tugs it to him to press against his chassis. Inviting your touch. Needing to feel those soft hands on him. To explore that heat and hunger that has sparked between you, because even though he doesn’t deserve this, he wants it. There’s no forgetting or asking forgiveness for his mistakes, that cost will always be his to carry with him. Nothing can ever make that right. And he doesn’t want to forget them, but wants to feel something besides his quiet grief if just for a little while. Deserved or not.

• He’s still much bigger than you are, but closer to your size as he sits with you standing over him. Feeling a tendril hook about your waist and tug gently, you let him pull you down into his lap to straddle him. Those tendrils are everywhere, sliding against the back of your knee, looping around your waist, stroking your neck. Touching. Letting out a shaky breath, you run your palms over his chassis, exploring the sharp overlapping sections of his plating. Feel him shudder under you, that tendril around your waist tightening slightly before relaxing again. Shifting up against him, you reach to touch his neck, the softer metal mesh there warm under your fingers. And the tendril against your knee slides up, the curve brushing between your thighs, stroking against you. “Oh,” you whimper, arching up as he doesn’t let you escape his touch, that coil hooking over your hip and sliding against you. Picking up where he’d left off before Lazerbeak had interrupted before. Whimpering, you brush your mouth against his neck, feel his servos slide over your ribs as he runs against you. Hips rocking against him, you make a low sound of need. Mouth opening against his neck when he plucks at your shirt with another set of graspers. Asking. “Please.”

Previous

Next

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

HAII! It's me again, the anon who stumbled across your blog, aaand I got a teeny weeny question. If you could choose to be ANY transformers character for a day, who would you choose to be?

Personally I would say Breakdown, mostly because I'm literally him and he's literally me. But also because I want to experience working with knockout 💔 (I'm still going through the 5 stages of denial with breakdowns death, my friends are tired of hearing about it)

When I tell you I've been thinking about this question for the past couple of days, I'm not kidding, but I think I've finally come to a conclusion.

Ok, so if we're talking about TFP specifically,

Decepticon: Soundwave. He attacks from afar and primarily let's his enemies screw themselves up rather than get his own servos dirty, is incredibly intelligent, a collector of knowledge (and the queen of gossip), and loyal to a fault. He's an absolute delight, and I would end up using the day as SW to learn as much as I can about Cybertronian history and battle tactics.

Autobot: Wheeljack. I actually surprised myself with this answer. I may be loyal, but I do love the renegade and independent lifestyle WJ has, while still staying true to the Autobot cause. I genuinely would love having the ability to travel as I please, like Jackie does- going wherever he wants throughout space.

If we're not restricted to TFP,

Decepticon: my answer stays pretty much the same, except I might prefer G1 Soundwave. I love the relationship he has with his mini cassettes on top of everything else I mentioned above.

Autobot: either IDW Rung or Swerve. I do plan on entering the psychiatry field as my career in approximately 5 years time, and I would love to see his notes and observations, though I'm sure there are differences between cybertronian and human counseling services 🤭🤭. On a similar front, I would love being Swerve for a day and serve people engex while listening to their tales about the day and whatever else they may want to share.

And concerning Breakdown, I so completely understand. He's one of my favorite decepticons and he deserved so much better.

[mermaidsirennikita]

hiii caro!! i'm looking for recs with a hairy mmc... like the hairier the better tbh. down for historical/paranormal/contemp, honestly anything that mentions a dude being hairy and the fmc or mmc (doesn't matter!) being into it. thank u queen you've never done me wrong and i trust your recommendations above all others. 🙏❣️

You're so kind! Whenever people say things like that I feel so undeserving lol, it's very sweet.

I also love pelt men. We need more.

SO! I would first off saying that Kresley Cole's werewolf IAD books generally feature big wolfy men (obviously) who tend to be pretty... scruffy. Pleasure of a Dark Prince is always going to be my go-to for entry-level Lykae (as she calls them) (though tbh, Garreth is still... a lot... and I mean that in the best way).

Knockout by Sarah MacLean features Tommy, who is bearded and has thighs like a giant oak trees, which is all what I want. He's supposed to give "the duke from Miss Scarlet and The Duke" (but he fucks) vibes.

A Holly Jolly Ever After by Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy has a hero who's both hairy AND dad bod-i-ful which is honestly just like a fucking dream.

The Game Plan by Kristen Callihan has a very brawny, very beardy, quietly strong NFL player who has been pining after the heroine (his best friend's sister in law) for quite some time. And he is! A virgin!

Devil in Disguise by Lisa Kleypas has Keir, a Scottish hero who is bearded for Plot Important Reasons, but also basically has to wear a beard because he's too pretty without it. Like. The women can't handle it. He's doing them a service.

A lot of Kleypas books have moments that note the heroes' hairy bodies, actually. Which is why she makes it a point to be like RHYS WINTERBORNE JUST CAN'T GROW BODY HAIR AND HE WAS BULLIED FOR IT. In Kleypas books having a smooth chest is like. Something people will spit on you for.

So yeah, basically every Kleypas hero aside from Rhys is gonna have her mention that he is Hairy.

I am not 10000% sure on this, but I feel like The Hawk by Monica McCarty has a hairy Scottish hero. Like I feel as if there's a scene where he pops out of the water completely naked and shakes himself off like a dog and the old man who's waiting for him for Spy Reasons is like dude your dick is just swinging in the wind

I believe Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre, one of my favorite billionaire books, has a hero with a big hairy chest. He's also a Russian billionaire who pays the heroine, who works lower level shit in his company, to be his domme! And if you're asking "But Caro, does she use a vibrating butt plug on him?" The answer is I'd be mad if she didn't. You have to wait for it, but yes.

Pretty sure that the hero of Eva Leigh's A Rogue's Rules for Seduction is hairy. And big. And upset about his horrible past which is why he has to get down on his knees and eat the heroine out until said knees bleed on the cobblestones.

I believe the hero of S.M. LaViolette's The Bastard has a plot important beard at one point because he has some pretty bad Glasgow Grin scars. My poor baby John. But the heroine helps him heal, etc etc.

EDIT:

Oh, preorder The Wedding Witch by Erin Sterling! It was a 4.5/5 for me and the hero is so hairy that his family jokes about him being a werewolf (he's not he's a witch)

Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti has a hero whose virile beard makes him look Villainous.

[gretahayes]

Have some Superboy (1994) characters for the ask game, do whichever ones you want!

- Tana Moon

- Rex Leech

- Roxy Leech

- Serling Roquette

- Jim Harper

- Dubbilex

-Match

- Director Cannon

- Knockout

- Agent Makoa

i love you. however i pick my favorite sb94 side character, bianca.

Headcanon A: realistic

she loves unclear speech. she can’t tell the truth without layers of satire and slang to save her life and finds it very entertaining.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

she’s aroace she doesn’t like kon she just enjoys fucking with him and finds it very funny. she likes fashion and being trendy and doesn’t shy away from revealing clothing, so people assume that means she wants romance or at least sex, but no. she’s fine

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

kon still visited her every now and then. she was familiarly simple and confusing—she’s his age and normal with normal problems. she’s superficial and selfish in the way many teenagers are. he came when he needed to be grounded, to be immersed in regular teenager-y. bianca found out about his death on the news. she still left food in her fridge for him, let nobody sit on his seat on her couch. she’s never felt so helpless. she’s never grieved so hard for someone she barely knew.

but she knew him, didn’t she? they were friends. she complained to him about school and boys and girls and friends and family. she told him things she hadn’t told anyone else and called him a fashionless loser in the same breath. he told her about his school, his team, his friends, his new...family, about ma and pa and clark and the farm, about his favorite cow, about how he struggles because he doesn’t know who he is seperate from superboy. all of that will die with him.

she wishes she had told him she considered him her friend.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

when kon comes back, she finds out from the news also. it takes a month for him to visit her. the first thing she does is call him an uncool asshole.

(ask game)

[sonicasura]

I just realized that I forgot to mention what I meant about fully preparedness for my character polls such as Jak and Rayman. After seven fucking polls is when my dumbass realizes the flaw. Welp here's the post rectifying said mistake with everyone's favorite limbless hero, Rayman, for the example.

This loveable dorky Thingamajig right here.

Now Rayman has been on a lot of adventures and every one introduced something new to his skillset. The series stapled Lums particularly ones like Red or Purple. Rayman 3 with its combat fatigues/power up transformations. Adventures granting the Incrediball companions who can help find things, gather particular stuff similar to magnets or grant powerful protection. Origins/Legends introducing various cartoony abilities from travel through paintings to running on walls. His latest appearance being a powered up Plungergun/Blaster and the Sparks.

These are some of the things that can come with Rayman for wherever he ends up. Other stuff include food provisions, water, and any essentials often taken on long journeys. Now I'll be using Transformers Prime as an example for this mainly because I want to drive these particular bots nuts but also Rayman not having a good time with sentient machines if you look at Rayman 2.

Where and when does our limbless hero pop up? How about the battle that would've been Cliffjumper's last stand i.e the first episode? Yup. Right in the thick of it as I want to paint a big fat target on Ray's back for both sides.

Before anyone fusses, this Thingamajig fought bigger and dangerous enemies but still came out on top. It isn't his first rodeo especially with killer machines. Where was I? Oh right, him dispatching Vehicons alongside Cliff.

Both are able to take down their Decepticon opponents just before Team Prime shows up. With his good deed done, Rayman decides to dip as he rather not experience any war flashbacks to the Razorbeard debacle from his second adventure. Optimus tries to convince the Thingamajig that he'll be under their protection but nope.

Rayman flees by using Ethering to turn invisible. Although he accidentally leaves one of his paintings behind in the process. The Autobots retrieve the item with hope it can lead them back to their friend's savior. It's quite clear that Rayman isn't from Earth and could be a target to the Decepticons.

A notion later proven true once Soundwave retrieves the footage from the fallen Vehicons. Upon seeing the feed, Megatron orders his Decepticons to capture Rayman should the opportunity present itself. This strange creature could prove helpful to their cause.

Now Rayman is essentially on the run from the beginning. Whenever he can, the Thingamajig would set up shelter and rest up. Most of the time Rayman camps out in the woods. There's enough natural cover and places to hide.

A task that becomes more difficult since one encounter with Soundwave left him stranded in Jasper, Nevada. Yup. He still gets entangled in both factions' conflict as the poor guy is so lost. Why is he here? Does it have something to do with these giant robots?

Both aren't good at providing info as Rayman constantly has to dodge servos(hands for Cybertronians) through almost every encounter. Except for Cliffjumper since he has an inkling the limbless hero wouldn't like that. Moreso after the incident I'll call 'Catch the Thingamajig'. One limbless hero popping up in a warzone between a four v. four battle.

Decepticons: Starscream, Soundwave, Breakdown and Knockout

Autobots: Optimus, Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Arcee

You guys ever seen an intense football 🏈 specifically on the Super Bowl level? That's how I describe this particular incident with poor Rayman being the ball. Some examples. He gets grabbed by Arcee only for Soundwave to tackle her. Bumblebee attempts capture but Rayman ducks just in time!

The Thingamajig goes to glide away only to get snatched up by Starscream. Seeker tries to flee through via groundbridge however Bulkhead knocks him off kilter! Rayman switches to the Shock Rocket to garner some distance from both factions. It buys him a few seconds only for his cover to get blown by Breakdown!

The Decepticon nabs Rayman and attempts to pass him over to Knockout but Optimus intercepts! Starscream goes for the steal however the Thingamajig has had enough. Rayman frees himself via Screech then forces everyone to scatter with Pyrogeddon.

The only thing Autobots haven't tried to reach the Thingamajig is Cliffjumper. Rayman did save the bot and no one knows how he'll react towards the kids. (We missed out on guardian Cliffjumper. Yes, Rayman marked as his ward upon capture.)

Meanwhile the Decepticons would have to be more sneaky in their approach. The Thingamajig is craftier and stronger than they thought. Maybe a certain Predacon obsessed scientist could help with the endeavor.

It's gonna take some time and well planning if anyone wants to reach Rayman. Meanwhile the Thingamajig is gonna do his best to survive this huge clusterfuck of a fiasco. Hopefully he'll be able to go home and get a much needed nap.