#no screamers I SWEAR!

[okaydays22]

[gabi-theladylover]

The /mmeaizreo.html crew

[leos-spot]

The LEGEND himself is back to play yet another blue arrogant character!

[babyspacebatclone]

Just saw on YouTube a Party City pre-Hallowe’en season ad that was literally a screamer scare.

(Please read until the end before responding to me, btw)

I loved it. It was funny, relevant, and effective.

I cannot express my rage that it’s an ad, on YouTube or anywhere.

Party City should be held over the coals for this ad, the marketing company that made the ad should be held over the coals, and any platform that allows this ad to be shown should be held over the coals.

I. Am Not. Everyone.

Me thinking a screamer ad is funny and relevant does not make it a good ad.

I cannot even list all the conditions that make random exposure to screamers and similar painful at the least and triggering at the worst.

And as someone working through C-PTSD, I do not use that word lightly.

Screamers are only fun if the recipient thinks they are fun.

If is not something you just throw around in public.

It is not something you put on a general access platform, where people not only can’t opt out of them but have a reasonable belief that they are protected from them.

People don’t expect screamers in a YouTube ad.

Yes, if you are familiar with screamers, you can tell it’s coming in the ad a mile away.

Most of the people this would be the biggest problem for may not recognize that, or be prepared for stopping the ad in time.

And how many people watch YouTube nowadays on smart devices? Up close and personal?

Maybe with headphones?

Fuck this ad.

Just because some people think it’s funny, doesn’t mean it’s ok to inflict it on people with real reasons why they avoid these things.

[longlegsnamjoon420]

I hate seeing my extended family lately bc they still treat my sisters and I like children and not worth talking to but I swear to god if no one talks to us AGAIN this year after my dad dying and everything I’m never going to see them again, sweeping declaration I’m done.

[revelboo]

I love the idea of Thundercracker and Screamer having civil relationships with their humans and then we have Skywarp

"I think mine might be feral. What are the symptoms of rabies?"

"You're holding it upside down-"

They’re both feral honestly.

Swearing and 18+ below the cut

Stop Talking Pt 2

Skywarp x Reader

• “If you don’t stop that, I’ll stop you,” Skywarp snarls as you scream at him from the far corner of his berth where he’d left you. For such a tiny, fragile thing, you have surprisingly little survival instinct. Just screaming he can understand, but you’d been swearing at him and defiantly screaming demands to be let go since you’d woken up and saw him. You are scared despite the act, though. You must be to have pressed yourself so tightly into the corner as far from him as you can get. The threat combined with thumping his fist on the berth so hard you nearly fall works and you lapse into sullen silence, trembling as you glare up at him.

• It’s like a bad sci-fi movie as you try to keep out of reach of those huge hands, wishing you had actual clothes not just the swimsuit you’d been sun bathing in, because it’s freezing wherever he’s taken you and you’d feel less vulnerable if you weren’t half naked. If big, purple and scary didn’t seem as uncertain as you are, you probably would have just huddled in the corner crying. Instead of cursing him out like you’re too stupid to live. But he’d flinched when you’d screamed the first time upon waking up to him leaning over you and prodding you with a servo. He’d reared back, grimacing. Like the shrill screeching scared him, so you’d leaned into it, because if he’s going to squish you like a bug, he can look you in the eye while he does it. “Go fuck yourself.”

• Not entirely sure what that means, only that it sounds like an insult, he tries to figure out what to do with you. He’d just assumed all humans would be as docile as Star’s had seemed. And that messing with you would be fun. That temper, though. It’s almost cute. You have to realize how small and helpless you are against him, but you still refuse to back down. Refuse to submit, even as it spreads through him with the temptation to prod at you just to watch you lash out. “If I were your size, I’d be a bit more respectful.”

• That tone is almost teasing, definitely mocking as you flip him off. “And if I were your size, I wouldn’t be a huge, kidnapping dick.�� Apparently Skywarp, as he’d told you to call him, doesn’t know that word either. The gist, though? You almost laugh when he very slowly flips you off right back. “I hope the military nukes your ass,” you taunt, surprised when he grins crookedly at you. Not getting angry, but seeming amused instead. Because apparently, he’s as dysfunctional as you are. Enjoying snarling right back at you.

• “I hope you get caught in the crossfire,” he snarls, struggling against a grin. Because you aren’t scared or at the very least you’re pretending not to be. Refusing to take any attitude from him and how long has it been since he had someone to argue and pick at? Thundercracker had never cared for squabbling with him, but Starscream had before he’d become obsessed with power and climbing higher. Leaning into your space, you crane your neck to keep glaring at him. Standing your ground. And he freezes as his spark flares, heat rushing through him in a flush of hunger at that defiance. His spike stirring because of a stubborn, little organic with a mouth. Shocking him into shoving back, away from you and that deviant urge. Because something is very wrong with him.

Previous

Next

[mattybbernard]

Mini Me (Matt Sturniolo)

Pairing: BoyDad!Matt x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Matt’s turn for baby duty

Warning: Crying, swearing, pure tooth rotting fluff, random ass baby name from a generator, unedited.

A/N: IM BAAACCK! I’m sorry this is so insanely short but my life has kinda been a bit of a shit show. Anyway, enjoy whatever this is!

“He’s a screamer.” Was one of the first thing your doctor said when you had birthed your son, and he wasn’t lying.

Matt would have preferred the screaming and crying his son made the second he he came into the world, over his current wailing. Your and Matt’s son had been born barely 72 hours ago, had been home for less than 48, and he was already the clingiest and most dramatic thing Matt’s ever seen. Grayson couldn’t be out of his mothers or fathers arms for more than a second before he started screaming bloody murder, and tonight was no different.

You and Matt awoke to the desperate cries of your son around midnight, both of you exhausted and confused from lack of sleep and the excitement of the last few days.

“Hungry? S’he hungry?” Matt slurred in his half asleep state.

“Shouldn’t be. I fed him an hour ago.” You groaned against your pillow.

“I got’em baby, go back to bed.” Matt yawned as he got up sluggishly.

You mumbled out and incoherent, thank you, before installing falling back asleep.

“Shh. What’s the matter with you, kid?” Matt asked his newborn, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “You shit yourself again?” He lifted the baby out of his crib and sniffed his butt. “Still fresh.” He muttered to himself. “What are you bitchin about?”

Grayson kept crying as Matt shushed, bounced, cooed, and rocked his son, but to no avail. Matt exited his room with the tiny baby against his chest, he walked into the kitchen to grab a water for himself before he started heating up a bottle.

“I know your mom said you just ate, but you like being difficult, don’t you?” Matt muttered to his baby who had begun to calm down, but was still letting out the odd cry.

When the bottle had heated through completely, Matt picked it up with his free hand and began to make his way to the couch. Once he had placed both his water and Graysons bottle on the coffee table, he sat down, his son still sniffling against his chest as he held him there with his left arm.

Once he was in a comfortable position he moved Grayson around in his arms and picked up the bottle, offering it to the newborn.

“Here you go big man.” Matt said as he brought the bottle to his sons lips, but Grayson refused and slapped it out of Matt’s tired hands. “Wow. Message received.” Matt chuckled and picked up the bottle, placing it back on the table.

Matt laid back on the couch, balancing the baby on his chest as he caressed his soft skin. “You done throwing stuff, tuff guy?” He asked his son. Matt loved talking to kids like they were fully grown and could understand what he was saying, even though he knew they couldn’t. “That’s what your mom calls you, tuff guy. She says you’re like me. My mini me.”

Matt’s little boy was barely three days old, but he already felt so connected to the little guy. He had never felt this happy, nor this terrified. He didn’t want to mess up. He loved you and his little boy so much. After all, he is his mini me.

[okaydays22]

[tinyarsonist]

Volume: Up PREVIEW

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI

TW: idol!Chan, idol trainee Y/N, drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold in Spanish. Rest in English.

PREVIEW under cut

Released Work: here

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he actually scramble your brain so much that you do scream for him in Korean?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washing away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Author Note: Hai hai! This is my first time writing smut. Please let me know if I missed anything in the TW tag. Also, if anyone wants to be tagged when the full work is released, please let me know or interact with my taglet linked here 🤭

[maccaronimassacre]

Going to a haunted house with them <3

Ada Wong

Can tell when something is about to happen moments before it does.

A slightly uneven floorboard? A prop is going to drop from the ceiling.

A small hole in the wall? A scare actor is going to jumpscare the two of you.

Would she tell you though? Absolutely not.

She finds your reactions too adorable and makes a mental note to take some pictures for later down the road.

Ada isn’t a screamer though. She’d either gasp very loudly or stiffen up like a tree.

She enjoyed it though and decides to search for more horror attractions around the area to go to with you.

Chris Redfield

You constantly had to remind him that nothing bad will happen and it’s all staged.

That doesn’t stop Chris from being over protective anyway by constantly shielding you whenever a prop would pop up to jumpscare you.

Even a sudden loud noise and Chris has his arms wrapped around you like a bear.

That is until he sees how shitty all the props and costumes are and he starts to roast them.

“Who made zombies green? Are you seeing this shit, babe? You know I used to punch through these like they were cardboard-”

He ends up rambling about how inaccurate the monsters are but overall has a good time.

Claire Redfield

Would be screaming with you most likely.

The type to spend most of it laughing out of fear but also enjoyment. Mostly fear though.

Claire would definitely hype you up if you got too freaked out and would drag you along the whole journey.

Or similarly to Chris she would be roasting the shit out of all the props in the house.

With Claire’s track record the two of you end up in a completely different part of the house that you definitely should not be in.

She tried to climb through the windows and gaps the scare actors are in.

Probably ends in the two of you getting kicked out but Claire manages to steal one of the props as a souvenir.

Ethan Winters

Considering this man looked at spider Maguerite and said “well that’s special” I feel like he wouldn’t be fazed at all.

Would also find your reactions amusing and occasionally tease you for it.

Tries to touch everything or figure out the mechanics of each room

He’d give the scare actors his iconic 500 yard stare whenever they would try to jumpscare him.

He would hold your hand through out the whole thing though.

But as soon as Ethan hears a chainsaw he is bolting and screaming like his life depends on it.

Also bugs.

And with bugs means lots of swearing.

Leon Kennedy

Would pretend to be unfazed for the most part but internally he is screaming.

He promises to protect you from the spooky ghosts and zombies.

He would tease you constantly whenever you got spooked but would immediately eat shit afterwards.

���Aww did that scare you? Honestly you wouldn't last a day at my-”

He’s immediately cut off by his own scream after someone grabs his shoulder.

Holds your hand to ‘make sure you don’t get lost by wandering off’ but really he needs you for support.

Leon really hates clowns though.

If he spots one its either getting roundhouse kicked or he’s turning around and never coming back.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’m a Screamer, Baby, Make Me a Mute

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Quarry era

Warnings: Poorly written smut, degradation, premature ejaculation, borderline stalking

Summary: Daryl has never been with anyone sexually, his only examples having been Merle and pornography. When he decides he’s out of time due to the end of the world, he sets his eyes on you. He’ll do whatever it takes to have you.

A/N: I’m a little more proud of this than I should be. It was really out of my comfort zone but I really love how it turned out. Written for @dilfsandmartinis

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

He had waited and watched and watched and waited. You, traipsing around in those cut off shorts that ended perfectly over the contour of your ass. And that tight tank top that hugged your figure, smoothing over every curve. He could almost conjure the perfect image of your bare breasts going off of how the top fit you alone. 

You had gone down to the water to wash up. He knew that because he had been watching you. He knew your routine from the moment you crawled out of your tent until you disappeared back into it. 

He knew he couldn’t wait any longer to have you. He had done everything that Merle would do when he was chasing a woman he’d eventually take to bed. He would cat call as you walked by, swearing that after you glared at him, you’d sway your hips a little more prominently as you walked away. 

He’d casually lean against the nearest tree while you helped gather wood for the fire, humming appreciatively and licking his lips when you’d acknowledge him. “Wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t take notice of a nice piece’a ass.” You would usually call him a pig and throw a stick at him. “Feisty. I like that.” He’d adjust himself through his pants right in front of you. 

The truth was, he had no idea what he was doing. He’d never been with a woman before, but knew the basics thanks to his brother’s tendency to indulge in female company nearly on a nightly basis. Sometimes more. Daryl would watch through the cracked door, studying how Merle would interact with his partner of choice; what he would say, how he would touch her. Didn’t seem like much fun for the woman but his brother didn’t seem interested in anything other than getting his dick wet. 

Now, Daryl wasn’t trying to be a creep. He just wanted to be ready. The porn Merle would watch was informative enough about what goes where but it seemed like more of a performance than anything. He needed something a little more personal to go off of and Merle was the perfect specimen to study. 

Daryl had been willing to wait, biding his time for the opportunity to present itself; preferably when his brother wasn’t around to critique the skills he’d picked up. Then the world ended. Realizing death could decide to punch his card so easily was a great motivator. Dying a virgin wasn’t an option. 

So he followed you. He’d never take you against your will. Even Merle’s morality extended that far. But he’d sure make it hard for you to say no. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a shoulder against a tree, skillfully hiding the fact that his heart was pounding a tattoo into his ribs. You were getting things ready to clean yourself up; laying out your fresh clothes and a towel, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail. He was getting hard just from the anticipation alone. 

When you popped open the button of your shorts, you decided to look around and make sure no one had wandered down. Daryl wasn’t even trying to hide. Merle never would. When your gaze located him, your eyes widened and then narrowed. You didn’t move to rid yourself of the shorts. 

“Well, don’t let me stop ya. Was enjoyin’ the show.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” You snapped, still eyeing him. “Okay, you can leave now.” He sauntered down to the water’s edge a few feet away from you.

“Why the hell would I do somethin’ stupid like that?” He drawled, blue eyes roaming up and down your body. He was fighting hard to keep himself still, to not shift from foot to foot— an action that helped ground him when he was especially anxious. Merle would never. “Y’can go ahead with whatcha was doin’.”

“With you gawking at me? I don’t think so, Dixon. Y’know, there are ways to treat a lady that work a lot better than being a disgusting pervert.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over your words. He could try your way, but he’d never seen Merle gravel for pussy. And he always got it in the end. “Don’t see no ladies ‘round here.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, not interested.” You started to gather your things, much to Daryl’s chagrin. “I’ll bathe some other time. Maybe bring one or two of the other women with me.”

“Hell yeah. That’s what m’talkin’ ‘bout. I can handle a couple’a ya. Maybe even three.” He reached down to palm himself through his jeans. He was almost achingly hard but the strained fabric kept it from showing too much. 

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna throw up.” You shoved past him and stomped back toward camp. 

Once you were out of sight, his shoulders slumped. A swing and a miss. He knew his brother though. Merle wouldn’t stop there. He’d pursue and persuade. 

And that’s exactly what Daryl planned to do. 

He followed you again the next afternoon when it was your turn to look for berries or mushrooms that were edible. His mouth watered each time you’d bend over to inspect something before crouching to pluck it from the ground and add it to your bucket. 

“Shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.” He stated casually, strutting up behind you. He had to restrain himself from making a grab at your ass. “Ain’t safe.”

“Yeah, from lechers like you.” You retorted, not even turning around. 

The hunter tilted his head, studying your backside, round and plump. Just right for gripping while you rode his cock. Your thighs were smooth with that small gap in between. He desperately wanted his face buried between them, letting you squeeze his head while he tasted you. His cock was already responding to the debauchery running rampant in his head. He’d never seen Merle go down on someone but men seemed to enjoy it in the videos he’d watch. 

“You just gonna stand there and stare at my ass all day? Or are you gonna go and shoot something for supper tonight?” You queried in a flat tone. 

“Darlin’, there’s no way m’movin’ when you’re shakin’ your ass in front’a me like that. Pract’ly beggin’ me to give ya what a lil’ slut like you wants.” 

The bucket sat abandoned on the forest floor. You straightened and turned, giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. “Is that what you think of me? That I’d just drop everything and jump on your dick?”

“S’what I know.” The confidence in his answer was nearly betrayed by a tremble in his frame as you stalked closer. 

“Think you’re man enough for me, Daryl?” You stressed his name, stopping yourself right in front of him. He’d never heard his first name roll off that tongue and through the partition of those pouty lips. “Think you can give it to me hard and fast until I’m screaming?”

“Fuck yeah.” He answered too quickly. His voice had dropped an octave; gravelly and breathy. His blue eyes watched you move and before he could register what was happening, your hand was cupping his erection over his pants. 

“I don’t usually let a man anywhere near that would talk to me like you do.” You smiled and gave his clothed cock a generous squeeze. “There’s something about you, though. I can’t put my”— you squeezed again—“finger on it.”

Daryl closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Fuckin’ tease.” He managed. Your hand retracted and he longed for the feel of it to return. Eyes opening, you had removed your shirt; no bra left your breasts exposed to his gaze. He gulped, his confident expression wavering in the slightest way. 

“Come on, Dixon. You’ve been talking a big game. Let’s see how good you really are.” You purred, palming him over his pants yet again. 

Eyes on your chest, he felt a sensation stirring; a strong tingle at the base of his spine that branched out swiftly to map through his veins and straight to his cock. He managed to stifle the sound but had to slap a hand against a nearby tree to stay on his feet as pleasure pulsed through him, his warm spend emptying into his underwear in suffocated ropes. 

He didn’t even wait to bask in the after effects of such an orgasm, snatching your wrist to pull your palm away from his oversensitive cock. “Maybe next time.” He growled, hoping that he had played off what had just happened well enough that you would continue to be curious. 

As it was, he was mortified. Merle would laugh at him tirelessly and crack every joke in his arsenal with Daryl being the punchline. His brother could never find out about this. Returning to the tent, he gave Merle a middle finger when the elder Dixon started complaining about how the others in the camp didn’t appreciate him. Daryl was in no mood. 

His face was burning with embarrassment while his underwear remained against his skin. He rid himself of the ruined article and hid it under his bedroll. He’d burn it later when he was sure his brother was sleeping. Merle could not find out. The camp couldn’t either. 

The shame was enough without involving others. 

Daryl left you alone for a couple of days, in hopes of maintaining that mentioned curiosity. Thankfully, it appeared no one knew anything about his plight a couple days earlier. He chose to believe that meant you didn’t either. He waited until dusk, when you would head down to the water’s edge. Just enough light left for it to be safe, just enough shadow to hide from any prying eyes. 

He found you just as he had days before, this time choosing to go down to where you stood instead of hanging back by the trees. 

You stood straighter and looked toward the sky. “God, why do you hate me? What is it, Dixon?”

“Hang on, let a man enjoy the view for a minute.” 

“The view would have been a lot better the other day if you hadn’t decided to leave me standing there, topless!” You hissed in a whisper, as if anyone else was listening.

“Calm down, woman. Just makin’ sure was me ya wanted. Lil’ whore like ya could’a been ready to jump on any dick.” He stepped forward and let his hands hover over your hips, moving his gaze up to yours with a questioning brow arched. 

“Well?” You stared at him expectantly. “Touch me, goddamnit!” You didn’t wait and pulled him forward, crashing your mouth against his. It took all he had not to moan against your lips. His first kiss and with a beauty like you. He realized in that moment that he wanted to worship you, cater to your every desire. He wanted you to know how much and how long he had wanted you. 

But that wasn’t what you what attracted you to him. You wanted brash and rough and insulting. You wanted Merle in Daryl packaging. 

So that’s what he would give you. 

Roughly pulling you away, he spun you to press your back flush against his chest. “Easy does it.” He growled against your ear, nipping at the lobe. You let out a sigh and your head dropped back against his shoulder. “Desperate lil’ whore. Can’t wait for that cock, can ya?”

With a smirk he couldn’t see, you pushed your ass back against his groin, making his dick twitch. “Seems like your cock can’t wait for this pussy.” 

Daryl bit back a groan, his hands coming up to grope your breasts hard enough to be painful. That familiar feeling was back again, a heat pooling in his belly with electric jolts stirring at the base of his spine. He was biting his bottom lip so hard that his mouth soon filled with the metallic taste of blood. Your petite hand wrapped around his wrist and guided it into the front of your shorts. The second he felt that wet heat through the fabric of your panties, he was gone. 

He had enough cognitive function to yank his hand free and push you forward, palms on your shoulders shaking as the orgasm tore through him. He was incredibly thankful that there wasn’t enough light for you to see what promised to be a wet patch on the front of his pants. 

“Too fuckin’ eager for me t’night.” He ground out, spinning on a heel to start stomping away from you. “Let’s see how long a lil’ slut like ya can manage ‘fore any cock in this camp’ll do.” He didn’t turn to see your face. He couldn’t, lest you see the mortified embarrassment coloring his own expression. 

Another failed attempt. Another pair of underwear to burn. 

It didn’t take long for you to turn to other means of scratching that itch. He sat, cleaning his bolts, watching you flirt shamelessly with his brother. Bending over in front of the man and practically wiggling your ass in invitation. Of course, Merle responded. The elder Dixon gave your backside a firm slap. To your credit, you were great at feigning offense. 

You stormed away from their camp only to return sometime later, sitting yourself so close to his brother that your thigh was rubbing against Merle’s hip. You leaned in while the man talked about nothing in particular. Some racist garbage that even Daryl wouldn’t entertain. The second your fingers reached for Merle’s jaw, Daryl stood straight up from his perch. 

“Y/N!” He barked, fighting off a smirk when you flinched and turned those big eyes toward him. “Need to talk to ya.” He was already heading into the trees, his sharp hunter senses picking up your steps behind him. He’d show you that he could be just as appealing as Merle. He’d be better. 

When he felt the two of you were far enough from camp and saw no signs that his brother had followed, he rounded on you to shove you roughly against the nearest tree. “Was right, weren’t I? Need that lil’ cunt filled so bad that ya’d let any man take ya.”

You huffed in obvious annoyance. “No. I’m just trying to make you jealous enough to actually fuck me.”

Daryl gulped. He knew this was his last chance. You’d get tired of games and he was tired of playing them too. He released you and stepped back. “Take off your clothes. And hurry it up ‘fore I change my mind.” He didn’t touch you while you undressed, your lust-blown eyes never leaving him. He couldn’t touch you. If he did, it would be a repeat performance of the last two encounters. He scrambled at undoing his belt, separating the two ends so he could free his already painfully hard cock. “Better be wet cause I ain’t in the mood to waste time gettin’ ya there.”

He didn’t, either. The moment you were bare, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you. Your ankles locked over his ass while he guided himself to your entrance. Thank god, he found you to be slick. He drove into you with a moan, gritting his teeth to keep from cumming right on the spot. “Fuckin’ slut.” Merle was never tender or accommodating, slamming into his prize the moment her legs opened to him. Dary did the same, hard thrusts that had the sound of skin slapping echoing through the trees. He was already about to burst. “Say it. Say what a slut ya are.”

“I’m a slut. I’m a fucking whore! Fuck, Dixon!” Your fingers grasped for his neck, his shoulders. Against everything he knew, he wanted to bring you to your high. He’d seen how it could be done in those pornos. But there wasn’t time. 

With a choked off moan, he pulled himself from you, ropes of cum dousing your ass and the tree behind you. He let himself feel it, reveling in the euphoria that slammed into him in waves so hard that he thought he might black out. 

As he drifted back down, he quickly dropped your legs and stepped back to tuck himself back into his jeans. Shame colored his cheeks. He thought he might throw up. You’d likely tell everyone what a lousy fuck he was, lasting all of two minutes. He was no longer a virgin but he couldn’t celebrate it. “Get outta here.” He hissed. 

You smirked at him. “Not bad for your first time.” You remained naked, leaned back against the tree with your legs apart to give him quite the view. “We can try again if you want and I can show you how to really fuck a woman.”

He stood there, hands on his belt though his fingers felt suddenly inept. “Ya knew?” Yep, he was definitely going to throw up. 

“Of course I did.” You chuckled. Your hands began to roam over your body. Watching you already had his cock stirring back to life, half hard and approaching aching. “You can still call me a slut. It’s hot.” You sauntered toward him, smacking his hands away from his belt. 

Daryl watched you pop the button of his jeans open once again and drag down the zipper. “Fuck.” He groaned when your hand wrapped around him, stroking him to fully hard. “Ya really are a fuckin’ slut.”

“I can be.” You purred, licking a stripe from his collar bone to his jaw. He shivered but managed to scoff and turn his head, though his eyes slid back over to stare at your bare breasts. “And this slut is gonna give you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Knightmare In Toronto

Chapter 1: First Meetings

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

You awoke to a scream.

Having just laid down for a midday nap after an arduous night shift, one can imagine the irritation you felt as you shot up from your place on the couch, grumbling groggily like an old person.

"I swear to fucking- Who the fuck are you?!"

That is, until you caught sight of the screamer: a short, medievally-dressed man who looked like he had accidentally wandered in from the Renaissance Faire or escaped from the jousting pits of the Medieval Times restaurant. A large sword sheathed in a blue scabbard hung from his back, which was why you scrambled up, grabbed a pillow, and brandished it at this medieval home invader. "Answer me!"

To his credit, the man raised his hands and backed away, his expression shocked and apprehensive. Good. "I- Ma'am- Where am I?!"

"What does it look like?" You snarled. "This is my house, dipshit!"

"There's got to be some misunderstanding," as he stammered an explanation, you took inventory of his increasingly odd outfit. His shirt-... tunic(?) looked like he had taken four pieces of different colored fabric and sewn them together, then slapped some brown tights and jester boots on and called it a day. He was also really short, no more than five foot two if you were being generous. "The portal never drops us in houses, always clearings or streams, but that was only once-"

What the fuck?

"Are you on drugs?"

The man blinked, looking at you like you'd grown a second head. "I can assure you I'm not-"

"Then why are you in my house?" You asked cautiously, lowering your pillow just a smidge. He didn't seem the type to chop you up and bury your bones, but one could never be too careful.

"Well, there's this portal-"

"Drugs."

"-No. But it usually drops us off outside," you watched apprehensively as he ran a hand through his stick-straight blonde hair, which was long enough that the only thing holding it back was the thick green bandana around his head. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what region we're in?"

...Region? This guy really was weird, but at least he hadn't tried anything funny with that sword of his. "Uh... Toronto."

It was almost funny how quickly the guy's face changed from inquisitive to downright baffled. "Excuse me, but I don't think I heard you right?"

As weird as having an intellectual conversation about location with a home intruder in your living room was, you couldn't say you were surprised; trouble always seemed to find you one way or another. "We're in Toronto," nothing. You pressed further. "You know, Canada."

"...What?"

The silence spoke volumes as you stared each other down, though you eventaully broke it with an exhausted sigh. "Listen, man, I'm just trying to get some sleep. I'll get you a map and you don't steal my throw blankets, deal?"

Without waiting for a response, you hightailed it to the kitchen of your two-story rambler and retrieved a map from the far cupboard. Your on-and-off job at a tourist company came with many perks, some of which being: yearly adventure passes to the 12-and-under under-the-sea theme park, Royal Ontario Museum tickets during the busiest time in touring season, and a full crate of maps that would never see the light of day.

Until now, that is.

The strange man was still in your living room when you sauntered back in, though he had turned his attention to your television, a box of an appliance you pilfered from a garage sale a few years back. He was poking it with a distinct air of confusion, which only cemented your belief that he was on some type of drug--it was almost like he had teleported here from the fucking medieval era instead of breaking in through your-... well, you didn't actually know where or how he had broken in, but you sure as hell would find out after this conundrum. You held out the map. "Here," you watched as he unfurled the thing, looking no less baffled than he had a minute ago. "I assume you can read?"

The man nodded, all traces of his earlier panic gone. "Thank you for your help. I'm Four.

"(Y/n)," you responded, half-wondering who on earth would name their kid that.

"Say, you wouldn't be able to tell me where the hero of this land is?"

"The... hero?" You echoed. "You mean the prime minister-?"

You would have put more thought into the depths of this insanity, but there was a loud crash in the kitchen that overwrote all desire to discretely call an ambulance for the poor guy. Four was hot on your heels as you rushed to the kitchen, having drawn his sword. "Watch the fuck where you're putting that," you tried to say, but a new voice shocked you into silence.

"Oww, Legend!" In the middle of your pristine floor was another blonde stranger, though he seemed no older than twelve or thirteen. A light blue tunic with gray sleeves hung down nearly to his knees, clothed in gaudy orange tights. Sky blue eyes turned to you and Four. "Where am I?"

Behind you, Four re-sheathed his sword. You breathed a sigh of relief, but it was for naught when the teenager practically sprung up to vigorously shake your hand. "Hi! I'm L- er, Wind! What's your name?"

You told him, feeling quite numb at his point.

"Cool name! You're so tall, I think you might be taller than Twilight and T..." you were already beginning to block him out, looking to Four for answers.

"I don't suppose you know anything about this?"

"I told you; portal," said Four, like that solved everything.

"I think I'm on drugs," you muttered, thinking back to that new Chinese restaurant you tried last night, at the same time Wind chimed in: "You told them?"

Four opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "Okay, I don't know who or why you are, but you need to leave. Now."

"Aww," Wind pouted. "But you haven't met everyone!"

Not that you'd say it to his face, but you didn't think you wanted to. "I'll be fine. And so will you. I gave your... friend a map."

"Oh, alright," said Wind, if not a bit dejected. One of your heartstrings twinged. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you turned to Four. "You'll be fine?"

"Should be," he sighed. "We've been in these kinds of situations before."

Okay, now you felt a bit bad. Sure, they had broken into your house and scared the living daylights out of you, but it wasn't like they had been rude. Despite the impossible circumstances, Four and Wind seemed like decent guys who ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Wait," two sets of eyes turned to you. "...It would be cruel to make you leave without a bite to eat."

Both Four and Wind grin, and it's almost uncanny how similar they look. You offer a small smile, snag a small paper bag from the counter, and make a b-line for the middle cupboard, where a few packs of trail mix can be found. You shove all five in the bag, then add a few protein bars and tangerines for good measure. "Y'all don't have any food allergies, right?"

"Nope," says Four, right as Wind chimes: "Nu-uh!"

Cute, you think before you can stop yourself. "Good, hope you like tangerines and a whole lot of peanuts."

The brown paper crinkles as you fold it down, using a teal paperclip to secure it for good measure. You proudly hand the bag to Wind, who smiles like he just got his dream birthday present. Four nods to you, smiling in a far calmer manner. "We'll be going now, thanks for everything."

"Stay safe," is what you said, or, rather, what you would have said if the air above you hadn't inexplicably reformed in the form of a heavy object dropping down on you, knocking you to the ground as Wind's screams rang out. As you lay, prone and aching, on the unwashed floor, your last thought before unconsciousness was that you really needed to get rid of those maps.

That's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as I did writing it, so be sure to reboot or leave a comment if you liked it!

All LU characters belong to JoJo!

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-one

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This story takes place during the era between Finding God Before God Finds Me and The Death of Peace of Mind. Tags will be open, send in an ask or comment on the chapter. I'll try to catch every one!

Swearing from below caught my attention as I reluctantly dragged myself out of my bunk to the noise. It was angry and loud followed by a kick then some more swearing. I ran a hand through my hair while I exited the tour bus and raised a brow to my fellow bandmate and boyfriend, Trey. 

"What's your problem?" 

He shot me a look, one that he thought would scare me, but I nearly chuckled at the sight of it. 

"You forgot to pack my laptop. I can't find it on the bus or down here." 

Now my eyes sliced into him. "I didn't pack shit of yours, Trey. I told you I was already stressing out about this tour, the last thing I needed was to take care of you." 

He scoffed before slamming the door to the under compartment of the bus shut. "Why the fuck are you stressing out for? It's not like it's our first tour." 

As he walked past me, I smelled the lingering scent of vodka and nearly strangled him. Leave it to Trey to drink before eleven a.m. Tonight was the first night of our month-long tour across the United States and here he was, drunk before soundcheck. And he dares to ask me why I'm so stressed out. 

"Maybe I'm stressed out because this is our first sold-out tour and you're already drunk," I seethed while following him down the street. 

Trey pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Calm down, Y/N. It's not like I can't perform drunk." 

The long locks of his curly hair fell into his face and he ran a hand through it to push it away from his eyes. The tattoo on his palm caught my attention like it always did. 

Rose. 

No, not a tattoo of the flower but a name; his ex-fiance. 

I absolutely hated that tattoo and after two years of dating, I begged him to get it covered up but he refused. Which should have been the first sign to leave him but I was desperate for some kind of relationship with him so I overlooked it. 

Like everything else about Trey. 

Plus, our band Hollow Souls was his and if I broke up with him, Trey would turn the rest of the guys against me. I couldn't afford for that to happen. When Trey came to me, as a friend, four years ago with the idea of starting a band, I thought he was crazy. Especially when he wanted me to sing for the band, he was the screamer and guitar player, so why would they need me to sing?

"Your voice is amazing, Y/N. Think how cool our band would be with my screams and your soft singing. There's nothing like it." 

Now four years later, Hollow Souls were one of the most popular bands in the metal genre and this was our second tour in the last year. We might have been exhausted but the prospect of touring with another band that was just rising to fame made us all giddy with excitement so of course we agreed to another tour. 

Well, not all of us were excited to be touring with this band. Trey made his distaste for them pretty damn clear; hence why he was drinking already. 

"Why don't you go sleep off your hangover, I'm sure you still have and I'll come find you when our soundcheck starts," I suggested. 

Trey tossed down the butt of his cigarette and walked away, without stomping it out. Rolling my eyes, I crushed it beneath my boot then slowly followed him back to the parking lot of the venue where our bus was parked. 

"Fuck sleep. I want to be wide awake when those assholes show up." 

I shook my head at Trey. "Why do you hate them so much? We haven't even met them." 

He whipped his head around. "You haven't but I have. Their vocalist is a young entitled prick who thinks just because they had one hit off their last album that they deserve to have their name bigger on OUR tour poster?" 

Oh, here we fucking go. Again. 

I pushed past him to make my way to the bus. "You're so fucking stupid, Trey. You're believing bullshit you read online. When have they ever come out and said that themselves?" 

"Don't walk away from me," Trey hissed while grabbing my hand; a little too hard.

I ignored the pain by keeping my gaze hard on his face. "Trey, let me go. Now." 

Movement sounded behind him and I peered over his shoulder to see Chase, our drummer, poke his head out from the bus. 

"Everything alright?" He gave us a curious look. 

"Yep," I ripped my arm from Trey. 

Chase patted my shoulder as I climbed up the stairs of our tour bus and didn't bother to look toward Malcolm, our bass player, as I retreated into my bunk. Our soundcheck was in a few hours and if I wanted to make sure our first show went off without a hitch, I needed to calm myself. 

Three hours later, I was dressed in one of our merch hoodies and a pair of black biker shorts ready to get soundcheck over with. Trey didn't bother coming back to the bus and after waiting for him, Malcom suggested we should head into the venue without him. The wind blew through my hair as I stepped off the bus and gave a worried glance to Chase. 

"Did you find him?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "I texted him but no response. You know him, Y/N. He's probably at a bar right now but he'll be here in time for the show."

Reluctantly, I nodded and followed Chase into the backdoor of the venue when a large bus pulled up right next to ours. 

"About time," Malcom chuckled as he appeared almost out of thin air right next to me. 

His red hair was pulled back tight into a bun, his emerald eyes shining with the rays of the sun. Chase, whose blonde hair was buzzed short and blue eyes were dark as the night ocean, waved to the mystery bus as the door opened. 

"The next time I take your directions, Malcolm I'm having you pay to fill up the bus' gas tank," a man with long hair and a thick accent said as he took the final step from the bus. 

Malcom rolled his eyes before doing the typical man/bro hug. "Fuck you, Jolly. My directions were perfect. It's the only venue in all of Texas that has a blue roof." 

I looked over to my shoulder so I could look at the venue but smacked Malcolm in the chest. "You dumbass. The roof isn't blue; it's red!" 

He gave a sheepish smile while shrugging. "Oh shit. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

"No, you're not," Chase noted. 

The man, Jolly, chuckled while extending his hand to me after he hugged Chase. Clearly, they already knew each other. 

"I'm Jolly, guitar player of Bad Omens." 

With a bright smile, I shook his hand. "Y/N, clean vocalist for Hollow Souls." 

"Oh trust me, I know who you are. We listen to you guys pretty often; huge fans. Noah talks about your vocal range all the time," Jolly admitted while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

A red hue crept over my face at the simple compliment. It wasn't something I heard often because everyone always talked about Trey's screams and how long he could hold a note or how deep his growls could go. 

"That means a lot to me, really. Few people compliment me, it's usually something they save for Trey," I admitted while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Well, it's true," a different man slinked up beside Jolly with a goofy, bright smile. "I'm Nick but you can call me Folio." 

"Oh, let me guess." I tapped my chin. "Drummer?" 

Folio chuckled while nodding. "What gave it away?" 

I pointed to his hoodie pocket. "The drumsticks." 

Another guy with hair down to his shoulders emerged from the bus and nodded towards the group of us. "Blue roof my ass." 

Malcolm rolled his eyes and flipped this guy the middle finger. "Sorry, Nick. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

Chase pinched his eyes shut. "No. You're not." 

"Wait," I pointed between the two men. "You're both Nick?" 

They nodded and Folio spoke next. "Which is why you can call me Folio." 

Nick then extended his hand towards me. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows." 

I don't know why but that small tidbit of information made my heart stutter. I had no idea who this Noah was but apparently; he thought pretty highly of me. 

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," I laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of my feet. 

Then as if the air around me shifted, taking all the oxygen from my lungs, I watched as the final member of Bad Omens exited the bus. A black beanie covered most of his long hair and the brown jacket he wore did absolute wonders for his skin. The black jeans hugged every inch of his thighs as he walked towards us; no, almost stalked towards us in a way that practically screamed confidence. His plump lips parted to speak and my ears were hit with the most angelic voice I ever heard. 

"Malcolm, your directions-." 

My bandmate groaned while rolling his eyes. "Yes, I already fucking know." 

As the guys chatted amongst themselves for a moment, my eyes were glued to the tall man in front of me. Easily he had to be six foot three because being only a few feet away from me, he towered over me. Tattoos were peaking out from the collar of his shirt and when he extended his hand towards me, I trailed over every single tattoo on his fingers. 

Long fingers that could make the devil weep in sin. 

"Hey, I'm Noah." 

When I realized he was talking to me, I blinked a few times and stammered out my name. 

"Y-Y/N. Nice to meet you," I shook his large hand, and the immediate warmth his gentle touch brought made me weak in the knees. 

"Trust me, I know who you are," Noah smiled. 

Suddenly gaining more confidence from his smile alone, I playfully raised a brow at him. "Yeah, your bandmates kind of told me you're a huge fan." 

Oh fuck, even his laugh sounded breathtaking. 

"Yes, I'll be the first one to admit that. When the record label told us who we're touring with, I may have fanboyed." 

Chase hummed in response before ruffling my hair. "Rightfully so. Y/N is what makes Hollow Souls." 

I pushed his arm away. "Whatever. All I do is sing." 

All of this attention towards me wasn't why I was so defensive. It was because if Trey heard me getting all the praise, he would blow a fucking gasket. He always thought he was the center of Hollow Souls since he started the band so whenever someone else besides him got even a hint of praise, he would throw a fit. 

Noah snorted. "You're too hard on yourself, Y/N. The range your voice gets is insane." 

The blush never left my face, only intensified, so I stared down at the toes of my shoes because I wasn't sure how to take yet another compliment. 

"Speaking of which," Chase sighed. "We should probably find out where Trey went." 

"I'm honored you're all worried about me." 

Internally, I cringed when an arm slung around my shoulder and a wet kiss was plastered to my cheek. I was avoiding the gazes of everyone and I nearly missed the look of shock that crossed over Noah's face as Trey left another kiss on my cheek after I wiped away the first one. 

"You stink," I muttered under my breath. 

"Sorry, sugar. I had a few drinks at the bar down the road," Trey admitted while brushing his hair away from his face. 

The sides were shaved, but the rest lay on top of his head in a curly mess. His dark eyes held no light behind them, it dying so long ago, and the array of tattoos that littered his arms were as dull as his soul. The alcohol and stardom over the years changed Trey and not for the better. Before we started dating, Trey was the most vibrant soul I'd ever met but once we got together and Hollow Souls took off, everything changed. He became the asshole that now stood next to me. 

Many would ask why I was still with Trey but he was familiar and I didn't want to go through the fear of starting over. Also, I liked my position in the band and didn't want to mess that up. 

Trey nodded to Chase and Malcom, completely ignoring the guys of Bad Omens. 

"How'd soundcheck go?" 

Chase scoffed. "We haven't even started. We were waiting for you." 

"Oh, you guys don't need me. Since Y/N here is the heart and soul of our band," Trey pushed himself off of me but then smacked my ass. "Let's get moving, babe. We're wasting time out here." 

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling very embarrassed with the way Trey was treating me, something Noah immediately picked up on. 

"Nice to see you again, Trey," he said. 

"Noah," Trey gave him a curt nod then linked his fingers in mine to drag me away from them. 

NOAH

Holy shit. She's real and absolutely beautiful. 

The pictures on her Instagram paled in comparison to the real thing standing in front of me. The way her hair blew across the softness of her face or how when the afternoon sun casts over her eyes at just the right angle, they shined with so much light it made my heart flutter. And when her cheeks flushed red as I complimented her voice or the way her eyes cast downward, it made all the blood in my body rush straight to my dick and I suddenly cursed myself for wearing such tight jeans. 

Then that prick Trey came along and treated her like she was nothing as he dragged her away. I nearly stepped between them but with the stern look that Jolly gave me, I knew it was best not to get involved. 

"This is going to be a long few weeks," Nick said as we all watched the members of Hollow Souls walk into the venue. 

"I'd be happy if Trey wasn't a part of it," I said truthfully. 

Folio hummed in agreement. "He's always had a problem with us even before you flirted with his girlfriend." 

"I didn't know they were dating," I retorted back. "And I wasn't flirting with her." 

"Right," Jolly nodded. "Because the looks you two were giving each other weren't all that heart-eye shit they talk about in romance novels." 

Thankfully, our crew's bus pulled up right on time so I didn't have to explain myself and for the next while, we helped everyone take our equipment from the bus to the venue where Hollow Souls was still doing soundcheck. Every so often, Y/N's ethereal voice would pierce into my soul causing me to stand still in place, watching her on that stage. 

As much as I disliked the guy, with his deep guttural screams and her siren-like voice, they were perfectly made for this. 

"You're staring," Nick whispered as he walked behind me to set down one of the large crates. 

"Fuck off," I grumbled before adjusting the beanie on my head and reluctantly walked away from the stage.

[nothing-leave-me-alone]

Transformers one swap au

Character posts

Main 4 first and next post will be the others.

Sentinel

Has chronic back pain due to his wings being cramped inside his backplate. Without a cog they are stored there causing back ache and hip pain.

Sentinel is smart, very smart but can't sit still or listen for long. His charisma makes up for it somewhat. So he wants to prove himself useful. (my adhd king just like me fr)

Regarded as wasted potential. Bumblebee is slightly sweet on him due to seeing himself in him. "I can do it, I swear I can. Just... Just let me show you what I can do"

Made a golden hover board with scrap metal as a mobility aid since he can't wear a jetpack like the other due to his wings making bumps in his back

So good at slipping into hard to reach places and manouvering around the factories ever moving components

Wants to participate in the kaon 5000. Unlike OG Orion he dosent do it for the other cogless, but for himself, to prove he can help

He feels he needs to make up for his inability to do as much as others.

Breaks into the kaon collyseum repeatedly to use their training rooms and take scrap metal for his own use

Arachnid

Has horrible optic sight but very very capable with her hands none the less

Perfect hard working arachnid, the model cogless Smith. Yet so so alone for her 'unusual' behavior and body

Projecting my body dysmorphia and bad eyesight onto her

Feels responsible for sentinel. Both out of worry for his delicate constitution and for being the only bot who seems to like her

Respects starscream as her superior and they have a mutual understanding of sentinels unruly behavior.

Cannot for the life of her get into bees good graces. She does things too well and still fumbles social interactions with her supervisors

Starscream

Starscream, or screamer, as everyone calls him, or Star as fewer (only sentinel) call him is the head cogless bot of sentinels smithing team.

Perfectionis, to the extreme

He's specifically good at spotting any fault in a blade or blaster with a single sweep of the optics.

Very, Very critical of quality control.

has no trine but he still feels the loss of it. He feels an enhanced sense of responsibility over the bots under him.

Deep need for control. Things must be done his way and done right. He feels something deeply missing in him and he can't quite tell what.

Feels a horrid sense that something is missing and out of his control and it scares him. So maybe if he can micromanaged everything and everyone around him, this deep hole in his spark will just stop

Annoyed by sentinels disregard for his perfectly planned life yet so so worried over his weakest member. Why can't he just stay still and do his part.

Darkwing

Resides in sublevel 50, it's not a smitting level..... It's a weapon testing facility...

Darkwing lives in a constant battle, drones come at random intervals to quality test the weapons the smiths make in here.

Darkwing proved no good at forging weapons, or making ammo, or smiting armor or even shipping them out.

Too feral, too dumb, too much, his only use was deemed as a weapon himself but without a cog he wouldn't last in the arene

His job? survive.

He's not as alone as bee as many cogged bots come here willingly when they are deemed unfit for the front lines and they can't cope with the failure

They don't last long so he hasn't had permanent friends in a while.

VERY excited when other cogless joined him down there in level 50, these guys must be real tough stuff to make it down there without cogs. Looks up to sentinel for persevering despite it all

Thinks arachnid is cool

Starscream please stop yelling at him he just dumb like that

[veltana]

Mafia AU prequels - Bucky's break-up

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~1.7k ✦ Rating: Mature ✦ Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, mild swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol consumption, lots of fluff and feels, platonic cuddling, sharing a bed, Bucky is a dramatic drunk, unrequited love/crush, mention of loki/reader. ✦ Summary: The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment. ✦ Note: This is a prequel to No one as sweet as you set while they were living together in college, which focuses on their growing relationship and how Bucky and Steve started to develop feelings for Sweets as more than just their best friend. You don't need to read No one as sweet as you to get this but I recommend it. (Also posted on AO3)

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

Bucky and Dot broke up on a Wednesday around lunch. On Wednesday night Bucky had a new girl in his bed and you and Steve shrugged, put on your headphones, and waited for it to blow over.

The thing with roommates is that you will hear them during sex occasionally, it can’t be avoided with thin walls in an old building. But since that Wednesday Bucky never once slept alone and the rest of the time he was hardly in the apartment.

With your room right in between Steve and Bucky’s, you took the brunt of the sounds and on Friday morning you decided to take shelter in Steve’s room because the girl was a screamer and you had barely slept for two days.

Now it’s Tuesday, around one am and both Steve and you are awake, listening to the moans and sounds making their way through your room and into Steve’s.

"How does he even do it?" Steve sounds a little amazed as you both lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "Drugs?" you ask. "Honestly, it has to be, how else is he going at it all the time like that?" "Maybe they're all faking it?" you suggest.

"I've never heard anyone complain about him," Steve shrugs. "But I mean statistically he can’t get it right for everyone every time." "If he does, he is one of a kind," you decide. "Tempted to go for a ride?" You hear the smile in Steve's voice without even looking. "No, not really," you grimace. "We should do something, I’m not sure it’s healthy anymore."

"Yeah I know, Sweets, but if I try and grab him like he did with me when I was sad about Peggy he is probably going to punch me," Steve sounds concerned too.

Sweets, that dorky nickname they both have decided to call you because you happen to like all things sweet. Somehow it had stuck, even though you protested. "I can try and talk to him," you pause before continuing. "If he is ever alone again."

Suddenly the front door slams and you realize that the sounds have stopped. Sharing a look both of you rush out of bed, finding Bucky in the kitchen, downing a gallon of juice.

"Want some?" He holds it out when he sees you. The smell of alcohol on his breath is strong, even when you’re a few feet away, pulling out a chair to sit down across from where he’s standing. "No thank you," you answer while Steve leans against the fridge. "So, who was that?" you ask.

Bucky shrugs. "Don't know, met her at a bar." "Are you using protection?" Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. Bucky straightens up, putting the open juice jug down hard on the counter, making liquid slosh out, looking at Steve with black eyes that you’ve never seen before.

"Of course I am, do you think I'm fucking dumb or somethin'," he snarls. Bucky tends to be a little dramatic when he's drunk. In an effort to calm him down you reach out to him. "Hey, Bucky, it's okay, he wasn't-" The moment your fingers touch his arm, he turns and moves his hand. "Don't fucking touch me," he says and the palm of his hand connects with your underarm.

Out of surprise and not because it hurts, you yelp and look up at Bucky, a little confused because he’s never reacted like that before. He stares back at you with horrified eyes, realization dawning on him. Slowly, without another word, he backs away and hurries over to his room, slamming the door behind him like a teenager in a fit.

Steve moves forward and grabs your arm, turning it over to see if you’re hurt. "What the fuck is wrong with him," he murmurs. "It's nothing, I was just surprised," you shrug. "I've hurt myself worse by bumping into tables." "That is no fucking excuse." Steve lets go and starts towards Bucky's door. Before he can knock, Bucky opens it with a bag over his shoulder. He's changed into new clothes and his cap is pulled down low over his eyes.

Steve blocks the doorway and crosses his arms, asking "Where the fuck are you going?" "Heading out, move," Bucky mumbles and tries to duck past Steve but the other won't let him. "The fuck your not, you're gonna stay here and face whatever it is that you’re feeling," Steve's voice is laced with restrained anger. "And you're gonna apologize to Sweets."

You’re about to protest that you're not really hurt, but Steve shoots a look over his shoulder and you clamp your mouth shut. "We understand that you're sad about Dot," Steve is softer now and he leans on the doorframe, giving Bucky a way out but he doesn't take it, he just stands there, looking at the ground.

"You don't understand shit, Steve," Bucky mutter. "Have you even cried?" Steve asks and that makes Bucky’s head snap up, his mouth a thin line. "Real men don't fucking cry," he hisses. They stare at each other for a long while, then Steve points to you. "Can real men apologize when they're being a fucking ass?" Steve asks with poorly hidden disdain.

This is a sore spot for both of them and has been the grounds for arguments before. Bucky has some views on what it means to be a man that neither Steve nor you share. It has gotten better over the years according to Steve but you have not seen Bucky cry once, not to sad movies or when he’s been injured, or even had his heart broken. It's concerning, but maybe you and Steve can help him with that one day.

The bag lands on the floor with a thump and he walks past Steve to where you're sitting on the chair. Without a word he gets down on his knees in front of you and gently grabs your arm, pressing his lips against your skin murmuring "I'm sorry," repeatedly.

Steve has turned to look at you and you meet his eyes that are still hard and annoyed. You use your free hand to remove the cap and run your fingers through Bucky's hair, whispering, "It's okay."

When you do, Bucky stiffens and stops moving for a moment, then he lets go of your arm and buries his face in your pajama-clad lap, his voice trembling when he says, "I'll move out, I swear. I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Sweets! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I love you so much."

Steve softens immediately and pushes off the door to settle on the floor beside him, rubbing his back. “No need for that Buck,” he says softly and you echo him. “I don’t want you to leave Bucky,” you grab one of his hands and gently press a kiss to the top of it before placing it back again.

After several minutes of silence, Bucky asks angrily into your legs, "Why the fuck does it have to hurt this much.” "I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I wish I never met her, never fucked her, never fucking loved her,” Bucky continues. "No, you don't," Steve argues. "I know it might feel like you will never be happy again but it will get better." Bucky lifts his head and Steve cups his face and brushes his cheeks, even though there are no tears there.

"We love you, and we will help you with anything you need," you promise. Bucky nods and lays his head down against your legs again with Steve's hand still on his cheek.

Eventually, Steve stands up and Bucky looks at him a little worried. "Not leaving, just gonna get another blanket for the bed," he reassures him. While Steve is gone Bucky says, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I love you, Sweets, more than you could ever know." And you smile because even though you know he’s exaggerating, it’s still nice to hear him say it. "I know Bucky, I know," you whisper.

When Steve comes back he pulls Bucky to his feet and guides him into the bedroom. You check the front door before turning all the lights out, then padding over to Steve's room too. They're cuddled together, Bucky's head pressed into Steve's shoulder and you move to slide in behind Bucky, but he grabs you around the waist and pulls you down between them. It makes you giggle and there is a weak smile answering on Bucky's face before you all settle in.

There is not even a light bruise left behind on your arm the next day, but you've never seen Bucky so remorseful. In the following weeks, he accompanies you around to classes, carries your stuff, and has sworn off drinking. Both you and Steve are skeptical because Bucky is famous for his partying but in the months that follow he often goes out but always comes home sober.

One day when you're having lunch at home together on the couch, you ask him about it.

First, he puts his food down before taking hold of your utensils and placing them on the table. Then he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, hugging you so tightly you can hardly breathe.

"I never want to put you in that situation again," he explains. "What if I get angry and do something worse, to you, or Steve, or anyone else." Hugging him back as best you can you say "Maybe you should talk to a professional about it?" "I'm on a waiting list," he replies.

You cuddle into him, really trying to show him that you mean it when you say, "Bucky I'm not afraid of you, I know you didn't mean to hurt me." "Don't make excuses for me," he says and picks up a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.

The moment is cut off by your phone chiming and you wiggle out of his hold. When you pull it out a smile splits your face. "Have to go," you grab another spoonful of fried rice then get up. "Who was that?" Bucky asks.

Since you’re halfway to the door you don't pick up on his tone. "Just someone I've been seeing," "What's his name?" "Loki, he's from Europe!" You turn around with a smile and throw him a kiss before you're out the door.

Bucky feels his heart break, again, only this time he has no excuse to be sad about it because you aren't his.

prev | next

[in1-nutshell]

With all the Deadloop and Red Cross nutshells, my brain has been stuck on how their reunion might go! Did either of them go back to the museum they were in to look for the other? Did they ever find out that they are both back with their faction? Maybe there’s something of history repeating itself, and Deadloop gets shot down, and Red Cross finds and saves him? (Also, what would Agent Fowler say to having a ‘con in the family?)

Thank you for feeding the Red Cross and Deadloop brain rot I have with all the nutshells!

I've had many requests for these two reuniting, so I've combined them all into one.

Hope you enjoy!

Red Cross and Deadloop reuniting

TFP

Deadloop had been enjoying his break when he was notified by Starscream to guard a hostage.

He hated having to deal with hostages.

It brought back memories of the human war.

Memories of the Fowlers.

Memories of her…

He is confused when he sees a man being suspended in the air by a couple of large chains.

It seemed too extreme, even for Starscream.

Deadloop walking over to the human.

“So, you’re the little human that’s been giving Screamer trouble.”--Deadloop

The human huffs.

“If you want the information, I don’t have it.”--Fowler

“Relax, I’m not going to shove my Granny up your behind.”--Deadloop

Fowler looks at him strangely.

“What’s your name?”--Deadloop

He glares at the Con before noticing key details in his alt mode.

“What’s with your alt mode? Cons getting a budget cut from the high-tech aircrafts?”--Fowler

Deadloop scoffs.

“I’ll have you know sir, that this alt mode was from the original model back in the day.”--Deadloop

This catches the man’s attention.

“I’ll tell you my name if you come closer to the light.”--Fowler

Deadloop humors him and walks closer while also noticing some familiar looking features on the human’s face.

The way his eyes concentrated...

The little deeps in the cheek…

Almost like…

“Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Fowler?”--Deadloop

The human’s eyes widen by a fraction of a second.

Good enough for him as takes the chains off and pops open one of his subspaces.

“Hop in.”--Deadloop

Deadloop knew that his actions would be counted as treason, but he was not going to let this Fowler get hurt on his watch, never again.

Fowler tried questioning what the Con was doing, but he soon saw that he was tkainghim outside to the flight deck.

Was this Con actually helping him escape?

They made it to the flight deck before Starscream caught wind of Deadloop’s plans.

Deadloop transformed into his baron form and took off as Starscream and some of the seekers came out.

So, it was a dog fight that they wanted? It was a dog fight that they were going to get.

It was a long fight in the air, but Deadloop was much more experienced in this art of war than these newbies.

Starscream managed to clip one of his wings good and was spiraling down with Fowler.

Luckily Fowler had called the base and had a groundbrigde sent right underneath them.

As Deadloop transformed and shielded Fowler from the impact

Deadloop wasn’t surprised to see that there were several blasters pointed at him and ordering the human to be released.

He gently placed Fowler down.

Optimus offers Deadloop his servo.

After a moment he grabs it and lets the Prime help him up.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’m no longer allowed a Con and I don’t want anything to do with this war.”--Deadloop

“And how are we supposed to trust you?”--Wheeljack

“He did save Fowler.”--Jack

“It could be a trap.”--Arcee

Raf looks at him closely.

“You wouldn’t happen to turn into a Red Barron would you?”--Raf

“Finally! A human of culture! I do in fact turn into—”Deadloop

Deadloop looks at a couple of hand grenades in a box unorganized.

“Why are all your eggs so messy?”--Deadloop

“Has anyone seen my eggs? I swear I put them—”—Red Cross

Red Cross stop in her tracks and stares wide optic at the red mech in front of her.

Deadloop just freezes in place.

This couldn’t be…

She was…

“DEADLOOP!”—Red Cross

Red Cross slams into his frame wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug.

The red mech snaps out of his trace and hugs her back just as hard.

The medic spots some sparking near his wings and pulls back.

“Primus your hurt! Come, sit I’ll go get my kits!”—Red Cross

Deadloop gets carried bridal style by Red Cross while she mumbles about the supplies she needs.

“…what just happened?”--Fowler

Everyone is confused.

Red Cross and Deadloop tell their story to the others and their relation to the Fowler’s.

Agent Fowler does not know how to feel about this sudden news. He needs a moment to process this.

Even when she’s done, Deadloop takes Red Cross’s servo in his and doesn’t let go.

She doesn’t make any motion to get out of his grip either.

It takes one question from Red Cross and now Deadloop is now an Autobot.

This was going to be some load of paperwork when Fowler returned to his office…