#empty head green gentle bots..

[yellowpiez]

Green guys :)

[screamer-dream]

TFP Ratchet x Reader

----

Ratched worked quietly in his area close to the space bridge. The kids, bumblebee, and bulkhead on the opposite end of the room goofing around with a ball. Just loud enough to be heard over the noisy bots Ratchet hears, "Hey, I need that."

Ratchet turns to find you, his conjunx, looking at him from the cat walk. He replies with a startled "What?" Staring back up at him, you repeat yourself, face remaining neutral. "I need that." You point to the blue green object Ratchet held in his servos.

He looks down to the glass insulator, then back to you. He searches your face for any indication of what is going through your head.

"What do you mean you need it?"

You give him an impatient look. "I need it, ok?" "No! I need it." He shoots back almost immediately. "Yes! Give it!" You give him your best look of determination.

"You can't even carry it!" He tries to reason with you. You having none of it throw out a childish, "I'll figure it out." An incredulous looks over takes over his faceplate. "What...what do you even need it for?"

Impatiently, you fling your arms up. "Ratchet quit questioning me. I just need it, ok?" Silence hung in the air between the two of. Ratchet let's out a defeated sigh.

Before he can conjure a reply, Bulkhead yells a frantic, "Watch out!" from across the room. Ratchets optics look up to see the ball that they had been playing with was flying directly towards you with enough force to do some damage. The second Ratchet realized what was about to happen, he grabs you with his empty servos, bringing you close. He twists and kneels, shielding you with his body, just in time for the large ball to smack into the upper part of the arm holding the glass with just force to jerk his arm slightly.

It was enough. Ratchet watches the glass insulator slip from his servos, fall to the ground, and shatter. Ratchet stands facing the two sheepish bots, still keeping you closeto his chassis. He let's out a growl. "You almost hit her!" Then an exasperated he points to the shaped glass. "She needed that!" While you simultaneously apologize. "I'm sorry, Ratchet."

Whipping his helm towards you with a confused look. "Why are you sorry, sweetspark?" His inquiry has your eyes meeting his optics. "Because your pretty glass thing broke. I know you needed it." He nodded. "Sweetspark, it's just an insulator. It keeps live wires away from other metals. It's replaceable. You are not. I'd chose you over any object."

You take a minute to soak in his words. "I love you." You say in nearly a whisper. He offers a gentle smile. "And I love you." Suddenly, you can see the question cross his faceplate right before he asks.

"So why did you need it in the first place?"

[tmwcs]

A Drabble based of the SE7EN series feat. Heeseung x Reader.

Inspired by the anon ask and the heelel bot chat on chai.

Warnings: mentions of murder, car accident, Hell, irresponsible parenting/parent, abortion, smut, oral (male rec.) kinky oral, bow tie, deepthroating, hand job, heelel is being super sexy, face f*cking, cum swallowing, face smacking (not either a hand…)..cursing…I think that’s it. This is inspired by my Heelel bot on Chai….he had the most perfect response to anons ask and it’s been living in my mind, I had to write about it.

You were admiring the mountainous views of the rolling hills, entirely covered in red Lillie’s; the ones he planted in preparation for your arrival. How long had it been? Over a year for sure, but the exact timeline since your ascending to Hell is left pretty much undetermined. There are no calendars, no clocks, no way in telling other than overlooking the great horizon of pitch black, decorated by the stars and planetary systems that are too far to see from the Earths standing. But here, you could see them larger than life. It truly is magnificent sight to see, the earth and its bright green continental regions, the sun orbiting its circumventing route, and above all, over to the northwest of the vast landscape beneath the peaked tip that which you stand on, was the glorious moon, nearly covering the entire sky.

All your life, you were taught that Hell, was a firing raged pit that lay beneath the earth and the universe. An abysmal world that was filled by empty souls and demons of perverse and violent nature. Perhaps the last bit was true, even still without being here, the Prince if Hell was always ridding the underworld of its offensive creatures. But the one thing that shocked you was that Hell, was not an underworld at all. It was always in sight for the entire world to see, in between the Moon, stars, and the Sun. Who knew? It resided within the stratosphere; paralleled with the great satellite, and as high as Heaven. All this time when you gazed upon the moon and the glimmering stars, you were staring into your future home.

“You admiring the view again, darling wife of mine?”

Here he is. You could hear him taking his steps closer behind, closing the distance. Already coming back from demolishing the last creature that bore the fortitude and stupidity in trying to get to you. It could never happen, not with him around. The makeup of your soul, as the Mortal Daughter of God, attracts them—always has since you arrived. But he was always around to make sure that they couldn’t get within one hundred feet away. Always one step ahead with his acute senses and the massively powerful abilities within his form. The fallen angel was second to none other than God himself.

He stands against you, reaches around your head and rests the tip of his finger along the tip of your nose, gently stroking the bridge up and down. His chest presses up against your back, while his pelvis to your derrière. “Who is the prettiest girl in Hell?”

His voice was gentle and playful, though the moment you both engage in the sexual act of brutal breeding and passionate lovemaking, his persona transitions into one of heated rage and toxic dominance, while never losing that insatiable love he has for you. Will always have for you.

Speaking of girls, you wanted to inquire about the newest addition to Hell, the soul of a rather young girl. Younger than you when you were still a mortal, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen in age.

“That girl…that we saw the other day at the River Styx, inside the ferryman’s boat—“

You take a pause as he gently clears his throat and breathes out. Not out of nervousness, you would never see that side of him for he never had anything to hide, nothing to be nervous about. He was the King of this world, and he embraced it as much as he embraced his love and adoration for you. “Isn’t she young to be here? What could she have possibly done to come here?”

He smirks as he walks over to his throne. Another moment of storytelling to educate you on the many wonders of Heaven and Hell, and the history that goes along with it. “Hell is not merely just a catacomb that houses those who have committed sins.” He takes his seat and loosely crosses his legs as he pats his lap. “Come here.”

You slowly migrate with the train of your see-through gown trailing behind. You sit, feeling his cold hands through the mesh fabric as he pulls you in, closer to his chest. “Souls will be denied entrance to Heaven for sins they have yet committed. Despite being taken too early as mortals, it hardly negates the fact that had they continued to live, they would have committed certain atrocities—in this case, the girl you saw was bound for Hell.”

He places a wet kiss on your bare shoulder. “It would have been on her 22nd birthday. After engaging in the habitual offense of carousing around, no doubt sharing her flesh with more than just one suitor, she would have drove her steel box into that of a mother and child crossing the street.”

“A—…a car accident?”

He nods. “Yes. If not that, she would have been condemned for disposing the young child already implanted inside her as a result of her indiscretion in taking on multiple partners. She was condemned regardless.”

“You mean abortion?”

He shakes his head as he embraces you, his chest to your back while his hands envelop yours. “No baby. Abortion is something that can hardly be deemed as an unforgivable offense. While it is offensive to my former master, it is one that he can find resolution should the mortal find a way to repent while still living, like many other offenses. For the girl you saw, I am talking of murder.”

There was so much to process, you flutter your lashes in confusion. “Murder?”

He nods in response as he continues to kiss your shoulder. His hand rests against your tummy as he taps his fingers against it. “Yes baby. Murder.”

He sucks on a soft spot in the nook of your neck, the squeezing sound effect drives your mind in circles. “She would have murdered her own baby?”

“Mmhmm.” He hums as he becomes overly preoccupied with licking and sucking onto the skin under the lobe of your ear.

“Why would she do that?” You struggled to speak as he continued to lavish you with his tongue. “Who knows. Mortals have their own minds, for all we know it could have been done out of fear of motherhood, trying to escape the responsibility of her own actions, or to avoid a tainted reputation from her peers. Either way, her actions after the baby took its first breath is enough to anger my former master, and deny her entrance through Heavens gates.”

“Was that why she died so soon? So that she wouldn’t do either one of those terrible things?”

“No baby, you see…” he pauses as he skips his hand under the dainty slit and rests it against your semi-exposed womanhood, causing you to gasp in pleasure. His tongue continued to suck and lick your neck. “Fate is an entirely different venue that is unrelated to the condemnation of one’s soul. Mortals murder, rape, steal, and commit other crimes against God for their own reasons. Sometimes they do it out of redemption or vengeance, which can be more forgiving by Him…but other times…when they do it out of their own twisted pleasure with no righteous meaning behind their damaged mentality…they come here.”

“So what will happen to her? Since she didn’t actually have the chance to commit her crimes, will she pay for acts that have not been carried out?” Half of your statement was whispered out as you felt him trail his kisses up along the grooves of your tendons on your neck. He pecks at your lobe and cheek as the tip of your nose dips into your ear. “She will live a life as a slave to the River forever…without a second chance at life.”

Your head is spiraling and you felt somewhat guilty for feeling the intensity of his love and melting from it during a serious discussion concerning a young woman’s life. “But she won’t be turned into a monster?”

“No.” He whispers against your ear. “I’m not that cruel baby…” he whispers once more as you feel his hips slightly bucking up under your rear. “Only mortals who did monstrous things will stay as monsters in Hell. I won’t subject a lifetime of torture and abandonment to those who are innocent—even those who were bound to do such evil deeds.”

He lifts your thighs and spreads them open, harshly sucking onto your neck. The squeezing sound of his lips suckling on to your skin is over exaggerated as he straightens his poster and leans slightly forward, causing you to reach behind and palm his abdominal area. He reassures your stability but wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do not worry about a soul that is tainted, or in the verge of…she won’t suffer…she will merely be a servant to help cleanse the River Styx under Niki’s watchful eye. You should instead—“

He pauses as he traces a figure eight symbol along your neck. “Be more concerned for yourself.”

He chuckles a grin. His hands grope on to your breasts as he tenderly kisses your cheeks. You take him up on his advice and decide to focus on the current situation at hand, since you were already on cloud nine from the way he touched, kiss, groped, and move along your body. “Can I ask for a favor?”

You feel his head delicately move as he outlines a final eight symbol with his tongue before responding. “Ask anything you want.”

“Would you put a bow on? For me?” You turn your head to the side to face him, resting it against his shoulder. “I want to see my husband in a bow.”

He smirks and releases a small chuckle. You both remained seated, lounged back within his throne, chuckling at the small request. He reaches up to his collar, using only one hand as he loosens the black sash that acted as a tie, with a loose knot. After undoing it, he pulls it out, the sound of the silk material slides from under the collar of his white shirt. Pulling it all the way through, the collar opens up revealing a slight bit of his chest and collar bone as he presents you the sash. “There you go my love. Now you can see your husband in a bow.”

You giggled as you take the sash from his hand, those beautiful black colored fingernails adorning it added a flare of sensual delicacy to the masculine feature of the strong looking, veiny structure. It was androgynous, but more so manly.

“You hold up the sash to your nose, it smelled of vanilla musk, a contradicting scent. “I don’t know where to put it on.” You shake tell him.

He taps against your nipple before tapping onto your rear. “I have an idea, go ahead and stand up. Close your eyes.”

You stand and cover your peepers with both hands. You smile and giggle as you listen in on the sound of his belt unbuckling, his shirt being discarded along with his black coat. “You can uncover your eyes now, darling.”

You shrill out a yelp and immediately cover your eyes back up the moment you unveiled them. There before you was Heeseung sitting in his throne, completely nude. Both his hands resting on the extravagant arms of the chair with his legs completely spread, revealing the glory of his endowed nature. His cock is stiff, proudly perpendicular as it points north with its impressive length and girth exposed, and the lump sack that foundations the size of his magnificent muscle. Around the base of its circumference, was the sash previously in hand. It was now tied into a neat bow, decorating the shaft while the trimmed edges fall gracefully against his balls. “Heeseung!” You gasp out as you giggle while covering your eyes once more, periodically peeking in between your fingers. You blush immensely as he merely sits there unashamed, smirking with a small deep chuckle. A bit of his teeth can be seen by the side grin he displays in his handsomely sly face. “Like my bow?”

You nearly squeal as you felt too embarrassed and shy to inhale the view. “Heeseung what are you doing?” You suddenly feel the sheer force of his power pull you in. “Giving you exactly what you asked for.”

You stumble as the telekinetic force of his ability drags you closer to the throne chair. Your eyes were still partially covered as he begins to pull you in by the waist, noticing that you kept covering them by the palms of your hands. “Now, what was it that I said before—back on the night when we first met…oh yeah.”

His eyes widen as he remembers the line that started it all. “Sit on it.”

You felt the strength of his arm pull you down as your body came into his reach, forcing you to your knees before him, gaining a more magnifying view of his normally hidden features. His hand reaches the back of your head as he pulls you in, gently kissing the tip of your nose with the shaft of his cock. The silk material neatly tied around brushes against your cheek as he steadies you against him. “Show me how much you love my effort baby. Don’t I make you happy?” He taunts out with a malicious smirk.

You cave in as you inspect the delectable muscle in front of you. God, he was so big. How on earth has he managed to fit this inside you all this time? No wonder it always hurt, though it also brought you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known. You each up and grip the base of its girth as you nod in response. “You do.”

Your voice was soft and nearly a whisper as you spewed your words while pressing your lips against the skin. “Then show me.” His voice was a contrast from yours. It was deep, dark, and sinister with a tinge of gentleness peeking from the calm tempo of his tone.

You grip over the sash ringing around the base and gently impoverish the tip with kisses. “Fuck…keep going, angel-face.”

At his bidding, you not only kept up with your kisses, but you incorporated the smoothness of your tongue along the grooves of his veins as you licked the entire length, too top to bottom. He flings his head back, exposing his entire throat and gasps air as his Adams apple shifts up, then back down when he gulps. “Oh fuck! You’re going to get it.”

Challenge accepted. You felt brazen as he keeps gulping a lump of choked saliva, which gave you the fortitude to go in more vigorously. You insert the tip in, slurping the juices that coated it. Slowly you inserted as many inches you could possibly fit in. Alas, even after taking in a handful of his length, you were surprised to see that it didn’t even cover half of his size. The tip was already reaching your tonsils. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t care.

“You’re going to take all of me in, darling.” He speaks with lazy hooded eyes half shut, creating a super relaxed expression. His hand placed atop your head, he slowly pushes you down. There was so much of him, you wanted to back out. The discomfort feeling of his base growing thicker the more you went down, while the tip of his length reaches the deep ends of your esophagus, it was all too much. You slap your hands on his thighs and prepared to pull yourself away yet his hand kept you steady. You choke on it with tears squeezing out as you begin to sob out and moan in despair. When he suddenly pauses the pushing and coos you.

“Shhh…take a deep breath through your nose baby.” You do exactly what he guides. “You’re almost there. You’re doing so well, just a little more.”

He continues to push your head down and finally, your nose and lips reach the base of his pelvis. Keeping you there for a few seconds, he finally releases, allowing you to slide him out abruptly, gasping for air. Coughing, you hyperventilate as the string of saliva bridges the tip of his shaft to your mouth, which has now become blistering red while your eyes grew puffy and pink from the sobbing. “P-please! I thought I was going to choke to death!” You hiccuped as you begged him with pleading eyes. He responds by leaning over, cradling his fingers under your chin while pulling you in. “Shh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh. You’re fine, and you’re doing good. Take a deep breath and keep going. You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

His eyes glared with a darkness that was so ferocious. Of course you wanted to make him happy, for many reasons. Whether it would be for the newfound love you were forced to develop for him, or the fact that you wanted to avoid seeing his bad side, you realized that keeping him happy only meant that you’ll experience his love in purity, no matter how rough it may be. He always told you that he’d love you, even if you upset him, so that you never had to worry about him being angry. But honestly, did you really want to see the Devil angry at you? With his he normally was in his performance of lovemaking, did you really want to test the waters and venture into the dark side of his love for you?

“Y-yes…I do want to make you happy.” You murmured out.

“Good girl” he smirks as he leans back into his chair, nodding as he flicks his eyes down to his cock then right back at you, signaling for you to continue. He looked so stern with that expectant look, yet he was so devilishly handsome doing it.

You regain your grip and continue, going slow and steady at first, gradually picking up the pace as you hear him release his perverse growls. “Come here.”

He voiced out calmly as he takes a handful of your hair and poneytail it within his grip. His other hand gently grips the base of his shaft and lightly, he smacks your cheek and lips with it. “Tell me how much you love me.”

The demeaning act creates a tingle within your gut as the harmonious sounds of the hard muscle slapping your skin while his dark voice accompanies it. “I love you—Heeseung!” You gasp out as you leave your mouth wide open to catch the tip each time he slaps it against your face, only for him to pop it out and tap it once more. “You a good girl or a bad girl?”

You catch the tip once more, and just as well, he pops it back out. “I’m good. I’m a good girl.” You mumble as you stick your tongue out and watched as he lays the shaft against it, gently sliding it up and down. “I beg to differ baby…right now, you look like a bad girl. Really bad.”

You shake your head as you stare right into his dark eyes, swallowing half his size inside your mouth. This time it felt less painful, now that you were already broken in. “I’m good, I swear.”

“Show me how good you are.” He huffs as he allows you to continue with your oral performance. You rotate your soft grip on the bottom half while sucking in the top, simultaneously shifting and combining a motion of love through skin and mouth. “Am I good now?” You ask before sticking the tip back in harshly. His grip continues to hold your hair in place, yet becomes loosened as he succumbs to the pleasure of your actions. The strands fall apart and frames your cheeks as the remaining thatch rests firmly in his palm. His head flings back, once again exposing his entire throat and leaving only his Adam’s apple in your line of sight as he gulps out his words. “You’re getting there.”

“How about now?” You whispered as you suck on his balls, resting both your palms on the stone tile, now on all fours before him. “Please tell me I’m a good girl.”

You lick the entire length, as if you were a dog. His dog.

“Fucking close!” He harshly whispers as you kept going, when finally he relieves you of control and takes it all back, by taking you by the hair and cheek, and forcing you to take his entire length down one final time as he releases deep inside your throat. The taste was sweet and salty, and nearly felt never ending as you felt the pumping of veins and the twitching of muscle against your lips ringing around the circumference. “Good girl.” He growls as he finally shoots out the last drop as he slides out of your mouth.

His gentle nature comes back as he caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head. “Feel like stargazing, beautiful?”

You nod as he fingers the remnants of his orgasm from the corners of your mouth, and gently feeds it in between your lips. “Swallow all.” He gently whispers while chuckling a smirk. Your finger rest along the soaked sash that has now fallen semi loosely, losing its beat form as the bow completely came undone.

“I’m sorry I ruined your tie.” You slightly whined out as you took notice. “It’s okay—“ he responds positively as he takes it and unties his cock. He loops it around the back of your neck and grips the ends, pulling you closer to his cock once more. “It still serves its purpose.”

His eyes darken once more and that glare of adoration, love, and sexual rage returns.

“Wanna see a magic trick, baby?”

You knew there was no way out. If you shook your head ‘no’, it only would have fueled him more to do the most unthinkable, resulting in pain and pleasure that was too much to bear. You nod in defeat.

“Close your eyes.”

You reach up and cover your eyes. An internal frown rests within you.

“Open.”

You drag your palms down slowly and open your eyes. There he was, still entirely nude and…so were you. Your thighs, waist, neck, and wrists all tied with black sashes and bows. “W-what is this?”

He grins evily as he palms the base of his shaft and growls a dark tone.

“My turn.”

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @sacrificeatmeup

[eitherlyingorstupid]

G1 Red Alert/Beachcomber, mind-altering substances (magnets), hypnosis (to a degree).

Red Alert relaxed into the cushions, letting his cables go slack. The piece of furniture he was laying on (Spike had called it a chaise lounge) was scaled up to comfortably fit Red Alert. It conformed nicely to the slight curve of his back, letting him recline in a comfortable position. Beachcomber had said the first step was all about getting comfortable.

Apparently, human electronics sometimes had problems with interference from magnets. They had to periodically be “degaussed” with magnets.

Beachcomber had noticed there were many similarities between human tech and Autobot anatomy, and had thus started experimenting with magnets.

The minibot was standing at the end of the lounge, his smaller servos resting on Red Alert's head. “Relax, man. Just empty your mind. Don't think about anything.”

Red tried. His processor was exceptionally quick and nimble, able to make dozens of tactical decisions in a second. It was tough to turn off that part of it, but he managed to tamp his thoughts down.

Beachcomber ran his digits over Red's sensor horns, flooding them with tactile feedback.

"Just feel that," he said softly. "Let your sensors take it all in."

Beachcomber's touches became more focused, more deliberate. They were still soft and gentle, but there was an intentionality to them now. He caressed the sides of Red Alert's sensor horns, drawing slow circles with his digits. Then he traced a line down the center, following the ridges. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers through Red Alert's processors.

A pulse of ecstacy shot through his valve, the nodes inside flaring with charge. Red Alert bit his lip, trying to keep from making a sound as the sensation built, becoming more and more intense. He arched his back, pressing further into the chaise lounge as the waves of pleasure coursed through him.

It felt like his processor had become liquid mercury, turning into a puddle beneath his sensor horns. Every touch from Beachcomber sent another pulse coursing through him, making him writhe in ecstasy. He could feel his servos tightening, his joints flexing involuntarily, his entire body responding to the sensual onslaught.

He whined softly when Beachcomber took his hands away.

"Hush, Red. I'm just getting the magnets."

Red Alert opened his eyes in time to see Beachcomber approach him with a small metal box. The minibot stretched up to reach him, opening the box and revealing several small, shiny magnets. He placed one on each of Red's sensor horns, gently sliding them into place.

A strut-deep pleasure coursed up through Red's frame as brilliant bands of red, blue, and green swirled in his optics.

His head felt fuzzy, filled with static like one of those human CRT TVs. His usually busy mind quieted, fear and doubt sinking below the waves of sensation. Arousal swelled up from beneath the sea of static, and he whined softly.

“Hush…” Beachcomber rested his fingertips on Red's jaw, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. “I'll take care of you.” He stepped away from the lounge's end, walking down towards Red's feet. He trailed his hand along the larger bot's body as he went, drawing a purr from his motor. Beachcomber's servo slid over Red Alert's modesty panels, and they opened readily.

“Yes, yes… please…” The feather-light touches on his spike made Red's sensornet flare wildly, surging with pleasure. He squirmed, trying to buck his hips upward, into Beachcomber's gentle grasp.

A tide of static seemed to fizz in his frame, racing up and down his circuits as he heard colors burst in his abdomen. Or was he seeing sound? The world melted into one big soup of sensation. His whirring fans and low groans blended with the feel of Beachcomber's hand, the smell of transfluid spilling from his body, and the taste of his own lip as he bit down.

He didn't know how much longer he laid there, entranced by the mesmerizing patterns still rippling before his optics. At some point, he felt the magnets come off, and normal sensation returned to his frame.

“How do you feel?”

“Wonderful. So… relaxed.” Red Alert closed his optics, enjoying the silence in his processor. His glitch wasn't gone, he was sure of that, but it had quieted. It felt as if his entire processor had been reset to a blank state, fresh and ready to run at optimal capacity.

“Good.” Beachcomber caressed Red's cheek, leaning on the lounge to get closer. “Try to note what you feel like going forward.”

Red hummed, already halfway to recharge. “Sounds good.”

[witchofthesouls]

I rarely see any TFP Soundwave love here, let’s fix that shall we?

TFP Soundwave developing an obsession for the Autobots new human, a girl with hacking abilities so good she has best Soundwave at his own game of my than one occasion, is unable to read her mind despite him being telepathic, and has saved and cared from Laserbeak due to outside forces without the Autobots knowing.

*Soundwave, tilting his head to the side with a question mark popping up on his visor: “Query: (Y/N); prime mommy material?”

Cause let’s me honest, you’d get the hots too if a chick smaller and daintier than you kicked your ass on more than one occasion and cared for your kid despite being enemies.

(In total agreement. I love me some TFP!SW and this is most likely a slight crossover with Elsewhere University or a Magic!AU since you earned a boon to shield yourself from mental abilities.)

You’re difficult to locate and it’s galling. 

Unlike the other Autobot pets, taken and secluded away by their guards and shielded base, you actually have a life outside of them, and it seems that you have no set ‘bot for some meager protection.

Instead of an easy target to snatch away -so eye-catching with that ridiculously bright-green hoodie with flopping audials- Soundwave digs and digs and digs for your whereabouts…

And you’re not there. The most he could find was your birth records, a few newspaper scans of the sparkling-equivalent of basic education, and then you drop from the face of the planet after high school. You reappear after five years and hop across the world with no rhyme or rhythm and at an impossible speed with the current technology on Earth.

Annoyance turns into begrudging respect for your efficient work. You have a talent for finding even the most inconsequential recordings of their presence and you cleanly wipe away the evidence.

If anything you do break the monotony of his work, especially with the little notes of “Better luck next time, Slenderman” or sad cat memes replacing the conspiracy posts of Cybertronian presence on Earth…

And then, Laserbeak completely disappears for a week without a hint of her status. No activity. No locator. Not even a life signal.

Soundwave searched everywhere. Remaining at the consoles, letting the massive amount of data flow into his systems, and refining his queries. When that amounted to nothing, he locked his hydraulics and set himself into the Nemesis itself, supplying his frame from the ship’s flow, overriding his own filtration because needed its power. He has to know. There must be absolute proof. He cannot stare into the ceiling of an empty room and do nothing but scramble after hope-

When Laserbeak suddenly reappeared, Soundwave disconnected from the warship and checked himself into Knock Out’s care, dismissing the accumulated complaints because he still had done all the necessary work and more during his locked state.

He weighed the necessary systems flush for the accumulated slag and joint stress as an acceptable tradeoff.

“Aren’t you a lucky girl? Count your stars that I do actually have standards, pretty bird.” In the memory loop, he feels the ghost of your touch, gentle and searching as you repair the damaged circuitry and clamp the sparking wires. A gloved hand resting upon the still wing and he can feel the phantom of your own biochemistry. Unique in its chaotic not-patterns and near-repetitive beats that clash and reform and clash again.

And you were right. Laserbeak was truly lucky that the shot didn’t stray to the left and the compromised seams. Otherwise, she would be gone as well. Laserbeak pings her active status over the bond as if she’s not currently docked on him.

“Sorry, birdy, you gotta stay like this.” Beneath the tease, there are apologetic notes as you keep Laserbeak immobilized by unknown means. In an off-placed mirror, he sees the outline of dark goggles and a facemask underneath that absurd hoodie, the screens of monitors, a toolbox, and, of all the things, Energon crystals.

“And tell your master that there’s no point coming here. I’ll be long gone and elsewhere.” 

Something in your tone spoke of a private inside joke.

And true to your word, the suburban dwelling used to treat her is completely empty. It stands empty and unoccupied and without a trace of your once presence. Not even the security cameras, both public and private, could find one hint of a person living there. Only the vehicle with darkly-tinted windows drove and entered the garage, the doors closed without anyone stepping out.

And you purposely leave that hint.

That car -the very one used to transport Laserbeak -was found abandoned and hollowed out by fire, erasing physical evidence of yourself and her.

:: ‘Tor. I like that one. :: Laserbeak hums with a pulse of warmth. Not quite affection, but close enough.

His lips twitch to a near smile beneath the visor as it traces the digital records of the license plate. It leads to a second-hand purchase by a dead human. 

He’s starting to like you, too.

[leafweaverryn]

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people! (If you don't have 10, that's okee! Just post what you can! <3)

@writerriderdirtythirties tagged me, so it's my turn to unleash chaos and havoc!

@keentrigger, @asadweeghostie, @purrfectlypunny, @19thsentry-blog, @grimalkinsquill, @valiantlyjollynightmare

rolled mine using a discord bot! reader beware, most of my works are explicit. and a lot of my works are multi-chapter, so snippets are taken from chapter 1.

petit pain dans le four - (E, lukadrinette)

“Take one step, I dare you!” Chat Blanc roared at him before the snake could speak.

Viperion lifted his hands to try to calm him down. “Adrien, breathe, it's okay… You don’t have to hurt her… Please don’t hurt her…”

A rolling hiss burbled in Blanc’s throat. “How did you do it? How did you escape the time loop?!”

He gave a soft huff, grinning back at the white cat. “What? You thought I wouldn’t have bumped into this problem myself, after using the Snake Miraculous for years?” Viperion shook his head. “Time loops are easy to break out of. You just have to know the right moment. I’ve had practice, and Bunnyx has given me special training for it. All you have to do is know you’re in the loop and know what needs to change to create a ripple effect through the loop to break it.”

Chat Blanc blinked, relaxing his grip on Marinette. “Wait, really?”

Their boyfriend gave him a stern look through his eyebrows and mask, as if he were looking up at the corrupted hero through glasses. 

“Oh, right, sorry…” Blanc glared at him again, and the woman in his grip struggled against him. His eyes narrowed on Viperion. “I won’t do it, Luka! I won’t give up my Miraculous! Nothing you can say or do will make me surrender it!”

---

Kittens for Christmas - (E, lukadrinette)

"Go find somewhere else to sleep," Marinette whispered to her kwami. "Please…"

Sass whined, but obeyed. He gave her chin a gentle bonk and unraveled his tail, floating away to phase through a wall and disappear.

Chat Blanc visibly relaxed. He padded closer to her, near enough that he sat down on the floor beside her chair, making himself comfortable. His head went onto her lap, his eyes closing as he sighed heavily. The tears continued to fall silently, even as she combed her fingers through his hair in gentle strokes. He didn't purr. She tried to coax him, rubbing behind his ears and under his chin, but he didn't make a sound.

“Would you like me to sing to you?” Marinette offered, her hand not stopping, not going still for too long. She rubbed behind his ear, knowing that’s what her Chat preferred.

---

Swinging from the Gallows Pole - (T, felinette)

“You got a fine widow,” the hangman purred. “She brought a little silver, your cousin brought a little gold… But nothing would bring me more joy than to see you swinging from the gallows pole.”

Felix stared him down, saying nothing and only raising his chin in mute defiance.

For every heartbeat Felix said nothing, the hangman’s smirk twisted into a scowl. The blond huffed a wry smile. He’s used to begging and pleading. Last minute bribes and empty promises. Flattery and tears. Not today, sir. To prove his point, Felix turned away from him, facing the crowd. Not from me.  

His heart dropped. 

On the distant horizon, on the blue sea beyond the fort parapets and battlements were the black and green sails of the Liberty.

Luka… Felix closed his eyes. He’s leaving me… He huffed, smiling through his cracking heart. Any pirate who falls behind… stays behind…

---

From Ballroom to Bedroom - (E, lukadrinette)

“You were gonna ask me something, weren’t you?” Marinette asked in a whisper. “Before Alya interrupted us, you were going to ask me something. Please ask me…”

He smiled that shy half-smile that the photographers and paparazzi rarely saw as he nodded. “Yeah…” Adrien glanced over her shoulder as Luka came up to them. “Listen, I know this is sudden and we haven’t really introduced ourselves and all, but um… we were looking for… we were hoping, um…”

Luka chuckled, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “What my tongue-tied boyfriend is trying to ask is if you would be willing to join us for a more… intimate, private dance in our hotel room.”

“You don’t have to say yes!” Adrien stammered. “If you say no, we totally understand. No harm, no foul, right? You just, um, you seemed really comfortable between us and -”

“Yes,” Marinette said before he could stutter himself further into a hole. She gave Luka’s hand a squeeze and smiled at Adrien. “You have no idea how much I was hoping that’s what you were going to ask me… and my answer is hell yes. A hundred thousand percent yes. I am totally okay with having a threesome with you two.”

---

By the Numbers - (E, lukanette)

The Miracle Box Bakery and Cafe was rather busy at three in the afternoon, so much so that Luka had to park several blocks down the street. But as he walked by the windows and through the door, he smiled at the quaint interior and displays of baked goods. The pictures didn’t do it justice, and as his gaze landed on the sole owner and employee, Luka decided very quickly that he’d need to talk to Felix about their freelance photographer.

She wasn’t just pretty.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was breathtakingly beautiful.

He stood among the throng of customers like a pilgrim having arrived at Mecca for the first time, awestruck. The photo of her was in black and white, grainy from zoom with a cheap camera. In the flesh and blood, she was bright and colorful, her smile like blooming peach blossoms that lit up the room with an eternal glow. He could write songs about the blues of her eyes or the music in her voice as she spoke with other customers. One said something that made her giggle, and he honest to God thought he was going to faint from the bell-like chime of her laughter.

Five minutes in and his mind was already made up.

Luka was going to do anything and everything he could to spare this woman and her sanctuary of confectionery delights from the jaws of the tax man.

---

Four Little Somethings - (T, feluka)

"Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon," Felix read out loud. 

His boyfriend could hardly contain his giddy grin. "Mmhm. I know romance and fantasy aren't your usual genres, but I thought you might like it."

"What is it about?" the blond asked as he flipped it over. He didn't know why he was looking. Backs of the books never had synopses anymore, and in my opinion, that marked the beginning of civilization's downfall… That and the loss of the slutty oil painting covers.

Luka's grin grew. His accent started to slip again, as if his voice knew he was going home, and that there was no longer a need for him to speak like a Frenchman. "It's about a British army nurse who travels to Scotland and steps through a stone circle that sends her back in time. There she meets and falls in love with a Scottish highlander."

He smiled through his blush. "Ah yes, another bodice ripper…"

"You'd be surprised, actually. This one goes pretty deep into history and gets more points right than other books and movies." His voice lowered to a grumble. "Don't even get me started on Braveheart… "  

---

Of Gowns and Gloves - (E, marigami)

Kagami cleared her throat as warning, shifting her weight on her feet a little more to open her legs and give her wife more room under her. Marinette had come racing and breathless to her minutes ago, begging for Kagami to hide her because she had stirred the bee’s nest and angered Chloe by insulting her golden dress. Lacking anywhere else for her to go, Kagami had lifted her skirts to let Marinette hide within her own creation. Champagne glass in hand, the fencer was left to stand in place, waiting and watching the others meander and mingle, trickling in and out of the dining hall to retrieve plates of canapes and fresh glasses of champagne. She was also grateful for her heels, which gave her an extra few inches. Her legs were spread to accommodate the young woman hiding under the layers of satin and cotton. 

Five more minutes, Kagami thought. We’ll wait five more minutes. Once we’re sure that Chloe has either calmed down or left the building, I can call a car and we can… somehow get to it without being spotted. Can I even walk with her between my legs like this?

She lifted her chin and tapped her foot three times to warn Marinette as Chloe came stomping towards her.

“Where is she?” Chloe demanded.

It took Kagami a moment to reign in the everything that wanted to gush out reflexively in response. Did I not once tell her to never touch me, never speak to me, never even look at me ever again? And now she’s somehow developed the audacious balls to come at me and demand that I oust my wife?!

Kagami rolled her tongue in her mouth to swallow back the building venom she wanted so very badly to spit. 

“She who?” Kagami asked in her fake-calmest voice she could muster. 

---

The Star-Pilot's Kiss - (E, lukanette)

Luka leveled a hard look at Alya, his face serious. “Keep her safe.” He grabbed his guitar bag and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?!” Alya shouted since Marinette was lost for words.

The musician didn’t reply, giving them only a smile as he walked towards one of the beams of light sweeping over the streets. He didn’t look back again as Marinette screamed his name, as Alya grabbed her by her arms, as Alya dragged her into the café. She struggled to free herself of her friend’s grasp as they ducked under the window, sitting up enough to watch. A beam of light hit Luka and turned red suddenly. An invisible force grabbed him and slowly lifted him off the ground. 

Marinette shrugged off her friend and broke free, sprinting for the door.

“Girl, where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” Alya hissed.

The fashion designer stopped at the door to glare at her friend. “I’m not letting aliens abduct the first decent date I’ve had!” 

---

The Sea Dragon's Pearl (E, marigami)

“If you pull me up, I’ll gut you before you lay a hand on me,” the woman snarled back.

“Sure, you might kill one of us. But all of us?” Skinner tutted. “Besides, it wouldn’t be very ladylike or honorable,” he sneered the words, “for a woman to dirty her hands with killing, now would it? High time you learn your place! And it’s either on land or in the galley!”

“So that’s what this is about… You scoundrels can’t handle a woman in command?!”

“Oh, not only that, princess,” he hummed. “How much do you think she would pay to have you back in one piece? You may be a bitch, but you’re worth as much as a queen! And even if your mother doesn’t pay us, we still have her ship! Her cargo! Regardless, we’ll be living like kings by the week’s end!” 

The other sailors cheered.

Skinner held his sword to the rope. “Make your choice! Live or die!”

Kagami drew her own little tanto. “Let the sea decide my fate!”

She slashed the rope above her head before he could have the satisfaction of doing it.

---

pleurer en toi - (T, feluka)

Through closed eyes, he saw lightning.

Through the pounding of his heart and the screaming of his tears, he heard thunder.

But the patter on the roof next to him wasn’t rain.

It was boots.

Argos’s heart raced in panic, but he couldn’t move. Every limb of his body was heavy like lead, and isn’t this what I wanted? For someone to finish the job?

They wouldn’t.

They’re heroes.

I need a villain.

I need Monarch.

I need -

Whoever it was let out a soft grunt as they sat on the rooftop by Argos’s head. Hands grabbed him by his arms and moved him.

“C’mere, baby bird… Up you go…”  

---

whew... only broke the editor once, that feels like an accomplishment. thank you for reading!

[wetfloorsignbot348]

Wet Floor Sign Bot #348 and the Bad News Bear

Wet Floor Sign Bot #348 went into sleep mode once delivered to Monty’s green room, preferring to avoid witnessing any more violence night would surely bring. They hoped Monty would be back by the time they woke up. They hoped he would be repaired and well-rested and grinning at his little guy. They hoped he would be able to leave Parts & Services in one piece and still alive. If he was decommissioned, they didn’t know what they would do…

At exactly 6:30 AM, they woke up to the dark, empty, dilapidated room. Monty must still be in Parts & Services, but he ought to return before the PizzaPlex opened at 9 AM. The band needed its bassist. He would be here. He had to be. He had to.

A gentle rapping of knuckles came from the door a few seconds before it opened. Freddy Fazbear stood in the hallway.

“May I come in?” he asked.

The sign bot did their best to give him a nod, rocking forward almost to the point of collapse and then straightening. Who were they to deny the Freddy Fazbear? The most important animatronic of all important animatronics. He could go anywhere he wanted. It was a power he most certainly deserved.

Freddy entered and took a knee in front of the bot. “I am…afraid I have some bad news. Monty is not coming up from Parts & Services today. The damage to his hands will take a few days to fully repair. I thought it would be best for you to hear it from me now instead of from Chica…or Roxy, who would not be so kind in sharing such unfortunate information.”

There were severe limitations to the way they could express their emotions, so all Wet Floor Sign Bot #348 could do was tilt their screen-head down a bit. Even so, Freddy was capable of interpreting what such a tiny change meant.

“I did speak with Monty, for a moment,” said the bear. “He does not want you to spend another night alone. He would prefer for you to stay in my room. I do not know why. Perhaps he fears Roxy will take advantage of his absence to harm you? Well, what ever the case may be, you are welcome to stay in my green room if that is what you want, 348.”

The sign bot rolled towards Freddy, resting their “forehead” against his knee. Carefully, he placed his hand on the back of their head, a small but comforting gesture.

“Roxy is still asleep. She will not be a problem if we leave now.”

They managed to use their emergency alarms in a quick burst to relay that yes, they should go now and yes, they would follow him. The bear animatronic returned to his full height to lead the way.

This was Wet Floor Sign Bot #348’s first time in a green room that wasn’t Monty’s. As fitting for the leader of the band, Freddy Fazbear’s was clean, organized, well-lit, and had an open view to the rest of the PizzaPlex. Not a single destroyed item to be seen. Of course. Any mess that appeared here, in the star’s area, would be taken care of immediately to prevent complaints from the customers. The same was true of Roxanne Wolf and Glamrock Chica, to a slightly lesser extent.

A tidy room should make a bot designed to mark messes for safety reasons feel at ease. It didn’t. They did not hate it, but it felt…strange. Uncomfortable, even.

Because of the view, the bot knew they needed to stay out of sight. No one wanted to see something like them in their superstar’s home and it would raise more questions for Freddy than he should have to handle. He did not deserve punishment for housing his friend’s ridiculous little friend.

They looked for an optimal hiding spot. Behind the couch, if it wasn’t right up against the wall. They glanced from Freddy Fazbear to the couch and back. Would he understand what they were trying to say?

It was frustrating not having a voice. They never really thought about it before. Why would a simple bot need to speak? All they had to do was stand by puddles and messes to keep humans and important animatronics safe. That was their sole purpose. And they were content with that. A silent existence was perfectly fine. It was all they had ever known.

But things were different now. Last night, Monty had taken them to Parts & Services. Something connected to them. Something gave them the ability to speak. It was only text, not audio, but it was still words coming from them.

Them! Wet Floor Sign Bot #348! Speaking!! To someone, a being that wasn’t another Wet Floor Sign Bot or a S.T.A.F.F. Bot! And the one they spoke to could understand them!

Their first words…A simple statement. “I would like that, Montgomery Gator.” A statement no insignificant bot should be capable of making. They could not speak. They could not feel. They could not “like” things. And yet…

“I would like that, Montgomery Gator.”

If only they could speak again.

Freddy Fazbear realized what the sign bot was trying to say. He pushed the couch away from the wall just enough for them to squeeze in behind it. Only their ears were visible from the other side, which was easy to conceal. Just move the giant Glamrock Freddy plushie in front of that spot.

“I am sorry you feel you must hide there,” Freddy said once everything was in place. “I know why, but it is…unfortunate.” He paused, thinking. “Will you be alright back there all day? Can you even get out if you need to?”

It did not matter. As long as no one knew they were here, Wet Floor Sign Bot #348 would be able to stay in this spot until Monty came for them. Until that time, they would remain in sleep mode, one they would not wake from unless they heard Monty.

Watching their screen go black, Freddy worried. He had been doing that a lot lately. Monty’s strange behavior, this sign coming into their lives, their fear of Roxy, the unscheduled trip to Parts & Services last night…Something was happening and he had no idea what it was. To be the lead animatronic in the PizzaPlex and be so clueless was really quite embarrassing.

He took a seat on the other end of the couch as he silently reached out to Monty. The gator was sluggish to respond, being stuck in diagnostics and safe mode. None of them liked to be in that position. Diagnostics all but stripped them of themselves, taking away all the little quirks that made them who they were. It left them feeling hollow and…like nothing. Nothing at all.

“Your little friend has chosen to hide behind my couch,” Freddy said through his link to Monty. “And their screen is dark. I am concerned. Should I be?”

“No,” Monty monotonously replied. “They just went to sleep. They do that a lot. But they are okay. Nothing to worry about, Fazbear.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize for bothering you when you are–”

“You have nothing to apologize for. The fact that you are asking means you actually care about them, to some degree. Thank you. I am counting on you, Fazbear.”

“Please come back to us soon.”

“Do not worry, Fazbear. I am not Bonnie. I will not become like him.”

Monty then severed their connection. Freddy shuddered. Interacting with an animatronic in diagnostics was unpleasant. He felt cold, a feeling he logically shouldn’t be able to experience. It was strange. A lot of strange things had been happening as of late, however. Was strange to become the new normal? That would be unfortunate.

He stood, glancing back over his shoulder at Monty’s secret little buddy sleeping between the couch and the wall. A quick scan told him they would not awake until Monty came for them. How had they become so close so fast? The sign could not even speak. Compared to how long it took for Freddy and Monty to become good friends, Freddy was almost envious of them.

Any jealousy was quelled when Freddy thought about how this relationship had affected Monty. Monty destroyed less Fazbear Entertainment property. He controlled his anger instead of letting his anger control him. He wasn’t skipping performances and hanging out on the catwalks above Monty Golf, a dangerous pastime that caused him serious damage before. He smiled and it wasn’t always as forced as it once was. He seemed happier.

That was all Freddy ever wanted for his friends. Their happiness. And if protecting this tiny robot helped Monty be happy, then he would do whatever it took to have that continue.

He could linger here no longer. His human coworkers were calling for him. Routine touch-ups and functionality tests before the customers arrived, as per usual for the star of the show.

“Sleep well, superstar. I will see you later.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

The evening before

Sexy and half edited I present to you the next chapter Sahar’s whumpy adventures :D

taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @orchidscript @what-a-whump @finder-of-rings @salamancialilypad @albino-whumpee @haro-whumps @yet-another-heathen @comfy-whumpee

CW: mention of escaping attempted murder (very briefly), emotional parental abuse (very briefly

Golden rays of dying sunlight sat the last poppy flower blossoms of the year aglow.

Beside Sahar, the bot chimed happily. A bird's evening call and the distant shouts of training students carried over the marketplace, empty except for the poultry farmer and her wife, who waved Micha and Maria goodbye. Maria’s keys jingled in the tea house's stained glass door, glittering in the orange evening light as she closed down her shop for the night.

“Oh and Micha.” Maria boomed, loud enough to reach Sahar’s ears on his way down past the market and down to the hospital. “Could you add twenty pudding pretzels to tomorrow's order?”

Yes, finally! Excitement prickled down Sahar’s arm and made his fingers dance, like pianist hands playing the tune of his heart into the air. He took a mental note to purge his piggy bank tomorrow and stop by after his exam.

Micha smiled. “‘Course. I have lots o’ starch left from last week’s baking frenzy.”

“Oh I can imagine that.” Maria laughed. “Every year I can’t wait for the festival to come but I can’t wait for it to be over, either, once I find myself drowning in food and dirty teacups.” The wide eyed, puffed up face she pulled elicited Micha’s boisterous laugh. For a split second, Sahar’s mouth twitched into a smile, but it vanished as quick as it had come. Morphing into a flat trembling line.

Pull it together. Sahar berated himself, digging teeth so deeply into his lip he nearly didn’t stop in time as pain grew like rose thorns that threatened to pierce through his skin. To break out for everyone to see. You can just go next year.

If they don’t cast you out. Whispered a voice, bleeding poison into his head. Or kill you. An abnormality like you, should ought to stay hidden. Darling, don't give me that look. You know mommy only wants what’s best for you. Hush now, no more tears.

“Friend displays distress. No proper protocol of action found.”

“Wh-wh- what?” Baffled, Sahar glanced down at his new robotic friend, blinking away tears that threatened to spill. It’s green body shimmered in the setting sun, scrubbed clean by Sahar’s hands on their pitstop at the farm. After all, being crusted in mud and moss was no way to be presented down at the herb garden. No second chances for first impressions.

Twelfe glowing visual sensors studied his face for a long moment, before the bot chimed. “Possible cause of distress identified. Initiate protocol six-two-eight-four.”

With a gentle whirr, a small slate on the bot's body opened, exposing something that looked like some sort of tube. Slowly, it extended towards Sahar. A rumbling gurgle picked up, deep from within the bot's gut and Sahar wondered, briefly, if robots could get sick.

Chilly water droplets hit his face, caught in his hair and soaked his shirt collar. Sahar spluttered. Eyes blown wide.

The shock of being misted by the bot like a wilting wildflower washed his mothers venomous words right out of his brain and left nothing but calming cool in its wake.

“Friend’s distress signal decreases. Cause of distress confirmed; dehydration. Rehydration successful.”

Sahar’s lips split open into a toothy, lopsided smile. A wobbly thing filled with sincerity. “Thanks.”

The academie students ran their rounds in the distance. Sahar didn’t notice that one of them broke off and made his way towards him in a lazy jogg. Telegraphing no urgency or interest in the route he took.

Only the disapproval dripping from his tongue gave Gideon’s concern away. “Really? It’s your big day tomorrow and you play around with this-” His eyes flitted over the bot, “what even is that?”

“Lucky-13.” Sahar proclaimed, placing a protective palm on the bot’s head. “Cha- Cha- Charlotte and I- we found her behind the the the border.”

The seemingly permanent scowl edged into Gideon’s face softened into something like honest astonishment. Bushy eyebrows creeped up and his mouth parted into a round little ‘O’.

“You serious?”

Sahar nodded, head flopping back and forth like some overexcited bobble head figurine. Excitement shone in his eyes and burned in his cheeks, escaped from his body through flapping hands. No one had ever looked this impressed by his forest adventures. And Gideon was impressed, right? Oh Sahar wanted to tell him all about the beeping bot and the millipede and how scared he had been crouched under the- well maybe not that part.

So many words flooded his head he didn’t know which one to let out first.

Something in Gideon’s expression shifted, a wall rebuilding itself, the hint of his curious smile turning to stone. Budding closeness calcified in a mere moment.

Gideon snapped: “Whatever. Stop playing around and come up with a plan. Or they’ll skin you tomorrow.”

Sahar’s hands froze mid flap. He wanted to shrink back from Gideon’s stare, from his words that were all the crueler for the truth they held. His hands sunk down like dead leaves, quiet and cold.

Summer wasn’t the only thing soon to die, and leaves not the only thing destined to rot if he truly did misjudge the people of his village.

“Is is is that-” Sahar’s voice broke down to a rough whisper. Shards of doubt scratched his throat from the inside. He tried to swallow them. Once. Twice. “Is that what they do up in in in- up up- do they, they really? Do they really do that at at at-

“The city?”

“Home?”

Silence fell over them, so heavy it threatened to drag them down, grind them deep into the ground. Sahar straightened his spine, pushed up against it.

All the put upon hostility bleed from Gideon’s body.

Cold evening winds heralded the changing of seasons as they tore at their clothes and howled through the woods. Leaves rustled all around them.

“New distress signal detected.” The bot’s soft chime broke the two boys out of their stupor. Sahar gave Lucky-13 a mindless pat on the head.

“You-” Gideon’s gaze held Sahar’s. His voice was quiet, parts of it stolen by the wind, or dawning realization, or maybe even by silence itself, “You’re from berlin?”

Sahar only nodded. For a second all the words had vanished from the tip of his tongue.

“How did you end up here?”

“Escaped get- get- getting skinned. I- I- I guess.” Sahar forced out.

The wind swept the rest of his words away, carried them past the highest treetops, illuminated by the last rays of dying light.

He turned to leave, eyes on the horizon, where a blood red sun was swallowed by endless woods.

[thebonerpit]

plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

[my-own-oracle]

Loving you- requested!

EDIT: this has been re-uploaded since my account was deleted! I am sorry for the inconvenience. 

Tfp bots with number 42-"I have never loved you as much as I do right now."

@a-bitchtm I love your enthusiasm, usually have a limit on the number of bots I have per request. But because I made you wait so long and I had a lot of fun with it, I did four of them. If you want to see any more, let me know. 

Ratchet

Ratchet was usually quite hard to approach: his no-nonsense demeanor often left interactions with the bot feeling flat, and with much to be desired. But he had been appointed your guardian, and a stubborn mech like the doc required a stubborn companion. 

You often spent your days at the base, watching the giant doctor work. But the evenings we're where the battles of stubbornness were indeed waged.

 You had been studying a map of your home city, it was only a state over and the proposed location of another artifact. You had been looking for a site that could hide, or be built around a 'mystical' cybertronian object. You had accepted this task, earlier this afternoon, but you still felt like you nad nothing. 

Ratchet was standing not far off. Mumbling to himself as he worked through the lines of gibberish, you recognized as cybertronian. You had tried to convince him to take a break and recharge a few hours ago, but he insisted he was fine. 

He wasn't. You could tell he was tired. His frame sagged, and his mumbling and squinting of his optics gave it away. A yawn caught you off guard as you checked your watch. 2:39 am. You had decided to keep him company. After all, you had work to do too, but your body was beginning to protest. Another yawn, you turned back to the maps laid out in front of you. 

"You need to go and sleep." Ratchet's voice filled the empty air, but his attention was still on the large screens. 

"So do you," you watched his helm shake slightly.

"No, I have to much to do."

"And taking care of yourself is also on that list." Ratchet turned to face you, and his optics looked dim. "Your tired, your frame is sagging," you raised a finger with each point, "your eye -ah optics, are dim and your starting to sway"'  

"You're infuriating. You are no better. You've yawned 36 times in the past two hours. Almost cycled off in to recharge 5 times in the past thirty, and if you want to call my optics dim, I would say yours have been snuffed out." His voice was firm, but it lacked its usual snark. 

"Since when do you keep such close track of me?" You stood up, waving your hand at his monitor. "You're always talking about how much more important your work is, but you're willing to use brainpower to keep track of the number of times I've started falling asleep?"

"It's my job to make sure all members of this team are in top form."

"All members?"

"Yes, "

"Then that includes yourself" He stammered a moment. Another sign to add to your ever-growing list. 

"Since when did you start fretting over an old mech?" A giant hand placed itself next to you, a silent offer. You climbed up, opting to sit in his open hand rather than trust your legs to hold you steady.

"Since the day I met you, Ratchet." He mumbled a response. You didn't quite hear it. 

"One more time, "

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." You smiled, and so did Ratchet. You loved his smile, he should do it more. 

"Then love me enough to go to sleep; if you go to bed, I will too." Ratchet grumbled and smiled. With a few taps to his computer, he turned off the monitors and headed off to his hab-unit with you in hand to get some rest. 

Bulkhead

Today had played out so differently in your head. The dream had been waking up to no excitement. There is no need to storm an energon mine, no world-shattering event to stop. Thanks to a school-wide trip, no teenagers making errors could cause huge problems. At the end of this uneventful day, you would have all the time in the world to go out and watch the meteor shower that was occurring at 2am. Instead, you had been sent out on a mission with Bulkhead only to discover at its end, that the ground bridge wasn't working. 

"Why did we allow her to come again?" You turned and watched Miko as she played a game on her phone in the back. She was sprawled out in the back tired out from the rock show she performed for you on the drive up and the hiking around during recon. 

"Because her school trip got canceled, and I have a hard time saying no," Bulkhead's voice quietly filtered through the cab. You chuckled, Miko seemed lost in her own world at the moment, so you decided to give her space.

"You are wrapped around her finger" You all round a bend before you talk again. "How far are we from the base?"

"A good day's drive. Maybe more if we want to avoid major cities." You feel like sulking, you were definitely missing that meteor shower. "What's wrong, did you have a hot date tonight?" 

The eye roll was a gut reaction, as was your smile. "You know I don't have time for that; besides, you're starting to sound like Wheeljack." 

"Seriously then." you sighed, shifting to slouch lower in your seat. 

"There's this meteor shower tonight." You didn't know how much of this Bulkhead cared about, but he had been the one to ask…" I was going to spend time researching the best possible location to watch it from and see if I could bribe Ratchet to bridging me there and back."

"But now you get to hang with us." Miko injected, while Bulkhead realized the source of your frustration.

"You'd rather be watching it, hm?"

"Don't take it as I don't want to spend time with the two of you," you gesture to the cab, "It's just since I was little I've always wanted to watch the 'falling stars' my mom talked about seeing once." 

"It sounds nice," You leaned deeper into Bulkhead's seats.

"More like boring, but hey, to each their own." Miko flopped forward over the center console. "Hey, let's play a game while we drive." You smiled as Miko tried to describe her road trip game to Bulkhead. You spent a moment pushing the meteors out of your head; after all, it was not every day you got to spend quality time with these two. 

     * 

"(Y/N). Can you wake up?" The question was light. Bulkheads voice breaking the silence during another of Miko's and your naps. The sun had set at some point, casting the day into a soft and comforting darkness, illuminated by the milky way's thousands of stars. "(Y/N), wake up." Your head jerked awake at Bulkheads prodding. When had you fallen asleep? You had wanted to keep the giant bot company through the night since he was determined to drive as long as possible. 

"Is everything ok?" you started looking around. Outside looked peaceful, and inside was quiet except for the snores emitting from the teenager behind you. "Has Miko been asleep the whole ride?" You looked back in disbelief. It looked as though she had moved, but you had no evidence that she had woken up. 

Bulkhead chuckled, "You're delusional if you really think Miko would sleep for the majority of a day." You swatted at the headrest of the seat next to you. "Ok, ok. She was awake for a while after you fell asleep. I tried to keep her quiet." 

You were touched at the effort that must have taken. Miko was loud and brash, keeping her occupied and quite must have been a handful to do while trying to drive them home. "Thank you, Bulk." you shifted to lean against his door. "How far out are we?"

The sound of tires on the paved road filled your ears, and you watched as the wheel moved to keep them steady. "Not too far, but I'm taking a slight detour." He sounded guilty, 

"What was going on?" Slowly, being careful not to jostle the cab, Bulkhead pulled over to the side of the road. You felt the locking mechanism move under your back. "Step out, will you?" You eyed the dash, curious as to what on earth Bulkhead could want this late at night. 

"Bulk what's-" a man materialized in the seat next to you. He was a big broad-chested man with dark skin and an Autobot tattoo on his right shoulder. His black wifebeater and green cargo pants screamed military and soldier in your mind. His body had materialized with his hands on the steering wheel, his arms relaxed, and his eyes gently closed. He was still for only a moment, and in that moment, your heart sped up. From what you couldn't tell, but it was hammering. 

His eyes opened to reveal an unusual blue color, one more resembling the color of the bot's optics than any blue you had seen in a human. The man wasted no time opening up the driver's side door and stepping out. Hesitantly you followed. "What-"

"What do you think?" The man kept his head upwards towards the sky, his voice was Bulkhead's voice, but softer... almost. "The lights from all the major cities are far enough away you should be able to see this meteor shower you wanted to see."

"Who-" 

"Then again," Not-Bulkhead surveyed the flat landscape. "Miko had said you probably wanted to watch from an elevated area." He hurried past you back to Bulkhead's parked form and began climbing the back to reach the roof. Watching this man climb up, your close friend snapped you out of your shock.

"Just you wait one moment-" you grabbed the back of his shirt. "What's going on here?" you tried to pull the man down "Bulkhead-"

"Come on (Y/N)," He reached down gently, swatting your hands from his shirt and finishing his brief climb to Bulkhead's roof. Turning to offer you a hand up. "You didn't want to miss this, right?" the way he said your name, the gentle giant way he was caring about you, this was Bulkhead. This was Bulkhead trying to show you the falling stars you had always wanted to see. 

"How do you know we'll be able to see them?" You took his hand and let him haul you up into his arms. Letting him guide you into sitting in his lap. 

"I had Miko call Raph, and he looked up on his computer where we needed to be." His voice rumbled from his chest into your back. You knew you had to be smiling like a crazy person. "Look," one of his hands, previously holding him in place as he leaned back, was thrust forward-pointing up to the sky. You caught the tail end of it. The fading streak across the sky. It was followed by another, then another, soon enough, the sky was full of streaking silver light, and your heart was swelling. You laid back, eyes never leaving the atmosphere above you.

"Bulkhead, I've never loved you as much as I do right now." His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist. Together, you stayed there, watching the sky until the last one had sailed by, before moving back into the cab and starting off to finish the rest of the road trip home. 

Bumblebee

Bumblebee loved Fridays. It was the best day of the week, especially since you had moved to the base. Every Friday morning, without fail, you would wake up at 7am and head out to the roof of the base. There you would lay out a massive tarp and roll out an industrial-sized shop vacuum you had bought off eBay. And it always leads to this. 

7:30am  

Bumblebee sat in the morning sun, his doors open to the world. You sat in an old pair of jeans, your knees on the metal roof vacuuming out his interior. To Bee, this was the most relaxing feeling in the world. You meticulously vacuumed his seats, driver's side, the back then, passenger side, afterword focusing on the floor mats. That's what you were currently on. Woking the vacuums brush against his transformation seams. Dragging out a week's worth of sand, dirt, and grit. 

He always told you it was unnecessary to clean him this thoroughly, but you insisted. 

"Bumblebee, you drive Raph and me everywhere. We, all though unwillingly, fill you with all the nasty and dirty particles of everything we walk through in a day. The least I can do is clean you out." 

After nearly two months, the strange feeling of the vacuum had become comforting. The feel of the brush, relaxing. The young scout would never admit this to anyone, but he especially enjoyed what came after. 

The vacuum shut off, the silence overtaking the air. You stood up, pulling a small white rag from your belt. You dipped it into a bucket of warm water, wringing it out before slipping off your shoes and crawling into his cab. 

The rag ran down his dash, cleaning up the oil and dirt that came off human fingers. Your hand pressed delicately against his leather interior, studying yourself as you worked.

"Everything alright?" you were scrubbing a little more forcefully on his steering wheel.

"Yes, There's just something a little sticky, I bet it's from a soda." you sighed, shifting to sit in the seat. "I can't believe you let me and Raph eat in here yesterday." You took the dry end of the rag, tracing back over every spot you cleaned with the damp side. 

"I knew you would be careful and take care of me later." You climbed out, chuckling at his comment like it was a joke. Throwing the now 'dirty' rag off to the side in favor of a new one, dipping it in the same warm water you had before. 

He shut his doors, he could feel you as you sat down next to him. Your presents brushing against his EM field; his door sensors, the ones that made up his 'wings' as you called them, lighting up at the gentle touch you had as you worked off scuffs and paint from other bots and cars alike. 

The strokes began to blend together as his processor slowed down; he wanted to stay in this moment forever. The chilly desert morning and his (Y/N) cleaning off the grime from the week. 

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." He knew it was a strange thing to say, and an even more unusual way to thank you for all the work you were doing. But it didn't make the statement any less real. 

"I love you too." Bumblebee could hear the smile in your voice. Yes, if he had to pick any one moment to live in forever, this one was most definitely number one. 

Wheeljack

"I can't do this anymore." Wheeljack looked over, the thick book on your lap slamming shut registering in his audials. "This assignment doesn't make sense, this professor is a moron, and my school is a joke." Your hands were gripping the hair on your head. Wheeljack was no expert on humans, but he felt that that wasn't a good thing. "I'm done, I can't do this." he laughed to himself as you began shoving everything into the bag you took with you everywhere. "I can't do this, I can't. I'm done. I'm done." Your human optics are leaking a little. He watched as your face turned red, and your head shook back and forth.

He recalls Bulkhead explaining that leaking optics are a terrible thing for humans, It means there's something wrong. A soft whisper is let out amongst the noise, a whisper he wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so in tune with you.

"I'm a failure,"

Wheeljack was on his pedes faster than he had ever thought possible. You were hunched over that stupid bag, shoulders shaking. He had to get you back. He didn't know what exactly got you this upset, but he knew it had something to do with that university you kept complaining about this week. 

"Alright speedster, enough of that." As gently as a wrecker could, he picked you up. Dropping you from one hand to another. "No wrecker gets to sulk while I'm around, Stop your crying and brace yourself." The bot looked over to Bulkhead and the other humans as he walked to the center of the base. "Tell Prime: I'm going out."

Wheeljack gave you a soft toss upward, you yelped as gravity pulled you back into his open servo. "Ready?" You tilted your head, something he found cute but swore never to admit out loud. 

"What-what are you-you doing?" you stuttered between your tears.

"Fixing that look on your face." Wheeljack nodded to Bulkhead, who opened the base doors. Your bot tossed you up again this time a little higher, lurching forward he transformed around you, landing with you in his front seat. Before you could blink a seat belt was strapped around your torso. The two of you flying out into the desert. You watched as his speedometer climbed, 30 to 40. 50 to 70. 80 to 100. You were no longer on the road; instead, Wheeljack had turned out into the desert. The world was a blur out of his windows. He dared to look inward for a brief moment to check on you before returning his optics to his driving. Your soft hands were holding onto the seat and door. But the tears had stopped flowing, and a small smile was spread on your face. 

The wrecker pushed himself to go faster, he needed his speedster back, the one that laughed as he drove at unhuman like speeds that begged him to try and go even faster then he could go safely with you.  

150.

He was, for your sake, slowly climbing in his speed. Your grip loosened on his door, and he tightened the belt across your torso. 

170

Your body was shaking again, but not from tears, this was a familiar shake. This was you teetering on laughter. This was a shake Wheeljack loved to feel against his seats. 

190

"Wheeljack!" you were laughing. "I know you can go faster!" 

200

"I promised Ratchet I would go over 200 with you, he says it's dangerous." You hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Since when do you listen to the Doc-Bot?" Both hands were on his seatbelt, "I'm safe with you, come on, Faster!"

"I need you to say something first," He slowed a little, enough so he could glance inward again. "Tell me why you, of all people, would think you're a failure." Your face fell, not good, but necessary.

"I don't understand the work, my teacher wouldn't answer my questions." Your head sank. "She said I shouldn't be asking too many questions."

"Well, Frag her. She doesn't know what she's doing. It's obvious she's just bad at her job." you smiled again, "Now, if that's the only problem, I think we ought to see how fast we can outrun it." 

He gave a little yank on the strap, making sure your body was flush against his seat. 

He'd never tell you, but Ratchet had really freaked him out about hurting you. 

"Floor it!" 

He complied.

*

It was late in the evening, you both were tired, and your adrenaline had worn out, and Wheeljack knew he had burned through more energon than he should have. 

"We should call for a bridge." The car around you rumbled for a moment.

"Yeah, I'll patch us through." The two of you sat in silence.

"Are you even calling them?"

"No." You reclined his seat back. And listened to his engine idle.

"Thank you for making me feel better." 

"No big."

"Seriously. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you right now. Thank you."

His spark practically jumped, but he was grateful you couldn't see his faceplates. It would be nice to spend some more time with you, so you two sat in the quiet desert. 

Happy and content. 

Don't forget to share your thoughts with me!

[anthonyed]

technically it’s coffee shop au! for @stonyweek day 2 (Ao3)

“You have absolutely no concern for your safety!” Steve snarls, barging through the broken door, hanging precariously by its hinge. 

Tony steadfastly ignores him, heading towards the crushed counter; Hulk’s fist print is still fresh over what had once been a luxurious marble surface. Tony spares a mournful look at it before blasting it clean and stomping over the rubbles to the other side. 

Steve’s frustration comes out as a hot huff of breath. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves, almost tripping over spilled syrup before he reached the machine. After a quick study, he taps on the various buttons feeling every bit ungraceful in his still gauntleted hand while Captain America yaps away in the background. Then he waits. 

Steve’s angry lecture is like an odd balm these days, soothing him inside out instead of how it used to make him so angry during their early days and Tony’s good at muting it out now. Just a background noise of a barking puppy while he searches for something more potent, more - ah hah!

The machine beeps, and Tony’s already there, attending to it. His name sounds exhausted and resigned, spilling out of Steve and he hums in acknowledgement; lets him know he’s still listening. 

“Do you want a shot?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at the blue blur. There’s a huff and tired strides and he’s not surprised when Steve says, “Move,” nudging him aside. Tony picks his glass and buries his nose into it; inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee like a drowned man. 

He takes a long sip, watching over the rim as Steve empties the bottle into the second glass and turns around, slouching against the counter next to Tony; red, blue and white next to hot red and gold, overlooking the aftermath of another battle in New York City. 

The entire street is closed and there are some officers picking up what’s left post battle. There wasn’t any casualty except for one destroyed block because one rowdy doom-bot thought it would be funny to poke at Bruce’s butt. 

The Sun is just rising, and Tony’s barely standing after two nights of no sleep; thanks to the coffee. Next to him, Steve swallows his rum and coffee concoction with a weary sigh. Tony takes another sip of his own drink, tongue feeling like lead, tasting nothing and says, “I’m sorry.”

He could argue for a week how he wasn’t wrong, and he has a calculation to prove it. But he’s too tired to do that now and amidst the destruction, the sunrise looks awful pretty. His head feels heavy, and he doesn’t want to argue with Steve. 

He just wants to stand here in a destroyed cafe and try to be for a minute or two, and it feels nice standing next to Steve like this for once; no yelling, no hot tempers. Tony can pull a punch once so he does.

There’s a tired sigh and a low rumble of, “Stop trying to die all the time,” from Steve which makes him turn his head, look at the side of Steve’s face; smudged with dirt and hair poking out in all directions; his cowl is down and there’s a tear running from the collar down his right shoulder, pink skin blinking contrastingly from his pale complexion; telltale of a freshly healed wound. 

Tony’s sluggish brain is too busy thinking of upgrades to avoid a repeat he doesn’t realise he’s reaching to touch Steve until he already is; one gauntleted finger trailing from the lateral end of his right clavicle, splitting the fabric wider as he goes up to the base of Steve’s throat and then, he stops. 

The realisation comes in a staggering sharp gasp as his eyes snap up, locking with bright blue ones and he’s numb at the same time he’s a raging storm. There’s a war in him locked in a box and his eyes scream while his throat shut down. 

Steve’s grip is a gentle press of pressure around his wrist; gloved hand around gauntlet and Tony swallows; his head a buzz of 48hours lack of sleep while his body is a wildfire of its own. 

The blue of Steve’s eyes darken a little, drowned by pools of blackness and he’s dead serious when he says, “I mean it. Don’t you dare to die on me.” 

There’s a surreal minute when Tony’s lost in the motion of his mouth; pink lips and a sharp jaw. Loaded request which sounds like a plea the more he replays it in his head. The blue and green swirls in Steve’s eyes, the absolute undivided focus he has on Tony and the way he exhales through parted lips, the way his gaze falls to Tony’s mouth and -

Something rudely crashes near them making them jolt apart.

Barton limps towards the counter, pulling out a sandwich from inside the display cabinet and he flicks something off of the bread before shoving it inside his mouth. Tony blinks at him, jaw slack and he startles again when Natasha’s voice comes from his right; her body only an inch away, fiddling with the buttons of the coffee machine as she grumbles about the lack of any alcohol. Tony turns to look at Steve, who’s sipping on his coffee innocently. 

There’s another crash, louder, ground quaking and they don’t have to look to know it’s Thor. Barton wordlessly picks another sandwich and tosses it in his direction. There’s a soft plop when Thor catches and asks sadly, “No more shawarma?”

Tony makes a face, recalling the awful taste of their first post-battle meal. “We’ll have something at home later,” Steve promises responsibly. Tony rolls his eyes and offers his cup when Natasha makes a pained noise next to him. She snatches it and empties the content in one chug. 

“Am I allowed to say finally?” Barton pipes up, munching with open mouth as he stares pointedly in between Steve and Tony. Tony follows his stare and staggers away like he’d stepped on a live wire. Steve the same, dropping Tony’s hand as if burnt.

Barton lets out the most deprived sigh and announces, “I guess not.”

[forever-more-never-again]

Scales and Scars (Part Two)

a/n: Your quirks will be revealed soon! Be patient! But first, enter our favorite purple boy!

Word Count: 1948

Pairings: Eraserhead(AIzawa) X PresentMic(Hizashi), Reader X Class1A (Will have multiple endings for pairings)

Warnings: Mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, villains, experiments, panic attacks, dissociate disorders.

Prologue / Part One

Masterlist

You woke with a yawn, Stretching like a cat, humming in content as you felt the warm rays of the morning sun hitting you from your window.

It had been eight years since that fateful day when you had been rescued from the Villain's hideout.

Eight years since you had been given the name Aizawa-Yamada [Y/n] and adopted by Aizawa Shota and Yamada Hizashi, your dads.

Eight years of therapy and police investigations.

“[Y/n]! BREAKFAST LITTLE LISTENER!”

You laughed as your Pa’s voice shook the walls of the apartment.

Throwing on a black sweatshirt that had cat ears on the hood, you walked into the kitchen to see your Pa setting the table while your dad sat slouched over sipping his coffee.

It was hard to put the hero Present Mic to the man Yamada Hizashi when his blonde hair was half down, half up in a bun, wearing normal prescription glasses and dancing in the kitchen wearing civilian clothes.

“Morning.” You yawned again, walking past your dad and Pa to get the coffee.

Aizawa raised his brows as you poured the black liquid into a cup and downed it in one gulp. But didn’t say anything other than to sink further into his capture scarf that was always around his neck.

Hizashi let out a horrified wail, “HOW CAN YOU TWO DRINK TH-at!”

You laughed as your pa suddenly lost his volume due to dad Using his quirk.

“Easy. Life Juice is yummy.”

Aizawa glared, “Never Call coffee juice again problem child.”

You waved him off with a laugh.

Sitting down at the table, you muttered, “Itadakimasu!” before digging in.

A soft meow from beside you had you sneaking a piece of food to Inu, the giant black fur ball that ran the house.

“SO! Are you excited for the entrance exam [Y/n]?” Hizashi asked. You frowned a little.

Aizawa seemed to notice and look over at you, “You can still choose to take the recommendation test. Nezu owes me one anyways.”

You shake your head adamantly at that, “No. I want to get in on my own merits. I just...What quirk do I use?” I looked up at my dads with wide, scared eyes.

It had taken two years of living with them after you had been rescued, two years of walking on eggshells and panic attacks and nightmares, two years of soft touches and hugs and tears before you trusted the two men with the dark truth of why you had been in that lab.

You had been born quirkless. Sold to a powerful villain and experimented on alongside other kids. As far as you knew, you had been the only success, the only survivor.

And you had two quirks. Artificial. Not natural. The perfect Little Monster.

“[Y/n]...come back to us sweetheart.” The soft voice jolted you, causing you to fall from your chair.

Looking up into the worried eyes of your parents, you realized what had happened.

Head bowed, a few tears slipped down your cheeks, “It happened again, didn’t it?”

Hizashi helped you up, gentle hands holding your arms as Aizawa let his quirk go.

You felt the coldness settle back into your bones, letting you know that your quirk was back in your control.

“Aizawa sighed, rubbing his face, But you knew it wasn’t irritation at you, “Your therapist said it would still happen occasionally. It’s okay [Y/n].”

You wiped your face, still upset that you had slipped into dissociative state and lost control of your shadows.

“Anyways, your quirks are yours. You should use them to their full advantage. Otherwise, how can you expect to be a hero?” You knew he wasn’t being mean. But your dad’s words still hurt. He knew why you didn’t like using your second quirk. Afterall, it was why the Villains had named you Little Monster.

Sighing, you stood up and scooped up Inu, the cat meowing at the jostling movement.

“I have to get ready. I’ll see you at UA.” and you walked back to your room, not missing the glances your parents shared with each other.

In your room, you flopped backwards on your bed, with Inu on your chest. You looked into the black cat’s green eyes and sighed again.

But you couldn’t stay there forever. 

You knew the route to UA by heart, having been there plenty of times over the years training your quirks and talking to investigators trying to find the group that had you.

Even with the sun out, you were wearing a long sleeve shirt and pants, covering up your multitude of scars from the experiments on your body.

You stood at the entrance, hands tightly gripping your workout bag that held your clothes, staring up at the golden arches.

It was time to take back your future. You were going to be a Hero.

You entered the dimly lit Classroom and found a seat between a muttering greenete and a purple haired boy who looked ready to fall asleep at any moment.

Suddenly all the lights went out except for a spotlight on the stage, and then entered your Pa.

You stifled a laugh as he strutted forward to the podium.

Leaning forward, Present Mic threw his hands up, “WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE ENTRANCE EXAM! CAN I GET A YEAH!?”

You didn’t want your Pa to be embarrassed by a lack of response that you knew was probably going to happen, so you stood up, cupped your mouth and shouted back, “YEAH!”

You sat back down, grinning, ignoring the glare from a blonde on the other side of the greenette who was staring at you, and the purplenette that was gazing at you under hooded eyes.

Present Mic Whooped, “ALRIGHT EXAMINEE 998521 YOU ARE OFFICIALLY MY FAVORITE! ANYWAYS LET'S GET INTO IT!”

And with that he began explaining the practical portion of the exam.

You listened to the greenette muttering beside you, surprised at his insight and analysis.

Near the end of explaining the bots and rules, a familiar boy stood up and made chopping arm motions at Present Mic.

You groaned, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. 

“Not a fan of Mr. Roboto?” The gravelly tired voice shocked you. Turning you saw the purplenette was not looking at you, but was watching the boy shout at Present Mic about the integrity of UA. 

You smiled softly, “He’s a friend. His bluntness can have its uses but right now it’s irritating.”

The purplenette’s eyes widened marginally at your response, but didn’t turn to look at you.

And then the boy turned to your section and began chastising the greenette. 

You watched the poor boy sink into his seat, thoroughly embarrassed at being called out in the public setting.

You snorted, and Stood up, “Iida...I know you did not just interrupt the explanation of rules and single out a poor boy whose just trying to get through the test like everyone else. Now, if you shut up and sit down, I’m sure Present Mic will finish explaining.”

Iida started in surprise at seeing you, but bowed, his cheeks dusted Pink, “I’m terribly sorry! Please!” He turned to Present Mic still bowed, “Continue!”

You sat down with a sigh. 

Tuning out as Present Mic explained the rest of the test. You already knew about it.

When the lights came back on, you stood up with a stretch.

As you turned to walk out of the aisle, you felt someone touch your shoulder, “Hey.”

Looking over your shoulder, you saw the purplenette, and dang he was tall, looking off to the side as his arm lowered back to his side.

You smiled up at him, “Hey, sorry if I distracted you during the explanation and what not.”

The boy snorted, his eyes narrowed as he looked at you warily, “You answered me back there.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to remember what he was talking about. And then you lit up, but you were still confused, “Oh? Yeah? Were you not talking to me back there?”

A hint of hurt was in your voice. Of course you would make a fool out of yourself in front of a cute boy.

The purplenette blushed and muttered softly, “N-no..It’s just...My quirk. People don’t respond to me because it’s villainous.”

You stiffened. The poor boy saw that and immediately his expression hardened. He shoved past you, “Forget it.”

You grabbed his arm before he could get too far. When he looked at you, his eyes held none of the former confusion and warmth. They were flat and dead.

Your smile was jittery, a memory of when you couldn’t smile filtered through your head but you pushed it aside.

“It’s not...It’s not you. It’s...I’ve been told the same thing. About-about my Quirks.” Your words trailed off into silence as you refused to meet the kid’s eyes.

A quick intake of breath was all that alerted you to the fact that he heard you.

“Shinso. Shinso Hitoshi. Brainwashing.”

His voice was back to being hesitant. Shy.

You looked up and saw his eyes weren’t flat anymore.

Perking up, you stuck out a hand for a shake, “Yamada. Yamada [Y/n].” You and your dads had decided that going by Pa’s last name would be best since it was less noticeable than Aizawa.

Shinso shook your hand, not making a comment about your lack of mentioning your quirk, and then with a smirk, asked, “So you’re friends with Mr. Roboto?”

You laughed, the sound filling the now empty auditorium. Your eyes closed for a second, so you missed the look on Shinso’s face as he heard your laugh.

“Yeah. You could say that. His brother and my dad’s are friends. So I saw him a lot growing up.”

You tugged Shinso along as you headed to the locker rooms. 

“What battle center are you in?” Your hand gripped your card that stated you were in Battle center H.

Shinso pulled out his card from his pocket, glancing at it, “Center H.”

You pulled up to a stop outside where the locker room split into male and female, “Wait! Really? Me too!”

Shinso snorted. Looking down at the ground.

You frowned at him, “What?”

“I won’t be any good against robots. My quirk is useless.” His words were harsh. Self-deprecating.

And you hated it. This was your friend. Well, you hoped he wanted to be your friend, and he was bashing himself.

You jabbed a finger in his chest, causing his eyes to widen and meet your [e/c] ones.

You spoke with authority, hoping to get past his shell, “Looky here Mister! Do you want to be a hero?”

Shinso narrowed his eyes at you, “What kind of question is tha-”

You cut him off, shaking your head, “I asked, ‘Do you want to be a hero!?’ Because from the way your talking, it sounds like you’re giving up. And heros don’t give up. Not when the odds are stacked against them, not when the clock ticks down to the final hour. Heros give their all, they aren’t one trick ponies. And heroes rely on their allies for help.”

Shinso had looked ready to interrupt and yell back at you at the start of your rant, but at the end, he just stared open mouthed at you.

“You mean?”

You nodded, and smiled at him, “We’ll get into the hero course together. If you want.”

You held out your pinky finger.

Shinso laughed and you couldn’t stop your heart from jumping at that raspy beautiful sound.

Taking your pinky with his, Shinso smirked at you, “Alright Yamada. So What’s the plan?”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver

Scales and Scars (BNHA) Taglist:

@multi-fandom-trash-uwu @darkfaethedestroyer @foxinaforestofstars

[mutually-screaming]

for death and he

Fandom: Homestuck

AU: Godstuck, but with more cults

Chapter(s): 1/??

Ship/Pairing: Dirk/Lil Hal

Summary: Hal needs to feed to survive at this point in his everlasting life. Being a god isn’t easy, especially not when you have virtually no followers. But he’s not god now. He’s a leech. And he needs Dirk to be his host if he wants to survive any longer as a god.

Author Note: Chapter one! I hope you all enjoy! I will be posting this on Archive of Our Own as well, and links will be provided once I do so! I hope you enjoy!

This party sucked.

It wasn't the fact that the party itself was bad, but the suckyness of the party predominately came from Dirk himself. Things that he used to enjoy, like this shitty party, felt like they were slowly getting crappier and crappier over time. Whether it was boredom or how they always seemed to go the same, he couldn't quite tell. But it sucked to Dirk. Everyone else was having a good time, and part of him was jealous of them for that, but he felt like it sucked.

But of course it sucked for Dirk. Dirk Strider, forever sitting on the couch, making boring idle conversation, waiting to get himself drunk. Dirk Strider, always embarrassing himself when he gets drunk. Dirk Strider, waking up in the morning with a shitty hangover and a will in his mind that he was never drinking again. Parties weren't awful, but he just couldn't get why he wasn't enjoying them anymore.

Maybe because of the monotony of his actions at these parties, or maybe he was becoming more of a homebody. The latter option made the most sense to him right off the bat. He was spending more time at home, but he blamed that mostly on school and how it was so vigorously kicking his ass at the moment.

The blonde took a sip of probably one of the grossest IPA's he's ever drank before setting the bottle down and deciding he was done with it. It was almost full.

Music played, people were dancing, the air was hot and humid with their sweat. It was kinda gross. Deciding he needed a break, he shoved his way out of the living room and into the back yard, greeted by a cold yet refreshing gust of night air as he stumbled upon what seemed to be a beer pong tournament? Except all frat-dudes involved seemed way too fucked up. Amber eyes scoped the scene before settling upon three mostly empty tequila bottles on the floor. Ah. Tequila pong.

Considering the last time he decided to play the one way alcohol poisoning game of Tequila pong, he decided against it. Nope. Never again.

Reasoning being, nobody wanted to watch him try to jump from the roof and into the neighbor's pool and fail again. That entire incident ended with a broken wrist and a written apology.

But see? He used to think this was fun. Now he was bored, tired, and couldn't wait to put on his pajamas and fuzzy socks when he got home.

He needed to find Roxy.

Turning around to head back inside, he struggled through the living room and made his way towards the kitchen, only to run into a very frazzled looking Jane dealing with a very stoned freshman he didn't recognize.

"Hey, where's Roxy?" Dirk asked, grabbing some paper towels and handing them to Jane as she tried desperately to clean up a green mess that the freshman seemed to have spilled. The freshman seemed cool with it. Hell, Dirk wasn't even sure if the freshman noticed that he had spilled half of whatever the fuck that green stuff was all over the front of him. He was blazed as fuck.

"Last place I saw her was in the garage getting more drinks, but that couldn't have been more than twenty minutes ago," Jane replied, gratefully taking the paper towels and using them to sop up the green mess. "By the way," the brunette huffed, straightening up and dumping the dirty trash into the bin, "This is Gamzee, he's the foreign exchange student I've been mentoring."

"How's it been, brother? Long time no see," Gamzee grins, his voice deep and laced with an accent he didn't recognize. The stoner reached over and clapped a large hand on Dirk's back, possibly getting some of that goop on his shirt.

Dirk has never met this kid in his life.

"Uh...it's been good," Dirk says slowly, taking a step away from Gamzee as he turned back to Jane, "Look, if you get the chance to talk to Roxy, let her know I'm headed home. Glad for the invite though, that was cool of her. Don't think this kind of stuff is my thing anymore though." Hm. Maybe a little too much information for now. He didn't want to offend Roxy for inviting him to these, he knew she genuinely enjoyed them and that he used to too. But might as well be honest, right?

"Oh, uhm, alright," Jane replied, seeming a little taken aback by Dirk's bluntness. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Dirk nodded, briefly eyeing Gamzee warily before making his way out of the party. Part of him kinda felt bad for the guy. He seemed stoned out of his mind. But hey, at least even he was having a good time.

The party had been hosted at a nearby fraternity house that was only about three blocks from the school, making it only about a twenty-ish minute walk back to his dorms, which wasn't too bad. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he quickly sent a text to Roxy, just in case Jane didn't get the chance to relay the message.

headed home. thanks for the invite.

Dirk knew Roxy worried about him sometimes. Especially these past few months since his particularly messy breakup with his ex. But that was a story for another day.

It didn't take long for him to reach his dorm, quickly changing out of his plain jeans and t-shirt and into his beloved fuzzy socks, sweatpants and hoodie. It was a cold night and he might as well get comfortable for the night.

Flopping onto the bed, he couldn't help but lie there for a second. The room was completely quiet, other than the gentle hum of the heater running and the soft thump of his heart beating. Glancing at his clock on his desk, it was only ten forty-five. It wasn't even that late. But why did he feel so fucking tired? He lied still on his bed for as long as he could manage, legs dangling over the side as he shifted and shoved his face into his pillow, only to immediately sit up in distaste as a red line formed across his face from his shades.

Right. He was wearing those.

Dirk took them off and set them on his desk next to his bed before getting settled in. Snuggled in a thick duvet, laptop in his lap, he grabbed his glasses off of his desk. Trading comfort over style, he guessed. It was a miracle he could get those wack-ass shades as prescription, but he was from Hollywood and wasn't about to read too deep into this and you shouldn't either.

Was he tired? Yes. But it was more like the slightly sleepy that led into boredom that led into him browsing the internet for a couple of hours.

An hour and a half later, Dirk found himself falling down the rabbit hole of food network youtube videos on how to make gourmet gushers when an unfamiliar notification popped up. It was from Pesterchum, what was essentially a remake of the now outdated Skype, but he didn't recognize the message that appeared.

autoResponder [AR] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

AR: Hey. Ever wondered what ascension is like?

The name autoResponder immediately made Dirk think this was a bot messaging him. But that didn't make sense. The only way someone could message him would be if he gave them his username himself, but he couldn't remember giving anyone his username recently. He honestly didn't even use Pesterchum that much lately anyways because of how busy he's been with school. This totally had to be a bot. But it hadn't sent him any weird links yet or offered to show him boobs. Or maybe it was a hacker trying to give his laptop a virus. But he could handle that. Maybe it would be fun to fuck with this guy. If he was going to try to send him a virus he would well deserve it.

Just as he started to type a response back, he got another message.

AR: Ever wondered what happens after death?

Dirk's fingers hesitated. Now this was starting to sound a little more religious-y. But it gave more of the vibe of those signs you drive by on road trips. The ones paid for by Biblethumpers who had nothing better to do but shove god in every aspect of life, including road trips apparently.

Another message.

AR: Ever wondered what happens when everything becomes void, Dirk?

Dirk closed his laptop.

[immortal-imagines]

Clumsy

Summary: (Y/N) is a Slytherin with a tough exterior. She acts like nothing can get to her and that she cares for nothing except the pride of her house, when in actual fact she is a huge softy. When she first meets Remus Lupin, she knows there’s something special about him. Her gentle nature begins to show, as they start dating in secret. Of course, Remus can’t hide anything from the Marauders.

(Remus Lupin x Reader)

Warnings: Mild Swearing, lots of fluff!

Word Count: 2,472

Requested by: Anonymous

A/N: I love writing for the Marauders, so please send me loads of requests for them! Thank you so much to the anon who sent me this one!

It was the start of her fifth year at Hogwarts and (Y/N) was feeling confident. Last year had had mixed results and she was looking forward to what this one had to hold.

Dumbledore stood at the front of the Great Hall, making his usual start of term speech, but (Y/N)’s mind was elsewhere. She was debating the next time she could sneak down and visit the House Elves in the kitchens. Last year she had managed to go pretty regularly. It had taken a while for them to trust her, however after a few months they rejoiced at her secret drop ins. (Y/N) wasn’t the average, stereotypical Slytherin. Many of the students in other houses saw Slytherins as mean and vindictive. They only viewed them because of the minority that were bullies. (Y/N) was different. She was determined, clever and ambitious, like a Slytherin should be, but was also extremely kind-hearted. The Sorting Hat had had a job deciding which house to put her in, as it appeared that she had traits of a few. However, it had settled on Slytherin.

(Y/N)’s House Elf visits began when she read a book about the treatment which they receive in large organisations that they are hired to work for. She wanted to investigate these claims herself and ended up becoming rather good friends with them.

A loud cough next to her ear drew (Y/N) away from her thoughts.

“Oi, (Y/L/N). You awake over there?” Regulus Black waved a hand in front of her face. Dumbledore had finished speaking now and the hall had descended into chatter.

Although Regulus was a couple of years younger than her, he had grown quite cocky after coming back from the summer holidays. Maybe it had something to do with being the new family favourite. That’s what the gossip around the common room was saying anyway. His older brother, Sirius, was in Gryffindor. There had been a flurry of Howlers at breakfast after he’d been sorted. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt for Sirius. He didn’t deserve any of that. If she was being completely honest with herself, she found Regulus rather annoying and would have much rather hung out with Sirius and his friends. Unfortunately for (Y/N), prejudgment was commonplace at Hogwarts. She didn’t think a Gryffindor would touch her with a barge-pole, let alone be friends with her.

“Sorry, just thinking about classes,” (Y/N) replied hurriedly, “In fact, I think I’ll get a head start on my assignments.” Not giving Regulus a chance to question her, she gathered up her things and grabbed a bread roll, before leaving the Slytherin table and heading for her dormitory.

(Y/N) wasn’t looking where she was going, marching down a corridor and straight into another student. Her bag went flying, along with the food and her wand, which rolled away from her at an impressive speed. She squatted down, grabbing her belongings. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t…” she glanced up at the victim of her clumsiness, only to meet the bright green stare of Remus Lupin, who was knelt in front of her. (Y/N) wasn’t sure why, but she felt her cheeks grow hot. She looked down at the floor, mumbling another apology.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Remus smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he did so. He held out a hand to help her up. (Y/N) took it gingerly and they got to her feet. He didn’t let go when he said, “I’m Remus. And you are?”

“(Y/N),” she replied.

“Well (Y/N),” he handed her wand back, “Better be careful where you’re running next time. I’d rather the next time we see each other not be because you’ve knocked me to the ground.” He chuckled, shot her a wink and turned on his heel, continuing his path to wherever he’d been going before she’d interrupted him.

~

It had been a month since (Y/N) had met Remus and she still hadn’t plucked up the courage to talk to him again. He was a Gryffindor. He probably thought she was Slytherin scum. Maybe he thought she’d run into him on purpose, to make a fool out of him. The way he’d looked at her though. When (Y/N) thought about his smile and the wink he’d left her with, it made her heart flutter. She wasn’t of the same mindset as some of her fellow house members. (Y/N) didn’t see a problem with dating in other houses, or even being friends with them. She was certain there were plenty of people throughout Hogwarts history who had had relationships across houses. There had to be.

It was not long after this revelation that (Y/N) was put in the situation where she had no choice but to face her fears: partner work in Charms class. Professor Flitwick called out names from a list, with the pairs the students would be working in for the next few weeks. (Y/N) waited nervously for her name to be called.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Flitwick’s voice rang out across the classroom, “And Remus Lupin.”

(Y/N)’s face flushed and her breath hitched in her throat. Damn she thought. However, there was a small part of her that was actually excited.

Remus appeared in the seat next to her, a wide grin on his face. “And so we meet again, Clumsy,” he said.

(Y/N) scoffed, “So that’s my new nickname?”

“You betcha,” he replied.

(Y/N) began leafing through the book in front of her to find the pages they would be working from. Remus sat back and watched, enjoying the concentration on her face and the way her tongue peaked out a little bit from her lips whilst she examined the book. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. (Y/N) looked up, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. What a scandal.”

“What are you on about? There are plenty of Gryffindors and Slytherins partnered in here,” (Y/N) gestured around her.

“I’ll bet you ten galleons that none of them are dating though.”

“You don’t have ten galleons… wait, what?”

There was a pause. Remus was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. (Y/N) mulled over what had just been said. “Are you… are you asking me out?” She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible, but failed miserably.

“I am indeed. What do you say?” he asked. He was still smiling like he was joking, but his eyes were hopeful.

“Is that really a good idea? Like you said, a bit of a scandal. And your crowd aren’t my biggest fans,” (Y/N) bit her lip. She wanted to say yes so badly.

“My ‘crowd’ don’t know you. They know Slytherin, or at least think they do. Plus, I don’t give a shit what they think. I want to take a pretty girl on a date, is that so bad?” His tone was sincere now, no smiles or joking around. Everything inside of (Y/N) told her to say yes.

“Okay,” she murmured. Her heart did a backflip and her stomach somersaulted just saying that one word. Remus smiled. It was soft and gentle, but very clearly relieved. “No one can know,” she added.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get you into trouble with your friends.”

“But…”

“Remus.” It was the first time she’d said his name. It felt good coming from her mouth and he liked hearing it. (Y/N) sighed. “People will judge you, you know that, right?”

“I don’t c…” He was interrupted by Flitwick’s scolding voice, calling across the room.

“Lupin! (Y/L/N)! Stop gossiping and get back to work!”

(Y/N) quickly picked up the book and began reading the page in front of her, regardless of whether it was the right one or not.

“I’ll meet you by the kitchens at 8,” Remus whispered, “I’m friends with the House Elves.”

~

(Y/N) hoped from one foot to another, waiting outside the kitchens for Remus to arrive. She was terrified of being spotted and even more nervous about the date she was about to have. She hadn’t been sure what to wear, so had put on the nicest clothes she owned: a tan-coloured pinafore dress and with a dark blue turtleneck underneath.

“Hey,” a voice appeared out of nowhere, making her jump. It sounded like Remus, but looking around she couldn’t see anyone. The corridor was empty.

Remus’ face appeared a few centimetres from (Y/N)’s and a hand with it, covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. Once she had calmed herself, Remus removed his hand. “Did I scare you?” he laughed.

“What the hell is that?” (Y/N) gestured the Remus’ body, which had now appeared, and the shimmering fabric in his hand.

“James let me borrow his invisibility cloak, so long as I bring him back snacks.”

(Y/N)’s heart picked up speed again, “You told him about me?”

“No, no, I told him I had a date, but I didn’t say with who. Calm down.” He paused for a moment, taking in the panicked expression of the girl in front of him. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. “It doesn’t matter if they did find out. They’d be happy that I was happy.”

(Y/N) forced a smile and nodded. “Shall we go get some food?”

The pair spent all night at a table in the corner of the kitchen, chatting and laughing. It felt so natural, so right. (Y/N) discovered that Remus had been paying the House Elves regular visits, in the same way she had. It was a miracle they’d never bumped into each other, but Remus had an advantage with being able to use the Invisibility Cloak. (Y/N) found herself telling him things very few people knew. She didn’t have a particularly close group of friends at Hogwarts, so it was nice to talk to someone she felt she could trust. She didn’t know why she felt so trusting towards him. They barely knew each other, but it felt like they’d been friends for years.

When they decided it was late enough, Remus walked (Y/N) as far back to the Slytherin common room as he could get, without arousing suspicion. He turned to her, taking both hands in his, “I’ve had a wonderful night, (Y/N), and I hope we can do this again.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Definitely.”

Without thinking, she leaned forward on her toes and pressed her lips to his. There was a moment when she thought he wouldn’t reciprocate, but when his hands left hers and were placed on her hips, she relaxed into him. Her arms wound around his neck and pulled herself closer.

~

Remus slipped into the Gryffindor common room and snuck up the stairs to his dormitory, hoping to go unnoticed. Of course, that was impossible when it came to the Marauders.

“Have a nice date?” James’ voice came out of the darkness. A lamp was switched on and Remus was greeted by the faces of his three friends, sitting up in their beds and all bearing wide grins.

“Didn’t peg you for a rule-breaker, Rem. I thought that was my job,” Sirius teased.

“What?” Remus said, playing dumb.

“We know who you were with,” Peter explained and was immediately hit by a flying pillow from Sirius’ direction. “Dammit, Wormtail. Why did you have to spoil the fun?” Sirius said, folding his arms and pouting like a toddler.

Remus folded up the cloak and tossed it to James. He began rearranging his bedsheets, praying his friends would drop to topic. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to stop until they’d got what they wanted.

“So, a Slytherin?” James asked. Remus’ heart sunk. They knew. He was less worried about the teasing he’d get from the boys and more about how (Y/N) would be treated if her house found out about their date.  Slytherin’s were a lot more judgemental about across house dating. Something about the pure-bloods not wanting others to tinge their perfect appearance.

“A very pretty Slytherin, to be exact,” Sirius added, “Rem, I highly approve. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is lovely.”

Remus shot him a look, “Thanks Padfoot, not that I need your approval.”

Sirius held his hands up in surrender, “Just saying.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Remus pleaded, “God knows what they’d do to her in the snakes’ den if they found out.”

“Screw them,” James said, jumping to his feet on top his bed and nearly colliding with the ceiling. He ducked just in time and hopped down. “Who put that ceiling there?” He stared up at it, as if it would fight back.

“What my stupid friend over here is trying to say is,” Sirius said, “Fuck whatever Slytherin think. If she makes you happy and you make her happy, that’s all that matters. And if they try and start anything with you or her, we’ll be there to back you up. My dim-witted younger brother may not be the smartest cookie in the jar, but he knows not to mess with my friends.”

~

Remus and (Y/N) had been dating for a few months now. It hadn’t taken long for everyone to find out, as it was extremely difficult to keep anything a secret at Hogwarts. At first, there had been side glances and judgmental looks, when the pair walked through the Great Hall holding hands. However, people stopped caring after a while. There was still the odd Slytherin or even Gryffindor who would sneer or nudge their friend when (Y/N) walked past, but this was usually shot down with a look by whichever Marauder was nearby. Lately, it had been (Y/N) herself who had plucked up the courage to defend herself in situations like that.

It was Christmas time and Remus and (Y/N) were snuggled up under a blanket in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. (Y/N) was reading a book, while Remus played with her hair, plaiting it into tiny braids.

“I have a present for you,” he said, disturbing the silence. (Y/N) looked up from her book.

“You do? But it’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know,” Remus said, sitting up and reaching down to the floor next to him, “I just couldn’t wait until then to give this to you.” He produced a small box, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a green bow. (Y/N) took it and carefully unwrapped it. She took the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful silver bracelet. It had two charms on it: a black wolf, howling up at the moon, and a green snake. The snake was decorated with silver swirls.

(Y/N) gasped, taking it out and examining it with great care, “It’s beautiful, Rem. Thank you.” She looked up at him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

He took her wrist in his hand and helped her fasten the bracelet. “Anything for you, Clumsy,” he laughed.

[shedreamsofstars]

Eggman’s Misadventures in Shipping - Chapter 2

What use is an IQ of 300 if you don’t use it to enact an elaborate scheme to set up your arch nemesis. Eggman’s had enough of getting his butt kicked every other day by that stupid blue pineapple. To regain his spark, it’s time for a plan the Doctor knows is fool proof … at least, according to certain ‘shippers’ on the internet 

Previous Chapter

Phase One: Picnic for Two

Beep beep.

Sonic cracked open a single eye as he lifted his arm, bathing his face in the green glow of his communicator. The familiar symbol of a moustachioed man flickered on the small screen, directly above a set of coordinates.

With a single tap the beeping ceased, and the blue hedgehog sat up with a yawn. The branch he rested on quivered precariously at the movement, but Sonic was used to it. What was a nap without a little danger anyway?

He glanced up towards the sun hanging high in the sky and frowned. It was a little early in the day for an Egg Attack; Doctor Eggman usually didn’t start anything until after lunch at least. Even still, Tails had sent through the location which meant something was up, and Sonic fully intended to find out what.

He sprang into action, jumping off the branch with graceful expertise before spurring his legs into action. Instantly, the landscapes around him merged into a mesmerising kaleidoscope of grassy fields and floral woodlands. He would never tire of that view.

Wherever Eggman was, he wasn’t far as it only took the blue hedgehog a Sonic minute to reach the location. As he approached, he slowed down to take in his surroundings and prepare himself for whatever crazy creations the Doctor had waiting for him this time.

Perhaps it would be those crab-like badnicks? It had been a long while since Eggman had pulled those out of his sleeves. They were always fun to destroy, and he had to admit he had no love for sea creatures – metal or otherwise.

Eggman seemed to have set up in the middle of a forest this time Sonic thoughts as he weaved between the trees, readying himself of for a fight. Whatever lurked ahead, the faster he defeated it the better.

He spotted a clearing up ahead and burst through the bushes, his feet dragging up dust in great plumes as he ground to a halt. As the dust dropped back to the ground, Sonic’s jaw almost dropped with it.

Instead of a horde of robots waiting to attack him, it seemed he had stumbled right into the middle of someone’s picnic. Strings of pretty little lights hung between the trees like stars, glittering above a large polka dot sheet that had been stretched across the length of the clearing. Small wicker baskets laden with food were scattered across it and Sonic’s mouth watered at the sight of all the snacks and treats.

“What the-”

“Sonic, is that you?” someone cut in. Sweet and melodic, the boy would recognise that voice absolutely anywhere.

“Amy!” he called with a wave as the girl emerged from a path he hadn’t noticed before now. She was glancing around her warily and Sonic got the distinct impression that she wasn’t the one behind the picnic.

“What’s going on?” Amy asked, eyeing the baskets of food warily. “I thought Eggman was supposed to be staging an attack here.”

“I thought so too … but I guess Tails got it wrong?” he said, knowing the words weren’t true even as he said them.

Amy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe, but Tails is extremely careful. Why would he send out an Egg Alert just to meet us a for a picnic and then be late?”

“I don’t know, but I trust Tails. He must have asked us here for a reason.”

Amy agreed with a simple nod before walking right into the centre of the set-up, eyeing everything with a careful gaze. “Oh, there’s a note,” she said, plucking up an envelope from the edge of the blanket. “It’s for you.”

“You can open it,” Sonic said, waving away the note in favour of peeking inside some of the closed baskets. Amy opened it up, sliding out the note contained within before reading it aloud for the other hedgehog to hear.

“Sonic. A private picnic for two is just the opportunity you need. Consider sharing a feeling or two whilst you share your food, or you will regret it.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” Sonic scoffed, his head popping up over her shoulder to peer down at the note. “Something tells me it’s not from Tails either.”

“It’s not signed,” Amy said, flipping it over to make sure there was nothing hidden on the back. “What do you think it means?”

Sonic took a step back and shrugged before pointing to something by her feet. “Hey look.” The boy reached into the basket full of apples and cherries, pulling out an envelope identical to the one in her hand. “This one’s addressed to you, so whoever set this up was expecting us at least.”

Amy accepted it from him and opened it quickly. The writing matched the other note, and though there was no threat, it was just as confusing.

“Amy. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You already know what you need to do.” At some point, Sonic had resumed investigating the picnic and now he sniffed loudly in the direction of the largest basket that sat in the middle of the spread. “Sonic, what are you doing?” Amy asked, the notes in her hand all but forgotten.

Sonic didn’t reply as he picked his way to the basket. He lifted the lid slowly and peered inside, a large smile creeping onto his face as he spotted what his nose had already known lay within.

“Oh sweet,” he exclaimed. “Chilli dogs!” Sonic immediately dropped to the ground and plucked one out for himself. “And they’re still warm” he added dreamily, taking a large sumptuous bite out of his favourite food.

“Um … Sonic, are you sure you should be eating those? You don’t even know where they came from,” Amy said, looking as if she was barely restraining herself from knocking the food right out of his hands.

“They’re from heaven as far as I’m concerned,” the hero replied with a mouthful of chilli and a casual shrug. “It’s free food Amy, don’t question it. Especially when it tastes so good.” A dream sigh crawled across his face and Amy rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” Sonic said, patting the empty space on the blanket beside him. “At lease come and try some. It really is incredible,” he added, dragging out the last word to emphasise his point.

Amy bit her lip reluctantly. Sonic sighed loudly before reaching forwards and pulling her to the ground in one gentle sweep. With a small shriek, Amy found herself sat so close to Sonic that her fingers rested mere inches from his own as he held his chilli dog for her to try.

Giving in, Amy leaned in and took a nibble.

“Am I right or am I right?” he asked with a proud smile.

“You’re right,” she admitted, chewing the food slowly and carefully, as if it might still explode in her mouth. “Although I’m not happy about it.”

Sonic chuckled, swallowing the remaining chilli dog whole before throwing open the basket again. He leaned forwards and rifled through the contents with a determined expression. “Aha! I thought I could smell something sweet in there,” he called, pulling out what looked to a strawberry topped tart on a dessert plate.

“Thanks,” Amy said as she accepted the sweet treat, a little less cautious now that nothing had happened to either of them.

“Huh, it looks like there’s only one spoon in here.”

The blue hero lifted it out of the basket, the silver metal glinting in the dapple sunlight as he handed it over to his pink counterpart. “Bon appétit.”

“Would you like some Sonic?”

The boy in question had managed to find himself another chilli dog and was in the process of devouring it when he turned to her with a dismissive wave. “Nah, sweet stuff is more your thing.”

Amy nodded in agreement before tucking in to her treat, all suspicions and notes forgotten as her mouth exploded in a twist of strawberries and flaky pastry.

“No, no, no!” Eggman cried, smashing his fingers on the keypad before him. The computer buzzed angrily in response, unable to process the incoherent keycodes. “He was supposed to share the dessert with her, not just give her all of it.”

“I think perhaps you should have left a more specific note,” Orbot commented.

Eggman only growled at him in response as the door flung open and Cubot rushed into the room, his metallic hands holding a tray laden with lemonade and chocolate. “Is it happening yet? Did I miss it?” he called hurriedly.

“Slow down idiot, the only thing you missed was that hedgehog being useless … as usual,” the man groaned, grabbing his drink and sipping loud enough for the sound to echo through the room.

“Oh,” Cubot said.

Once the glass was drained, Eggman seemed to have cooled off a little. He turned back to the screen, exiting the multiple error messages that had been prompted during his earlier key smashes.

“Well, I suppose this is why I have more than one phase,” he conceded. “This ‘date’ is a start. They might be sat near each other but it’s still too distant for my liking,” he noted, examining the live feed footage of the two hedgehogs at the picnic.

The man seemed to stop to think about something for a moment before turning to his two minions with a menacing look. “Alright. I think it’s time to initiate phase two. Orbot. Cubot. Send in the Bee bots. Let’s see if this can’t get Sonic to make like a bee and find his honey,” he chuckled, the sound resounding through him.

“Yes Doctor,” the two chimed in as they disappeared out the door to make the preparations. Eggman turned back to the live-feed, scratching at his chin impatiently at the two figures enjoying a peaceful picnic on the screen.

It wouldn’t be peaceful for long.

(pretty sure apologising for my sporadic updates is a bit redundant by now but even still, thanks for sticking with me and being so patient folks)

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have the time feel free to drop your thoughts in a review and I'll see you guys in the next one. Until then, chao :)

[areiton]

text me maybe

Summary:

He’s drunk and there’s a really hazy decade in the nineties that Rhodey looks pained when he even thinks about that says doing shit when he’s drunk is a bad idea.

There’s also a new building on MIT campus and a yearly donation that supports that theory.

But MIT and Rhodey are far away and that clunky black flip phone is not, and he snarls as he snatches it up and punches in the message.

It takes almost five minutes because the tech is obsolete and he is drunk but he does and he smiles at it, viciously pleased.

~*~

Chapter 3 of 4. Lots of angst and miscommunication and pining. Enjoy.

Read on AO3

~*~ 

The truth is--he doesn't do it on purpose.

He's sitting on the couch, in the middle of the morning, and something under his ass vibrates, and it--

It's a message.

Angry and hurt , and he stares at it for a long time, before he every decides to respond.

 ~*~

  He knows better, is the thing. He knows the right choice is--give the damn thing to Stevie, walk away. Don't make an already broken team even more fractured. He's done enough damage.

But there is Wanda's fury, when Stark's name is mentioned, the way Steve's mouth goes tight and unhappy, the way he looks at Bucky like he's reassuring himself that his best friend isn't dead.

He isn't. They're both fine, and even Sam and Wanda have been patched together. Natasha is quiet, especially now that Clint went back to his family and his farm, taking a voluntary house arrest to be with his family, and she doesn't get involved when Wanda starts spitting her fury at Stark.

They're all fine . They all walked away, even if it did take a prison break that stretched even his considerable skills.

Stark didn't.

Stark almost died in Siberia. He doesn't know if Stevie knows--but he kept an ear to the ground, hacked Tasha's computer to get the intel he wanted, and--he survived, but he was hospitalized for almost three weeks, and Rhodes was still recovering.

No one died--but Tony almost did, and he is still reaching out, furious and hurting, and almost begging for an answer.

He pockets the phone, and when Stevie mentions misplacing it, a few days later, he doesn't say anything.

Because it's almost relief, in his tone, at having lost that lifeline to his one-time friend. Because there is still righteous fury in his eyes, when he looks at the empty sleeve where Bucky's arm isn't .

Because he smiles, just a little, when Wanda mutters dark insults at the breakfast table, watching an SI press conference.

Because Tony--Tony was hurt, was almost killed, and maybe all of them fucked up, in Siberia and in the days before that showdown--but he thinks maybe Tony is the one who deserves an apology.

  ~*~

  You're right.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm so fucking sorry.

  ~*~

  It occurs to him, about the sixth message from Tony, that he should probably explain who he is.

That Steve isn't on the other end of these messages.

But Tony is so guarded, so defensive.

And there's the ugly, selfish truth:

Bucky is lonely.

He is so goddamn lonely.

He's on a team, for the first time in seventy years, has his best friend back at his side, and people who would throw themselves--had thrown themselves--into the line of fire without hesitation, and he felt more alone than he had when he was HYDRA's pet.

Steve watched him, constantly, big blue eyes hopeful and sad. Tasha watched him with wary caution tinged with disappointment. Wanda he avoided completely--she was a good kid, he was sure, Stevie said so, but she was created by HYDRA and she terrified him.

Sam--Sam was the closest to normal, quick to tease and snark, push Bucky on his bullshit. But he was wrapped up in Steve, head over heels pinning, and Bucky was on the outside of that, alone.

He was so fucking lonely, and the phone buzzing quiet in his pocket--made him wonder if maybe Tony was lonely too.

  ~*~

  He reads what he can about Stark. He's careful about it, but sometimes, when he hides behind his tablet, he can feel Tasha's gaze on him, and he looks up to see her watching, her green eyes narrow and far too knowing.

He ignores it. Ignores her, as much as he can, and reads.

Before the war, he wanted to see the future. Took Stevie and a couple dames to an expo, right before he shipped out, because it's the closest he was going to get. But what Howard Stark had displayed at that long ago expo--it's nothing compared to what his son does.

Tony is the future he's always wanted to see, and he gets to live in it, gets to listen to the man babble about his projects and chatter about his bots, and with every text--he doesn't know how to give this up.

He doesn't WANT to give this up.

  ~*~

  He sends pictures.

It's dangerous. He knows it's dangerous. But he can read the loneliness in Tony.

Honey bear went back to DC today. I know I can't keep him here--but the man broke his back, I thought I'd get him longer than this.

Pepper is dating Norman fucking Osborne. Norman. I think that's a step below Hammer.

He's lonely, and he can see that same loneliness reflect back at him, and he does it impulsively, sitting in Paris because Natasha's safe houses are only ever in the middle of huge cities and in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He sends it, and Tony is teasing him, gentle and sweet, about being alone, and Bucky drinks his too-sweet coffee and savors the feeling like, maybe--maybe they aren't.

Maybe together, like this, neither of them are alone.

  ~*~

  He doesn't understand the accords.

Or maybe it would be better to say--he doesn't understand Stevie's reaction to the Accords.

They're watching a tiny TV. Stark is at a narrow table by himself, sunglasses perched on his face, arguing with representatives from around the world.

He looks tired, Bucky thinks, and touches the phone in his pocket.

"He's an idiot," Steve says, softly. It's the first thing he's said since they turned the damn thing on.

"He's trying to improve them," Natasha says. She's not against the Accords, Bucky knows. Of all of the Rogues, she's most likely to sign them. "That right there, what he's doing--he's trying to find the middle ground so we go home."

"No one asked him to do that," Steve says stubbornly.

"No one would," Tasha says, even and a little cold. "No one had to."

She leaves, and for a long time, no one says anything. Then, cautiously, Wilson says, "I could sign them. If he can get these concessions made--I could sign them."

"Sam," Steve says, and he sounds--shocked. Almost betrayed.

Sam flushes and looks away. "We didn't because as they were--they didn't work. But this puts the power in our hands, and yeah, we gotta answer to the committee--but Steve, we should have to be accountable to someone other than ourselves."

Bucky is silent. He doesn't get to have an opinion about this--or maybe he does, but he knows Steve sure as hell doesn't want to hear it.

He rubs his finger over the phone and pulls up the current version of the Accords.

If he is going to have an opinion--he sure as hell wants it to be an informed one.

  ~*~

  Wanda treats Stark like a monster, her eyes narrow with barely contained hate when she talks about him. She treats him like something to be afraid of, something to protect yourself from at best and destroy at worse.

"Stark hurt her," Steve explains, and Bucky snorts.

Because he didn't. Something he created did.

But the image that Wanda presents doesn't match the one that he has, happy, goofy inventor who bitches about his bots.

  U put motor oil in my smoothie.

  They're trying to kill me. Skynet is finally happening.

  Bucky smiles.

  Maybe they're giving you oil because you give them oil.

  You take good care of them, they're trying to do the same.

  He gets a picture of DUM-E with a truly horrific looking smoothie.

  Nope. Gonna die. Remember me fondly.

  And watch Terminator. You and your frozen buddy would appreciate it, I think.

  He pockets the phone after that, not wanting to deal with the inescapable fact that Tony still didn't know who he was actually talking to.

But he held that image in his mind, when Wanda ranted about how horrible he was, a put upon, fond smile and a bot nudging him with a black sludgy smoothie and laughter sparkling in dark brown eyes.

He thinks maybe--maybe his team never knew Stark. Not if they believe a man that gentle and patient with his children could ever be anything but kind.

  ~*~

  Tony talks about Pepper and Rhodes and Happy all the time, the three satellites that orbit him like he's the sun. He knows who they are--one dark night, when the team was sleeping and Tony was quiet and he couldn't stop or distract himself, he looked them all up,  reading everything he could find about the pretty CEO of Stark Industries, the decorated Colonel, the man who seemed to be in love with Potts and devoted to Tony.

The next day, three files appeared on his tablet and Tasha smiled at him, sphinx-like and lovely.

He didn't thank her.

But he did read the files, devouring the information.

He *knows that Tony doesn't have many friends, many people he's close to--and he knows who those people are.

And then he gets the text.

  Pete says I’m happier.

  And his whole world kinda screeches to a halt because there's someone else.

A man, who Tony cares about.

Cares about enough to actually mention, and that--he doesn't know what to say, and doesn't know *how to feel, so he shoves the phone away.

  ~*~

  It takes three days for him to admit--he's jealous.

He's jealous .

And if he's jealous--he has no fucking right to be jealous is the thing.

Tony is allowed to be happy, with whoever manages to make him that way. Bucky has no claim to that.

If this faceless Peter can make him happy--who the hell is Bucky to take that away.

  You ok? Been quiet.

  I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind.

  Want to share with the class? I'm not always good at listening but I always try.

  He pauses, considering.

He wants to say, I'm jealous. I don't want you seeing Peter.

He wants to say, I'm falling for you and it's the best thing to happen to me in seventy years.

He wants to say, I'm not Steve and I would never hurt you the way he did.

He doesn't.

He doesn't say anything, and eventually the phone goes quiet and still in his hand and he closes his eyes and breathes through the ache in his chest and tries not to hate a man he's never met for loving the man he wants.

  ~*~

  "Do you know what you're doing, Yasha?" Tasha asks, one night. The phone is loose in his hand and a beer that will do nothing to get him drunk is dangling from his metal fingertips and he blinks at her, lazily. Her bright, avid gaze is trained on that damn phone, and he shrugs.

"Don't hurt him," she warns, and vanishes down the dark hallway, leaving him alone with his churning thoughts.

  ~*~

  Peter is a child.

A teen with a big smile and adoring eyes and—if Tony is to believed and Bucky has made a habit of believing him at this point—a brilliant mind.

He’s a child, and Tony—

  I'm not dating. Not since Potts left me. There were a few one night stands but not--not for a while.

  Not since before we started talking.

There it is, spelled out in grainy pixelated green and black.

It shouldn’t give him as much hope as it does.

It shouldn’t fill him up with dread.

  ~*~

  He curls in Tasha’s bed, his phone silent and still in his hand, and says, “I think I love him.”

She pets his hair, and he nestles into her lap. “What do I do?”

“Tell him the truth. He deserves that.”

“Will I lose him?” he asks, watching her, because she won’t lie. Not to him, not about this.

“You might. But if you don’t tell him—you’ll never really have him.”

  ~*~

  Is it selfish of me to say I'm glad?

  I want to keep you all to myself.

  I know you have Pete, have Rhodes--but I hate them sometimes, for seeing you, for getting to see your smiles and hearing your laugh. Is that stupid?

  You asked what i'd want if I were there. i wish I could show you, baby. I wish I could touch you.

  We're leaving here, soon. I don't know where we're going.

  Tony, please talk to me. I know you're scared, sweetheart, but I promise I'd never hurt you.

  You got no reason to trust me. I know that.

  There's--we--

  He hesitates over the picture. He’s never sent pictures of himself, or any of the team—to big of a security risk, too much of a chance Tony would put it together, that he wasn’t talking to Steve.

But he wants to send this.

He pushes send before he can talk himself out of it.

  PICTURE ATTACHED

  I want to go home. I'm so tired, Tony.

  And scared. I wish--I wish things were different.

  i need to talk to you and i'm so scared.

  I know--we have to talk. Not like this. But soon. We have to talk.

  We're going out on a mission. I'll text when we get home.

  ~*~

The mission goes to hell, and he sees the messages—two—from Tony when he turns on his phone, but he can hear the gushing of Steve’s heart behind him, and terror is bright and coppery on his tongue, and he says, “Stevie got hurt.”

  ~*~

  Tasha squeezes his hand, and steps away, steps down the ramp, and he swallows the fear in his throat as he follows the rest of the team.

Tony—Tony is standing there, near Rhodes, beautiful and fragile, his eyes big and bright and hurt as he watches Steve in Sam’s arms, and yeah.

Maybe he had a chance. Maybe those feelings weren’t one sided.

Too late, now, he thinks, and reaches out, phone in hand.

He sees the fury and hurt and grief in Tony’s eyes, a moment before they go blank, and a heartbeat before Tony punches him and he thinks, this is exactly what I deserve.