#and doing shit w the array

[trickinabucket]

Coding is funny as fuck (while ur not doing it.) i was trying to get something to work and it had been like an hour+ before i tried something else, longhand. (But simple way, so I still kiiinda saved some time?)

Ed was in the room w me and hearing me bitch and cuss and plead to the fucking computer, occasionally injecting jokes in my miserable fit.

I figured out what it was, faced ed, sneered and put my head in my hands. Told them, “I figured out the answer.”

Ed waited for me to continue, because what the fuck does that mean when u dont code.

Then, I said: “I don’t like the answer.”

[taniushka12]

north-west of the farm array

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

[hopelessmidwesterner]

The Groupie

Eddie Munson x Rockstar Reader

swearing, fluff, angst, themes of anxiety, mentions of groupies with a negative connotation, slight sexism, a few uses of y/n, strangers to lovers (sorta), a few mentions of rock bands/songs (Metallica, Dio, Type O Negative, etc.) takes place AFTER season 4 (1991 ish) so Eddie and reader are around 24/25

3.3k words

Corroded Coffin has been hired to open for a local rock band at Outlaw Theatre, a venue with a Midas Touch for all of its performers. Whilst there, he meets you, the coolest person he's ever met. Unfortunately for him, his tendency to speak before thinking intervenes.

Cover art via rogue_alien on Instagram!

Ever since he could remember, Eddie Munson had been labeled as an idiot. The kind that would never amount to much more than dealing drugs and living in his rundown, close minded town until he saw the grave. Those closest to Eddie knew he wasn’t actually stupid. He had his moments, sure. Like the time at practice when he confidently insisted that he could play bass since Gareth broke his hand since it was “the same as guitar just with less strings” only to be humbled in front of everyone. Or all the times he flunked Biology, Algebra, English, and even P.E. Or the several occasions he tripped over his own clumsy feet in front of super pretty girls. He could be a dunce, sure, but he wasn’t the tried and true moron like everyone in Hawkins framed him to be. 

Right now, however, he sure did feel like maybe there was some truth to that notion. 

To backtrack: after the whole Vecna/near-apocalypse/saving the world/almost dying like twelve times thing, he’d managed to get his shit together and graduate by that May even if everyone in town was still convinced that he was a murderer. In turn, Corroded Coffin sort of blew up by the time Fall came around. At least, locally. They went from playing The Hideout to real venues with actual backstage areas and sound guys that weren’t drinking on the clock. Was it enough to make a living? Absolutely not but it was a fun side gig that was helping him get through life, which had mostly consisted of odd jobs while he saved his money to not only move out of Indiana but to also go to art school. Never in his life did he think he’d be the one who actually wanted to go back to school for a degree but so much had changed and now it was setting in that life after Hawkins, life after grief, did in fact exist. 

Tonight, Corroded Coffin had a milestone show at a venue just a couple towns over called Outlaw Theatre. The place had a Midas Touch so to speak: several bands that graced the stage there had gone on to win awards, to make millions, and to change music itself. He wasn’t sure if Corroded Coffin was destined for that greatness but it was exciting to experience and even more exciting when he met you backstage.

He never learned your name but it was at the top of his to-do list after a brief though life-altering encounter. You weren’t from Hawkins because if you were he’d surely remember someone as breathtakingly awesome as you. You were effortlessly cool from the scuffed motorcycle boots on your feet to the array of wacky, multicolored rings decorating your fingers. You even had one of those cool piercings that people in the magazines and on television labelled as a surefire sign of supposed evil much like metal music and D&D. A septum, if his memory served him right. 

He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head ever since and now as he lingered in the back of house at the bar after a quick changing of clothes, the headlining band kicking off with a darkened cover of Heartbreaker, he swore he felt his jaw hitting the floor. No, at this rate, his jaw was pushing past the floor and down towards the depths of Hell. Auburn colored eyes wide and face slacked into an expression that said “Holy shit. I am the idiot of all idiots. King fucking idiot.”, his mind raced to your interaction from earlier. That one, five minute (if that) interaction that was now the epicenter of his stupidity. 

☆☆☆☆☆

He’d simply been walking around backstage with Jeff, trying to get a feel for the place when your voice came in out of nowhere. 

“Have you heard of that new band from Brooklyn?” 

You were standing in the doorway of the headlining band’s green room, gripping a shiny can of hairspray while Ryder, the band’s keyboardist, sat in the chair in front of you. You were teasing his hair in preparation for tonight, eyes focused while you listened to his snarky reply. 

“What one? Brooklyn is huge, ya know.” 

“Type O Negative. It’s like goth meets metal.” 

“Never heard of ‘em. How did you even–” 

“You know Type O Negative?” 

Eddie hadn’t really meant to interrupt but it sort of just came tumbling out, piercing through the semi tense air of the hallway. You’d perked up, a shy smile flowering onto your face. 

“Hell yeah, I do. You a fan?”

“Y…yeah. It’s usually not my type of metal but they’ve just got something…indescribable, I guess.” 

He tried to maintain his cool even though Eddie Munson was the furthest thing from nonchalant in any case let alone this one. You’d dipped your head in half agreement, half understanding. 

“Yeah. I heard on MTV that there’s rumors of a tour outside New York. Hopefully, they come here.” 

“No way, really? That would be sick.” 

“That’s what the people are saying. But who knows, MTV is just another corporation at the end of the day so they could’ve lied for more attention.” 

God, you were incredible. Pretty, into metal music, and slightly anarchist? He could faint with a big ol’ grin on his face, he thought. 

“Ugh, yep. Remember when Melody Maker lied about the Black Sabbath reunion a few years ago for publicity? I was so pissed.”

“Yes! I literally asked for more hours at work for that in case they’d go on tour! So annoying.” 

“Right! Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way. This is Jeff, we play for–” 

“Corroded Coffin! Right? Or are you guys with uh…who’s the other one?” 

“Bullet Proof Vest.” Ryder cut in, making a face as you continued to tug and tease at his lucious, blonde locks. 

“Yes, them. Bullet Proof Vest. Sorry, bad with names.” 

“Don’t sweat it…We’re with Corroded Coffin, though, yeah.”

“Sick! We’ve got an old demo tape from a few years ago of yours in the van, it gets played all the time.” Ryder replied, amped as ever. He was antsy to get out of this chair despite your constant scoldings about if he sat still, it would be over with sooner. Rockstars rarely listened.

“Really? Thanks, man. We’re flattered…Have you guys ever played here before?” 

“Once before! This is our first time headlining, though. Kinda exciting. You’ve heard the theory, haven’t you?”

“Place has got a Midas Touch, mhm.” 

“Yep. Let’s hope if not both of us then one of us meets that fate, hmm?” 

“Yeah, for real. Oh, and uh–” 

Before he could even try to swivel the conversation to somehow include you again, a walkie talkie from somewhere behind you buzzed and crackled unintelligibly. Well, it’d sounded unintelligible but you evidently understood what they were saying because you picked it up and pressed the button on the side. 

“Go ahead.” 

“...photographer…front entrance…press badge…list…” 

You sighed and set the hairspray down, leaving Ryder with half-teased hair that looked utterly ridiculous. Well, more ridiculous than it was supposed to look. After thinking for a moment, you pressed the button again to reply. 

“Be there in 2. Can I get Celia from the merch booth to the green room please?” 

…no problem…” 

You smiled and nodded to yourself, stepping around Ryder with a quick exhale of stressed excitement. 

“Ry, have Celia finish your hair when she gets here. I gotta deal with that lady from the newspaper who’s comin’ to take pictures tonight.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” 

You rolled your eyes and paused to glance back at Eddie and Jeff. Jeff was his normal, calmed self whereas Eddie looked utterly gutted like a kicked puppy that you were leaving. If you noticed, you didn’t show it.

“Oh, uh…Eddie, Jeff. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you later, probably at load out?”

“Yeah. Sure thing! Hey, are you like a jack of all trades for these guys? Cuz we’ve been lookin’ for some roadies and stuff.” 

He gestured towards Ryder, who was already talking about something unrelated with Jeff, while you just furrowed your brows out of confusion. You weren’t picking up what he was putting down and a pang of embarrassment sliced through him as he tried to explain himself. 

“Ya know…you do hair, you do assistant stuff, are you a groupie turned friend or somethin’?” 

“Oh, no. I–” 

You still looked puzzled but then the walkie crackled again and you groaned, holding it to your mouth again with one last frustrated huff. You walked away as you spoke until your voice disappeared in the maze of corridors, offices, storage rooms, and utility closets. Just like that, you were gone, but he knew he’d find you again before the night’s end. He had to. 

☆☆☆☆☆

Heat fueled by the flames of his own embarrassment flocked to Eddie’s cheeks as the moment replayed in his mind like a broken record. Great, he’d gone and deduced you to a fucking groupie of all things. There was nothing wrong with following a band around, of course, but he knew that in this business (the business being rock and metal music), women were already so mistreated and underrepresented.

He hadn’t quite caught wind of the fact that being labeled as a groupie was potentially harmful to girls; it’d been a genuine question, nothing born out of sexism or anything like that. His words were coming back to sink its teeth into his jugular now as he stared at you, though. You weren’t fixing anyone’s hair or running around doing assistant duties (whatever that meant) or even watching from the crowd. No, you were standing center-stage and shredding like a Hendrix-Hammett-Page reincarnate, head bent back with your face towards the sky as the crowd went nuts. 

He was royally fucked now. Not only had he grossly assumed a girl backstage was a groupie but he’d done it to the literal frontwoman of the headliner: the only reason Corroded Coffin even nailed this opportunity in the first place. He wanted nothing more than to turn back time or to vanish into thin air but he forced himself to stay there and watch the entire set. He didn’t cower and hide in the van out back, he didn’t try to ignore the loud music, nor did he make himself forget about his insane mistake. He stood in it like a man and boy, was he glad that he did.

Your band was impressive. And not just because you were cool and super hot. The music was eclectic: a cheeky mix of heavy rock, metal, and some softer styles that reminded Eddie of the old folk and country tunes Wayne would play at home. It was the type of sound and performance that made him wonder how he’d never heard of you guys before booking this gig. He even blew a decent chunk of his recent paycheck on a tape and a bandana with the band’s logo at the merch booth before the encore even came around and by the time you actually did finish up the night with a cover of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, he was no longer overwhelmed with guilt and remorse. No, he was now a man on a mission. The mission being redemption. 

☆☆☆☆☆

You’d barely had time to clear your head before the backstage erupted into the routinely hectic process that was load-out. Curfew wasn’t for another hour and a half but this venue liked to be efficient and ahead of schedule, hence the push for clearing all the equipment and merchandise out of the building as soon as possible. You were still coming down from the high of another show well done as you hauled varied equipment out towards the dock, listening to but not really engaging with your bandmates that talked like it was an olympic sport. You’d become a pro at tuning them out while not getting caught and it was working like a charm until you clunked the amp in your arms down into the backseat of your rusted Buick. You turned on your heel to collect the fleet of guitars and whatnot you still had to pack up just to nearly run into an all too familiar metalhead; Eddie. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” 

“Not your fault, mine. You guys need any help packing up? We got a head start and loaded most of our stuff earlier.” 

“Um…sure, why not? I’ve just got my guitars and pedalboard left but I’m sure they’ve got the kit and stuff to conquer still.” 

“Sweet. Lead the way, m’lady.” 

He gestured forward in the direction of the building and you granted him a meek nod, doing as he said so he wouldn’t see the clear flattery in your features. It was subtle but there: added pink in your nose and ears, sparkling eyes, and a smile that wouldn’t quit. It was like you were next to Lenny Kravitz, your all-time celebrity crush, with the way your heart pounded from friendly conversation with this guy. He was nice, had killer taste, even cooler hair, and to describe him as drop dead gorgeous would’ve been an understatement. You barely knew him, duh, but this was the first guy you’d met at a show that wasn’t a total piece of garbage so, yeah, maybe you were crushing a little too hard in a delusional way. So sue you!

“Oh, I also wanted to uh apologize…about earlier. For calling you a groupie, I mean.” 

Like a real life record-scratching moment, you jerked your head in his direction and stopped mid-stride just short of the back door. He’d called you a groupie? Fucking when? And more importantly, why?!

“Y…you did that?” 

“Yeah. Well, I assumed you were a groupie turned friend cuz you were doing Ryder’s hair and…doesn’t matter. Shit call by me, I’m kind of a moron sometimes…all the time.” 

“Oh…d…don’t worry about it. I didn’t even catch it so no harm no foul.” 

You took a moment to pause your speech then you kept walking again. You weren’t offended, being called a groupie was actually super kind in comparison to the things guys usually said about you around here. You weren’t the biggest fan of the word but something about Eddie was extremely authentic, refreshingly so, and you felt more respected than anything in some odd way. He meant what he said and had no problem speaking his mind even if it was for something like this; taking accountability. 

“Plus, we all have our moments of uh…unintelligence. I had like six fuck ups just tonight, it makes us human, right?” 

“Yeah. Sounds nicer when you put it that way. I didn’t notice any of your fuck ups, for the record. You guys killed that.” 

He spoke in a much softer manner than he had earlier. You weren’t sure if it was because it was just the two of you or if it was all in your head. Irregardless, it made you giddy. 

“Really? Good, that’s relieving. I psych myself out alot.”

“Don’t we all? I thought my B string was gonna snap clean off during our last song but it’s a trooper.” 

You tried to keep it in. You really, really did. You didn’t want this guy to know how much of an obnoxious nerd you were (yet) but some higher power (that’s who you blamed, anyway) skipped over your insecurity and before you knew it, you were humming The Trooper clear as day because of the simple reference that wasn’t actually a reference at all. By the time you realized, horror flooded all of your senses but then you glanced at him and you heard it. Your humming had some harmonies with it, harmonies coming from him as he hummed with equal contentedness.  

Fuck, you were going to be a puddle by the end of this. 

As load-out carried on and as the venue’s fans, security, ushers, and bartenders filtered out to go their own way, you never stopped talking to Eddie. Your bandmates were shocked to see you so buddy-buddy with a practical stranger and Eddie’s bandmates were shocked to see him not choking around a girl. Nobody commented on it or even dreamed of interrupting, however.

You both formed an invisible box around yourselves to discuss the show, guitars, your favorite DIO record, why you thought KISS was overrated, the new thrift store that had just opened nearby, and anything else that came to mind. You both matched one another’s chaotically mild flow, which made the hours feel like minutes. The two of you were in your own, sort of perfect world, but it came crashing down when Ryder’s annoying voice ripped apart your ongoing debate: Metallica vs Megadeth. 

“Dude, we gotta hit the road! Some of us have a shift in the morning.” 

He was impatiently sitting on the hood of your car, arms crossed and legs dangling like he was a cranky toddler. He sort of was a lot of the time. You groaned and regretted the agreement you’d made earlier to bring him home. Of course he could sleep with any and every girl who squealed over his stupid keyboard solos but the minute you talked to a guy, it became a roadblock. Asshole. 

“Duty calls, I guess. If he doesn’t get his beauty sleep, it’s armageddon for the whole band. Uh…it was nice meeting you and the guys, Eddie. Let us know if you have another gig or something comin’ up. We’d be happy to come show our support.”

Eddie was equally as bitter about the fact that your conversation was being brought to an abrupt end but he concealed it better, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket in search of something. His heart thundered so loud that he wondered if you could hear it while he did so but he knew he’d only kick himself for eternity if he didn’t grow the balls to do this.

“Yeah, for sure! The same to you guys. And uh before you leave…”

You watched him pull a pick from his jacket. It was plain black, probably a Dunlop if you had to guess. With his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, he scribbled something on it with a silver-hued pen that had also been floating around in his jacket. He eventually capped the pen then blew on the pick to dry the ink, handing it to you carefully. 

“In case you wanna uh…continue our debate or something.” 

A phone number, his phone number, stared back up at you in slanted handwriting once you took it from him and you failed to fight the big ol’ grin that bloomed onto your face. Breathless, you nodded and gripped it between your thumb and index finger like it was worth all the money in the universe. 

“For sure. Thanks, Eddie. I’ll…I’ll call you.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it. Uh…I never caught your name.” 

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Y/N. Gotcha” 

He repeated it to test how it felt in his mouth. It rolled around his tongue, swam through his gums, and danced across every tooth like a ballerina. He liked how it felt. He liked it a whole lot. 

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, thanks for opening up tonight!” 

“Sure thing! And hey!” 

You paused at his sudden call right outside the driver’s side door, boots crunching in the gravel while Ryder pouted from the passenger’s seat since you’d finally unlocked the thing. An expression you couldn’t quite read, one that mixed joy with other things that were too subtle to understand, sat on his face as he cupped his hands around his loud mouth. 

“If that Type O tour turns out to be true, we’re going! Tickets are on me!” 

“Really?! I’ll hold you to it!”

“Oh, trust me! I’m counting on that!” 

[xervn]

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 🔧

oneshot | mechanic ellie x reader

ao3 link

summary: your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully ellie shows up and offers her help

18+ MDNI | 6.3k words | tags; modern au, porn w/ plot (like 70% is plot tbh), kissing, vaginal fingering, pining from reader? arguably, no use of y/n, not proofread

my first post on tumblr EVER and my first time seriously writing smut, so pls be kind!

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It’s midday and you’ve been driving down an isolated road in fuck-knows-where with the hopes you’ll be able to find a gas station in at least 15 minutes. You’ve been driving down this straight road for what felt like ages now, your only surroundings being orange-colored sand and leafless plants. 

Never in your life has driving made you more anxious, it was like you were in charge of safely disarming a bomb. You gripped the wheel and glanced at the gas gauge occasionally, each look wearing your hope thinner. You were supposed to fill your tank before leaving, but it wasn’t in your plans to get lost in the first place. You knew your incompetence would catch up to you eventually, but you didn’t think it’d be now. 

Your teeth grit against each other as you raced against time. You desperately repeated affirmations, hoping they would help you along the way. Maybe if you ignored the fact you could be stranded, you’ll get to your destination faster. 

My gas is NOT running out…

I will NOT have a mental breakdown…

I AM responsible…

Not even a good moment later, the engine starts sputtering as if you called it upon yourself. You desperately tapped at the fuel gauge, resulting in the amount dropping drastically. To your surprise, it’s been showing the wrong amount the entire time. You drove towards the side of the road so you could let the tank run out while you spit out a colorful array of obscenities. There was no doubt in your mind that this might be the worst day of your life.

You slammed at the dashboard of your piece of shit, beat up, 2012 Toyota Tacoma with unprecedented rage, dropping your head onto the steering wheel in defeat. The depleting noises the engine made as it slowly died only added to how you were feeling. Your face heated up and your eyes brimmed with tears; not because you were sad, but because you were so damn pissed.

“Fuck my life...” You sobbed out, forehead pressing harder into the wheel. 

The sudden blaring sound that came from the car’s diaphragm jolted you up and caused you to yelp out. Everything’s silent for a while— you included— like a city before a tsunami attacks or the quiet before a dam bursts. In proper fashion, you unleashed a waterfall of tears; slowly, but surely, turning into a wallowing mess. Tears, snot, and saliva everywhere all because you made an irresponsible decision and drove a terrible car to make irresponsible decisions in.

Out of frustration, you honked some more, beating at the wheel’s center like there’s a solution inside of it. Certainly, this wasn’t the best way to handle your situation, but it was the only thing you had the energy to do. Amidst all the beeping and profanities, you failed to notice a car pulling up beside you. They honked their horn in unison with yours and the harmony caused you to frantically look around for the source.

You turned to your left and your gaze was met with a green set of eyes. It only took a second longer for you to realize who or what was looking at you. A woman with short auburn hair and a freckled face was shooting you a concerned glare.  

All that was running through your head now was that a woman was looking at you and the manic episode you were having would undoubtedly scare off any future prospects. As your stomach turned into knots of shame, you muttered a low swear and quickly wiped away the remaining tears on your face. 

You took a deep breath and calmly rolled down your window, which took an agonizingly slow amount of time. You occasionally spared the woman a few awkward glances with an equally awkward grin. Your humiliation built up along with the comically loud sound coming from the rolling window. After what felt like an eternity later, the window finally rolled down and you looked up to meet the woman’s gaze again, further examining her features.

Right there and then, you swore your heart fell out of your ass. You never thought you’d find yourself saying something so cliche, but the lady was a sight for your teary sore eyes. She was wearing a simple gray tank top, which showcased her spectacularly shaped arms and tattooed forearm.

The sight of her alone made you question your sanity. Maybe you were imagining her to make you feel better? You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

 As you looked up at her even more attractive face, you noticed her scarred brow was perked up, which could only mean she noticed you staring, and based on the subtle curl at the corner of her lips; she found it amusing too.

 Your face instantly warmed up. You needed to defend your ogling quickly, but before you could manage out a single word, the beauty beat you to it.

“Are you okay?” The woman questioned, the slight lilt at the end of it only deepened your embarrassment. It physically pained you to imagine how much of your breakdown she saw.

“I’m fine, I was just...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, so you let out a sheepish laugh to fill in the space. 

“You sure? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” The woman gestures her head at your car as she speaks, not breaking a second of eye contact. 

You chewed on your lip, nervously shifting your stare before admitting, “Uh, yeah. I ran out of gas...”

“Looks like it slightly inconvenienced you.” 

A subconscious scoff fell from your mouth as you lazily gestured around you. “Slightly?”

“Just a guess. I could hear the honking a mile away.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the only thing that works on this junk.”

The woman let out an amused hum, casually glancing at the road behind her before turning to you again. “Did you already call for help?”

“Nope...” You responded, your eyes still wandering off.

 The woman idly wet her lips in thought before driving up the road. For a moment, you thought she rudely left you stranded on the side of the road, but after carefully looking, you noticed she was driving a tow truck. 

Your previous thought that she might be a figment of your imagination immediately came back, because what the hell? A real-life angel came to save you at your lowest. She parked in front of your car and stepped out of the vehicle and you peered out the window of yours, shamelessly following her movements in awe.

She was slim, lean, and held an average height. The jeans she was wearing fit her so nicely, you actually had to pinch yourself to stop looking. 

You reached for your rearview mirror and pointed it towards yourself, making sure most of your makeup was intact. Much to your dismay, your eyeliner was smudged, and your lip gloss was wiped away. So, not only did she watch you wail like a baby, you looked like one too. You glimpsed back at the woman, making sure she wouldn’t catch you in the act of dolling up for her. 

You stepped out of the car after quickly fixing your makeup, a bit shy to face the woman now. You weren’t particularly dressed like you were ready to do any flirting today, sporting a white graphic crop tee and distressed blue jean shorts. Nonetheless, you fidgeted with your clothes before approaching her. 

She double glanced at you as she moved stuff off the truck’s ramp, eventually blurting out, “I don’t have any gas in my truck, and uh–“ She abruptly stopped her action to look at you as she spoke, “– there’s no gas station out here for a while, but I have a garage not too far away.” 

“You’ll help me? I mean, is it okay? I don’t wanna shit on your plans.” You asked, but mostly out of decency. You needed the help after all. Plus, your only other option was to wait for another mechanic instead of just going with this extremely hot one.

She grinned and nodded a few times reassuringly. You found that every little motion she did melted you a bit. Just the tease of a smile from her could turn you into pudding. “It’s no problem, I was headed there anyway. It’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress.” 

You bit down a bashful grin as you muttered a thanks and she told you to wait in the passenger seat. When you walked off, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into you. You couldn’t tell if it was a phantom feeling or if she was actually staring you down, but every inch of you hoped for the latter.

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You took a look around your surroundings. The car smelled like diesel and marijuana, but you weren’t expecting much from a tow truck. There was a cute 3D dinosaur pendent hanging off the rear-view mirror and the car had small handmade stickers across the dashboard. 

Before you could look any further, the woman stepped into the driver’s seat and started the car. She just hooked your car up to hers, so she had to take a look behind to make sure it was in place, setting her tattooed arm on your headrest as she did so. Your heart skipped at the closeness and all you could do was stare at her like a dork.

It was slightly perverse how much you enjoyed staring at her face. You’ve seen beauty before, but she was a discovery. Another plus was that she smelt really good. She didn’t wear a sweet or flowery perfume. She wore something earthier, and it blended in perfectly with that slight hint of gasoline. The best way to describe it is that she smelt like a pinewood air freshener in a new car but fucking hot. 

The woman caught you off guard with a glance, her own face a bit shocked to find you looking at her. You quickly averted your gaze and eyed the road up instead, pursing your lips together as if nothing happened, attempting to ignore the shame away.

You were obviously embarrassed, and that usual mortified feeling washed over your body. She didn’t laugh or anything, but as she retrieved her arm and put her hand on the wheel, you nervously glimpsed at her face and saw a small, smug smile. 

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The drive was painfully quiet. All you could hear was muffled crunchy sounds of the road and the humming of the truck’s engine. You sat there, fiddling with your shorts as you slowly zoned out.

“Where are you headed?” The woman blurted out, causing you to abruptly turn her way. She was still focused on the road ahead, so you took the time to peer at her side profile, in which you deemed needed to be framed and hung up in an art gallery.

“I’m going to see my family upstate for the holidays.”

“How long have you been driving then?”

“About... three hours.”

“Three hours and you didn’t think to stop for gas?” She huffed out a melodic laugh and peeked at you. You’d let her tease you as much as she wanted as long as you got to hear that laugh again. 

“I thought I had enough! My stupid tank was reading wrong.” You responded, puffing your cheeks out at the thought.

“I’ll fix that too then.”

“That’d be appreciated.”

“Why’re you driving that old thing anyways?”

You shrugged as you spoke out, “Well, I’m a college student and it’s better than nothing.”

“Really? What’s your major?” She looked at you for a moment with genuine curiosity. It didn’t feel like she was just looking for small talk.

Her interest was comforting, but you were slightly wary to say it. Your major didn’t necessarily scream out sexy like psychology or law would. You hesitated before slowly speaking out. “… Astrophysics.” 

You knew the chances of her having any idea what your nerdy major was about was incredibly low. You bit your lip as you waited for the awkward ‘oh’ or ‘cool’ that usually comes after. 

“Astrophysics? That’s actually fuckin’ sick.”

Your brows rose in shock, never expecting anyone to respond that way. “Yeah, I like space stuff... I guess...”

You rubbed your forehead at your dull awkwardness and the woman let out another satisfying laugh at your lack of explanation. “That’s one reason to get into it. I like space stuff too. I think constellations are pretty neat.”

You smiled to yourself at her sincerity, and consequently, the thought of stars perked you up in an instance. “Me too! I had the perfect view of Aquila from my backyard growing up.”

“I’m jealous. I struggle connecting them myself, so I just go to that one space museum in the city to look at ‘em. But, fuck, if I could see– I know this is basic, but– if I could see Ursa Major with my own eyes?”

“You haven’t? The Big Dipper is one of the easiest to find.”

She chuckled before she spoke. “You’ll need to help me find it then.”

Help her find it? Lay underneath the stars and connect them with her? It was a very nice thought in your head, but you’re 100% sure she said it without thinking. You expected the previous silence to continue after that until she broke it again.

She was clearly embarrassed by herself, twisting her lips before finally saying something. “My name’s Ellie, by the way.” 

You sheepishly responded with your name and Ellie subtly smiled as she continued to drive down the road. 

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You guys pulled up to the driveway of the mechanic garage. There was a large decal with ‘MILLER AND CO’ over a wrench painted on the metal doors. The area was just as deserted as the road you guys drove on, minus the few farms around now. 

“Is this yours?” You asked.

“Nah, it’s my dad’s. I try to enjoy it like it’s mine though.”

“Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?” You wondered out loud, only to feel regretful after. You didn’t know her, and you were already asking personal questions. The slim chance she’s suddenly put off by you made you wanna curl into a ball and cry.

“I mean, I always wanted to be an astronaut growing up, but that was never in the cards for me. Things changed when my dad adopted me, I was practically glued to him. I did everything he did.” Ellie freely answered and it dropped your worries instantly. You found her openness incredibly attractive. At that moment, you could feel yourself yearning to learn more about her. “I still love everything about space though, don’t get me wrong.”

“And dinosaur stuff too?” You cheekily queried as you pointed at the rearview chain.

Ellie glanced at the cutesy decor and chuckled. “And dinosaur stuff too.” 

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After getting the cars into the garage, Ellie steps out of the car and walks over to your side. You watched curiously as she strolled to your door and popped it open for you. 

You stared and she stared back expectantly, gesturing for you to hop out. You smiled slightly at that, and Ellie smiled back. God, you could watch her smile for days on end.

“You can sit anywhere, it shouldn’t take too long.” Ellie said as you stepped out, closing the door behind you. 

You turned to face her before continuing the conversation. “Thanks again. Also, err... how much is it gonna run me?” Your teeth clenched a little as you asked. It wasn’t the first thing that you wanted to say, but you weren’t made out of money. I mean, look at what you were driving.

Ellie snorted at your expression and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

In response, you gave a doubtful look. There was no way she was this kind and wanted nothing in return. 

Leaning against the truck door, Ellie playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. This is my good deed for the month.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?” You quizzed, your brow perking curiously.

“Nothing at all. But if you insist…” She went on, looking off as if she was really changing her mind.

“No! No... Thank you.” You blurted.

You cursed yourself at how vulnerably broke you were being, and Ellie smiled wider than she had before. Once you caught onto that smile, your eyes latched on. It was only natural to stare at her teeth, her lips, wondering how they’d feel on yours; if she’d smile between her kisses. 

You quickly snapped out of it before you spiraled any further, but clearly not fast enough. 

“You have a staring problem, y’know?” Ellie stated, slightly tilting her head as she let her eyes travel over your body. A stare for a stare if you would. 

“I wouldn’t say it’s a staring problem.”

“If it’s not staring, what is it?” She asked with her eyes locked onto yours.

“Admiring?”

Ellie was slightly surprised at your sudden boldness, her smile faltered for a millisecond before quickly returning. 

“Hm, I could say the same.”

She basically confirmed she was also checking you out. Meaning, you had a chance. You looked away as you blushed fiercely, and in the corner of your eye you could see Ellie doing the same.

You don’t know when it started, but the vibe between you two became pleasantly tense. Any previous worries and doubts that Ellie might not like you vanished. You clearly had a chance with her, and you planned to see how far your luck would go. She turned away to clear her throat and pushed off the truck. You decided to move away yourself, finding a nice chair to settle yourself on. 

The spot you sat at put Ellie in your direct line of sight. You should probably call your family and tell them you’d be running late, but you were comfortable where you were. Ellie was incredibly captivating; you wouldn’t mind trailing her with your eyes as she did simple tasks like filling up gas for the rest of your life. She was like a really good fucking movie.

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Thirty minutes into your imaginary film, you thought the picture quality was getting better, but you discerned it was just Ellie getting closer. 

She rubbed her oiled hands off her shirt as she approached you. “Can you help me with something? I j–“

You sprang up to your feet before she could finish speaking. You didn’t need to hear what she had to say next. It wouldn’t hurt for her to see how interested you were.

Ellie went wide-eyed at your eagerness, shaking her head lightly. 

“You could’ve let me finish talking first.” She said with a subtle, taunting smile.

“I didn’t need to. I’m already getting serviced for free, so I’ll gladly do it.”

“Getting serviced, huh?”

You smiled coyly at Ellie as you recognized the implications of her childish repetition before correcting yourself. “I’m already getting helped.”

Ellie retained her smile as she turned back to the car, gesturing for you to follow her with one of her stained hands. You followed her over to the driver’s side of your truck where she knelt down and shifted an arrangement of tools on the cement floor. 

“I need to fix the wiring underneath your car to fix the fuel gauge. If you could hand the tools to me when I ask for ‘em, that’d be great. Can you do that for me?” Ellie questioned in a honeyed voice. She looked up at you, waiting for your answer; a cruel grin barely tugging at the corner of her lips. 

You only nodded as her stare left you too flustered to speak. You knew the intentions from her tone of voice alone and, boy, did it work. She was teasing you again, but even more obvious than the last. 

She fixed a set of tools on a white cloth, setting the toolbox open and nearby as well. You weren’t stupid, you can tell what almost all the tools were. Driving a car you do; it was only a matter of time before you had to do temporary repairs yourself. However, you realized the opportunity you had laid out in front of you, and you were most definitely gonna take it.

Ellie spoke as she retrieved a tool from the box, glancing at you to make sure you were following. Of course, you made sure to pay attention fully. 

Her gorgeous green eyes laid upon your dreamy lash-filled gaze up and you could read the subtle fluster off her face. “This is a ratchet. I.. I’m sure you know that already though.” Whatever you were doing was working and Ellie’s little stammer was evidence.

You looked at the tool and pushed out your full, bottom lip, slightly shaking your head. “Nope. I do now though. What’s next?” You immediately resumed your gaze at Ellie before you could even finish speaking. 

She grinned and it was clear she didn’t believe you, but the look in her eyes had a mischievous glint in them; so you knew it was definitely safe to continue. 

“Alright, princess. This? —“ She paused to pick up another tool mid-sentence, and the break gave you just enough time to process the panty-soaking pet name. “— Is a screwdriver. The pointy end screws things in.” 

You didn’t bother to look at the tool this time, making sure every inch of your face was telling her you wanted her to screw you in. 

“Uh-huh.” You nod with your eyes glued on Ellie’s.

Ellie laughed lightly with a new tone to it. You couldn’t describe it if asked, but you could describe how it made you feel. It took everything for you not to clench your legs together to relieve your now growing pressure.  

“Are you keepin’ up with me?” She said, teasingly. 

You grazed your teeth along your bottom lip, and you hummed in response. Ellie licked hers like an effect from your cause before she continued to school you on the tools she needed. 

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You two engaged in the flirty lesson until it eventually ended, and she left to fetch a garage creeper from a tool station nearby. 

Ellie set it at the side of the truck, where the driver would be, and sat down and laid back on it. You were sitting on the floor by the tools now, so you could easily watch her work. She rolled backwards and underneath the car, adjusting herself on the trolley by sending her hips forward so sexily you wondered if she did it on purpose. In that motion her top rode up a bit and since you were so close, you could ogle up her midriff freely. 

“Screwdriver. Enjoying the view?” Ellie suddenly quizzed.

Without a second thought, you handed her the screwdriver only taking a moment longer to register what she said after.

By now, you felt less embarrassed by Ellie catching you staring since she obviously enjoyed it. “The view? The view is nice.” 

“Just nice?”

“The view is really nice. Amazing, even. It’s a nice area, I might even move here.”

Ellie huffed out the faintest chuckle. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“We are, don’t worry.”

“Feel free to admire all you want then.” You could tell she was smiling as she said that despite barely being able to see her face.

The light banter you guys shared gave you twinkles all over your body. You wondered where this all might lead to. Perhaps nothing at all, or, as you hoped for, her number at least.

Ellie tosses the screwdriver to your side with a low hum before holding her hand out. “Pass me the torque, please?”

You reached into the toolbox, staring dumbly at the items. It seems you might’ve really needed the walk through after all. Along that tutorial you failed to learn what the hell a torque could be. “Let me try to find it...”

You looked through some more, trying to see what method could help you single out this torque. Meanwhile, Ellie rolled from underneath the car and sat on the creeper, rolling forward and towards you. You were so caught up in Ellie’s request, you failed to notice her presence.

 When you finally chose a tool, Ellie’s hand happened to land onto yours. You and Ellie shot each other surprised glances and Ellie eased the tension with a subtle smile. She pulled her hand away, but not fully nor quickly. Not quickly at all. 

In fact, she lingered like she wanted you to remember how her fingertips felt; slowly sliding her digits up the back of your hand. Just like that, everything felt like it was in slowmo. Everything but your heart, which was beating faster by the second. You knew you had to pull yourself together quickly. This moment could potentially make or break something.

“I found it.” You spoke out so lightly it could be mistaken for a whisper, peering your eyes into Ellie’s green pair. You didn’t have any expectations for what would happen next, but you were practically shaking from anticipation.

“Took you long enough. Do we need to go over it again?” Ellie responded just as low as you spoke. The husk and tease around her words made you clench around nothing, embarrassingly so. 

You didn’t let that stop you, however, letting yourself indulge in her teasing for your own guilty pleasure. “Maybe… What’s this again? A hammer?”

Ellie grinned at your faux naïveté, her head cocking to the side. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

“I just need a quick reminder.” You grinned back as you spoke.

“That’s not what you really want though, is it?” Ellie’s smile faded into a less prominent, yet more seductive one. 

You could swear up and down her eyes flickered down to your lips a couple times, so you naturally started leaning towards her. 

What you failed to realize was that Ellie had already started to lean towards you. She dropped off the creeper, decreasing the distance between you two dramatically. She leaned herself against her hands and spread her legs, leaving you kneeled between them. There were no coherent thoughts in your mind, but you finally had an expectation and that was Ellie’s lips on yours. 

Your lips collided and your eyes fluttered shut. You instantly dropped the torque back in the box and stiffened a bit, not sure if this was really happening or not. However, whether it was real or not, you wanted to do a good job. 

The kiss started off slow, testing the waters. Ellie’s smooth, gentle lips made you feel tipsy along with that smell you loved blocking your senses. You were completely intoxicated.

Ellie slid her palm on your hip and gradually roamed the small of your back. The sudden touch shot electricity through your body. She was balancing herself on one hand now, but she attentively stayed on your lips. You couldn’t stop the greed for more rushing through your core even if you wanted to. You placed your hand on the nape of her neck, desperately bringing her in to deepen the kiss. 

You could feel the grin etched into her lips and it only drove you further. She obliged to your wishes and parted your lips against hers with minimal effort, easily intruding the tip of her tongue between. Your tongues slid and ran across each other sensually, and the messiness of it all had you sopping where you knelt. Too lost in the moment, you accidentally let a low moan escape. If Ellie couldn’t tell how needy you were, she could tell now. 

She slowly broke away from your lips, and it left you both panting heavily. Your face, confused, and hers, studying. Did you turn her off? Did you do too much when she was probably expecting something less? You tried to avoid her eyes, too disappointed with yourself to look.

Ellie didn’t let the eye-contact break, following your eyes with a worried expression. “Hey, hey... It’s alright. You’re not in trouble.” Ellie said, letting out a cruel laugh at the end.

You frowned at the teasing this time and your embarrassment was even more evident.

Ellie took your expression in consideration as she leaned in to peck the corner of your lips. The gesture eased your worries, but you were unsure of how this would turn out. She gave you a brief smile before finally saying, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded your head slowly and Ellie frowned at it. “I need words.” She said, more sternly than you’d expect. 

She was quick to get a few words out of you. “I… I want this.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” She replied, leaning in to connect lips with yours again. You didn’t realize how much you missed that contact until you felt chills run through your body. 

You missed her lips on yours despite only kissing for so long. The hand Ellie had placed on your back drifted lower and grasped your ass, earning a moan from you, which Ellie took great pleasure in hearing and feeling. 

By now, your knees were starting to hurt, and it took a lot of restraints not to topple over Ellie. However, you refused to move your lips from hers, you just got them back. 

Unfortunately, Ellie must’ve noticed your stubborn shuffling since she pulled away despite your muffled protests. 

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable.”

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Ellie cracked open the door for you to a small lounge space and placed a quick apologetic kiss on your lips before walking off. She had noticed her handprint smudged on your shorts on the way to the lounge and it reminded her that she had to wash the car grime off before doing anything more with you. At this point you were so pent up you probably wouldn’t mind. You decided not to dwell on what risks you’re willing to take to fuck Ellie and sat yourself on a brown couch that felt a lot comfier than it looked. The vibe of the room was similar to Ellie’s car minus the smell of weed. Speaking of smells, it smelled just like her. 

Thoughts of Ellie panting and briefly taking your lips between her teeth flashed through your mind. The vividness, considering it just happened, made the heat between your legs increase. You instinctively pressed your thighs together and fought the urge to take care of yourself right there and then. 

Thankfully, Ellie strolled into the lounge and shut the door behind her, and it finished with a lock click. Your eyes met as she strolled towards you, plopping on the couch next to you.

Ellie opened her mouth to say something, but you didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. You cupped her face and pressed your lips into hers and you shut her up instantly. She leaned over you, pressing you back into the couch. Amidst the smacking and passion of your mouths against each other’s, Ellie’s hand drifted up your waist; thumbing along your skin. Everything was so hot and cloudy now; you couldn’t think about anything other than how good you feel. 

At some point, Ellie’s leg was kneeled, and her thigh was wedged between your legs. You only became aware of the new positioning after accidentally pressing yourself against her. You were laid down on the couch, completely dazed with Ellie hovering over you. She noticed you coming back to reality and grinned smugly as she moved her hand underneath your top and groped at your breast. You arched into her touch, keening, and Ellie rewarded the sound by rubbing her thigh against your clothed clit. 

You gasped sharply and the brief friction had you bucking for more. Your barely audible pleas must’ve triggered something in Ellie as she bent down to kiss you, taking your lips between her teeth. The feeling is even better than you remembered.

The intensity of the kiss is wet, hot, and you can’t remember when you last took a breath. You placed your arms over Ellie’s shoulders and lightly ran your fingertips along her back, rolling your hips into Ellie’s thigh. You were so close, so close until.. you suddenly lost contact. Ellie moved her right hand to your hip, gently pinning you down so you couldn’t move as she placed her thigh out of reach. 

She has pulled away from you too often and you weren’t going to back down quietly this time. You broke off from her kiss-swollen lips, rather reluctantly, and begged. “Ellie! Please… just—” 

Ellie shushed you and whispered directly into your ear, her breath hitting your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna fuck you myself. Be patient.” 

You weren’t gonna argue. You wanted that. You wanted her. Ellie moved her hand from your hips and went to loosen the button of your shorts. She moved her legs so that yours were fully between hers. You unwrapped your arms from her shoulders and helped her tug your shorts down urgently, lifting your hips to speed the process. 

Ellie positioned herself so she could tuck your knees in. She parted your legs and leaned back, taking a moment to appreciate how wet you were for her; your slick heat coating your underwear, glistening, all for her to see. It would’ve embarrassed you in any other instance, but you were so filled with lust, none of it mattered. 

She pressed her thumb against your clit, through your undoubtedly soaked panties and peered down at your face: brows furrowed and brimming with want. Ellie wasn’t gonna make you wait any longer. She moved the fabric out of the way and finally rubbed your bare clit with the pad of her thumb. You panted heavily, moving into her touch. 

Ellie leaned towards you, turning her wrist clockwise and dipping her fingers between your folds, rubbing your labia between her middle and ring digits. You groaned out and quickly pulled up your top and tugged your bra underneath your tits so you could grasp at the sensitive area. 

Your wetness coated Ellie’s fingers perfectly and it was only a matter of time before she fucked you with them senselessly. She coaxed your clit between her fingers, and although you were too wet for much friction, the pressure was just enough to get you there. 

You fondled and squeezed at your chest, pinching at your nipples as your eyes clenched shut; concentrating on that release you needed so badly. Ellie was practically salivating at the sight, still hunched over you and getting off from the look of you alone. 

Your much anticipated orgasm rolled through you, crashing in like a wave. You moaned loudly, arching your back and rolling your hips forward.

 Ellie slowed down and helped you ride out your orgasm before suddenly slipping both fingers into your entrance. The sudden intrusion made you whine, and Ellie dipped down and pressed a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes were brimming with tears, but you needed her to move. You needed her to fuck you badly. 

You squirmed under Ellie and she placed her free hand on the cheek she kissed, thumbing along it as she cooed at you teasingly. “Shhh.. You’re gonna ruin the makeup you fixed just for me.”

Ellie’s thumb creeped towards your swollen and gloss-less bottom lip, the aftermath of rough, sloppy kissing. You mouthed out a ‘whoops’ and faked a pout. 

Ellie laughed as she gazed down at you. The sight of her flushed red, freckled cheeks smiling down at you only made you want her more. Ellie felt your need squeeze against her fingers, and she made sure that you knew she knew by glancing down at her fingers filling your cunt. She bit her bottom lip and decided to give you what you wanted, slowly pumping her fingers in you. 

You keened colorfully, raising your tucked knees and wrapping your legs around Ellie’s waist. You needed her deep. She picked up her pace and curled her fingers, hitting that soft wall. She was doing everything right, there was no doubt in your mind she was an angel, a sexually experienced one at that. You pulled her down, meeting her halfway so you crash your lips into hers. 

Ellie moaned over your lips and, god, you were so close. She slid a third finger in you, pumping and curling her fingers; knuckles deep. You were so close you were seeing stars, it made you think back on the little conversation you two had in the car and you wondered if this is what she meant. Then just like that they fucking connected. 

You cried out as you came, tightening your legs around Ellie’s waist as you gushed over her fingers. She kept her fingers in you until you finished. Once Ellie pulled out, you groaned from the loss and she muttered out an apology.

You gave her one lingering kiss before plopping back down. You were utterly exhausted and aching. Aching... pleasantly, but that wasn’t the point. Your mind slowly started recollecting everything that happened. You were just fucked by a hot stranger you met in a town you still don’t know the name of.  You’re not sure you would’ve remembered after this anyways. 

“Usually I would help clean up, but...” Ellie gestured around her. You almost forgot you guys were at the back of a mechanic’s garage. 

You snickered and nodded understandingly. “Right. I know.”

You two stared at each other awkwardly despite what occurred not even five minutes ago. Ellie ruffled with her hair before speaking out, “So… Can I take you out sometime? When your trip is over?”

You pushed up so you were at eye-level with her. “I... I think we’re past that, but yes. Yes, you can.” You leaned in for a kiss and she returned it with a grin.

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click 4 bonus!

[1800bitchcraft]

Fate Part 1

A/N: I... don't even have an explanation for this, honestly. I love omegaverse shit and I am a horrible degenerate. Thus, this was born 🤷🏼‍♀️ it's been sitting in my drafts for ages, I hope y'all enjoy it! I have a very long form Ford fic that builds more on Bimbo!Reader and Researcher!Ford that will probably be what I post next. I am very close to finishing it and then I'll be cracking down on all the requests you've given me! I'm excited to be back, hope y'all like what I have for you!❤️

CW: heat, rut, dubcon (comes w/ the trope tbh), mates, biting, scent kink, Ford is oblivious until he isn't, feral Ford, switch Ford, marathon sex, mating press, probably a lil misogyny but it's hot okay?, oral, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, nesting, choking, marking, breeding, creampie

Part 2 can be found here

!!!! MDNI OR I WILL SCREAM !!!!

Ford would be the first to admit he wasn't always the most observant.

The truth was, unless you had horns or a tail or multiple sets of eyes, he would hardly pay you much mind. But you? You were different. He knew that from the first moment he laid eyes on you. He'd gone to the local library, needing an even quieter place than his lab or his study to continue his current research. He'd caught a glimpse of you as you'd wandered through the stacks. You weren't looking for anything in particular, seemingly roaming through the endless bookcases in search of anything that caught your attention. What happened instead, though, was you running smack into a tall, broad frame.

"Oof-" the grunt left you as you ran straight into a solid wall of a man, slightly soft around the edges but no less firm. Books tumbled to the floor and you tripped, feet going out from under you. You braced yourself for a fall that... never came.

Blinking, you realized you felt the firm press of strong arms around your middle. You turned your head slightly, meeting warm brown eyes, brows furrowed in concern. He tugged slightly, righting you. It was enough to set you stumbling again and your cheeks burned as you pressed up against his broad frame.

"Oh god!" You rushed out, flustered beyond belief. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, I-" your face was burning and the man held his hands up in a placating gesture. Your eyes darted over the calloused palms. Oh, six fingers?

"No, no please, it's quite alright." His voice made you shiver. Deep and smooth, it rolled through you. Comforted you. "Are you okay?" The soft, gentle edge that concern brought to his voice made you swoon. Subtly scenting the air, not even realizing you were doing it but grateful you did as the warm, smoky scent of him rolled over your senses.

"I- yes, I am. Thanks to you," you blushed a little and he only smiled warmly. Your head tilted down, noting the array of books scattered about. "Oh no, I didn't even realize-! Here, let me just-" You trailed off as you immediately went down, picking up the books that had scattered to the floor. Ford rushed to help you and your heart warmed.

"No, no, you don't have to do that. Really, it was my fault anyway," there was a scolding edge to his voice. Not like he was scolding you, however, but himself. It made you bite back a giggle, charmed by this man.

You held the stack you'd gathered in your arms, standing back up. Ford cast one more glance around, spotting another book half under a shelf. "Oh- wait," his brows knitted as he looked at the title. Native Plants and Their Uses. He stood with the book in hand, still frowning in confusion. This wasn't one of his. It looked more like a titled field journal than a published book...

"Oh! Actually that's, um. That's mine," you mumbled sheepishly. You shifted on your feet, holding out the stack of books in one hand and your free hand extended for a trade. He passed you your journal, looking at you with a little awe sparkling in his gaze.

"Fascinating... did you write that?" You nodded, tucking it back under your arm. You nodded shyly.

"Yeah, I did. Or am, I guess. It's not finished." You scratched the back of your neck. Ford inhaled, smelling the subtly sweet but spiced scent that clung to you. Laced with an unmistakable thread he recognized as omega. Flushing once he realized what he was doing, he shook his head a little.

"Amazing," he murmured and you preened a little under the praise. "I didn't think there were any other researchers around here." You blinked in surprise, gaze sweeping over him. He seemed to realize his manners then, blushing and holding out a hand for you to shake.

"Forgive me, where are my manners? I'm Stanford. Stanford Pines," you looked at his hand before taking it in yours. His skin was warm, pleasantly so, and you liked the way his callouses felt. "Most people just call me Ford, though." You smiled then and Ford felt breathless. You gave him your name and he repeated it, liking how it felt on his tongue.

"If you're not otherwise occupied, I'd love to sit and chat with you. Botany is a passing interest of mine; I'd love to hear about your research." You flashed him another smile, practically beaming with this one.

"Alright then, lead the way!"

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Since then you'd become a staple in his life. A constant companion. You'd given him your number, telling him with a sweet blush that made him want to bite that he didn't have to but you'd love it if he called.

He didn't think he'd ever called anyone so fast before in his life.

You often went out with him on expeditions. At first, he'd attempted to be smooth about it. Explaining away the pulsing, writhing need in his chest to be near you always as simple convenience. After all, if you were both going to be traipsing about the same woods, why not do it together? And Ford could keep you safe, he'd spent longer than you cataloging the anomalies that called Gravity Falls home. It simply made sense.

But then you'd flashed him that beaming smile, letting him get a glimpse of your kittenish fangs, and his heart had tripped over itself. You told him in a quiet voice, clearly pleased and flattered, that he was right, it did make sense. But even if it didn't you'd still say yes because you just liked being with him. And, well, Ford was a lost cause from then on.

He was just so unbelievably gone on you. You were so sweet. Smelling like gingerbread and honeyed chai and fresh pastries, just the scent of you was enough to have Ford relaxing immediately. The decades-old tension in his shoulders unwinding as you invaded his senses. You were constantly taking care of him, too. Stanley often having to send you after him when he knew Ford had been forgoing sleep again and wasn't responding to any of his usual methods. You always made sure he ate, bringing him muffins and little treats that were unfairly delicious. The first time you'd brought him one of your blueberry muffins, he'd actually moaned when he bit into it. The sight of your blushing face as you preened under the praise was one Ford would never forget.

At first, he'd tried to put you off your quest. Insisting that he kept to a very strict diet and exercise regimen, and he did, and that you hadn't needed to fuss over him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, really, it was the opposite. He worried he liked it a little too much; everytime you fretted over a new injury or some lost sleep, Ford's inner alpha basked in the attention. Purred and preened under your soft hands and gentle eyes. It was becoming harder and harder not to give in to the instinct to smother you in himself in return. Drown you in his scent and praise and... other forms of appreciation. But then, the last time he'd tried to push you away, insisting he was fine, you'd just looked so sad. Your scent had gone sour with rejection and you damn near pouted. Looking down and mumbling about how you just wanted to help. After all, he did so much already. You hadn't meant to be a bother. Seeing you like that, almost near tears and trying desperately to hide it from him, had been physically painful. Since then, he hadn't said another word about it. Allowing you to do whatever your heart desired and basking in the attention shamelessly.

"Ford? Fooooooord?" Ford blinked, startled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice and your hand waving in front of his face. He turned to face you fully, frowning at you when you giggled.

"You okay there? Y'kinda spaced out," he flushed, realizing you'd caught him daydreaming. You giggled when he whipped back around, attempting to look busy by organizing the papers scattered across his desk.

"Yes, I'm fine, you absolute menace." He grumbled the words, attempting to sound put off but the words lacked any real heat. You only laughed, dropping a hand to affectionately squeeze his shoulder. You seemed not to notice the way the touch lingered but Ford did. Feeling the heat of your palm even through the usual layers he wore. Your scent practically enveloped him, and if Ford took a deeper breath than usual, well. That was no one's business but his own.

"You're here quicker than usual," he noted, having looked at the clock. You smiled, shrugging off your coat and hanging it over the coat rack by your desk. You thought about teasing him, but then you noted the look of concern on his face and you couldn't. Not when he was so sweet.

"Yeah, I know. I decided to drive instead of walking like usual. When I let the dogs out this morning I nearly froze to death." Ford laughed at your dramatics.

"Yes, well, despite the onset of spring it is technically still winter," he said good-naturedly. Rolling his eyes with a smile when you stuck your tongue out at him and grumbled something about semantics.

You owned a cabin less than 20 minutes away, similarly secluded, and often preferred to walk over instead of driving. Though, while Ford's chosen isolation was more for the protection of his research, yours was out of instinct. When you'd told him, Ford had rambled on about how it made sense given that omegas tended to prefer making their dens as secluded and easily defendable as possible. When you'd only given him an adorable head tilt and a shy smile in response, mumbling something about how you hadn't wanted to say that but yes, he was correct, his heart had thudded painfully.

"Well, thankfully I didn't have any outings planned, so you'll live to see another day-" Ford turned to face you, and then promptly choked on his own words. You were fishing out your journal from your bag, not even paying attention to him. Which gave Ford plenty of time to devote all of his attention to you.

You weren't wearing anything out of the ordinary: jeans and a black t-shirt, an outfit he'd seen on you several times over the course of your working relationship. But the way you filled it out was doing absolutely lethal things to his self control. In fact, he was nearly certain he'd seen you wear that exact pair of jeans only just a month ago. Then, they'd been loose enough to be comfortable. Now, though, they looked practically painted on. The way they clung to the plush of your thighs and the heart shaped curve of your ass was obscene. And your shirt- so tight around your chest and middle that Ford could see where the extra pounds you'd complained about gaining just a few weeks ago had settled and it made him want to squeeze and bite. Absently, he registered his hands flexing where they gripped the lip of his desk, belatedly realizing he'd stood suddenly, wanting desperately to grab you and-

"Ford?" You had turned back to him, noting the way he stared at you. You flushed under the attention, your embarrassment multiplying when your body pumped out copious amounts of pheromones, inner omega purring under his focus. Seeing the way Ford’s nose twitched as he caught your scent. Goddamn pre-heat biology, you thought to yourself.

"I- sorry, I know I know it's a bit much but I didnt want to be late and if I changed I would've been and-" you were rambling. You knew you were but you had to. Anything to distract yourself from the way Ford was openly staring at you, like he couldn't help himself. Your inner omega preened at the attention, though. Especially from the man whose attention you'd been trying to catch for almost the entire time you'd known him.

"Its- no, it's alright, please. I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare it just caught me off guard," Ford stammered through an excuse. He caught himself scenting the air like a goddamned teenager, nearly overwhelmed by how much sweeter you smelled and having to cover his mouth and nose with his hand to keep from inhaling and filling his senses with you like he so desperately wanted to. You smiled a little at his attempt to put you at ease, wincing when he had to cover his face.

"Ah- maybe I shouldn't have come in today," you shifted nervously on your feet. "I thought it'd be fine but clearly I'm closer to my heat than I thought." You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. Internally, Ford was swearing at himself. Your heat, of course. He sighed, hating how your scent suddenly soured.

"I'm so sorry, dearest, the thought hadn't even occurred to me but of course it would be time for your heat. What, with it being spring and all." You shrugged slightly, resolutely avoiding looking at him and it stung more than Ford cared to admit. "If you don't mind me asking, how close is it?" You winced.

"...I'm due to start in a few days," you mumbled, bracing yourself for the worst. Anyone else would've been furious at you for being so irresponsible. For going out when you were so close to your heat and risking the health of others. But, selfishly, you had wanted to see Ford. Wanted fresh memories of him to help you through your heat. Ford frowned, concern marring his handsome face instantly.

"Oh, darling, what are you doing here?" You blinked when you found his tone wasn't one of indignation or anger, but simply hushed and gentle concern. You looked up at him and gasped, finding he was suddenly very much in your face and fussing over you. You blushed as his hand pressed to your face gently. First on your forehead, then your cheeks. "Mmhm, as i thought. You're burning up, sweetheart."

You hummed, not registering anything beyond the feeling of his skin against yours. Ford saw your eyes flutter closed, your body swaying slightly on your feet. "Whoa, careful," his hands moved to your arms, holding you still. Your heart warmed at his obvious care for you, the way he so calmly took charge. "Alright, that's it. You're in no state to be here. You should be home, resting while you can, in your den." You didn't want to admit it but you liked the sound of that. You sighed, clearly put out.

"You're right, I know you're right." Ford nodded, then gently guided you to sit down, worried you'd fall over if you spent another second on your feet.

"Oh, I'm always right, have you forgotten?" His tone was teasing, aiming to make you smile, and of course it worked. You even threw in a little roll of your eyes and Ford relished in the return of your attitude he loved so much. "Just sit tight, let me grab my coat-"

"What, why?"

"Sweetheart. You're not driving home, you're in no state for it. I'm honestly surprised you even made it here." His tone left no room for argument. It wasn't a command, Ford wouldn't do that without your consent, but it may as well have been one with how quickly you settled. Ford deliberately ignored the way your slight, obedient nod made some buried part of him purr. Shrugging on his coat, he walked over to you, holding out his arm for you to take. "Cmon, up you go. Time to get you home and in bed."

If you noticed the double entendre, you didn't comment. He was pleased to note that you didn't argue, instead taking his arm and pressing into his side so that he could feel you, warm and soft against him. He was able to get you into the car with little trouble. Though he ran into a new problem once the doors were closed and the engine started: your scent. It filled the small space in record time and Ford was mortified when he realized he was rumbling out soft, pleased subvocal growls. You flushed with pleasure at the sound, though, and relaxed into your seat and Ford couldn't find it in himself to stop. He decided a little embarrassment was worth it if it put you at ease.

"M'sorry," you mumbled softly, finally breaking the silence. Ford glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You slumped in your seat, looking miserable, and deliberately avoided his gaze.

"What ever for, sweetheart?" He asked.

"Just- I didn't prepare better. I shouldn't have come in and now I might've thrown you completely out of wack-"

"Now you listen to me." His voice was stern but not angry. It captivated you and your wide eyes were now trained on him. You barely stopped the whimper threatening to burst free.

"I am a grown man, not some undisciplined little boy," he said, voice firm and unrelenting. Needing you to understand. "I am perfectly capable of controlling myself. And even if I wasn't, it still wouldn't be through any fault of yours, understand?" You nodded, feeling small under his dominating presence. If it were anyone else you'd hate it, but for some reason, since it was Ford you only wanted to crowd in closer. To drown in the spicy notes now coloring his scent.

"Good." He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "And if it's my rut you're worried about, don't. I haven't had a rut in years, I highly doubt I'm going to start now." He huffed a slightly humorless laugh. Didn't tell you about the heat pricking along his skin, the back of his neck. The way his heart rate had picked up and not settled down since he first scented you in the lab. How his instincts pressed and clawed at him, insisting he protect and provide. He frowned at himself, finally pulling into your driveway and parking in front of your house.

He got out, rushing to your side and helping you out and to the door with a strong arm around your waist. "Y'know, i can walk just fine. I'm not an invalid just because I'm in pre-heat," you mumbled. Ford laughed.

"I'm well aware of how capable you are, darling. But you look dead on your feet and I'm not keen on taking unnecessary chances." You hummed softly, unlocking and opening your door. He stepped in with you, the scent of your heat and just you hitting him like a brick wall in the face. You shrugged your coat off, hanging it up and leaving your shoes by the door, padding softly to the kitchen. He heard a slight clattering as you opened the fridge and shut it, then moved to the pantry and repeating the process.

"Dammit," you muttered. He followed the sound if your voice and found you leaning against the counter. Your posture was tense, brow furrowed and expression one of frustrated exasperation. He hated that look on your face, the way your scent changed with the emotions flitting through you. He wanted that sweetness back with the undercurrent of need that your heat was bringing out in you.

There's more than one way to solve that problem, his mind oh-so-helpfully supplied and Ford swallowed. Shoved the rising urges down, stuffing them into a corner in the back of his mind.

"What's wrong?" He finally asked, just barely stopping himself from reaching out to smooth the furrow in your brow.

"Oh, just I haven't gotten groceries yet. I was hoping I'd just forgotten and would find them in my cabinets, but no such luck." You huffed, running a hand through your hair. "It's not a good idea for me to go out now, either, but I don't have much time left..." Really the thought of being surrounded by so many people set you on edge and made your skin crawl.

"I could pick them up for you," Ford offered, perhaps a little too eagerly. "I can go tomorrow and come by to drop them off. Gives you time to send me a list, too." You blushed, internally pleased that such a strong alpha would want to help you like that. But you were a proud woman, and you loathed the idea of sending anyone out of their way for you, especially Ford.

"You don't have to do that," you started. "I'd hate for you to go out of your way. I could ask Wendy or-" you startled suddenly when Ford let out a growl at the suggestion of anyone else doing this for you. It rumbled low in his chest, a clear warning, and it made you flush with heat. Ford tensed immediately when he realized what he'd done. A blush coated his cheeks and ears, and he was resolutely looking at anything but you. Well, that just won't do, now will it?

You stared at each other, the sudden silence thick with tension. Ford braced himself, ready for you to berate him or even kick him out, as he rightfully deserved. After all, he had no claim on you. No right to bristle with such deep seated anger at the suggestion of someone else taking care of you, even in this small way. He was shocked when, instead, you simply stepped closer. Shyly inching into his space, reaching a hand out to skim the tips of your fingers over his clenched fist, relaxing it and him immediately. You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek nervously.

"Ford," you started and his heart thudded in his chest like it did every time you said his name. "Do you... do you want to do that for me?" He didn't think he'd ever heard so much hesitation in your voice before, but there was an undercurrent of hope threaded through your scent. He let a soft purr rumble through his chest, pleased when you relaxed.

"I do," he admitted. "It's small, I know, but I'd like to do that for you if you'd allow me." Your heart swooped and you suddenly felt giddy. He was right, it was small, but to you, an omega rapidly approaching their heat, it meant everything.

"Okay then," you murmured. "I can give you a list before you go, if you wanna drop by?" He nodded, smiling down at you and the way you seemed to glow with the knowledge that he wanted to take care of you, even in this small way.

"That sounds good," he murmured. Boldly, he grabbing your hand, pulling it to his lips to drop a gentle kiss across your knuckles. The contact was brief, but it sent fire through you and Ford could've moaned at the spike in your scent. "Now, go get some rest, little one. I'll see you tomorrow." You nodded, not trusting your voice in the slightest. After a moment he released you, shutting the door behind him and you stayed in the kitchen, silently trying to process what in the fuck just happened.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Ford was a man of logic. Of reason and control. He managed to keep it together when he realized you were in heat. He managed to keep it together in the car, even managed in your home, when you were so close and all he wanted to do was shove his face into the side of your neck and drink you in. But his control was frayed, near to snapping by the time he made it back, and when he locked himself back up in his lab it was gone.

Your smell permeated the air. Coated his lungs and mouth with nothing but the sweet, cinnamon laced taste of you. But that wasn't what did him in, no. It was the way you mixed and blended so perfectly with his own scent. He smelt it as soon as he shut the door: a heady, mind-numbing blend of sugary sweet candy and cinnamon and leather and smoke. He managed to drag himself back to his desk, all but collapsing down into his chair.

"Dammit- fuck," he groaned, rapturous with desire as his head fell back against the headrest, legs spread deliciously wide, now unable to ignore the persistent and desperate throbbing of his cock. He'd been fighting it since he first caught your scent, and now it seemed he was losing that fight.

He slid a hand down, palming himself through his slacks and groaning as the feeling tore through him. Unbidden, your face came to mind: cheeks blushed, eyes slightly hazy and pupils blown. He shuddered, thumbing open the button of his pants and sliding down the zipper. He tugged himself out, hot and slick with his own pre already.

"Hhhah-- darling, please I-" He whimpered, unable to help himself as his mind conjured images of you to torment him with:

You, clinging to him and whining as he scented you, legs wrapped around his waist. He wrapped a hand around himself, hissing through his teeth as the pleasure lanced through him. The thought of you rolling your head back, baring your throat to him as he inhaled you like a drug. He panted into the open air, tasting your lingering scent on his tongue as his thumb rolled over his leaking tip.

You, grinding your bare cunt against him, desperate and pleading. He stroked himself, turning his head to try and muffle the feral growl he loosed into his shoulder. He pictured you shaking in his arms as he made you cum, hot little hands under his shirt and clawing angry red lines down his back. He snarled at the thought, knowing he'd wear each and every mark like a badge of honor.

He thought of how you'd look, flushed and needy as you presented for him. Face pressed into the pillow, turning to look at him with wet, teary eyes as you begged for him to fill you up, stuff you full until you were dripping with him. He'd like to think he was a stronger man but he knew he'd lose himself if faced with that sight. His mouth pooled with drool, cock dripping at just the thought of it.

He stroked himself faster, rolling his hand over the head and letting the pleasure burn through him. He couldn't bear to think of anyone else taking care of you, even a sweet beta like Wendy, who'd be unaffected by your heat and the safest option. But he was just so attached to you. Wanted to please you and care for you more than he thought he'd ever wanted anything before.

He thought of the way you'd approached him in the kitchen. The sweet, soft little whine that had pitched out of your throat when he'd growled. Even through the fog that heat had started to cloud over your mind you wanted to ease his worries. Comfort him. Soothe his frayed nerves like you always did. You were perfect. Everything he'd never let himself want in an omega, in a partner.

"God- honey," he groaned the words, his voice cracking on a whimper as the pet name dripped from his lips. He felt fucking feral. Like he'd finally lost his mind and, if he didn't know any better, he might worry you'd thrown him into a rut. He was just so hot. And the thoughts flashing through his head as he fucked into his fist were downright pornographic but he couldn't help it.

He wondered if you'd be able to take him. He knew you'd try, but you were just so small. A good several inches shorter than him, which never failed to amuse on a normal day but now when he thought of it it ripped a growl from his chest. He thought about the way your pussy would suck him in, soaked and sobbing as he sank in all 8.5 thick inches of his cock. The way he'd pin you under him, legs over his shoulders and ankles hooked behind his neck as he pressed you down, down, down. A mating press.

"Fuh-fuck! Hhaaahhh-" He panted, feeling his orgasm start to press at him from the inside. God he wanted you, needed you. Needed to know what you'd look like as he split you open on his cock. Needed to taste your noises as you moaned into his mouth. Needed to see you round and full and dripping. Coated in his scent as he fucked and knotted you until it took. Until you were his and he'd bred you-

"Nngh-!" He whined as his orgasm suddenly and violently tore through him. Fucking his fist through it he moaned and whined your name, practically coating his desk and floor in his cum. Curling in on himself as his belly tensed and his chest heaved and he just barely kept from popping his knot.

He leaned back into his chair with a thud, clean hand running through his sweaty curls. God, he was so incredibly fucked.

[penny-anna]

hi guys!! guess who got more transformers fic recs!! including some WEIRD SHIT!!

Electric Chapel by DesdemonaKaylose

You are cordially invited to the WEDDING of our esteemed LORD MEGATRON and SOME LITTLE GUY HE FOUND IN A BOX.

Megatron attempts to marry Rung. Rung is highly desirable. Skywarp and Thundercracker eat teacups. delightful.

Working Through It by Trinary

“TC,” Skywarp says, “I’m, like, ninety percent sure that humans don’t have interface cables.” Thundercracker squawks and almost knocks him over trying to get the script out of his hands.

robot/robot/human threeway w plug n play interfacing. GOOD robot action.

they say some things just don't wash out by harperuth

The data continued to coalesce with every passing moment he could watch Rodimus and still he couldn’t come to a conclusion. By all accounts it didn’t make any sense. - - - Or, Ultra Magnus struggles to understand Rodimus and his unorthodox fueling habits.

nice little UM and Rod fic!!!

Creep Down the Alleyway, Fly Down the Highway by Nathrakh_Red

Tracks was laughing in a way that’d be sarcastic if it was anyone else, in a way that might’ve ruffled Raoul's feathers if he hadn’t gotten used to the fact that Tracks laughed like a wealthy woman drank— haughtily, self-possessed, and so as not to cause wrinkles. Two different Tracks/Raoul fics!

WAUGHHH!! *biting and chewing these two*

Feel How It Feels by autoschediastic

But Optimus said, "That would be helpful," and a weirdly pleasant warmth spread through Lennox's gut.

some good transformer & human content for u

don't mean to brag, but my bandwidth is fat by harperuth

“Kid,” Ratchet ex-vented, “Did you listen to anything I just said?” Tailgate’s visor flashed, for just a klik. First Aid almost thought it was a trick of the light, “Big war, modified interface arrays, do I want one, et cetera. I listened. And I said no.”

tailgate hot girl summer

Spike Seeks Valve by Baird Crevan (Baird)

“Your name.  Is.  Spike,” Skywarp repeated.  “Yes, that’s what I said!  I am Spike, ally to the Autobots, the defenders of Earth!” Skywarp trembled a little and made a weird giggling noise.  “Uh, wow.  That’s.  Erm, sorry Jazz, I gotta… I gotta steal your Spike.”

i already recced this one but my GOD is it funny

Bottom of the Line by Trinary

Skyfire’s been pining over his lab partner for too long. He could swear Starscream has a thing for him, too, but when they finally get together, it doesn’t go like he expects. Skyfire’s always been told the cold constructed were missing something. He just didn’t think it was this.

u like skystar?? TOP tier skystar right here. recommend watching 'fire in the sky' first if u haven't seen it. for full impact.

how to get away with murder by OccasionalStorytelling

First Aid: You want me to treat you like you’re disposable? I don’t know what kind of data I could have you analyze for me— Rewind: I want you to treat me like I’ve been disposed of. There’s a distinction. The only problem is, they get caught.

we are getting into the weird shit now!! heed the warnings on this one. outstandingly weird n messed up. i love Rewind.

For Educational Purposes Only by keelywolfe

no ao3 summary on this one. bayverse. Sam & Mikaela fuck in front of Ratchet for uhh research. i must stress that this fic is primarily about Ratchet and Mikaela matching each other's freak. i love when Mikaela gets to be a little weirdo.

Viviparity by nine_dandelion

Some things have never been within the purview of mechanical beings, but Cybertronians have always been adaptable. When Ratchet discovers a newly-ignited spark growing inside Rodimus, though, he finds his abilities (and patience) tested.

my friend sent me this one and i was like 'why are u sending me mechpreg' (she knows how i feel about mechpreg) and she was like no no trust me you'll like this one u know what?? she was right. go check it out.

The Way to a Mech's Spark (Is Through His Fuel Tank) by Trinary

Starscream and Skyfire set off on their first Academy mission, and Starscream doesn’t consider the logistics of fuel until much, much too late. Skyfire isn’t keeping it in cubes—it’s in his auxiliary tanks, and there’s only one way to get it out. Starscream’s plating heats just thinking of it. He knows he can’t ask without embarrassing himself. He can make the whole trip without refueling, right?

FABULOUS living robot spaceship specific kink. love it.

ok that's all for now!! wahoo!!!

[awoogayanderes]

A BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM OSAMU DAZAI

➪ sypnosis : waiting for dazai’s attention is like playing a game of cat and mouse.

➪ other notes : it’s a day late but it’s okay because i went on a shopping spree yesterday, ALSO, i have another chapter of convergence finished and ready to post but i’m waiting until i can finish writing the next chapter of between the floors so i can post them at the same time, non edited :3

tick. tick. tick. you look up at your wall clock as every second clicks on it. it was 11:48 pm, and on any other day, you wouldn’t have cared. but today was your birthday, a very special day for you. your phone is in your hand as you wait for a single call from someone, osamu dazai. surely he remembered, right ? maybe he was on a mission and just hasn’t had the time to call you.

you and dazai weren’t in a relationship…well not exactly. some could call it a situationship, others could call it friends with benefits. but you disagreed, dazai was just a complicated man. and you were always the one who was there when he had his moments of sadness. he would call you late at night and you would go over to his apartment, comforting him as you held his tall form in your arms.

you try to soothe yourself as your eyes flick towards the array of presents your friends had given you, but none of them matter when you’re waiting for dazai to call you, or at least send you a quick text. ten minutes go by, it’s 11:58 pm and your position on your couch hasn’t changed as you slightly tear up, he really wasn’t going to call ? you let out a shaky sigh. buzz. buzz. buzz. your eyes immediately widen.

you frantically pick up the phone, it was dazai, you quickly answer his call. “hello ?!” you say into the phone, a smile forming on your face as your lips wobble with happiness, all the doubt going away. there’s a few moments of silence that go by before dazai speaks up, “wanna come over ?” your smile falters, he hadn’t talked to you all day, and that’s the first thing he says to you, on your birthday…?

“w-what ?” you quietly say as you held your phone tighter. “feeling a bit lonely, you know,” dazai sighs into the phone. you scoff, he wanted your comfort right now ? “where have you been all day ?” you ask. “i was hungover so i took the day off,” he says, you can tell there’s a smile on his face as he says that. so you were wrong, he was sitting on his ass all day as you stupidly waited for a ‘happy birthday’.

you look at your walk clock, it was 11:59 pm, he really didn’t care, did he ? “dazai, do you know what day it is ?” you ask him, your eyes tearing up again, dazai call tell theres something off about you. “i’m sorry, pretty, but i don’t know what you mean, it’s tuesday,” dazai chuckles, making you let out a whimper, catching dazai off guard, but he doesn’t bring it up as a few moments of soft ticking go by.

tick. tick. tick. 12:00 am. “happy fucking birthday to me,” you whisper into the phone. oh, so that was what he forgot. dazai tries to recover by saying “you thought i forgot ?” he chuckles. “i have your present for you right now,” he lies through his teeth. “just cut the shit dazai…why is it that i’m always here for you and you’re never here for me,” you say, voice breaking as you tears fall down your face.

“i know you’re upset, but i’m not your boyfriend, don’t treat me like one,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “then don’t contact me again, i’m not your girlfriend,” you seethe as you hang up. dazai looked at his phone before tossing it to the side as he sighs. you quickly block dazai’s number before crying yourself to sleep on your couch, realizing that dazai wouldn’t be apart of your life anymore.

[vagueposting-femnb]

“Sinners” movie spoilers!!!

I’m going to be diving into two characters, what I’ve seen folks say about them & why I disagree.

On mobile, can’t do read more, sorry! Pls scroll if you don’t want spoilers!

Remmick:

Folks have been sayin “He’s the devil!” And the argument has been that he came because Sammie wasn’t following what his father preached, and “the devil can quote the scripture too!” As well as sayin “He’s purely manipulative and just saying whatever he thinks will get him in!” “He only wants Sammie!”

I firmly disagree.

Remmick was drawn because of Sam’s music, sure, but folks ain’t payin attention to WHY.

Remmick SAYS that he was THERE when the Christians invaded Ireland, forced their religion and took his father’s land, he also became a vampire leading him to outlive anyone who did make it through the Christian invasion. Remmick, as far as we know, is alone. His culture was erased, his family is dead, he has no one and nothing.

He comes across the Juke, sees folks he KNOWS been through similar shit that he went through, he’s seen this shit before. Hell, in the 1930s I believe the Irish were STILL dealin w BS in the US! Remmick sees their sense of community, their love for one another, he sees/senses Sam’s gift… and he sees folks who got it worse just bc of how they were born.

Remmick seems insulted when accused of being Klan, he’s playful with our main characters- “oh, is it because we’re… :(“ “we’ll walk real slow, in case you change your mind… *glances back*”

Plus… if he ONLY wanted Sammie, he coulda easily grabbed Mary when she walked out and used her as a bargaining chip. He didn’t.

I ain’t sayin he isn’t manipulative, or it was ALL truths.

I’m sayin that it’s entirely possibly that he is meant to be essentially “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

He wants a family, and he wants to see HIS family. He sees these ppl who have family, the ability to connect with their ancestors, but who are stuck with having to function within a fucked up society. He sees their desire for true freedom… which he might think he can provide, at the very least in a racially based context.

I think Remmick is meant to be a complicated character in a sense. I think he’s meant to be an example of how dangerous someone can be when they assume to know what’s best for other marginalized communities, and trying to push them into adhering to those beliefs. Personally, I think it’s entirely possible that he’s meant to be an example of the harms of colonization and even oppression in general, and how even victims of these things can “give in” and become what they hate if they’re not careful. If they don’t remain mindful, empathetic, and willing to learn.

Mary

(This is an important place to start I promise)

I’ve seen folks say that they wish she had been a “visibly black, but white passing” woman. This seems to stem from the perspective that “white passing” implies an ACTIVE effort to do so (straightening hair, lightening skin, nose job, etc) instead of simply something someone can be if they don’t happen to take after their more melanated parent/grandparent.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown up in a fairly diverse region/school system, but… that has never been what “white passing” truly meant to me. I’ve seen folks of a wide array of skintones, haircolors/textures, eye colors, who still claimed their non-whiteness proudly, and were nearly never chastised against it, at least not once we made it to high school and at least the majority of us seemed to realize that simply being paler than most black folks and having lighter colored eyes didn’t make you white. That’s just bein lightskinned.

The folks who WERE considered “white passing” were people who DIDNT need to do anything to be perceived as such at a quick glance. So, if Hailee had (prominently) green/blue eyes. Otherwise, if any girl at my school looked like her, pretty much everyone woulda been like “ooh girl what are you? Hispanic? No?? Got a lil somethin else in your family tree then, right??” So that’s perhaps why the “visibly black, but also white passing” complaint just… does not make sense to me.

PLUS… Mary is meant to be a naturally white passing woman.

This is IMPORTANT.

She is meant to be fully capable of marrying a rich white man, living amongst white folks, and not getting side eyed by them.

She also doesn’t seem to TRULY accept that she is, naturally, white passing to most folks, ESPECIALLY (and in this context, most IMPORTANTLY) white people, at least at times.

She talks absolutely RECKLESS to Stack at the train station. She loves him deeply, clearly, and yet seemingly doesn’t realize just how DANGEROUS it is for her to even speak to him casually, let alone how she was speaking to him, in broad daylight. Iirc it was said that another (minor) character had been snatched up, strung up, and gotten his genitalia cut off at that station for speaking to a white woman.

Mary later forces her presence at Juke with no thought as to how others there might feel, let alone the potential ramifications of her being connected to that place by (white) outsiders.

THEN, she convinces Stack to let her go talk to Remmick & co, BECAUSE “they’re more likely-“ to talk to her. Because she is white passing.

(Pause, bc I feel this needs to be said- I ain’t blaming her. OBVIOUSLY the vampires were gonna get folks one way or another. People gotta piss, gotta get home, etc. that being said…)

I think it was another intentional choice for Mary to have been the one to go out, to have been the first turned, to have been the “foot in the door” in a sense…

And that’s a shared point between her and Remmick- not necessarily truly realizing the harm one can cause by not being aware of one’s own privileges essentially.

Remmick and Mary both essentially lost their cultures and families. Both wanted those things back. Both risked/caused harm.

Now, I will say- Remmick is 100% a villain. He’s had hundreds of years. He’s seen shit. He’s lost shit. He’s had to carry that weight this whole time. I do think, at the very least, he knew he was causing IMMEDIATE harm & disregarding these folk’s potential desires in favor of his own longterm goals. Those descendants we saw in “I lied to you”? Many will never exist because of what happened that night. Even if they had ALL been turned & lived happy lives w each other, NONE of those descendants would exist.

Mary is more so a more… “direct to life” example of the harm it can cause an individual to be “cut off” from their community, to have to give up their culture, to be left feeling isolated bc they don’t truly fit in anywhere, as well as the harm people can cause when we focus more so on our own wants and needs vs the impact that could have on others.

Remove Remmick, & we could have still ended up with essentially the same exact ending…

Only, this time it’s the Klan members that show up. At the very least the “main family” would likely still have been there, cleaning up. Only this time, Mary might have been the sole survivor… forced to watch her family suffer at the hands of the Klan. At “best” she would have been spared (severe, visible, physical) harm, return to her husband a mysteriously broken woman. At worst…?

NOW, somethin else I’ve seen is folks online talkin about how Mary is proof that folks shouldn’t be with anyone outside of their race.

I disagree with that as well.

Yes, the movie could have ended essentially the same minus the vampires.

But that ain’t because of Mary. REGARDLESS of if Mary was there, the vampires would have found a way. Even without Mary AND without the vampires, the Klan STILL would have came! Mary had nothin to do with them. They were simply racist assholes who did this routinely. Stack’s comment about Juke being “a slaughterhouse”… bc the white folks would sell the shack to black folks, kill them the next day, rinse and repeat.

Mary is not some “bringer of evil.” Sammie wasn’t some “sinful being that brought the devil.”

They’re just hurt people, who wanted to be WITH THEIR LOVED ONES. Just people stuck in a dogshit society, in a dogshit situation, in a dogshit position where no one was gonna win.

Take away the vampires, Mary, and Sam… the fuckin Klan was STILL GOING TO SHOW UP. The twins likely still would have ended up with a decent turnout, plenty of community members there. Plenty of folks JUST wanting a night of freedom, community, fun. Who knows how many would have been gettin scraped off the floor after a few too many at the end of the night? Who knows how many would have stuck around to help clean up the place? Who knows how many might have, at best, only been getting into their cars by the time the Klan arrived?

I NEED people to stop and THINK.

The movie is deeper than “easy” lessons like “don’t mix with others” and “don’t stray from god/the god your preacher talks about.”

Sammie survived BECAUSE of his guitar, because of the SILVER from the guitar. God didn’t save him when he prayed. His father didn’t check on him when he showed up at mass beaten and bloody and traumatized. He left, and went on to become seemingly a successful artist.

Mary and Stack survived the night, and for decades more at least. They’re together, happily, no longer having to hide.

Smoke didn’t survive, but even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, his last moments were happy- he was with Annie and their baby. If you do believe in an afterlife, he is likely STILL with her and their baby, which is what THEY wanted… to be together, with their baby.

No, it’s not a happy ending… not a truly clean and happy ever after type ending at least.

But… the alternative?

Sam giving up his passion, which leads him to settling into a life he clearly ain’t really want if he made it to be old af and still performing.

Mary pretending to be fully white, going her whole life missing the person she TRULY loved, missing her family, having to pretend to be someone she isn’t as well?

The twins? Dead. Established that.

The ending, while not a clean “happily ever after!” Type of ending, still makes it obvious to anyone paying attention that you are better off following your heart.

Sure, we could pick apart “well Mary should have just left with Stack to begin with!” “Sam should have just left to do his own thing at the start!” But… then we wouldn’t have had the movie. We wouldn’t have had these complex characters. We wouldn’t have seen folks make bad decisions yet still in different ways manage to overcome the bad shit.

I feel like, for once, everything happened as it was meant to.

Even Grace hollerin for the vamps to come in, is in line with HER character. When Stack died she ain’t wanna stay, she wanted to dip. She was working at the “whites” store. She doesn’t feel the connection to these people like her husband does. Her welcoming the vamps was bc she didn’t value the folks around her like her husband might have. Smoke lost his brother. They’d all lost pretty much everyone at that point. AND YET, because Grace didn’t have as deep of a connection as her husband to the people, she prioritized her revenge over their LIVES.

Basically: it was an AMAZING movie. There was so much that went into it, into the characters, into the story. Everything felt intentional, everything had MORE to it than what you might have first thought on a surface level. The movie was a genuine work of art, and so much love went into everything.

If you’ve already seen it, but perhaps you were wrapped up in the moment and a lot of this seems new, didn’t occur to you, etc, I definitely encourage you to see it again if you’re able. Even if you still disagree… if you genuinely enjoyed the movie, ain’t any harm in enjoying it again and supporting the creators & actors!

[arc-misadventures]

Vtuber au ask. So we know that Weiss, Ruby and Cinder so far all have feeling for Jaune. Will be be seeing other members of team rwby, jnpr and cmen?

The VTuber: The Dragoness

A blank screen was all that was scene, an empty void of nothingness. Until a single spark flared to life in the centre of the screen before all was engulfed in flame, as the shadow of a burning heart stood alone before all faded to ash, and dust. Revealing a woman with vibrant violet eyes, and a dazzling smile. Wings stretched out, behind her, as a crown of horns rest upon her golden locks of hair.

For this was the dragon girl VTuber, DraGunShow.

And, the show was just beginning.

~~~

DraGunShow: Hello, chat~! How’s everyone doing this fine day?

DraGunShow show gave her chat a dazzling smile showing off her sharp canines as she watched chats replies come trickling in.

~~~Stream Chat~~~

ViciousDoggo: It begins!

Helios6291: Hello Dragon!

KnightsBannana: Our queen is here!

IdentifiableMistake: Hello girls~!

Quintix: Hello!

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: Hi everyone, it’s nice to see you too. Okay chat, for today’s show I have a special treat for you~! Well… more of a treat for me, but all of you will get a kick out of it!

Her radiant smile was infectious as her body moved about, letting her wings flap as her ‘girls’ jiggled to, and fro as she went in with her little plan for today.

DraGunShow: Okay, my dear friend, SushiandShibari gave me a challenge the other day, and it’s one that I must say I’m all fired up to do! My challenge is to flirt with everyone’s loveable knight, ErrantryPaladin. And, see if we can get him to blush! The nina cat bet I couldn’t do it, but I’m sure as hell bet I could! So, who’s ready to see their favourite knight blush up a storm?!

~~~~~~

FshOnLand: Oh hell yeah!

RubberDucky98: Let’s do this!

Venger: 5000 bits says she can’t do it.

Rightotheleft: I’ll take that bet.

Yenta: Another 5000 says she blushes first.

Tallai37: Gonna pass that to Errant’s stream then?

Venger: Sure, why not.

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: Ohh~! Do you have no faith in me chat? Please, this is going to be a cake walk~!

DraGun opened up the stream to show she already had, ErrantryPaladin’s stream playing in the background, he was playing another round of, Deep Rock Galactic, and had just finished a mission when, DraGun decided to call, VTubings most infamous heartbreaker.

Errant’s model look to the side as his eye brow shot upwards in an inquisitive, yet cautious manner.

Errant: Hello, DraGun. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?

DraGunShow: Okay chat here we go!

DraGunShow: Hey, Errant~! How’s to going?

Errant: It was going well, but now I have a sense of foreboding. Do you need something, DarGun?

DraGunShow: Hey, my name is, DraGunShow, but you can call me tonight~!

Errant: Eh?

DraGun was met with the lovely sight of, Errant looking at her with an utterly bewildered expression across his face. It was cute, but not what she wanted.

DraGunShow: Do you know what’s on this years Valentine’s menu?

Errant: What?

DraGunShow: Me-N-U~!

Errant face contorted into an array of wild facial expressions, varying from the confused, the pondering, to the clarification, and then back to the confused.

DraGunShow: Uhhh… I-I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together~!

Errant: W-What are you doing?

DraGunShow: Uhhh… shit… O-One moment.

Errant: Okay?

DraGun quickly muted herself as she turned to face her screen as he face fell as panic, and embarrassment set in.

DraGunShow: I fucked up!

~~~~~~

RohanasStalion: That was horrible

AledenTheon: crash, and burn baby

VicuousDoggo: abort abort abort!

Venger: So, do I pay Errant the 5000 bits then or what?

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: No! I can still do this! It’s just a little mess up! The bets not over yet! I CAN DO THIS!!!

Fire erupted from, DraGun’s model as she pumped herself up, she roared at her chat as her chat started to hype her up, and she quickly unmuted herself, and…

Errant: So what’s this bet of yours all about?

Stopped dead in her tracks as, Errant’s simple comment blindsided her.

DraGunShow: H-How did you know about that?!

Errant: Someone on my chat decided to make the same bet; ‘5000 bits says, Errant can’t make, DragonDeezBoobs blush.’ Is that why you were flirting with me earlier? To get me to blush?

DraGunShow: Ah-hahaha haaa… SushiandShibari made bet with me that I couldn’t get you to blush, and I bet I could. So…

Errant: And, what is the prize of you winning this bet; bragging rights?

DraGunShow: Uhh… Yeah pretty much. Bragging rights, and gloating that I could get you to blush.

Errant: Hmmm… Would you care to make this more… interesting~?

The way, Errant purred that last word sent a chill down, DraGun’s spine. On that filled her with excitement, and desire as he stared her down.

DraGunShow: Interesting how~?

Errant: Simple: We both tell pickup lines until the other pleads uncle, and the winner wins both the smug satisfaction of making the other blush, and admit defeat. And, the promised 5000 bits their chat offered. You game, or is the dragon afraid to be burned?

DraGun let loose a growl deep within her throat as she took the Paladins challenge with earnest gusto.

DraGunShow: I’m game! Ready to become a blushing mess when I break you down!

Errant: we shall see. Alright! Chat we are about to have our little duel. You shall be the ultimate decided on who the winner is. And, you also allowed to tell us any of your clever pickup lines in the chat. Unless that is a problem, Dragun?

DraGunShow: My chat vs yours? Sounds like fun, what do you say chat, up for a challenge?

~~~~~~

RubberDucky98: Yeah let’s do this!

Tallai37: We’re gonna wreck them!

Yenta: Anyone want to add to the betting pool?

Penguinwithagun: I’m down for 500!

Kachina: I can do a 100.

Venger: Let’s take them for every bit they have!

~~~~~~

Dragun smiled deviously as she stared at the wandering paladon as they prepared for the games to begin.

DraGunShow: Seems my chat is upping the wager.

Errant: So are my; hopefully they can forck over the bits when you lose.

DraGunShow: In your dreams pretty boy~!

Errant: Ladies first.

DraGunShow: Alright, I’m not feeling myself today, can I feel you up instead~?

Errant: Weak. Treat me like I am a pirate, and give me that booty.

DraGunShow: Arrgh me captain, der be dog shite over the starboard bow!

Errant: Oh, tough croud.

DraGunShow: If you were a flower you’d be a damn-delion~!

Errant: What are you some sort of cocky sixth grader? Hit me with something good!

Errant: Ahem, my turn. Do you know how to play, Titanic?

DraGunShow: There’s a game associated with the, Titanic?!

Errant: Yeah, it’s a simple enough game to play too; You be the iceberg, and I’ll be the, Titanic going down you~!

DraGun’s eyes flared for the briefest of moments. She cooed softly to herself as she watched how he could play with fire. No things we’re getting exciting!

DraGunShow: Tell me, do you have extra room in your mouth for an extra tongue?

Errant: Do you like bacon, DraGun?

DraGunShow: I love me a slice of bacon.

Errant: Wanna strip then?

DraGunShow: Eh? Ohhh… That’s bad. That’s really bad.

Errant: Yeah, it took you too long for you to realize it.

DraGunShow: My turn! That shirt looks good on you, as a matter of fact, so would I~!

Errant: Speaking of clothes, while you look absolutely gorgeous in yours, I bet you’d look divine without them~!

Dragun’s cupped her face with her hands as she reeled back, even if she tried to hide it, errant could see the red of her blush blooming across her face.

DraGunShow: You threw that back on me! That’s not fair!

Errant: Alls fair in love, and war my dear dragon.

DraGunShow: EEEEEIIII?!?!!

~~~~~~

Venger: I think we’re gonna lose this one pals.

Zathrian: the pool is at, 6380 bits.

TraiqKanti: He’s breaking her down.

AledenTheon: I expected her to be better at flirting.

IdentifiableMistake: Always the flitter, never the flirted.

Quintix: She is absolutely adorable though.

Rightotheleft: The clips that have been made will be fantastic!

Asrid: Here’s a flirt you can use, DraGun!

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: I recommendation?

DraGunShow: Hmm…

DraGunShow: Oh~! Fufufufu~!

Errant: Should I be nervous chat? I feel like I should be a little nervous.

DraGunShow: Hey, Errant~?

Errant: Yes?

DraGunShow: I’m no watermelon, but I have something pink, sweet, and juicy that I’ll know you’ll like. Oh, and it’s seedless, would you care to change that~?

Errant gave a low whistle as he looked away, a faint blush, but a noticeable blush spread across his face. She may be losing their little challenge, but that little blush was a win, and all wins in her book.

Errant: Now that’s quite the spicy pickup line. Better step up my game then.

DraGunShow: Bring it on, Loverboy~!

Errant: I will, but can you remind me later to hang up a photo that I have of you first?

DraGunShow: Y-You have a photo of me?

Errant: I do, but I keep forgetting to put it up; Can you make sure I remember so I can nail you against the wall~?

DraGunShow: Eh…?

The cold unwavering confidence he carried as he said that to her face broke her. She thought she was a strong girl who could make any man fall to their knees before her. But, he wasn’t any ordinary man now was he?

DraGunShow: O-Okay! A-Are you…?!

Errant: Hey question: You ride a motorcycle right?

DraGunShow: Y-Yeah…?

Errant: And, you of course grab the handle bar to ride it.

DraGunShow: Yeah, that’s how you drive any bike.

Errant: So, should I grab you by the horns to ride you then~?

DraGunShow: EH?!?!

And, with those few words. DraGun’s face erupted into a display of red as her hands swiftly covered her face as she become flush with embarrassment. The bastard was smooth, smoother than she exercised expected him to possibly be. And, as much as she enjoyed flirting with him, it was embarrassing as all hell.

DraGunShow: I give! I give! I-I-I can’t do this anymore! You win!

Errant: And, victory is mine! Pay up chat.

Errant hummed to himself as he say the donations from the looser flood in. This had been a fun little diversion in his opinion. However, he thinks he did more harm than good.

Errant: Uhh… DraGun…? Are you okay? Did I take it too far with the flirting? If so I’m…?!

DraGunShow: I’m fine?!! Great even! Congrats on winning! Goodbye!

Errant: Uhh… Okay, good…

A soft chime sounded as the call disconnected as, Errrant’s hand that was about to wave goodbye slowly fell, as DraGun’s swift, and sudden departure.

Errant: …

Errant: I think I have done irrevocable harm to her…

Errant: …

Errant: Okay… back to rock, and stone then.

~~~

DraGunShow had swiftly cut the call as she now hid with her face in her hands, and she screamed in embarrassment at what, Errant had done.

DraGunShow: If you were going to make a girl blush you could have least be a gentleman about that.

~~~~~~

Penguinwithagun: Isn’t that why everyone likes him though?

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: S-Shut up chat!

~~~~~~

Venger: Best 5000 bits I’ve ever lost.

TraiqKanti: Did she really lose the bet?

AledenTheon: Considering, Errant flirted with her, it’s a win.

Asrid: SushiandShibari’s bet was a fantastic idea.

~~~~~~

DraGunShow: NyanNinja?!!

DraGun’s model shot straight up, while her face was still flushed red with embarrassment, her eyes held a blazing bloody red. A setting for her model where she can make her models eyes change from their usual violet hue, to deep crimson to show that she was angry. And, right now, she was pissed.

~~~

Meanwhile on another, VTuber’s stream, SushiandShibari was playing a horror game when she got a sudden call from her friend.

SushiandShibari: Hmm? Oh, DragonDeezBoobs is calling me~! But, why?

SushiandShibari: Hey, DraGun, what’s up, do you need something?

DraGunShow: You’re a bitch!

SushiandShibari: Eh…?

And, as suddenly, and unexpectedly as she called she left, leaving a bewildered, and confused cat behind, leaving her with, but one question.

SushiandShibari: W-What… What the fuck was that about?!

\\\

Haaa… I lnew what, and how I wanted this done for days… but, it took me days to write it?!

Haa… enjoy everyone.

Oh! It’s AI art if you’re curious. I would have found a photo, but I couldn’t find one that fit. As sad as that is, I did get the, Dragon Slayer prompt out of it.

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left: Chapter 15

Chapter Summary: The holidays bring highs and lows.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Sorry that this is a few days late and a lil short. I was in the ER (I’m ok). Sue me. Jk please don’t I need the money for this hospital bill

Series Masterlist (w/ASL) | Playlist | Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Fluff. Reference to weed. Reference to death of a child.

Dividers by me

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 15

This would be your second Christmas in Jackson. The town went all out for holidays, desperately trying to recreate the magic for its residents. For many, it could be hard to feel joy when grief seemed heavier around these times, memories of celebrations past hard to paint over.

Last year, you had kept to yourself, only forcing yourself out for the new years celebration. This year you intended to do the same. Until Maria dropped by with a pound of sugar from the sugar beet harvest.

You had missed the harvest and processing this year due to your injuries, so you hadn’t been aware just how well the crop had flourished. As the cold crept under your door, the jar from Maria loomed large on your counter, a little poke at the back of your brain. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was calling to you until you were on patrol with Eugene one day.

Patrols had been nearly doubled since the recent incident with the horde and you were sent out a little further than normal to assess a nearby grocery store. The stench of decades rotten produce was only partially muffled by your handkerchief as you ventured inside with Eugene. After you had taken down the lone clicker inside, you found yourself walking down the baking aisle. It was funny what had been taken versus what still remained. A flash of color caught your eye. Kneeling down, you found yourself staring at the long-expired array of sprinkles. With a smirk, you grabbed a rainbow array of them and pushed them into your pocket.

After stopping by Eugene’s ‘nursery’ on the way home, you parted ways and trudged back to your house, surprised to find an impatient looking Ellie sitting on your front step.

“Jeez, you guys are slow.” She exclaimed as she finally caught sight of you, hopping up and out of the way so that you could unlock your door.

Rolling your eyes, you let her in. She kicked off her boots and made a beeline for your cassettes, throwing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by Simon & Garfunkel in and hitting play before making herself right at home on the couch. Settling in beside her, you relished the moment as she grabbed her sketchbook, the domesticity not lost on you. She showed you the new drawings she had made before beginning to ask questions on new signs, a creeping smile overtaking her face with each nod from you.

When she got up to change the cassette over, you remembered the sprinkles in your bag, getting them out and shaking them at her as she came back.

“The fuck are those?” She asked skeptically.

Rolling your eyes, you pointed to the label as you held it up to her.

“Ok but what are they for?” She clarified.

You signed ‘cookie’ at her, but her face remained confused. Patiently, you slowly fingerspelled instead, her eyebrows raising once she understand.

“Are you going to make some?” She asked hopefully.

You shrugged and nodded in response.

“Will those even still be good?” She inquired, one eyebrow raising skeptically.

You gave her a skeptical look and signed ‘maybe?’. At her giggle, you added ‘maybe I’ll make some of my own.’

Her eyes widened at that, immediately launching questions at you that you only had minimal answers for.

Halfway through ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’ a knock sounded on your door. Ellie jumped up and ran to the door to answer it.

“Get inside before you freeze, old man.” Ellie scolded, making a surprised scoff escape your mouth.

“Little shit.” A playfully annoyed-looking Joel muttered as he entered your home.

“Charlie is gonna make Christmas cookies with us this week.” Ellie stated confidently.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. You definitely had not agreed to that.

“Does Charlie know that?” Joel asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

“Does now.” Ellie said without shame, making everyone chuckle lightly.

Joel’s eyes met yours across the room, a smirk lighting up his face. It had been easy, lately. Light. You both had come to a silent understanding about what this was. Companionship. Flirting. Sex. Someone to lean on up to a point. Not committed. Not public. Just… whatever you needed.

Tearing yourself away from your thoughts before Ellie suspected the pause, you signed ‘Friday?’

Neither of them repeated the sign out loud as they watched you. They were comfortable with the basics now.

“Works for us.” Joel simply replied. “I’ll bring dinner.”

You nodded at them as they left. After they got outside, you heard their voices through the door.

“What the fuck are-“

“Language.”

“-you about to cook?”

A pause.

“I said I’d bring it, not make it.”

The week flew by. Before you knew it, Eugene was knocking on your door for your Thursday smoke, enthusiastically telling you about his newest hybrid plant.

“What’s all this?” He asked as he grabbed water from your kitchen, where your counters were crowded with bowls, ingredients, trays and some scrap pieces of aluminum foil.

You huffed before telling him the saga of Ellie and the cookies.

“Festive.” He stated after a long pause. You couldn’t quite read the meaning of the smirk on his face.

‘Call me Santa’ you signed.

Eugene burst out laughing, lighting the bowl again.

You spent all of Friday prepping the dough. Deciding to go with Grace’s family’s ritual: have the dough prepped but cut the cookies out and bake and decorate together. Late afternoon found you restless and suddenly inexplicably nervous.

You were debating whether or not it was a good idea for you not to have formed the cookie cutters yet when a knock sounded at your door. Taking a deep breath, you answered the door, Ellie pushing past you before you could even fully get the door open.

“Ellie!” Joel reprimanded without much conviction, stepping inside and closing the door.

Ellie headed straight to the kitchen, immediately disrupting the carefully laid out ingredients and tools and making you wonder why you had bothered. Joel lingered by your side in the entryway, both of you looking towards the kitchen. After hearing something crash to the floor, you figured it was time to intervene.

Before you left Joel’s side, your pinky grazed his for just a moment, the heat of your hands radiating into the charged air between you. Without overthinking the moment, you strode forward to intercept the tornado that was Ellie.

“What are these for?” She asked, holding up the strips of aluminum foil you had meticulously un-crumpled.

In answer, you grabbed a strip from her hand, taking time to bend the edges as crisply as you could. You felt the presence of Joel behind your left shoulder as Ellie crowded closer on your right. It felt domestic, but not in a way that felt pressured, just… easy. You kept folding, aware of their focus on you, until a homely Christmas tree was formed.

“Huh.” Joel said

“What is it?” Ellie asked, clearly still a bit lost.

“It’s a cookie cutter.” Joel explained. “They used to make ‘em in all kinds of shapes.”

You gestured, indicating that both of them should give it a try. Leaning back on the opposite counter, you relaxed as you watched them interact.

“What the fuck is that supposed to be?” Ellie blurted, earning a glare from Joel.

“It’s a gingerbread man.” He grouched.

“…a whatbread man?”

You struggled to keep in your laughter as Joel tried to explain the concept of gingerbread and their houses and their elusive men.

“Why couldn’t I catch a cookie?” She asked at one point, making you double over at Joel’s exasperated expression.

When you had used up all your strips of aluminum foil, you had a collection of items in front of you: a star, a Christmas tree, a gingerbread man, a snowman, a stocking/sock, a wreath, a dinosaur, and a knife.

You showed Ellie how to roll out the dough and maximize the amount of cookies you could get out of it by placing them close together. You were pretty sure that 70% of the flour ended up on Ellie instead of the dough by the time you were done. While they baked, you showed her how you made powdered sugar from the sugar crystals of the beets and whipped them into icing.

While the cookies cooled, you all indulged in the stew and soda bread that Joel had gotten from Maria, the rich taste of the slow-cooked meat warming your stomach.

At some point, Ellie pulled out her sketchbook and got you to teach her some holiday signs. The sign for Rudolph was her favorite, and she couldn’t stop laughing about it when the song came on from your Ella Fitzgerald Christmas cassette, opening and closing her hand on her nose extremely close to Joel’s face, who had mostly given up the gruff act for once.

You started icing the cookies as they continued to rib each other, feeling like you fit in without having to try for the first time since Grace. Pushing the lump in your throat to the back of your mind, you turned your mind fully to the task of icing; always on the flat side of the cookie, contrary to popular belief, for the best results. You encouraged them to start before the icing hardened, glad that no one seemed to catch the slip in your demeanor.

After Ellie had covered 3 cookies in the most ridiculous amount of sprinkles known to man and then almost broke a tooth trying to bite into one, you all decided that you needed to pivot.

With Ellie’s help, you smooshed up a few berries and some spinach that you had in the freezer and added a drop of it to small bowls of sugar, creating bursting colors of sugar sprinkles to decorate with instead.

The evening passed quickly as Ellie perfected the decorating process and Joel struggled to keep up. You had made so many that by the end, the designs grew more and more haphazard, with the last few simply being cookies that were pressed into the mix of colored sugar left on the plates.

As Ellie left, she called over her shoulder that she’d see you at the Christmas Eve feast. You couldn’t bring yourself to correct her.

Christmas Eve came with the perfect dusting of snow and squeals of children caught up in the magic of the holidays. There were people of many different backgrounds who celebrated different holidays in different ways and shared their traditions with each other. It was meaningful and community building but you couldn’t get yourself to leave the house and join.

You declined Ellie’s invitations the next few weeks, hoping to not hurt her feelings as you gave vague excuses. She seemed subdued at your response but was a smart kid. She could tell when things were about something bigger. You didn’t interact much with Joel either, and he seemed to take it in stride.

The long days crept by with haunted steps.

The end of the year meant that January was coming. And with January came one of the hardest days of the year for you. Drea’s birthday. She never made it to her first.

All day you lay in bed, curled uncomfortably on your side, unmoving besides the occasional fits of sobs that came and went. The hours dragged on, torturing you with memories. The happiest juxtaposed with the worst. The smiles paired with stillness; the coos with silence.

The next day dawned with a frigid hush. Forcing yourself out of bed for patrol, you stared at your puffy face in the mirror, a distorted view of someone who didn’t exist anymore. Not really, at least.

You knew Eugene wouldn’t push, and for that you were grateful. Opening the door, you were met with a small parcel, wrapped crudely in scraps of fabric. Looking around, you found no one lurking. No clue to who had left it. Carefully, you brought the package inside, sitting frozen on your couch with it in your lap. With shaking hands, you unfolded the fabric, revealing a small wooden figure. Peering closer, you realized it was hand-carved.

An intricate small flower, surrounded by a bed of leaves.

Taglist:

@powellssaturn

@silas-aeiou

[lieswetell]

IFHY (Jordan Li x Alt!Reader) PT 1

Tags~ roommate au, enemies to lovers, alt reader, tattooed reader, slow burn, supe!reader, afab!fem!reader

Warnings~ angry sex, jordan might be a lil mean, porn w plot bc im freaky like that, drugs, alcohol, gay shit

Monday, August 7th

“It’s only one semester. This will be over before you know it,” Mia said.

You want to hear her out and try to be optimistic about the situation, but it’s complicated. Having your own dorm was rare in Godolkin. Students who did usually paid an ungodly amount for the extra privacy or were gifted one because of their current sponsors. For you, in your previous two years, it had been a mixture of both.

“This is bullshit.” You complain and have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at your phone.

Mia hadn’t done anything wrong. She was doing everything she could to get you what you wanted. However, it wasn’t playing out in your favor this time. You were still in your dorm, trying to cling on to that last bit of single dorm life you could, even though you were moments away from the move.

“Look. I love you, but there isn't anything else I can do. Some of these kids will probably be out in a few months.” Mia tried to help you look on the bright side of the situation.

You have yet to respond to what your assistant was telling you. Instead, you just kept looking around the now-empty dorm with a mournful gaze.

“Shetty says it’s a large roo-” Mia added.

“My room was plenty big enough,” You complained again. This time, the words came out in a sort of whine that would remind anyone else of a toddler.

 You got up from the floor and wiped your hands on your pants. After taking a deep breath, you closed the last bin in your room.

“One semester.”  You sighed.

“One semester,” Mia said, her voice a lot more positive than yours.

“When are you recording that video for-”

“Alright, look at the time the moving team is here. Can’t be late.” You cut her off and blew her a kiss before hanging up on her.

The moving team wasn’t anywhere near your room, and you knew that. If you focused, you could hear everyone in the building. There wasn’t a trace of dickheads with whistles anywhere near you.

The Godolkin University moving team usually consisted of sophomore students with too much strength to know where to put it. Many were from various clubs or programs that forced them to help incoming students. 

You started to stack your bins and luggage outside of your room on your own. Typically, the moving team would assist the students. Still, it was effortless for you to carry the items, and you thought if you looked around your dorm for any longer, you might burst into tears. That wasn’t very productive or good for your image if anyone were to see it. So you popped in your earbuds and started to lift the bins. When finished you put the label on your crate 465.

 With the headphones in your ears, you didn’t notice just how much more lively it was. Most of your floormates were in other single dorms with other upper-level students. So you would only really run into a few people if any, daily. With the influx of incoming students moving in, you would easily have trouble avoiding anyone. According to your assistant Mia, every dorm room was filled(yayyyy godolkin for not allowing students to live off campus).

After skipping an array of songs, Spotify somehow thought would suit your style, someone poked you on the shoulder.

“You’re 17#, right? Big fan, honest.”The boy said. Something you noticed everyone said after they wanted to snap a quick picture with someone. You couldn’t complain, though you had no proof this person was lying to you.

“Nice to meet you.” You said and copied the same amount of excitement. The perfect amount to seem genuine but still cool enough to feel above them in that weird way you can only get from social media. You extended your hand, and he shook it eagerly.

You didn't feel that way, of course. That’s just the game and how you needed to perform. All to get where you needed to be. Being a hero was a machine full of moving parts, and Mia has been training you since you were fourteen.

“Can I get a picture?” He asked, and you nodded before he could get the sentence out.

Always…

“Always always…” you answered happily. You quickly adjusted your hair and gave the boy a side hug.

The selfie came out nice. Cute and wholesome. You made sure he tagged you on the picture and used a few of your hashtags. You gazed around, wondering who was assisting him with the move. He just looked around at your bins before looking back up at you.

“Is there anything fragile in there?” He asked awkwardly. It seems he hadn't shaken off the nerves from meeting you. It was so silly to you. You weren’t Homelander or Queen Maeve.

“Yeah, the fragile stuff is in that box right there. Marked fragile in bold red tape…”

The boy then looked back at you with a look you couldn’t place. Before you could even realize what was about to happen, his arms stretched out to unnatural lengths as if he were made of rubber. He lifted all of your bins simultaneously. He wrapped and stacked them into the carts and secured them as if his arms were bungee cords. It was astonishing. You had never seen that power before, and although it was slightly disgusting, it was cool.

Just as you went to pat him on the back, a box on top crashed to the floor. You heard the glass shatter and knew instantly it was the fragile box he so kindly placed on top of everything to avoid it getting crushed. Just my luck. That was definitely the bong in there that you’ve had for a few years. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I've been stretched out all day. Things are starting to fall out.” he apologized genuinely.

“Lemme guess you are usually super tight?”

Your roommate was finished moving all of her things to the other side of the room. It definitely started as a struggle, but after a bit of time, Jordan started to get the hang of it. Early in the process, he was just bitching to himself about having to do this in the first place. He didn't really have anyone to complain about it to. His friends were rooming with each other, and he was the only one stuck rooming with a new person.

 His parents didn't understand his frustrations, and instead, they were just happy he would be rooming with a girl. Jordan tried explaining his irritation to Brink, but that was also a no-go. All Brink did was reframe the situation by saying it could somehow make Jordan a better hero.

“Are there seriously no fucking quads in this place?” Jordan complained to no one.

He sat on his loveseat on his couch and scrolled on his phone. He debated not being in the room when his new roommate arrived. Jordan heard that people had done that, but he was too nervous to do it himself. What if you stole something? What if you wanted to put your stuff on his side? Maybe you were a weird freshman? Or worse, a fan of him?

He sat back on the couch. His feet were planted firmly in front of him, and he scrolled on his phone. It was a position he often found himself in. In this form, his feet were actually able to reach the floor when he sat all the way back on the couch comfortably. In the other one, her feet dangled and gave off a less intimidating look than the one he was currently in.

There was a soft knock on the door. Jordan rolled his eyes and stayed in his position. Why would he open the door? If they were supposed to be moving in, they surely would have a key, right? He looked at his door open. Jordan wasn’t really sure what to expect to be standing in the doorway. 

When the ugly beast finally reared its head, Jordan finally exhaled. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until you waved at him.

“Hi” You said

It’s all you can offer him at the moment. The little helper you had assisting you barged in soon after you greeted Jordan. Jordan didn't even say anything to you. He just looked at you from his spot on the loveseat then his eyes trailed over to the freshman who couldn’t maintain eye contact with you.

“Looks like! Holy shit Jordan”

“Yeah.” He just nodded, confirming that he was indeed Jordan Li

The freshman stood awkwardly with your things and stared at Jordan. The interaction was just already a lot weirder than it needed to be. So you stood at the door and tried to think of a way to intervene in the impromptu staring contest.

“Thanks. You can just leave it right here. I can do the rest.” You thanked him with a big smile

With another resounding crash, he let go of the bins, and you winced. Jordan even was taken aback by the sound and rolled his eyes

“Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked 

He sounded genuine even though he treated your belongings like they were indestructible. You buffered for a moment and realized what he said

“Ma’am? How old do you think- never mind, just leave thanks.” You shooed him away and exhaled softly

“Bye”

He watched you. You unpacked your things, and he stayed put and just watched you. He was cycling through so many things in his head. Being so last minute, this situation didn't give him any time to prepare. The only thing he did was clean and move his shit to one side of the room. He was grateful that he could at least recognize you from the ranking. The unknown was scary like that. Jordan knows you have been slowly climbing your way to the top. Your reputation was squeaky clean. Your brand was sweet, innocent, and confident. 

Your brand didn't mean he trusted you, though. Anyone with more than two fucking brain cells at this school knew that your ‘brand’ or ‘online presence’ meant absolutely nothing. Just because you waltz in here with your big smile and wave doesn't mean he will let his guard down. Roommate or not, you still had the potential to be a big fucking dick.

“Yeah, just don’t touch any of my shit, and we should be fine.” Jordan said without looking up from his phone.

He sat comfortably slumped on the sofa. The uninterested appearance he’s in pissed you off. Oh, so he’s just like this? You could do this, though. You wouldn’t let him see that you were frustrated. People like him lived off of that shit, and you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. You just nodded and gave him another smile, one real enough to be convincing.

“I understand. You do have some nice things. Probably wouldn’t want anyone getting into it either.” You said in that cheerful voice that you had been trained to perfect. 

That time, Jordan did look at you. He was now thoroughly annoyed and over the roommate situation. In his eyes, he tried. In the twenty minutes you had been in the room, Jordan considered everything he had done ‘trying’. This situation wouldn’t work, though. He just wasn’t built to share rooms with a random person.

-

-

-

Wednesday, September 27th

“Jesus Christ, do you ever fucking fucking knock?!” Jordan shouted

You did knock. You dented the door to your room because you were banging on the door for about ten minutes. You even shot Jordan a few texts saying when you would return to the dorm. Of course, she hadn’t responded to any of them; she never did.

So you said fuck it and broke the lock on your door and walked into the room. Jordan was riding some junior in her bed. The sight wasn’t new to you, so you were unfazed. Seemingly to you, Jordan never really cared about you seeing her naked. It was more of the fact you were interrupting her that was the problem. In the two months you have been rooming with Jordan, you have walked in on her having sex four times.

The first time, it came as a shocker. You squealed and covered your eyes, immediately leaving the room and shooting her a few apology texts. When you left, Jordan just continued on like it was nothing. Like you were just a temporary pause. This time wasn’t like that. You walked in and closed the door behind you.

So you waved at the man who was underneath Jordan on the bed. He looked at you with a confused look, then turned to look back at Jordan, who was bewildered.

“You're not usually my type, but I think I could be down for both of you,” The man said, then looked back up at Jordan curiously.

You just walked toward your desk, sat down, and started up your laptop.

She climbed off him and huffed, “Get out”.

Then the man shuffled awkwardly around the room and tried to pick up his clothes. He slipped the condom off and didn't know what to do with it, so he tried to hand it to Jordan. She pointed towards the door, so he just nodded and held it as he left the room. His clothes were still crumpled in his other hand, covering his dick. You shook your head slightly, knowing that type of thing was far too normalized in this school.

“Do you purposely do that?” Jordan asked you sharply. It was more of an accusation. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was always intending to fight.

“Do what?” You asked and logged into the Godolkin portal.

“Wait until I’m using the room to appear out of thin air” She complained and stepped closer to you.

Whenever Jordan spoke to you, it was like they were a nagging little voice that you had to physically restrain yourself from losing your cool with. You didn’t want to risk an argument with Jordan, no matter how much of a bitch she was. It just wasn’t worth it. It would be optimistic to think that Jordan wouldn’t somehow get you lousy press from the situation. It was also optimistic of you to think that one day, Jordan would just stop trying to fight the fact that they would have to live with someone.

Every day you felt like you were seconds from Jordan finally saying fuck it and starting beef with you publicly just to fuck up your rank. Being ranked seventeen wasn’t the best you could be, but to most people, being in the top one hundred was quite an accomplishment. Job security was a hard thing for supes to find, and you weren’t going to fuck up your brand just because Jordan was having a bad day.

“Oh, please. I texted you, Jordan. Multiple times,” It came out with a little more emotion than you intended. Patience wasn’t your strength today.

“You didn’t,” She said flatly.

You huffed and pulled your phone out of your bag. When you pulled up the text chain to show her. You looked away awkwardly when she turned around to grab her phone. For some reason seeing her ass suddenly felt invasive, although she was so chill about it. Once again, she was more pissed about the fact she didn't cum.

“That’s not even my number.” She showed you her Apple ID and rolled your eyes.

“Who’s fault is that?” You asked her this time; your tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but annoyed.

Jordan realized what she did and grabbed your phone out of your hand. You scoffed at the action and tried to snatch it back, but she was faster than you. Probably in both forms, unfortunately. Jordan just updated the contact info and handed you back your phone(which you snatched out of her hands immediately).

“You could’ve knocked,” Jordan said, and you did a sharp inhale.

You looked up at her, then back down at your phone at the updated info. It was hard not for you to be pissed about the fact he lied to you. So many arguments could’ve been avoided, but of course, she couldn’t even give you her number.

“I did. For about ten minutes. Maybeyouweretoobusycreamingondicktohearaboutit” 

The words came out as a rushed whisper. The struggle of trying to hold your anger was starting to become not only a mental challenge but a physical one.

“What did you say?”Jordan asked. This time, he almost seemed kind of excited, which didn't help you calm your nerves in the slightest.

“The locks broken, by the way. You locked me out, so I had to break it open. I’ll schedule a maintenance worker to check it out around five,” You told him. The facade was back up. You were no longer spewing attitude at him.

The maintenance request was sent, and Jordan was left confused at the sudden change in demeanor. He was excited for a second that it seemed you finally had a moment of real fucking emotion with him. Jordan would much rather be alone in his dorm, but your unwavering positivity threw him off more than he intended.

Jordan could recall a few times he would complain and rant about you to his friends during smoke seshes. It had only been two months, but he felt like he wasn’t even rooming with a natural person. Something about you was too perfect, too clean, just all around, too bland. He was excited to talk to a person for that quick moment there. It's not the brand you posted for everyone to see. 

He went back to the other side of the room in defeat. He sat on top of his bed. Jordan never stopped looking at you. You slipped up, and maybe that gave him hope(he would never admit it).

“I need the room at five,” Jordan said.

You furrowed your brows and looked over at the calendar on the wall. Each day that passed, scribbled out with a blue Sharpie. You shook your head and looked over at him.

“You have class. It’s Wednesday,” You said matter of factly.

Jordan rolled his eyes and mumbled

.“No, I don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He could be so petty sometimes for no reason, and this was one of those moments.

“Did you just disagree with me just because?” You asked him.

Jordan couldn’t think of a comeback or words to say. You talked to him in that weirdly positive tone despite clearly being irritated with him again. Maybe his dick twitched a little, but he ignored that.

“Jordan, put some clothes on, okay?” 

“Fuck you”

“Your dick is out”

“Have a great day”

Maintenance fixed the door problem by 5:13 pm. It was a simple fix. A new doorknob was installed, but a couple of dents from your early frustration remained a reminder. Afterward, you were alone in your dorm, struggling to wait forty minutes to join a lecture.

  It was a struggle not to nod off in front of your computer. Online classes always felt like a good idea when you signed up for them, but you soon realized they were a trap. It is a carefully crafted trap for you to waste your time on the course because you couldn't keep your eyes open long enough to listen to your professor drone on about the importance of… You fell asleep.

You needed the relief anyway. It was a struggle to keep holding up the illusions you were. The influx of incoming students fucked you over. Having a roommate who hated you meant you were always using your powers. You couldn’t trust him not to try and ruin your brand. The only times you would have a break from having to cast an illusion was when Jordan was out doing whatever the fuck he did besides training and sulking.

Illusions fell around you—your side of the room that was once pale blue and pink warped into black and purple. Your hair, which once seemed to be tied tightly in a bun, fell around your shoulders. The pink sweater you wore was replaced with a black hoodie you had for years. The illusions you had concealing your tattoos shattered. The ink from your arm sleeve peaked out from the wrist of your hoodie.

-

-

-

“Who are you texting?”Andre asked 

It was late. Jordan sat on the couch in his friends' dorm and tried not to be bitter that there were only three bedrooms. He typed in his phone, angry you weren’t responding. Why does he have to deal with this? He’s pretty sure when he leaves that, all three of them just crash in the living room in a pile like cavepeople anyways. Andre’s room was always too fucking clean for anyone to actually stay in there.

He leaned over on the couch to try and take a peak at Jrdan’s phone. Jordan leaned away, mildly irritated with his friend. Andre just shrugged and made a face at Cate. Cate rolled her eyes, already knowing where this conversation was going to go. It was the only thing Jordan talked about the past couple of weeks.

“My hell of a roommate,” Jordan complained and rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t responded to the last ten texts he sent. He was trying to be better to you. He might've felt a bit guilty about giving you the wrong number for that long. So now he was trying to do what you would have done for him. He planned on bringing the same guy from earlier back over, but you wouldn’t respond to him.

“Oh, she cant be that bad?” Cate said, trying to be positive about the situation.

“Cute, you guys are texting,” Andre whispered.

Jordan heard him, however, and switched. Before Andre had a chance to react, Jordan slapped him in the back of the head. The touch was light but quick. Andre chuckled softly and then raised both of his hands.

“Well, I’m trying to tell her I'm on my way back to the dorm. Might need it in a few,” Jordan explained and put his phone away.

“Why do you look so stressed?” Luke asked.

To be honest, he was the only one not caught up on the whole Jordan hating her roommate thing. He thought she would get over it in a week, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. Jordan still hated you basically for existing at this point. Luke tried to lock in on the situation, but he was still pretty high from the session that just ended.

“She isn’t fucking responding,” Jordan whined.

“It’s fine. It’s only been like ten minutes,” Luke stated.

Luke’s eyes looked around the room for whatever the fuck he was missing. Cate just laughed beside him.

“Since the last text I sent. I texted her five hours ago,” Jordan added, her arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s probably nothing,” Luke assured her, although he didn't understand why the situation was that. 

Serious. Cate understood it, though. Even if, at the time, Jordan didn’t understand, she could have seen it already. Cate had a weird way of just knowing.

“Yeah, what are you so worried about?”Andre asked, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Jordan looked away and flipped him off. Cate and Andre shared another look, and Jordan wanted to flip the couch over. She didn’t though

“Fuck off, Dre.”

“Who is she again? Freshman?” Cate asked

“No, junior.” Jordan answered.

“Who is it?”Luke asked, hoping that maybe that would explain Jordan’s frustration.

When Jordan answered, none of them had much of a reaction, which wasn’t very satisfying for Jordan. Andre didn’t even know who you were talking about(he didn't pay attention to the rankings much). Cate just nodded, taking in the info. It was always funny to her how the most liked people could be some of the worst. Luke didn't run with Jordan’s opinion of her roommate. He knew how dramatic Jordan could sometimes be, and he was pretty sure she would've hated any roommate she was assigned to just because they were an inconvenience to Jordan.

Jordan didn't like the feeling of being interrogated, so the hangout was cut shorter than normal. Once she answered one question, it was like he opened Pandora’s box of bullshit, and everyone wouldn’t get the spotlight off of her. So, she gave up on reaching out to the guy from earlier and instead was banging on the door of her dorm room like a mad woman.

“Dude, open the fucking door!”Jordan shouted.

He didn't want to break the door again, but the longer he stood outside, the more appealing of an idea it became. Inside the dorm, you were still fast asleep at your desk. The exhaustion from overusing your powers took a severe toll on your body. You had been out cold the entire time. All illusions previously placed on you and your things were deactivated.

“C’mon, this is really petty. Just open up.” Jordan said again, but you couldn’t hear him.

A hard alarm sounded in your ear. You shook your head awkwardly, then scrambled to check your laptop.

Take your pill

You nodded and stood up to take your birth control. You made it three steps before you fell because of the loud bang at your door. Shit. Jordan’s voice yelled something behind the door that you couldn’t quite make out at the moment. All you knew was that you needed to hurry and get all the illusions back up. You waved your hands a bit, trying to tap into Jordan’s psyche once you were confident enough that the illusions were back up, and you dry-swallowed your birth control and made your way to the door.

Act normal

“Hey, sorry I got caught up in studying?” You answered the door with a smile.

“Fine, whatever. I texted you, though.” Jordan looked at you, partially confused

It didn't make sense to him. You went hours without answering him, and your excuse was that you got caught up studying. What the fuck? You didn’t even look tired? Jordan hated you. You closed the door behind him and sat on your bed.

[lancer-elvis]

Woah mama this is your daily reminder to give your AGNI Clones a well deserved hug, they will appreciate it.

Impermanent stains. Flecks of paint, thrown desperately from a brush in an attempt to own the canvas. So many star children, so much life, flicked onto the disk without care. Trapped in their metal boxes, muzzled in masks of skin and memories.

Woah mama you aren't real. You are on the transport, asleep, iced. You're just a hallucination.

Oh yes, surely I must be one of them, right? Nice little blinkspace splinter, rotting away in its casket? Oh oh oh, you know what, maybe I am one of those Souls the Aun have, maybe that's why SSC wants me oh so badly. Come ooon Clone, you aren't that daft. You haven't imprisoned shit, or the Armory before you, or those morons in the Garden before them. I am simply hitching a ride~

W-wh... What do you wan-

What do I want? Well... There are so many things. But namely, it is this. Do you know how you were made?

I... Woah mama I... I remember the vats... And...

Oh come on don't bore me with that crap Singer! You were made with the help of the best resources the Armory had on offer. Perfect, disease free, resilient biological material. Subdermal chrome, defense systems, subjectivity enhancements, an inbuilt sensor array for fucks sake! And only the best neural mods, of course, had to make sure you were a nice little vegetable for them to line up against a revolutionary blockade. A brainless walking joke with a tommy. The gun roars, the bullets sing, and those poor, starving rebels on the blockade go pop and pop and POP-

STOP! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT-

Faaace it, little Mannequin. You were made to be a weapon, nothing but another of the Think Tank's cruel jokes. But you couldn't even do that right! Found your conscience. Ran away. Now begging for scraps under SSC's thumb.

So here's my question to you, Singer. You really think you were the first? Do you expect yourself to be the last?

... Woah... Mama... I don't KNOW! I DONT FUCKING KNOW OKAY JUST SHUT UP!

But you do know Singer~ Of course you know, because it's obvious~ Guns, mechs, you. Humanity will keep making these cancers with which to rend itself apart. Forever, and ever and ever. And that's all there is to it.

... And so what?!

So, Singer, a long time ago, I wanted to be the last cancer humanity ever grew in their 'vats'.

Woah mama that sure didn't pan out for you now did it?

No. But I can still be the cancer that finally kills your bloated corpse of a species.

... Woah... Mama, you know you can't do that, physically... I-I mean I saw you, that night on the train, I saw you in that coffin. You are nothing. Just some snake. How in all hells are you planning on blowing up a million worlds?

Oh Singer. You still don't understand. I don't have to destroy anything. Besides, I must admit, on that front...

WARNING: HOSTILE SIGNATURE DETECTED

You humans have me beat.

Woah mama this is Hound Dog! Gheist, Strelka, respond! Come in, transport is being flan-

Who are you calling little one? Your friends? Ooh, slow on the uptake once again, aren't you?

N... N-no they-

Paid you? They needed your knowledge of the facility. A facility that stored the greatest breakthrough in weapons research since spool guns. Surely you should've known. They can't afford witnesses.

WARNING: MULTIPLE TARGET LOCKS, SATURATION MISSILES ON APPROACH

I enjoyed our little chats, Singer. I'd wish your spirit safe passage through the Duat, but me and it's keeper don't see eye to eye.

Woah mama wait no please you can't leave me her-

*explosion* *resonance in the receiver unit makes 6 seconds kfsound illegible*

-se. Anything.

... Fine then. But know that this is not mercy.

*pilot begins to choke* *black mist envelops the cockpit* *another explosion carves its mark into the mech*

W-woa... What... *Cough* what is this?!

A gate of dreams. Come. Let us see what regrets await you in the Great Deep.

*a third missile strikes the mech with a bag*

Moments before the mech is blown away, the cockpit and pilot spontaneously de-manifest from baseline reality. The location of the pilot's body is unknown at this time.

Additionally, the visual distortion inside of the Manu containment unit altered, so that it appeared to contain 11 discarded snake skins of exaggerated size. The expected distortion replaced it 3 hours later.

It is the belief of Gheist that the pilot had attempted some jury-rigged attempt to teleport, potentially involving channeling a portion of the Subject's power out of Manu. However, a true gate formation wouldn't have been possible, due to the Subject's deactivated state. Without any possibility of recovering the remains, the pilot is presumed dead.

[billskeis]

Could you write bill or tom fluff with an s/o that has like chronic pain or iron deficiency?

(Love your work btw)💕💕💕

ᡣ𐭩 kaulitz twins w iron deficient gf

you and tom were sitting on the couch together cuddling, bill, georg and gustav left the studio go to grab take-out from the local pizza place nearby. you had your head leaned on tom’s shoulder, watching tv as his arm that wrapped around you was caressing your shoulder.

“we’re back!”

you hear bill yell as shoes were being kicked off and plastic bags were rustling from being swung around softly.

“welcome back!” bill, georg and gustav set everything down on the coffee table in the studio. “oh! y/n and i even got you the chicken wings you wanted, tom told me too,” bill said.

“really!? oh my gosh! thank you!!” you begin to lift up your body in excitement because you haven’t had those wings in like forever, as you came to stand, your blood pressure drops a little too fast and you feel extremely dizzy.

you find yourself flopping back down, not into the couch but into tom’s lap who was still sitting down, “woah! princess you good??” everybody looked at you now a little concerned. his hands now on each one your arms holding them.

“shit—yeah! i just get dizzy whenever i do that,” you reassure everyone and they go back to whatever they’re doing, except tom who clings on to you tightly.

you feel yourself getting a little embarrassed at the excessive public display of affection, but nobody seems to care.

“tom? i’m hungry, let me please get a plate before the chicken wings run out,” you both turn to look at the three other boys scarfing down the food quickly it might finish if you blink once more.

“hold on baby, let me get you a plate,” tom lifts you off his lap and places you onto the soft plush couch gently to go get a plate from the coffee table, “tom! it’s okay—“ “don’t even try y/n, he won’t let you, you’re his little princess after all,” georg snickers while tom punches his arm.

“so what if she is?” tom asks while georg shrugs his shoulder, taking a large bite of his pizza.

arranging the foods onto the paper plate, tom puts an array of a pizza slice, breadsticks and the chicken wings he specifically requested for you. “HEY! gustav no more wings those are for y/n,” as he swats away gustav’s hand that seemingly reached for another.

you didn’t know he asked for them, how sweet.

he sits down beside you, handing the plate, “thanks tom, you didn’t have to..” “oh but i did, though. i did have to because you just deserve to just sit here and eat. you take care of me all the time so let me do this for you,” you laugh at him while taking your pizza off the plate.

“ahhhhh~,” tom opens his mouth to welcome the pizza that WAS for you in a joking manner, stopping when you role your eyes sarcastically at him. instead, you take a big bite of the pizza to which he pouts dramatically, then laughing at he quickly kisses your cheek as you chew on the delicacy of pizza.

god, you love this man.

⋆*ೃ༄

“thank you so much bill, you really didn’t have to cook tonight,” you say as he sets down tonight’s dinner containing steak, mash potatoes and asparagus, “nonsense! you’re my girlfriend after all.”

he smiles brightly and looks proudly towards the food he made.

“oh! hold on a second, he gets up from the seat beside you to grab something from the fridge,” you watch him in curiosity until he turns around and shows you a,

orange..?

“babe, an orange?” you ask, he sits down beside you, beginning to peel the fruit, “ja! i heard it helps you absorb the iron in your food better, the steak is still hot so while it cools you can snack on this before.”

so he actually did research huh..

as he finishes peeling the orange, he begins removing the orange pith, the spongey veins begin to clear off the fruit as it reveals its more vivid colour, you kiss bill on the forehead looking at him and awe and he shy’s away looking down.

“you’re too sweet bill,” you lean your arm on the table as you rest your head on your hand staring at him, he doesn’t know where to look as you can see his cheeks are tinted a rosy pink, “thank you, meine liebe.. now say ahhhh~”

you open your mouth to welcome the slice of orange he so particularly peeled for you, a little of the juice spills out the corner of your mouth as you rush to eat the fruit.

they’re super sweet.

bill takes his thumb and wipes off the juice that began to run down corner of your mouth and face. taking his thumb away he suckles on the tip of it to get the juice that was once on your face into his mouth.

why the fuck is he so hot and cute at the same time!?

“stop doing that..” you say, “stop doing what?” “BEING HOT AND CUTE AT THE SAME TIME!” he laughs at you and shakes his head, he then picks up another slice of orange to hold towards your mouth, “my hotness and cuteness could never compare to yours,” “oh please!”

as you finish slice by slice of the orange, he feeds each and every one piece to you, not letting you do it yourself even thought your very much capable of doing so. after eating the last slice he gives you a kiss on the kips and licks his lips after.

“shall we eat?”

[the-morningstar-family]

We're really going to Vox for this? Will he even help?

Vox: “Hello your majesty. Whatever could coerce you to come here?”

Vox could've kept the showman act to himself, because Lucifer is entirely focused on the many sharks swimming in the tanks around them. The TV demon realises this soon as well, and suddenly feels like he's third wheeling after the king approached him.

Lucifer: “Oh aren't you some cuties?!”

The sharks are equally receptive to the angel's presence, and swim close in excitement. No Vox is not jealous that he bonded with them even closer than him. He clears his throat.

Lucifer: “Huh? Oh- yeah sorry”

Vox: “As I asked before, what could you be doing here, didn't we have a deal?”

The king raises a brow, clearly unimpressed.

Lucifer: “I'm not coming for trouble”

Vox: “What counts as trouble is a matter of interpretation.”

An angry frown graces Lucifer's lips, and he crosses his arms.

Lucifer: “If you really wanna go that route; what about the drones that recently started flying around again? Mh? Don't you think that most might interpret that as trouble?”

Vox: “I– uhm - You see”

Lucifer: “Or the whole watching Al, when he's going about his day on security cameras? Or did you think he wouldn't notice?”

Vox: “Fine! I get it, I don't have the high ground-”

Suddenly, Vox is nervous. He may not have thought this through on the impulse of petty revenge.

Lucifer: “I don't know how your friends would react, cause if we think you really just violated the agreement, we could just go wreck all their shit too-”

Vox: “Fucking- fine. What did you come here for?!”

The angry expression turns Lucifer's into a very smug one.

Lucifer: “I know you and Al were friends.”

Vox: “Yeah. So?”

Lucifer: “And you're also like- electrical sometimes.”

Vox: “Duh”

Lucifer: “Did Alastor ever react strangely to that?”

The TV looks a bit confused, but shrugs and decides the information is worth their fragile peace.

Vox: “Uh, I'm not just going around zapping people. But it happened once or twice. I don't know. He just didn't listen to me for a few seconds. But he kept walking and all… but damn did he get pissy. Like, excuse me! You didn't listen, and now I'm the ass-?”

The man keeps brabbling away. And Lucifer sighs. Ugh. At least he knows that this isn't the first time. How were he and Alastor ever friends?

Lucifer: “... Well, thanks Vox. I think I got all what I need from you”

Vox: “What? The fuck, you just ask one question and leave?”

Lucifer: “Yeah? So? This was kinda supposed to be transactional. Sorry.”

Vox huffs. Screen growing redder in anger.

Vox: “So what did he say with you coming over here to ask me that?”

Lucifer: “Uhm..”

He knew he forgot something. Leave it to Lucifer Morningstar to forget the obvious again.

Vox: “Do you think he'll stay with you with how you just go behind his back?”

The Box really grinds on the angel's gears, how dar she? Their relationship is much stronger than that.

Lucifer: “Listen hear, fuck face. He may-”

But the trips and falls onto his opponent, not only making them both fall onto an array of buttons, but also startle the man. And a lot of TV screens appear into sight. Some with pretty old pictures of Alastor, some newer, and some from last week.

Lucifer: “That is the saddest way to be a massive creep I have ever seen…Can't you get a life? Alastor doesn't want you! Live with it! Or wallow somewhere in pity, I don't care. But leave us the fuck alone!”

Vox flares at Lucifer as if he is the apple that poisoned snow white.

Vox: “Well he should be wanting me!”

Lucifer: “Ew.”

Vox: “Oh fuck you. I don't buy your stick! You still him away!”

Lucifer: “Dude what the fuck?! He's not even been your friend for years!”

Vox : “He's playing hard to get!”

Lucifer: “You are fucking delusional. If someone is having a family with another guy, they probably don't want to be with you!”

The king says it slowly. As if explaining something to a toddler. Actually. That's an insult to toddlers.

Vox: “Pff. He wouldn't even be pregnant with your kids if everything had been according to pak-”

He's suddenly pinned against the glass, sharks keeping their distance. They don't like demon Lucifer.

Lucifer: “Did you try to baby trap Alastor?”

Vox: “Well- it– uh!”

The king punches the screen, breaking it along the already discoloured stipe on the face, rendering one half useless.

Lucifer: “You keep you dirty fucking fingers away from him. Understood?”

He nods scared. And suddenly, the kin turns back, smiling overly sweet. He turns to the sharks.

Lucifer: “Sowwy for scaring you cute widdle guys.”

The sharks swim happy farewell circles. Fucking traitors. And with that, the king unfurls his wings and flies away through the corridors.