#you get the system stick buddy

[icyrambles]

right so a friend of mine gave me a massive idea for a transformers fan continuity, so i'm gonna share it!

the headcanon is plural/system optimus prime for a fan continuity i'm working on. please note that these are just my own headcanons spawned from a friend helping me out with this fan continuity. so be nice!

orion pax emerges from the well of allsparks and is assigned as a dockworker. he is the host, the one on record. the guy everyone knows about. below the murky depths of his conscious mind, a fragment lurks. it doesn't say anything, hell it doesn't even have a name or a face or an identity to call its own but it is there

after many many vorns of work, of rough, punishing work hauling cargo and shipments from the docks of the mithril sea to the majour cities of cybertron, orion is given an upgrade. he is taken in by alpha trion, the head archivist of cybertron, who had found young orion's works on the intranet and captivated by the passion of this young worker, decided to take him on as an apprentice.

orion becomes very well researched, particularly fascinated by the many datapads regarding cybertronian mental disorders, especially the ones regarding plurality and the existence of seemingly multiple mecha within one frame. he's not really sure why exactly that sort of information intrigues him so much, but he notes it for later and continues on in his work.

many stellar cycles later, orion meets megatron; a miner from tarn who rose up to become one of the greatest fighters in kaon's great gladiator rings. they bond over poetry and their vast thirst for knowledge and slowly, they fall in love. and then.... orion is summoned by the prime himself, sentinel.

megatron urges him to take the opportunity, to potentially request that the prime try to dismantle many of the oppressive systems that now shackle people like megatron and to some extent, orion (who remember worked as a labourer for a good chunk of his existence before being taken in by alpha trion)

so orion travels to meet the prime and that's when everything goes wrong. he arrives in iacon, the great shining beacon of cybertron and he is immediately ushered into a private room with sentinel. and the prime is not happy, ranting almost nonsensically about "a successor" and "it's not my time to step down, it's mine"

when orion tries to get a word in edgewise, tries to tell his prime about all the torment and suffering that mecha like megatron and so many more suffer under, how their planet is being bled of resources, sentinel dismisses him. he tells orion that the system is working exactly as intended and that mechs like megatron are but dirt beneath his and orion's pedes.

orion is confused and very angry because megatron is his lover. he knows that the system shouldn't work this way and he tells sentinel as such. sentinel opens his chest to reveal the matrix and snaps at orion that "the system is working just as intended, otherwise this would tell me otherwise. primus chose me and clearly he is more than satified with the way i've been running things"

orion leaves iacon, defeated and angry and filled with a sense of rage that feels so unlike him. megatron tells him its not his fault and the two of them agree that something has to be done.

so they visit the well of allsparks, probably the most religious location on all of cybetron. something calls orion to the well, something deep inside him. its similar to that rage he felt earlier, like its someone else in control.

my version of the matrix is unlike other continuities. it is a religious artifact that sentinel has in his possession for most of the time but he returns it to the well of allsparks for religious holidays and such. this version of the matrix selects the leaders of cybertron, tailored specifically for whatever the mecha of the planet need at that time. and they need a leader, one who will listen, one who will fight. and that mech is not orion.

the matrix calls to orion. he ignores the many guards surrounding it, almost entranced. megatron tries to stop him, tries to get him away because what good has the matrix done anyways, we don't need it. but orion ends up touching the matrix, letting its light consumes him. and the mecha who returns to the well of allsparks is not orion pax, but optimus prime my version of optimus prime is a dormant fragment that got lost in transit while orion's full consciousness was forming.

orion is the host, he's the one who was in control for most of the pre war era. optimus on the other hand, is a mech whose identity is formed by the matrix' overwhelming need for a being who will fight against the corruption that has burned through cybertron's very core. megatron, meanwhile is freaking out. his friend, his lover just vanished in a flash of light. he's being interrogated by guards when another flash of light engulfs the room and then a mech who looks similar to orion appears. he's bigger, taller, with more armour and a battle mask snapped firmly over his face plates but that colour palette and the way he speaks sounds just like orion.

"i am optimus prime." the new mech says and then he collapes.

my version of optimus and orion are a duality. i am a fan of creating themes of characters who are opposites to each other. orion is the thinker, he is the one who reads and absorbs information. he craves knowledge. optimus is a fighter. he's built to fight and is heavily armoured and is very much willing to take on the system of cybertron if it means a better future for everyone else i think that orion has a lot of identity issues when he finally comes to and is told what happens. on the one servo, that explains why exactly he was so curious about plurality and felt a kinship with many of the first hand accounts he'd read. but on the other servo. there's literally a whole other person, one hand picked by primus himself to fight now inhabiting his frame alongside him. and that's a lot to take in. my version of orion grapples with the reality that he is never alone anymore and isn't that wonderful but also it'll never be just him anymore and that's terrifying. he also has to cope with the very real possibility that optimus might injure their shared body very badly in a fight

optimus is rather confused about the whole situation. mostly because he's existed for only a few minutes as a full person, not as a random fragment floating around in the depths of orion's processor. but he knows why he's here and what his goal is. he needs to help cybertron and he's more than ready to do his duty. the handsome gladiator that his headmate managed to bag probably isn't such a bad thing either lmao

megatron probably handles it the best. he's almost entranced by optimus, someone who is bigger than orion both in body and mind, who can grapple with megatron without straining a strut with that matrix granted strength. he's down fucking bad for the both of them is what i'm saying. he helps orion through the identity crisis and is there to assure and council both his lovers through all their problems. he is a bit shaken up when it first happens because he's honestly not sure if he'll ever seen orion again.

optimus and orion exist in a state of co-fronting and only one of them around for a long period of time. when its the both of them, their identities merge and warp and become close to something like one individual for the most part. they still exist as themselves but something about having their minds so close together for long periods of time blurs the line between optimus prime and orion pax. however when it's just one of them on their own, they are very much themselves.

orion, as mentioned is a thinker. he's the strategist, the diplomat and he's the one in front for the periods of time when the army is on their own on earth. he loves the life on the new planet and he is the one responsible for charging rewind to create a detailed history of their people

optimus is the one fronting for most of the time they are fighting. in a way he almost craves it, the thrill of combat, the glory of battle. he likes to interact with the army to, he gets to know most of the soliders and doesn't shy away from getting his servos dirty. he interacts with the troops and gets to really know his soldiers on a deep personal level. he's a very down to earth kind of guy and tends to not get caught up in emotional stuff as badly as orion, though he's got a lot of repressed feelings regarding stuff like the matrix and primus but it's better for him to just not think about that kind of thing

anyways i really like thinking about plurality in transformers. i'm a singlet (so not a system) but i'm friends with quite a few systems myself (one of which got me into transformers) so making plural headcanons (and by that i mean my massive brain friends make the headcanons and i immediately incorporate them into my belief system.) i get rather nervous posting my headcanons so please be nice <3

reblogs > likes (if ya like my headcanons give em' a reblog)

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[teaboot]

I seriously hope you can job hop to something else cause you're not chaotic neutral man.

You're still a white Canadian whose actions and job help more the megacorps keep the status quo.

I really looked up to you but that's on me.

And yeah, I know security, cop shit and military pay good money but at the cost of my people? Fuck no.

Listen. I feel you. But there's a lot of cold, power-tripping bastards in this line of work and if I stick where I am then they don't get to have that.

I'm not a cop. I am not beholden to the justice system. Sometimes I get contracted out to people who say shit like "addicts should be put down, if you see any crackheads drag them out" and I nod and say "yes sir", and then I take their money and use it to buy those people coffee and a sandwich and tell 'em when free lunch days are at the church.

Boss sees me walking with someone and thinks I'm kicking them out, gives my boss great reviews. I'm having a great conversation with Connie, who used to by a stylist and wound up on the street after an accident that left her with chronic pain and a heroin addiction. Connie learns that there's a gap between two property lines nearby where technically nobody can call to have her removed.

There's a really sweet guy in town who's normally very nice, but sometimes flies into paranoid rage and yells slurs at people. Sometimes he forgets he's been banned from places and wanders in looking for a wife he hasn't had for nine years. Owner sends me to kick him out, and I ask "hey Mike, how are you?" And see where we are today.

One time there was a guy whose abusive ex kept following him to work, and I got to walk him to his car at the end of every day to make sure she couldn't get him alone.

Another person had a stalker who kept asking receptionists when she was gonna be there, when she was supposed to leave, if she was in today. I'd keep record of every time he came in, every time someone saw him, every time he violated his restraining order or damaged her things.

And when I wonder if I'm actually helping or not, or if I'm part of the greater problem, I remember that other people who work with me call homeless people wildlife and talk about how bad they wanna get an excuse to fight someone and I remember that I'm the one who knows where the blind spots on the cameras are, and thank God it's not him.

My position is fundamentally different from that of the military or law enforcement. I don't *need* to be buddy-buddy with most of these dickheads- I don't *need* to send people into the justice system.

I do single-person foot patrol. Nobody cares how I get the job done. They say, "Hey, faceless goon number three- make that bastard disappear" and I say "on it, boss" and give him tickets to disney world.

I once asked another guard if he knew that one of our regulars used to be an airplane technician. He said, "No, I don't talk to them". Blanket "Them". "Them" as in street people. "Them" as in addicts, or shoplifters, or ex-cons, or sex workers.

I asked why, and he told me, "it's easier if you don't think of them as people."

Anyhow, now I get calls to "watch that sketchy lady who just came in" and I say, "yes, sir" and leave her the fuck alone, 'cause that's Jolene, and people always think she's on drugs and aggressive but she's just deaf in one ear and slurs cause she has brain damage, you dickhead

so yeah, don't worry, I've spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of my vocation, and I still think I'd rather be in charge of my locations than someone like Darryl, who dreams of "cuffing a perp" and drives a car with Punisher decals on the hood

Also it's minimum wage but that's kinda tangential

[peppermintquartz]

The first time Tommy opens his house to Evan, he doesn't know what he is getting.

At first Evan just follows him, making polite sounds of generic appreciation, until they get to the kitchen in the back of the bungalow. Tommy has leaned into the craftsman style, and there are industrial elements also - efficient is effective, in Tommy's opinion - and Evan just stands in the middle and stares, an awed smile on his face. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds and its rays fall right through the skylight and onto the island, a piece that Tommy built with a friend's help.

"Are those... Did you get the wood from a bowling alley?" Evan is delighted, rubbing his fingertips over the little triangular marks on the surface of the island. "This is so cool."

He explores the kitchen and notices the pantry. On the pantry door, he sees Tommy's meal plan and freezes.

"Tommy, you have a meal planning chart," Evan states unnecessarily.

Tommy sticks his hands into his pocket. "Yeah, a gym buddy taught me. I got used to it and it's really useful when I plan out my grocery shopping."

"It's color-coded."

"Yeah. The system is simple, too. Helps me see if I'm getting enough proteins, carbs --mmph!!"

Tommy's back hits the nearest wall as he is kissed to an inch of his life. Evan doesn't let up, licking into Tommy's mouth with delectable little moans and his hands are wandering under Tommy's shirt, his fingers skating over his waist and ribs. When a thick thigh insinuates itself between Tommy's legs, Tommy pushes lightly on Evan's shoulders. "Okay, that was. Wow. You like the meal plan?"

"It's color-coded," Evan murmurs, his pupils blown dark with longing. "And you listed the exact cuts of meat, and how to cook them."

Tommy is not expecting his boyfriend to be turned on by efficiency and organization, but he sure as hell isn't about to stop Evan from rewarding Tommy for it. Putting his arms over Evan's shoulders, Tommy smiles and says, "Wait till you see my pantry." He lowers his voice. "It's sorted by category and then alphabetical order."

Evan inhales sharply. "Do you mind if I take off your pants right now?"

[mayvnwrites]

Just a weird au i have to unload from my head or else I'll never get anything done.

The System screws up and sticks SY in the wrong qi-deviating Peak Lord, freaks out and tried to undo it, and x number of svsss shenanigans later, there are two Qi Qingqis staring at each other from their sickbed.

SY promptly freaks out and outs himself as a dude in a lady's body, which QQQ is understandably pissed as all hell about ... until SY's very modern politically correct upbringing starts freaking out about how it's a betrayal to the girls on xian shu peak if he's allowed in it and how absolutely disrespectful this is to QQQ that some dude can see a perfect copy of her body etc etc ... and then she's like, oh no, he's *pathetic* and it's *adorable*.

SY is QQQ's didi now, but he still has to be rigorously tested for demonization and is declared to be just a poor wandering soul that got yoinked into a weird situation thanks to QQQ's qi deviation. MQF tries various things to help SY adapt to the body, but SY is all female all the way now, which, when he finds out he can avoid periods bc cultivator, he's all for since QQQ's body is way better than his prev one. The tincture that tries to meld body and soul does at least reduce his breast size, which thank GODS bc holy hell jiejie, how do you even deal with these?

SJ is his normal bitchy self... except he can't help but be a little curious about what it's like being a woman, and having been there for SY's freak out he feels... the slightest bit of a kindred spirit to a man who holds women in such high regard (bc ancient china). Also SY is a woman now, although he still calls himself a didi instead of a meimei, so... anyway, SJ's walls are slowly torn down and it ends in Shenbros somehow, with SJ and QQQ competing for title of best elder sibling. (SJ is aroace in this au.)

No one tells LQG about the two QQQ's for the longest time, and he is extremely confused at the softer(in personality) vers and why her boob size keeps fluctuating. He is very torn between his "just bros" sparring buddy (QQQ) and the... one who makes him feel... things (SY) and is not-gay panicking like crazy.

The System blocked SY's knowledge of PIDW and fked off in terror of the Main System finding out about its screw up, so SY didn't realize anything until LBH appears and his memory is unlocked (bc deus ex binghe), but by then he's invested in Cang Qiong and the Peak Lords' wellbeings, Jiu-ge is a lot more well-adjusted, and all the Xianshu ladies are addicted to trashy romance novels and have no time for rl pretty boys so...

[strang3lov3]

Pharmacy

Summary: (mall rats 6) Surrounded by medical supplies is a convenient time to slice your hand open. Joel wrestles your stubborn ass to treat your wound, then fucks you how you like.

Tags: Jar Jar Binks, Star Wars opinions, manhandling, descriptions of injuries (I tried to keep it as short and sweet as I could, bc I myself am a squeamish girl!! I was squirming the whole time writing this!!!) blowjobs, f masturbation, kinda rough unprotected PIV, creampie, dirty talk, reader and Joel have googly eyes for each other

A/N: as always thank you so much @papipascalispunk for editing. Thank you all for your continued patience with my writing, I am a busy busy lady and you may not get another fic from me for two weeks or more with the whole finals thing, but I do have lots of shit planned! One thing at a time bug one thing at a time. I wish I could write smut for my history of Indiana final essay but I don’t think that would fly with my nun-obsessed professor. Also, thank you @noxturnalpascal and @speckledemerald for hyping me up ❤️❤️

Joel is standing in front of a map of the mall, studying it intently. It’s been a while since you’ve been at the mall with Joel, actually. With the weather getting worse with more and more snow, Tommy is trying to keep travel limited to patrol. Supply runs for necessities only, and Jackson is in need of medical supplies. Rubbing alcohol, gauze, bandages, first aid supplies. There’s actually a medical building not far from Jackson, but it’s pretty well picked over at this point. 

“Mall has a pharmacy. A CVS or Walgreens, somethin’ like that. I’ll go,” Joel had volunteered in Tommy’s office. 

“I’ll come too,” you added as you were helping Tommy fill out patrol logs.

Joel sighed, “No.” 

“Why not?”

“Supposed to be a quick trip. In and out. Don’t need you gettin’ distracted by lotions and perfumes again.”

“Those are necessities,” you argue, “Besides, buddy system. It’s important for us to stick together.” 

“We are not buddies,” Joel scoffed. Tommy raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“No? What are we, then?” 

Joel opened his mouth as if to answer with something sharp and argumentative, but no words came out. His cheeks turned rosy as you both shared an odd look, with Joel’s hands frozen on the buttons of his coat. The pencil you wrote with felt heavy in your hand, held awkwardly on the paper as you stared at Joel. You didn’t mean for that question to come out the way it did. What was the answer to the question, anyway? 

Tommy filled the silence with his own answer. “I know what y’all are,” he smirked. 

Joel shot Tommy a warning look, then took your jacket from behind your chair and held it open for you. “Let’s go, then,” he said. You put your arms through the sleeves, zipped yourself up and left. You could hear Tommy chuckling to himself as you walked out with Joel.

You rode horseback to the mall. Still feeling awkward from the interaction at Tommy’s, you both stayed silent, but the ride wasn’t uncomfortable. You hugged Joel tightly, and Joel savored the warmth of your cheek on his back. 

“Found it,” Joel taps the map, “I remember now. It’s downstairs.”

“Ha!” you brag, “I told you. I knew it was downstairs. I was right.” 

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll throw a party when we get home,” Joel replied, taking off towards the dilapidated staircase. You follow close behind, dragging your fingers against the railing, letting your hand tap each of the thin rods that support it. One breaks off and falls with a clatter. Joel doesn’t bother turning around to see what it was. “You break these stairs, you find us a new way out of here,” he warns. Dramatic. You pick up the thin rail and twirl it as you walk behind Joel, then poke his ass with the piece of metal. Already exhausted by you, he sighs, “What’d you find now, trouble?”

“Lightsaber,” you answer. 

“What?” Joel tilts his head and turns around to finally see what all the noise and clattering was. You’re holding one of the thin rods from the railing, still twirling it. “No, put that down,” he tells you, “You’re gonna give yourself tetanus. Put it down, sweetheart.”

“Ellie lent me this DVD. Did you ever see this old movie, Star Wars?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Joel grumbles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “Ain’t that old, smartass. And of course I’ve watched Star Wars, who do you think introduced it to her?”

“Oh,” you reply, “Well, there was this character, Jar Jar–”

“Nope,” Joel cuts you off, “You’re done. Lost your talkin’ privileges. Drop your lightsaber and zip it.”

Still twirling the rod you ask, “You don’t like Star Wars?”

“I like Star Wars. What you watched is not Star Wars.”

“Yes it is, Joel. It was on the DVD.” 

Joel turns back around and keeps walking, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah I do. Mesa–”

Joel interrupts, “Do not finish that sentence,” he warns, “God, that movie was so stupid. Took Sarah to see it when it came out, we ended up leavin’ halfway through and gettin’ ice cream instead.” You watch Joel smile at the memory as you approach the pharmacy and he holds the door open for you. You smile with him. Joel doesn’t talk about Sarah much with you, but he mentions her now and then, at least more than he used to.

You and Joel find the first aid aisle of the pharmacy. He knows what to look for, so he peruses the aisles and stuffs his bag full of supplies. Watching him bend over, you can’t help but poke his ass again. “Knock it off, space cadet,” he says, annoyed.

You giggle to yourself and toss the rod aside. You hadn’t realized the end that you were holding was damaged when you broke it off the railing. Fuck. It’s sharp, jagged, and slices your palm all the way across. The rod clangs on the ground and startles Joel. 

Joel turns around to see the rod on the ground, and you clutching your fist tightly. “What’s in your hand?”

“Nothing,” you answer, feeling your hand become warm and wet. 

Joel connects the dots. He bends over and checks the rod for rust and there’s none, thank god. But the end is very jagged, almost serrated like a knife. “Open your hand.”

“No,” pressing your lips together, you lower your gaze and open your fist slightly to check your hand, then quickly shut it. Joel watches your eyes go wide and the color draining from your face. “It’s n–mmm,” you hum, your voice shaky, “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine,” Joel reaches for your hand, “You’re hurt. Need to see how deep that cut is, clean it and–”

You shove Joel backward with your free hand, and he looks momentarily taken aback. There was a lot more strength behind that shove than he would have anticipated. You’re not playing, not teasing like usual. “Do you wanna try that again?” he asks, his voice firm.

“Don’t touch me.” 

Joel takes in your expression. You’re not trying to start a fight with him, you look worried, anxious, and defensive with pale lips and trembling hands. You had mentioned not handling blood or pain well before, but he didn’t know you were this squeamish, you poor thing. “I have to, hon.”

“Joel…”

Joel raises a hand in your direction, “Don’t argue with me on this. You need to sit down, I can tell you’re gettin’ freaked.”

“Joel,” you say his name again in a warning tone, much sharper than before. 

“I know,” he says softly, as he steps closer to you, and you step back, your feet hitting the wall behind you. You’re feeling more amped up now. “Just let me look,” as he reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, his grip tightening when you struggle against him and try to pull your arm away. “Quit squrimin’,” he grits his teeth as he fights against your strength. Minding his own strength, and with one hand gripping your wrist, he moves the other to your shoulder and forces you to the ground as gently as he can. A sliced hand is bad enough, he doesn’t need you fainting and cracking your skull open. You kick your legs and punch against him, but he pins his body on top of yours, your free hand between your body and his leg.

“Get the fuck off me, Joel,” you spit, “Get off, get off, get–”

“Hey. Hey,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle, “Breathe, sweetheart. I know you’re nervous.”

You stare at Joel with fiery eyes, breathing heavily through your nose. Shallow breaths, probably not getting enough oxygen to your brain, but at least you’re breathing. Joel gives you a moment to settle down.

“I need you to listen to me,” he tells you, “I don’t know how deep your cut is. I need you to let me look.”

“Please,” you beg, “Please don’t.”

“I’m gonna be gentle,” Joel promises as he flips your wrist up, gently beginning to pry your fingers open, “You look at me. Don’t look at your hand. Just look at me. Will you trust me?” 

Nodding apprehensively, you keep your focus on Joel. He nods in response, then examines your palm. He bites his cheek and frowns. 

“Is it bad?” you ask shakily.

“Uhh,” he hums, “It’s not good,” he answers you honestly. You’re cut in multiple areas and by the looks of it, the gashes go pretty deep. “You might need stitches.”

Fuck that. You squirm under Joel with all of your might to force him off of you. 

“Stop thrashin’. Stop it,” he says, holding your jaw firmly and looking into your eyes, “I’m not gonna stitch ya. We can cross that bridge when we get to Jackson. But you are risking infection. So I’m going to stop the bleeding, wash it, disinfect, then wrap your hand. That’s all.”

He has a tendency to get frustrated with you, and you’re sure he’s beyond frustrated with you right now, but he’s not showing it. He looks sincere, but you’re still on edge and lacking assurance. “Promise?” you whisper.

“I swear,” he assures softly, rubbing your jaw gently with his thumb. When you nod in response, Joel takes his coat off and folds it, then slides it under your head. He needs you as comfortable as you can be. 

“We are gonna have to amputate, though,” he jokes as he pulls out a rag from his bag and presses it into your hand. You give him a dirty look. “Kidding,” he says. 

Joel removes the rag to see if your hand is still bleeding. You catch a glimpse of the cut and the blood in your palm, running down your wrist, “Oh god, my hand, Joel–”

“Don’t look,” he repeats, “Just keep lookin’ at me, sweetheart.”

But you don’t. You can’t seem to peel your eyes away, and you feel lightheaded. Joel notices.

“Tell me somethin’ new,” he says, distracting you from the pain.

“Joel, please,” you whine.

“Somethin’ new,” he reminds you.

“I saw a cat yesterday.”

Joel nods in response. “What color?” he asks.

“Uh, calico,” you reply. He’s reaching into his bag, pulling out his canteen and rinsing your hand out with his water. The cool water feels soothing on your palm. 

“What’s calico?”

“It’s when a cat has three colors, Joel,” you answer impatiently, as if the answer should be glaringly obvious to him. “Fuck,”  you hiss, as he pats the wound dry. The fabric feels irritating and painful against you. 

“Tell me more. Tell me good things.”

Following his instructions, you begin rambling. It’s not hard once you start. “I saw a cat and I kicked Tommy’s ass in a board game and his baby is so cute, by the way. Almost as cute as the cat.”

“You think cats are cuter than babies?”

“Obviously. Babies are gross and they’re noisy and I finished the sweater I was crocheting for Maria and the snow looks pretty and I love you and I…” 

Joel pauses his work on your hand momentarily. He doesn't hear anything else you say after those three words. I love you. It’s a fuzzy sort of quiet, he’s in disbelief. I love you. When your hand twitches, he pulls his focus back to you.

“...And I watched Star Wars.”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, “You said that already, you said–”

“I did? Oh yeah. I guess I did.”

You’re clearly delirious, in panic mode, and not thinking straight. You don’t remember talking about Star Wars an hour ago, you don’t even realize what just slipped your lips a second ago. Joel smiles to himself. He’s suspected it for a while. He loves you too. But that’s a conversation for later. There’s a more pressing issue at hand, quite literally.

Joel clears his throat and blinks a couple of times. “Uhm,” he hums, thinking of something to say, “And you said you got that movie from Ellie? The Phantom Menace?” 

“Star Wars.”

“Yeah, Star Wars Episode I, The Phantom Menace,” he corrects you. You shrug. “Unbelievable,” Joel says, “Thought I taught that girl better.” He reaches for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and keeps your hand open in his. “Alright, deep breath in and out. This is the worst part, then we’re done.” 

Before you have time to breathe in and out as instructed, before you have time to argue, Joel dumps the alcohol in your palm. You yelp and tug your hand away, but he holds it still.

“I know, I know, I know, baby,” he coos, “Almost done.”

“Joel,” you cry.

“Look, all done,” he whispers as tears off a piece of gauze and lays it over your gash. “See? All done. Just need to wrap it,” Joel prepares more gauze, “Makes sense you’ve identified with Jar Jar, of all characters.” 

“What do you mean?”

Joel begins to wrap the bandage tightly around your hand. “Clumsy,” he murmurs, “Troublemakin’... accident prone.” 

“I don’t think you like Star Wars,” you tell him.

“Not the prequels,” Joel replies, “Only good thing about the outbreak is that they couldn’t finish that godforsaken mess of a trilogy.”

“What do you mean, ‘prequels’?”

“There was an original trilogy that came out before that movie you watched. Ellie didn’t show you them?”, and you shake your head no, “So you don’t know Han Solo or Princess Leia. That means nothin’ to ya?”

“Nope.”

“Jesus Christ. What about C-3PO? R2-D2?”

“Oh, yeah. I know them. They were in that movie.”

“No,” Joel disagrees, then looking baffled for a second before nodding his head as he remembers the hour he spent watching that movie with Sarah years and years ago. “Mm, yeah, you’re right. Guess they were,” Joel concedes, “We’ll have to rectify this, you know. Have a movie night sometime.” 

“Yeah,” you agree, “You can make me popcorn.” 

“I’ll make you popcorn,” Joel says, watching a smile form on your lips. “There it is,” he praises, “Missed that smile. Don’t like seein’ you upset like that,” he murmurs, finishing your bandage wrap and securing it in place. “What am I gonna do with you?” he asks as he presses a kiss to your palm before he lets your hand go. You can still feel the warmth of his touch on your skin as he watches you and your cheeks begin to warm.

“I know what you’re gonna do with me,” you whisper. 

I’m gonna kiss you, and I’ll tell you that I love you too. That’s what I’m gonna do with you, Joel thinks, his heart beginning to race.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” 

“You’re gonna listen to my Jar Jar impression.”

Joel sighs. He watches you with adoration, and he wants nothing more than to express that adoration for you. It’ll happen when it happens. He decides to let it go for now and play along with you instead, however you want to. You deserve it, after all. He’ll put up a facade like you drive him crazy and he’ll let you believe you’re really getting under his skin, just to watch you smile and hear you laugh like you really got him this time. And he’ll tease you back, at least once more. 

“Please spare me until I lose my hearing in my other ear.” 

You oblige, smiling and rolling your eyes. Still holding eye contact with Joel, you become acutely aware of the position you’re in, that all too familiar position. Faces close, bodies closer and staring into his sparkly, warm brown eyes with his weight pressing into you. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, the way he took care of you, who knows. Out of the blue, you’re turned on and Joel knows. Joel cocks an eyebrow when your breath hitches, when you bite your lip and begin to squirm underneath him, seemingly now uncomfortable, aroused no doubt. “Time and place, hon,” he smirks smugly.

Heat rises up your neck and your cheeks at his accusation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah, you do. I know how you operate,” he asserts. “What’s got ya all worked up all of a sudden?” Joel asks, his hand caressing your cheek, your jaw.

“Nothing,” you lie. Your skin burns where his fingers trace.

“I think you’re lyin’. I know you like when I get rough with ya, just wasn’t expectin’ ya to like it now of all times, when I had to wrestle you down to fix that gash in your hand,” Joel taunts, “You’re very stubborn sometimes, you know that?” 

“Challenging,” you counter his claim, “And I wasn’t being stubborn. I could have taken care of my hand myself. I didn’t really need your help.”

Joel knows that’s a lie. You did, in fact, need his help. Badly. 

“That right there is stubborn.”

“No,” you argue, “And I’m not worked up right now, either.” Joel makes an amused face at you, and you wince internally. 

Shit. You fucked that up. Overcompensated.

“Right. Course not.” 

Against your better judgment, you open your mouth to argue further but Joel hushes you. “What do I get if you’re wet right now, sweetheart?” he whispers, unbuttoning your jeans. Your tummy flutters with desire as his fingertips skate across your skin. “You’re more than welcome to stop me right now,” he purrs. He’s giving you an out, a moment to make a choice, but you don’t dare stop him. And Joel grins. He snakes his hand down your pants, underneath your thin cotton panties. The anticipation builds with the tickle of his fingers lightly dragging over your mound, his middle and ring fingers tracing over your lips. You gasp quietly when he dips his fingers at your core, his fingertips collecting your arousal. You stifle a whine as he pulls his hand away from your body, showing you his two fingers glistening with your slick. Joel clicks his tongue, “Can’t be comfortable,” he murmurs, his tone sarcastic and sympathetic all at the same time. “This all for me?”

“No,” you breathe shakily. Yes. 

“You’re lyin’ to me,” he mumbles, bringing his two fingers to his lips. His mouth makes obscene noises as he sucks them clean of your arousal, humming at the sweet taste. Before you can think, he’s pulling your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, his fingers finding their place back at your pussy. “You could tell me the truth and I’d go easy on ya,” he offers, his thumb pressing against your clit.

You love the thrill, that feeling in your stomach. Joel gives you a moment to answer, but you don’t. “No?”  he asks before situating himself on the ground with you, backing himself against a wall and pulling you into his lap. “Gonna make it worse for yourself,” he says, spreading your legs apart and hiking up your shirt, one hand playing with your pussy and the other kneading your breasts, teasing your nipples, “Why don’t you tell me how much ya needed this, hm? How you want me to make it all better.”

You sigh, a soft Joel falling from your lips as you become wetter, more sensitive as Joel’s fingers dance through your slick folds. He pushes two fingers inside you, fingers curling into that spot that he so loves. His thumb rubs tight, steady circles around your clit and he flicks the thumb of his other hand across your sensitive nipples, the combination of actions filling you with a deep, hot pleasure. You rest your head on his shoulder, the scratchy hairs on his cheek pressing against your forehead. You reach behind yourself to touch him, tangling your fingers in his curls.

“We’ll do this the hard way, then,” Joel shoves you forward, careful not to use too much of his strength but enough to let you know that he’s in charge. He’s always in charge. He takes his folded coat from the ground and positions it in front of himself. He stands up tall, knees popping as he rises. “Since you have nothin’ better to do with your mouth than tellin’ lies…”  Joel snaps and points to his coat, “Might as well keep you quiet instead. Down,” he instructs, “On your knees. Do it now.”

“Yes, Joel,” as you assume the position.

“Ah, now she speaks,” he taunts, the quiet metallic clang of him undoing his belt buckle sending excitement shooting through you. “Open,” is his next command, “Nice n’ wide, hon, you know how,” he instructs as he pulls out his cock, hard and with a pearly bead of precum glistening on his head. You open your mouth for Joel, eyes wide and Joel taps his member on your tongue. “Keep ya from doin’ that stupid fuckin’ impression, too.”

Your eyes light up as you think of something quippy to say, but Joel slides his cock into your mouth to keep you from doing so. “Ah-ah,” he tuts, “Quiet.” He’s delicious, masculine, heady, and intense. He fills your mouth entirely and you swirl your tongue around him, tracing thick veins and salty skin. “Attagirl,” Joel praises you, gripping the back of your head and pushing himself further into your mouth. You nearly gag, pulling back slightly but he holds you right where he wants you, “Right there.”

He pushes you further than you’re used to, but not to the point of discomfort. His tummy nudges your forehead as your nose presses against dark curls at the base of his dick and you use your hand to cup his balls. As you hum against him, you wonder if Joel intends for this to be a punishment. His tone and the way he conducts himself is commanding, but the way he fucks your mouth is gentle. 

“Still not worked up, right? Don’t need me?”, he asks, staring down at you with raised eyebrows. You shake your head no, lying again. “Okay,” he says, “I wanna watch you fuck yourself on your fingers. But don’t come. Not until you tell me what I wanna hear.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as you bring your fingers to your core, feeling your arousal. You push two fingers into your dripping pussy, pumping them in and out and trying to mimic the way it feels when Joel does it.

As you fuck yourself, you hollow your cheeks around his thick cock, letting him feel every inch of your soft and wet mouth. He’s domineering above you, but his hand on your cheek is gentle, caressing your skin softly. He looks down at you through hooded lids and as your eyes flutter shut, you wonder what he’s thinking. 

The way you’re touching your pussy hardly counts as fucking yourself, it’s teasing at best, and excruciating at that. You rub circles around your clit steadily, subtly, needing more than what he’s told you to give yourself. With your fingers working your clit and your mouth working Joel, the familiar pleasure of your climax is just within reach. Feeling yourself reaching your peak, you look up at Joel, “What are you doin’?”, he asks, like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be.

You pull your mouth off of his cock to whisper, “Please, Joel,” which garners an irritated look from him. Joel bends lower to grab you by your bicep and force you to your feet, spinning you around and bending you over an empty shelf of an end cap. He parts your legs and drags his cock through your folds with one hand, the other gripping your hip. 

“Need those magic words, sweetheart. Say it, ‘I need you, Joel’. Go on, now. You got it.”

With the leftover feeling of your ruined orgasm and Joel’s cock teasing your pussy, you fold immediately. “I need you, Joel,” you breathe, “I need you.” 

“Tell me more. How do you need me?” as he continues to tease. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you gasp, “Please.”

“Need me to fuck ya,” he repeats, amused. Joel notches the tip of his cock at your entrance, “How ‘bout that. Tell me somethin’ I didn’t know.” 

It’s a rhetorical question. He doesn’t give you time to answer before he buries himself inside of you. You groan at the sudden intrusion, how deeply he enters you and how full you feel. 

He doesn’t need to experiment with you, doesn’t need to vary how he fucks you. You grip the edge of the end cap with both hands as he finds his pace immediately. His cock hits you right where you need him. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, reaching for your bandaged hand, “Don’t hold that. S’gonna hurt your hand. Hold mine instead,” as he wraps his palm around yours. “Better?”

“Better.”

You’re lost in it all, his hand holding yours tightly and his thighs hitting your ass, his balls slapping against your clit. His face is right next to yours, his nose buried in your hair as he nips at your ear. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as he fucks you. He moans softly, his breath feels warm. Each thrust feels deep and intentional. “Good girl. Takin’ my cock so good.”

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. 

He makes stuttering, strangled sort of noises. His breathing is sharp and unsteady through his gritted teeth, and you wish you could see him like this. You can just about picture him perfectly, his messy salt and pepper curls and that deep set line between his brows. 

He fucks you hard and rough, both of you panting and moaning. Soon enough, his rhythm becomes frenetic and stuttering. “Squ– fuck, squeezin’ me too good, I’m not gonna last, sweetheart.”

“Let me come, Joel,” you plead, “Please.”

“I know, I know. Don’t need to beg me, darlin’,” Joel coos. He snakes his hand between your thighs and quickly finds your clit, his thrusts still steady and deep. He expertly paints circles around your clit as he becomes sloppier and frenzied. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, Joel,” you’re gasping, feeling your walls begin to clench and squeeze him, “Right there, right there, fuck.”

“Yeah, s’it, let go for me,” he pants. 

With a few more circles tracing your clit, you fall apart on him. You come with a loud gasp, gripping his hand hard. Even after he helps you ride out your orgasm, he doesn’t yet stop fucking you, and the sensation is becoming all too much. You bite your lip to stifle yourself as he chases his own orgasm, and he spills into you with shuddering breaths and grunts, painting your insides with his seed.

You catch your breath with Joel as he begins to go soft inside you. You feel empty when he pulls out of you, craving the weight of his hand on yours after he lets go. As your breathing slows, turn around to face Joel. His dominant, taunting demeanor is gone and he helps you back into your clothes, then examines the bandage on your hand. He frowns when he sees he’s crumpled it and dampened it with his sweat. “Hang on,” he murmurs, quickly reaching for more gauze to rewrap it. 

You touch his shoulder, “Just– let’s wrap it again at home. It’s just gonna get ruined again.”

“No, I promise I’m not gonna clean it again, I just wanna–” Joel stops talking when you reach for his hand. He looks at where his hand connects with yours, then looks at you. “Okay,” he says. He stares at you intently, as if waiting for you to say more. You look like you want to.

Hand in Joel’s, you walk together out of the mall. The horseback ride home is quiet. You hug Joel tightly, and Joel savors the warmth of your cheek on his back again.

“Joel?” you ask. 

“Yeah, hon.”

“You’re sure you don’t wanna hear my impression?”

“I’m sure,” Joel says, but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

as always, i appreciate all of my readers. please please please leave a comment/reblog/send an ask if you enjoyed, your comments really do mean the world and keep me going <3

follow @strang3stories and turn on notifs for fics only!

[joeloverture]

fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'. warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n] word count: 2.1k a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j

You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dad’s combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. You’re still in your pajamas — a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you — when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate. 

The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dad’s out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. There’s the tstststststs of the Adler’s sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.

You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, you’re blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.

You’re about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.

You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joel’s not a threat – at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. He’s just your dad’s buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. He’s also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? He’s just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, ‘play wrestling’ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.

You deserve to give him shit about it, too.

After all, he’s the one ferreting around in your dad’s garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dad’s pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, he’s dressed like a slut.

His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. He’s bent over your dad’s tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.

You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until you’re right behind him. You can’t help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He must’ve been outside for a while now with all of the stains he’s accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he can’t hear you as you reach out and — smack!

Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. “You little shit,” he huffs, still scratching at his head. You don’t miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

“Me? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dad’s garage at, like, the asscrack of dawn–”

“Nine in the mornin’ ain’t the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,” Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. “Mower shit the bed. I’m thinkin’ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasn’t fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.” He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.

“I think the mower is the least of your worries,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “You reek. Shower shit the bed, too?”

“You try doin’ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap you’re usin’.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised you don’t see the back of your skull. “Rosemary eucalyptus,” you correct under your breath.

“Hmm, what was that?” Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. “Gotta speak up.”

“Rosemary eucalyptus,” you say. “But I bet you wouldn’t know. What do you use? 18 in 1?”

Joel grunts. “Real funny.” He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. “How ‘bout you find out?”

You don’t have time to question what the hell he means – he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. “Mmmmph!” you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair that’s spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.

Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. It’s enough to make your thighs clench. “You’re a little freak, huh?” He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.

“Youuu dick!” you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.

Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. “Come on, huff ‘em. Practically fuckin’ asking for it earlier, all ‘a that mouthin’ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fair’s fair, kiddo.”

Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.

It’s only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing – for escape or pressure, you’re not entirely sure. “Unless you wanna go over my knee instead?” Your face sears with humiliation.

Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit – he’s been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.

“Yeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.” You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.

Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joel’s leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. “Gettin’ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?” You mewl, reaching for Joel’s sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.

“Since you’re so eager to complain about it, how ‘bout you clean me up, huh?” He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You can’t see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. “You got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.”

Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that you’re scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you don’t want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.

You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor you’ve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.

You’re panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you can’t do anything about it. You can’t even grind against Joel – you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when he’d shoved you there in the first place.

You’re so preoccupied with pleasing him that you don’t even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.

And maybe it’s the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, “Kiddo,” in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, it’s how he says, “Mmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet it’d feel so good on my cock,” that breaks the dam between your legs.

You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joel’s arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you weren’t so underwater, so far gone, you’d be able to hear him saying, “Fuck – whoa, whoa, whoa,” trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and you’re still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. You’re wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didn’t know you could be.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. “Fuck.”

Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he can’t get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, you’ve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. You’re not sure you’ve ever come so hard even with someone’s hands all over your. Joel’s glistening with even more sweat, and it’s impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. “Oughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.”

You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joel’s lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. “Y-yeah,” you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. You’re so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of sh–

You’re immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.

You’re not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joel’s mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you aren’t surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.

You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.

[hmslusitania]

15 for timkon if you'd like! (“This is a lot, even for you.”)

“Oh boy,” Kon says, hesitating in the entryway to the microcave Tim’s claimed. When Steph and Cass had called him about it, he’d thought they were exaggerating. In Kon’s defence, Tim’s been on more than a few somewhat unhinged murderboard investigations in his life, and the girls’ claim that this is actually, truly, the most unsettling one he’s done, that he’s locked himself in a microcave and they’re not sure he’s been eating — and are absolutely sure he hasn’t been sleeping — had felt melodramatic in the way only Gothamites can get.

In reality, he thinks they might’ve undersold it.

“Uh, hey, buddy, whatcha doin’?” Kon asks, hovering over the piles of office document boxes that — jesus fuck, is that a LexCorp logo?

He finds Tim in the centre of the microcave next to the aforementioned murderboard, and then he kinda wishes he hadn’t. The focal image in the centre of Tim’s web of red yarn and blue yarn and green yarn and something that looks like yellow caution tape that’s been twisted into thread is… Kon.

Tim is hunched in gargoyle posture next to the murderboard, chewing on the wrong end of a pen while he stares at the board with eyes so far past unfocused and surrounded by such dark bags that Kon’s kinda a little surprised Tim hasn’t like… toppled over and passed out.

At the sound of Kon’s voice, Tim spins on the balls of his feet and hurls the pen from between his teeth at him. Kon rebuffs it with his TTK and when the pen clatters to some scattered manila folders on the cave floor, Tim frowns.

“You’re… real?” Tim asks, lifting an eyebrow to inspect him. When he talks, Kon can see the dark spot of ink on his tongue that really can’t be pleasant to taste.

“Please tell me you haven’t been hallucinating,” Kon requests, and immediately regrets it because he’s really not sure he wants the answer to that.

“Um, n—just like the squiggles in the corners of your eyes when you’re sleep dep—why are you here?” Tim asks.

“Well, this is, uh, kind of a lot, even for you?” Kon replies, and hovers closer to the one working electronic in the microcave besides the flickering overhead light: the coffee pot. There’s nothing but tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot which is definitely contributing to the acrid scent of the cave, alongside Tim’s general state of being.

“Oh,” Tim says, looking back at the murderboard and then to Kon again. He seems to finally register that the subject of his investigation is now in his personal space, because his eyes go wide in addition to glassy. “Oh.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me why I’m the subject of this, uh…” Kon trails off, gesturing at the murderboard. Tim doesn’t write his tacked-on notes in any sort of way Kon can read. It’s not actually shorthand, not the official version of it, but probably some hybrid system Tim’s developed on his own. Whether or not it’s legible to other Bats is anyone’s guess.

“Um,” Tim says, and falls off the balls of his feet to land hard on his ass on the desk where he’s been perched. Based on the way he rubs absently at his knees and rolls his ankles around, Kon gets the impression he’d been crouched like that for way too long. “You’ve been, uh, exhibiting some… uncharacteristic behaviours? For about ten months now, give or take.”

Kon blinks. “I have?”

“Yeah, your sense of humour’s shifted, because you keep finding me funnier than other people in our group,” Tim says. He reaches for the pen he’d had in his mouth, like he means to use it as a pointer stick, and remembers at the last second that he’d thrown it at Kon to test his realness. Kon picks it up and offers it to him. Tim thanks him with a distracted, dazed expression, and then points it at the red lines. “And, um, you’ve been agreeing with me more? So, like, I know you haven’t been replaced by Match this time, because that was all about him trying to argue with me and divide our team. Also, you keep looking at me more when you think I’m not looking, I had to run through so many hours of security tapes.”

Tim points to some pretty damning screen grabs of security footage from the Young Justice HQ that kind of make Kon want to die of embarrassment.

It kind of sucks that Tim is so smart that he’s noticed all of this, but has also completely failed to put it together.

“So, what’s your conclusion, detective?” Kon asks.

“I don’t… know,” Tim huffs, and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes like it’s about to give up on him and he needs to fight it into submission. “And I can’t think of what happened ten months ago that would’ve started a change in behaviour or—”

“Can I give you a hint?” Kon asks, swallowing down the nerves it immediately gives him, just to offer.

Tim blinks. “Wait, you’re aware of the change in behaviour?”

“Yeah, Tim,” Kon says, only keeping himself from laughing at the consternation on Tim’s face by the skin of his teeth.

Tim looks between him and the murderboard, a deep frown on his face. “So what happened ten months ago?”

“Well, eleven months ago, you told us you’re bi,” Kon says. He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his hands under his biceps to keep Tim from noticing them shake with nerves. Not that Tim’s really in a state to notice anything at this point. “And it took me about a month to do some soul searching and figure out that I am, too?”

The furrow between Tim’s eyes gets just a little deeper, like he can’t make the math problem add up. “But… if that’s it, then why are you looking at me like…”

He trails off, staring at the board for an excruciating enough length of time that Kon seriously considers just flying away and hoping Tim’s so out of it that he won’t actually remember this conversation.

“Wait, you like me?” Tim asks, face fever-bright when he looks away from the board to stare at Kon instead.

“Only kind of, like, a lot?” Kon replies, balling his hands into fists under his arms.

“Oh,” Tim says, and finally, to Kon’s relief, his face smooths out into a smile. “Cool.”

And, mystery solved, he immediately loses power to all systems, and slumps into a deep sleep. When he starts to topple forward off the desk like a marionette with the strings cut, Kon swoops forward to catch him. There’s probably a bed somewhere in this microcave, but if there is, it’s completely buried by Tim’s boxes of files, and Kon doesn’t want to dig. He cradles Tim in his arms and carries him out of the cave into the uncharacteristically pleasant Gotham evening, and when Tim burrows closer into his chest and murmurs, “like you too,” Kon can only smile.

[hoe-for-hopper]

Where's Billy?

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: SMUT (obviously), Unprotected piv, oral (m receiving), like a couple mentions of a knife.

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: I'm bad at summaries, okay. But honestly, hardly any plot. You know me, No Plot, Just Vibes. Party at Stu's...smut.

A/N: I lowkey hate this lmao. Like I actually hate it. It wasn't what I had in mind, and by the time I got time to actually sit down and write, I had no motivation to write. :( Maybe you'll like it, but if you don't I AM SO SORRY.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SMUT BELOW THE CUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The downstairs level of Stu’s house is crowded with people. A horror movie is playing on tv, thanks to Randy, but Stu is also playing music from another speaker system in a different room. You find yourself alone for the first time all night, neither Billy nor Stu glued to your side for once and you head to the bathroom to try to take a break from all of the noise, but of course someone was in there.

Throwing your head back in a groan, you started making your way to the garage for another beer. But before you could reach the door, Stu stepped in front of you, his hand held out with his palm facing you. “I don’t think you want to go in there right now, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you try to sidestep him, but his arm darts out to stop you. “And why is that?”

“No reason. Just don’t want you to miss out on any fun.” His mouth turns into a wide grin before he sticks his tongue out. He grabs your shoulders to spin you around, his arms moving down to circle around your waist, slowly moving you forward. “Come on, baby, let’s get back to the party.”

Stu leads you into the living room where Randy is animatedly explaining the “rules” of horror movies to everyone sitting on the couch and standing around the rest of the room.

Your eyes scan the backs of heads. Twisting your body to turn your head up to Stu you ask, “Where’s Billy?”

“Probably in the bathroom.” Stu snuzzles his mouth to your neck, his hands lowering to your hips. “What do you say we kick all these losers out?”

You stand on your toes, still not quite tall enough to whisper into his ear, “I’d say it would be a great idea.”

Stu kisses the top of your head before turning you around, “Go hangout for a minute, I’m gonna find Billy.”

You take a seat on the arm of the couch closest to Randy and listen to him explain how not to die in a horror movie. It feels like Randy has been talking forever and as much as you actually do enjoy listening to him, you’re ready to spend alone time with Billy and Stu. 

Finally, you hear the music stop from the other room before Stu returns and begins ushering everyone out.

“Hey man, make sure you return that tape on time, okay? Seriously, don’t be late again.” Randy tells Stu as he’s the last to leave.

“Uh huh. Yeah. Will do, buddy.” Stu practically shoves him out the door before closing and locking it. He turns to you and says, “You ready to finish the movie, baby?” You nod your head as you follow Stu back towards the living room.

You know you’re not actually going to finish the movie, Stu definitely has other plans with the way he’s had his hands all over you for most of the night. He plops down on the couch and you sit next to him, but he grabs your leg and pulls you into his lap. He trails kisses from your forehead to your chest, his hands roaming from your waist to your ass. 

Pulling back, you ask, “Okay, seriously, where is Billy?”

Stu rolls his eyes and nips at your neck, “Probably grabbing a beer.”

He doesn’t give you much time to think about his answer as he continues kissing your chest. “Take these off.” He snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip and as you stand, he holds your skirt up for you to pull them down. You start moving to take your skirt off too, but Stu stops you. “I think Billy would want you to keep that on.” He pulls you back into his lap, lifting your shirt over your head. 

You don’t hear Billy come in, but you feel as he unhooks your bra from behind you, “Why didn’t you wait for me?” There’s a dark edge to his voice.

Stu pulls your bra off the rest of the way before answering, “Sorry man, just couldn’t help it.” In one swift motion Billy sits next to Stu and pulls you onto his own lap. “What the hell, man?!”

Mockingly, Billy says, “Sorry man, just couldn’t help it.” His mouth is on yours as he scoots you back and unzips his jeans, pulling them down just enough and you can feel his length graze against your core as he rocks your hips forward. “Thanks for getting her ready for me.” 

“Whatever.” You can hear Stu standing up and undressing. 

You’re about to ask Billy where he’s been, but he shoves himself inside of you without warning and you moan against his mouth instead. His hands are on your ass helping you lift yourself up and down. Your head drops down to his shoulder and one of his hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you back to look at him. “Look at me, baby.” Billy stares into your eyes as he pumps in and out of you. His head gives a subtle nod and then you’re left feeling empty as he lifts you off of him.

Stu picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you. Your grip tightens around Stu’s neck as he walks, still inside of you, up the stairs and towards his bedroom. As soon as you enter the room, Stu is placing you gently on the bed before crawling in next to you.

“Billy, where were you?” You ask as he crawls on top of you, one hand laced through your hair, the other on your hip.

He kisses your forehead, then your neck before answering. “I was just getting a beer, baby.” You didn’t notice whether or not Billy had a beer when he’d entered the living room, but then again you’d been busy with Stu. But what had taken him so long? The beer was just in the garage and there were even a few in the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

Before you could think too hard about it, Stu is pushing Billy off of you and pulling you back onto his lap. “Come on, Billy. Don’t you think you’ve had enough fun for the night?” With his back leaning against the bed frame, Stu pushes you up and lines himself up with your entrance. His hands find your nipples and he grazes his thumb over them as he thrusts up into you. Your head falling forward as you moan into Stu’s ear. “You should feel her, man. She’s so wet.” 

The bed shifts as Billy kneels beside you, reaching one hand down to rub circles over your clit, Stu holding your skirt up with one hand. You can feel your climax approaching and your moans become louder. Stu senses this, “She’s gonna cum, Billy.” Billy puts more pressure on your clit as Stu fucks into you harder. Billy’s other hand grabs your chin, turning your head so you’re facing him as you gush around Stu.

“My turn.” Billy’s eyes are on yours as he pulls you off of Stu and positions you on all fours. “You ready, baby?” 

You nod your head yes, but Billy grabs your hair and pulls signaling you to use your words. “Yes.”

Without giving you time to come down from your climax, Billy pushes into you, thrusting hard, his hands gripping your hips so hard that it would hurt if you weren’t so turned on. “Fuck.” 

Stu moves to your front, tapping the head of his cock against your lips. His head falls back as you open your mouth to let him in. Both men are thrusting into you, Billy’s hands on your hips and Stu’s in your hair.

You moan around Stu’s cock as Billy fucks into you rougher than before, his tumbs digging into the dimples of your back. One of Billy’s hands leaves your hips, looking up at Stu you see an excitement in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Billy slows his thrusts as you feel the fabric of your skirt fall away and then cold metal against your back. You try to turn, but Stu holds your head and continues thrusting into your mouth.

You can feel Stu’s cock pulse once then twice before he releases himself into your mouth. “Swallow.” He pulls out and wipes the drool from your chin. You swallow as best you can while Billy pounds into you. 

“Show Stu you swallowed.” Billy moves his hand from your hips and grabs your hair to pull your head up so you’re looking at Stu. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue. “Good girl.” 

Your second orgasm builds and you clench around Billy’s cock making him fuck into harder.

Stu leans back against the bedframe watching as his friend pounds into you, the cold metal still touching your back, pushing against you harder as Billy’s thrusts grow more erratic. “I’m gonna come, baby, inside you, okay?” You can only nod your head yes as Billy thrusts once more and he fills you with warm liquid. 

Stu pulls you towards him, placing your head on his chest as you hear the clink of something being set on the nightstand. Stu holds your head in place so you’re not able to see as Billy crawls into bed on your other side. He throws his arm around you and plants kisses down the back of your neck, Stu drawing circles on your chest.

You grind your ass into Billy’s length and plant sloppy kisses to the side of Stu’s mouth. “Billy, I think she’s ready for round two.” Stu laughs.

Stu turns you over and pulls you into him while you give the same sloppy kisses to Billy. Stu’s hand reaches around to your front and he runs his fingers through your folds feeling Billy’s warmth mixed with your own seep out of you. “I want both of you this time.”

Billy is laughing as he pulls you up on top of him with Stu positioning himself behind you, holding onto your hips as Billy rubs circles over your peaked nipples. Stu helps to hold you up as Billy lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you.

You can hear Stu opening a bottle of lube and massaging it onto himself before entering your ass. You moan as you throw your head back onto Stu’s shoulder. As you open your eyes, you see the glint of silver metal on the nightstand. It takes a second to register, but then you ask, “Billy, why is there a knife on the nightstand?”

[in1-nutshell]

IM SORRY I ONLY GET IDEAS WHEN REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME AND ADD THIS TO THE BOTTOM

Fearless buddy being sent to the tfp universe at first made me want the tfp team prime to see mtmte Megs interact with buddy and have a crisis over the fact that Megs became a dad, to a human no less.

and then I realized, no. no I dont want team prime to just react to mtmte megs, I want these fuckers to get yeeted into the portal one by one and suffer through the general chaos of the lost light.

Arcee - What was that?

Swerve - oh thats just Skids, you can tell cause when Buddys' in the vents it sounds more like a pitter patter.

Arcee - WHY ARE THEY IN THE VENTS?!

Drifts gets double to Ratchets to simp for

Optimus curls into a ball and cries when he sees Megatron with an autobot badge and being a decent person

Tailgate fanboys and asked for an autograph, yes he knows that its not their Optimus Prime but he's cool none the less

Miko quickly finds Buddy and Whirl and Rodimus quickly grabs Bumblebee and Smokescreen. Ultra Magnus has his back turned for for ten minutes and suddenly the Lost light has been turned into a race track with Swerve handling the betting's and a small world has declared war on the lost light, stating the instigators was a human and two mechs, one of which kinda sounds like the Apex armor.

Brainstorm finds Raf and gets into a custody battle for him with Ratchet.

Optimus and Megatron both have a conversation and get some kinda closure from it.

Ultra Magnus nearly cries over Jack being responsible and polite. he loves buddy but why did they get the well mannered human

plus the rest of the autobots being fucking flabbergasted at how Megatron is with his tiny organic child

In short: C H A O S !

There simply would have been way too much to cover with just this request alone. So, I've tried to condense everything down to 4 key highlights of events that defiantly happened during the trip. This would also be assuming that this is also the same universe as Old Predacon Buddy.

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless Buddy gets a visit from TFP Bots

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP/MTMTE

4 Conversations and confrontations that have defiantly happened during the visit

Meeting the Co- captains

The bots had just arrived at the Lost Light via portal and met Buddy once again.

Buddy wanted to bring them to the med bay just to make sure everything was okay with their systems.

Optimus was the one to have Buddy on his servo as they pointed the way to get to the med bay.

How did they not come across any other crewmember?

That is beyond them.

But just before the team made it to the med bay a streak of black came in front of the bots.

“Who are you and what are you doing on board?”--Ravage

Buddy waving from Prime’s servo.

“Hi Ravage!”--Buddy

Ravage takes notice of Buddy and pins his audials back.

“Let them go now!”--Ravage

Ravage tries swiping at the Prime, but Arcee fires a warning shot.

“Don’t even think about it.”--Arcee

“Wait can’t we all calm down—"--Buddy

Multiple heavy pede steps are heard.

“And now he’s coming…”--Buddy

“Who’s—”--Jack

Megatron and Rodimus come running from the corner and stop behind Ravage.

Megatron has his fusion cannon ready and Rodimus is powering up.

Everyone is tense.

“All right Fake Optimus, put Buddy down and no one gets hurt too badly.”--Rodimus

“Fake Prime? This is Optimus Prime.”--Smokescreen

“Yeah, and Megatron isn’t Buddy’s dad. That’s not Optimus.”--Rodimus

“Excuse did you say that bucket head there was Buddy’s dad?!”--Miko

Buddy nods and pats Prime’s digits.

“Just pass me to Rodimus while I explain everything.”--Buddy

Optimus hesitates a minute before handing Buddy to Rodimus.

Buddy Jumps from Rodimus’s servo start onto Megatron’s arm, which freaks everyone out for a minute as the ex war lord does catch them.

“Buddy we’ve talked about this.”--Megatron

Buddy stick’s out their tongue.

“Can someone please explain what in Primus’s name is going on?!”--Magnus

“In a bit Magnus.”--Buddy

“Wait, wait wait, this is Magnus?”--Rodimus

Rodimus looks at him amused.

“Just wait til Minimus finds out.”--Rodimus

“Who’s Minimus?”--Wheeljack

“In a minute, now to the med bay. Ratchet should take a look at them before anything else.”--Buddy

“Ratchet?”—Team Prime

“Me?”--Ratchet

Rodimus and Buddy turn to each other with a mischievous smile.

Megatron just sighs tiredly.

This was going to be a long day… or week even…

2. Ratchet confrontation and some honorable mentions

Both Ratchet’s nearly have a stroke when they see each other.

The team gets checked out by every medic available.

Buddy manages to catch everyone up overall on the ‘alternative universe’ fiasco. Everyone manages to understand for the most part.

Megatron watches Buddy like a hawk while also sending a message to Minimus on the situation.

He could practically hear the stroke happening from here.

MTMTE Ratchet taking a double look at everyone’s energon levels.

“How are any of you even functioning?! Your energon levels are so low you shouldn’t even be standing up right?!”—MTMTE Ratchet

TFP Ratchet huffs.

“Unlike this universe, energon is not a common thing to run by. Naturally the levels are going to be low.”—TFP Ratchet

“I’m not saying that it is, but what I am is astounded on how any of you are still even talking. And you especially.”

Optimus looks curious.

“What are you referring to?”--Optimus

MTMTE Ratchet takes a deep vent and lets it out.

“Your Ratchet has the lowest energon levels out of your entire team combined! Miracle that he is even with us.”--ratchet

Bee buzzes angrily.

All MTMTE bots look at him worriedly.

First Aid comes over to him.

“What happened to your voice?”—First Aid

MTMTE Ratchet, Ambulon and Velocity join in crowding Bee.

“His voice box was damaged in the war on Cybertron. Our Megatron damaged it.”—Raf

Bumblebee looks down a bit.

The medics are all looking at one another.

“We can see what we can do here, if you’d like Bumblebee.”—MTMTE Ratchet

Bee buzzes happily as Raf hugs his digit.

Drift enters the med bay.

“Hey Ratchet, I heard you yelling in here, is everything—”--Drift

Drift looks at the scene in front of him stopping dead in his tracks.

His optics land on TFP Ratchet.

Buddy looks at him mouthing ‘No!’

“Who’s this guy?”--Smokescreen

“I finally made it to the Afterspark.”--Drift

“What?”—TFP Ratchet

“That’s just Drift just ignore him.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Ratchet I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”--Buddy

“I HAVE TWO RATCHET’S NOW!”--Drift

Drift pulls them both into a hug.

TFP Ratchet is struggling to get out of his grip while MTMTE Ratchet just goes along with it.

“Buddy, who’s that?”--Wheeljack

“And why is he hugging Ratchet?”--Bulkhead

“That’s Drift, he’s Ratchet’s Conjunx.”--Buddy

All TFP Bots nearly have whiplash at how fast they move their helms.

“HIS CONJUNX?!”—Team Prime

“MY WHAT?!”—TFP Ratchet

“Not yours.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Aww Ratty! You do care.”--Drift

“RATTY?!”—Team Prime

Several members of Team Prime laughing on the med slab so hard the medics are on standby.

3. Kids custody

Tfp team goes to the bar.

Kids stay with Buddy in the human safe portion of the bar to get some food.

Everyone is staring at them.

But to be fair they did have way different frame types than everyone else in this dimension.

Buddy yells at them for being rude.

That they help them in their time of need.

Suddenly everyone is in a much better mood.

Swerve serving Team Prime some engex.

“Any friend of Buddy is a friend of ours. Drink up fellow bots!”--Swerve

“Thank you Swerve.”--Optimus

Prime feels something poking his side

He looks at a white minibot poking his side holding a data pad.

“Hi! I know your not this universes Optimus, but can I still have your autography!”--Tailgate

Prime looks a bit surprised but he gives in.

“Thank you!”--Tailgate

“And what may be your name?”--Optimus

“I’m Tailgate!”--Tailgate

Arcee spits out her engex, Bulkhead calms her down.

“Is she okay? I didn’t upset her right?”--Tailgate

Arcee walks up to Tailgate, who is roughly around her size.

Cyclonus walks up behind Tailgate as if daring her to do something dumb.

She eventually holds her servo out.

“I’m Arcee.”--Arcee

Tailgate hugs Arcee instead.

“Thank you and your team for taking care of Buddy while they were away!”--Tailgate

Arcee is holding back tears as she gives into the hug.

“SHE’S ARCEE!”--Rodimus

Many bots look over with curiosity and some with fear.

Bulkhead looked over at the human table to find it empty.

“Hey where are the kids?”--Bulkhead

“Oh! Whirl took them around the bar when you weren’t looking.”--Swerve

“Whirl? Who’s Whirl?”--Magnus

Swerve points to the helicopter bot with his cockpit open.

“That one who’s trying to fight with Getaway.”--Swerve

Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Ultra Magnus navigate their way to Whirl.

He turns to show Buddy and Miko laughing in the pit.

“So, you’re this little monsters guardians?”--Whirl

“Yes—”--Bulkhead

“Well, TOO BAD!”--Whirl

Whirl places a protective claw over both of the giggling humans.

“SHE’S MY OTHER AMICA NOW!”--Whirl

“They are not your Amica—”--Magnus

“Actually I’m his.”--Buddy

“And that’s something we’re going to talk about later. Miko—”--Wheeljack

“ITS WHIRL JR. NOW!”--Miko

“Miko no!”--Bulkhead

“MIKO YES!”--Miko

Meanwhile with Arcee…

Arcee stares at MTMTE Magnus, Cyclonus, Tailgate and Pipes.

Pipes and Tailgate are asking him all sorts of questions.

“Ultra Magnus. Cyclonus.”--Arcee

“Arcee.”—Magnus and Cyclonus

All three of them look over at the other three who are happily laughing at a joke.

All three mentally promise to destroy anyone who harms Jack.

Meanwhile with Ratchet…

Brainstorm holding Raf high above his helm.

“I HAVE FOUND MY CHILD!”--Brainstorm

“HE IS NOT YOUR CHILD!”--Perceptor

“Fine! Percy and Nautica we need to schedule visiting time—”--Brainstorm

MTMTE Ratchet taking Raf out of his servo.

“Leave the poor boy alone.”—MTMTE Ratchet

Drift looks over at MTMTE Ratchet and Raf and smiles teasingly.

“AAAAWWWW Ratty!”--Drift

Ratchet suddenly getting the hint.

“No…”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Yes…”--Drift

Drift no.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Drift yes?”--Drift

“…”--MTMTE Ratchet

Ratchet hands Raf back to his counterpart.

“I think its best to keep him in check.”—MTMTE Ratchet

“Will do—HEY!”—TFP Ratchet

Brainstorm once again nabbing Raf from him.

“Mine child! Now Rafael. Would you like to see my lab? It has all sorts of inventions in it.”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Chromdome

Brainstorm starts heading to the exit faster before Skids tackles him down letting Raf to get thrown up in the air.

He gets caught by Swerve, who just puts him down next to him.

“…Do you like Bill Nye?”--Swerve

Meanwhile with Rodimus…

Has Smokescreen and Bumblebee both thrown over his shoulder looking at Megatron and Magnus.

“Please?”--Rodimus

“No.”--Magnus

“Too bad.”--Rodimus

Confused car noises intensify.

Later on, Optimus and Megatron are found in one of the booth having some whispered conversation.

No one knows what they talked about, but both came back from it looking tired yet somewhat happy.

4. Promise to meet each other one day in the future

A couple days pass, the portal comes back.

Tfp team says their goodbyes.

Buddy wishes them good luck and to say hi to their alternative.

Portal closes.

“Wait you said, ‘other Buddy’, there was another Buddy?”--Megatron

“Oh yeah, but they’re an old Predacon.”--Buddy

“AN OLD WHAT?!”--Whirl

Meanwhile back in TFP…

The team comes out of the portal groaning at the semi harsh landing.

June and Agent Fowler came running in.

June nearly tackles the kids asking so many questions their heads are spinning.

The team explains what happened.

“Would have guessed that after Buddy’s explanation.”—Agent Fowler

“Heh, hey where is Buddy anyways?”--Bulkhead

“Bet their taking a nap.”--Miko

“Nope. After four hours of you guys ‘disappearing to the other dimension’ they’ve been trying to keep everything under control. They’ve been increasing patrols and energon digs.”—Agent Fowler

“They should be coming in soon.”--June

Heavy wing flaps are heard from the main entrance.

“June! I think another rocks stuck in my—”--Buddy

Buddy stops to take a good look at the team before going in for a group hug, spreading their wings as much as possible.

“Thank the Primes your all safe.”--Buddy

“Woah! Buddy, your…umm…”--Smokescreen

Buddy looking down at their dented and dusty self.

“Someone had to pick up on the patrols. The Decepticon’s couldn’t know that you were gone.”--Buddy

Optimus places his servo on Buddy’s shoulder.

“Rest old friend. We can take it from here.”--Optimus

Buddy just yawns and moves to their spot near the human area and slumps down hard and falls asleep.

The kids go over to Buddy to see if they are still awake.

They were out.

[heartfullofleeches]

Camp counselor darling and slasher yan? 👀

Fire crackles in the pale moonlight. Figures cower behind a tree stump as a shadow rises from its amber flames, beckoning the braver of the group to draw closer as its voice drops to a grumble.

"It's said that in this exact forest - right where you're all sitting, is where those hikers met their end. On what had been a quiet, peaceful hike until then, the group suddenly began to hear whistling from the trees. A bird's call some would claim, but none of them could argue the strangeness of it all. The sound was a constant as they moved on, switching directions and even allegedly playing right in the leader's ear. A chilling drone that drew further when brought into question- like whatever was watching them was enjoying their increasing fears. They say if you listen closely - you can still hear it-"

The shadows purses its lips in a would be bone rattling hum save for the giggle they're unable to keep in. Still - the call works in favor of their narrative; teeth chattering from more than just the cold.

"The group collectively ruled to write it off as the sounds of the forest, but the deeper they traveled, the louder it grew... and louder... and louder.... until...it fell from the trees."

A hand slips discreetly into its pocket and over the flames - the fires quickly consume the salts and burst in a fiery, devilish red.

"The severed head of one of their members... missing their tongue!"

The screams of the campers reach all the way back to the main hall as you laugh maniacally- drinking the sweet cries of your victims for as long as they'd play along. With a playful shove from behind, the tarp dropped over your shoulders fall into the arms of your fellow teammate as they shake their head with a chuckle.

"Quit telling ghost stories before lights out. We want them to actually sleep when we get them indoors."

"Aww, come on - they earned it. Clean up their mess on time and majority of what you see here won the tug of war game earlier. That counts for something - right?"

You glance back at your audience who all agree on the notion. It was nice to have some people on your side. Really, you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your summer. Your fellow council was a blast, and groups like those seated around you loved the stories and games you came up with. There honestly weren't any issues at the camp - until your last story about man eating spiders left a camper with a fuzzy blanket restless.

Your teammate stifles their grin and tucks the tarp under their arm, clasping their hands over their mouth as the address the campers. "Alright, lights out in ten. Make sure you have all your belongings or we will take them for ourselves. Stick to the buddy system and get back to your cabins.... that means you too, Y/n."

You wave them off, crossing your legs over one another as you sit in the dirt. "Yeah, I know. I'll head it once the fire dies."

The campers gather their things and wave their goodbyes.

"Bye, Y/n."

"See you in the morning, Y/n."

"Can't wait to see what you got next!"

"See you!" You wave everyone off, warming your hands at the fire as everyone leaves. Eyeing the supplies someone had forgotten, you search around for a stick and roast the remaining marshmallows over the embers as the passing breeze snuffs the roaring sparks. You zip up your jacket as it bites - leaning back to watch the moon as it ducks behind the hanging trees. One by one, lights around the camp go out - a soft hum enduring as the whir of electrics drains out. A branch snaps behind you.

"Dawn? You back already?"

Silence...but still, faintly- breathing. You laugh, sandwiching the marshmallow between two crackers. "I know you're here. I can hear you."

Weight shifts behind you. You look back to see, but the branches and haze of night obscure your sight of the silhouette in the trees. ".....I like your stories...."

"Thanks.... but you're not Dawn.... Lewis, that you? I told you I'm not interested, but you're still welcome to sit by the fire."

" 'fraid not.... I'm not from your part of the woods. Is this.. Lewis giving you problems, Dear?"

"Nah, just a flirt... Who are you then."

Silence - followed by the dying pops of the fire. "Just passing by. Live up the creek a few miles down and fancy a stroll now and then. Didn't know the camp wad reopening so soon and overheard one of your stories a couple nights back. You're a whole lot nicer than the group they brought in last year.... cuter too."

"You sure you're not Lewis?... You're welcome to come back and listen another time if you like - if you're just passing by again."

The smile in their voice is indisputable. "I'm sure we'll be seeing alot of each other, Y/n... I can almost guarantee it."

"Right, hey - it's getting kinda late so I have to go. There's still some marshmallows in the bag you can have if you want." No response. You take it as a yes anyway and leave the bag out for them as you throw what remained of your smore into the pit. You stand up, leaving to grab something to put out the fire and the charred remains of your dessert. A figure steps from the shadow and completes the first task for you - picking up your half eaten smore and dusting off the ash as they lowered their mask. A hum at the sweetness of the treat pitches into a soft whistle as the figure disburses back into the trees.

You exit the main hall, water bottle in hand and head back to the pit site - stopped by none other than your teammate from before.

"Hey, Y/n- you seen Lewis anywhere? He said he was going to check out some noise he heard and hasn't come back yet."

[diabolicalworldwriter]

Jesus, I just got to the point in Words of Radiance where Kal is in prison and Dalinar basically says "You're not going to end racism by being radical and acting upset about it. You can't just expect us to treat you like an equal because you're not one. Play nice and maybe the racists will grow to respect you"

I.

Buddy what the fuck

In general I think I've found that I'm... Not as fond of Dalinar as I used to be. Don't get me wrong, he does some great things and he's constantly trying to improve and I appreciate that. Flawed characters make stories interesting and I think Brandon does a fantastic job of writing him. However, he is overly strict and judgemental (Still not forgiving him for hating on Adolin for trying to express himself a bit more through style in ROW; let my boy dress up a bit if he wants), he struggles to accept other ways of doing things (we could look to Adolin again, being "too friendly" with those he commands and Dalinar going "noooo they might respect you less if they think you see them as an equal individual"), and while he talks about how he wants to change how everything works, if someone tries to defy convention in a way he doesn't approve of he shuts them down. (Kaladin pointing out very fair issues with how dark eyes are punished severely and light eyes get away with everything only to be talked down at until he shut up and fell in line, for example.) He wants change and has power to bring it about but won't do anything too radical for it, I guess, and that frustrates me. He tends to support systems as long as they work for his own goals, even if they're still exploitative and deeply unjust, while also complaining that everyone else is being exploitative and unjust. I dislike that he acts like he's doing Kaladin such a favor by treating him as almost an equal. "I'm sticking my neck out by treating you like a human, act civil and don't try to speak too loudly about the injustices yet, you might make the others uncomfortable." Dalinar isn't like other light eyes, he's so quirky and different and sometimes acts a bit less classist and racist!!! Aren't we lucky!! Idk maybe I'm stating my point a bit too strongly but damn. He's giving "yeah I'm a stubborn old man but really I'm quite progressive, I don't even go out of my way to hate crime people"

Words of Radiance, while I enjoy it, is rather difficult to get through because it's just so many main characters who I generally appreciate being awful to/supporting or ignoring awful behavior towards Kaladin and if he reacts they're like ":0000 how dare he attack first" (I appreciate Zahel chewing out Adolin for antagonizing and then fighting Kal in shardplate because goddamn Adolin I love you but that sucked.)

I'm finding Elhokar a lot more unlikeable on this reread as well. He's meant to be unlikeable of course, so good job on that, but Jesus he can be the worst. Honestly standing beside my past thoughts that what Moash did wrong was not in turning on the system that oppresses him and all the dark eyes, but just that he knowingly hurt Kaladin and other people who cared about him repeatedly and severely to do so.

I'm on board with killing horrible leaders (especially if it seems the only way to remove them and stop them from causing harm: people shouldn't have to suffer and die as part of a leader's learning curve and character growth, and going "they're working on it" when people are actively suffering is garbage. I'm still sad at Elhokar's death but I'm not sad that he's no longer king) but I draw the line at abusing and killing one's friends and I am just hoping he comes to terms with what he has done wrong and improves in book five.

Anyways that was long and scattered I'm sorry lmao you should have heard my rant to my poor cousin, I was rambling for like half an hour.

[cupcakeslushie]

You seem to draw Donnie covered in Spray paint (pink and blue) a lot. Why is that? What got him hooked to it and why doesnt he have to mix the colors himself?

(BIG fan of the angsty separated au!!!!)

Draxum’s lab is pretty dull color wise, and Three wanted to differentiate his tech from Draxum’s. Huginn and Muninn are the ones who buy Three his spray paints! One of those small, nice things they try to do to make the kid a little bit happy. Purple is Three’s favorite color, but sometimes they’re limited in what they can bring him. (Also the pink and blue colors are a nod to Jinx—It’s kinda funny that her colors, pink and blue, when mixed, make purple)

It would be maximum shock if they all met right when Leo and Donnie rejoined the family, before they kinda started their healing process, cause they’re probably the most different at that point.

Rise!Donnie would be appalled at AU!Donnie, from silly things like the way he accumulates layers of grime without a care—to the rude way he treats April. AU!Leo and Rise!Leo would keep a wide birth from each other and probably stick to a buddy system with their respective brothers just in the hopes that they don’t ever get left alone with the other (their bros of course conspire to do exactly that, so they can get to know each other)

Rise!Raph would probably be really worried about AU!Raph just cause he thought his brother’s make him stressed and tired? But between dealing with Leo’s anger issues, and Donnie’s…everything, AU!Raph looks ready to drop any second. AU!Mikey would love Rise!Mikey, cause he’s adorable, but he’s a little sad when he looks at him, cause he acts just like he used to, before he was thrown into the arena, so he tries to tone down the bad and make it sound more exciting so that Rise!Mikey doesn’t know how horrible AU!Mikey had it.

The Kraang would def be the Rise Kraang version. The movie would take place a little while after the defeat the Shredder. I’m still working out the timeline cause when I was first deciding their ages, I forgot about the two years from the end of the series and the start of the movie 🙄. So I’m doing some reworking on that end. I think I’ll either change them to be a few years older at the start of the AU than I made them, OR the AU and the fight with Shredder will go for a longer stretch of time than it did in the series. That way there’s not a huge two year gap of unknown time between Shredder’s defeat to the start of the movie. EDIT Now that we know the series took place over two years and it was only a couple months between the finale and the movie. Their ages are gonna be the ones listed on their character charts!!

I’m still not even sure if I’ll manage to make it that far, but hopefully we will get there eventually! Cause I really wanna get to Casey. In fact, I’d probably make it less about Leo growing into a more serious role (cause obviously he’s already there), and more about him really accepting the love of his family. We might even see a future Leo come back with Casey?? It would be so hard not to go that route cause I love that idea so much 🤣

But I honestly don’t know yet what I’d really like to do. And I’d hate to give an answer that I’d have to redact later. I’ve got a lot of ideas, but I can’t even think about them, until I put out all the other stuff I’ve got planned. So let’s all cross our fingers and hope we get there some day lol!

2012!Leo would go MOM MODE™️ EXTREME, 2012!Raph and Don would take off like a rocket with the intention of hunting down and murdering Draxum, Shredder and Big Mama, and Mikey would probably be caught between holding back tears and doing his best to tell jokes and ease the tension, or following after his brothers in their murder spree.

Basically as much as the 2012 boys would be thrown off at first over how different the AU boys are from the other versions of themselves they’ve met, they’d go HARD as the protective older bros. But the only one who’d probably actually appreciate it would be AU!Raph cause he never gets to be the little brother lol.

@smoldevelopingcookie @c00k13san2 @luvrbug @organisedchaosstuff @uniqueness351217

Separated AU tag

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 4

Warnings: groping, insecurity, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

The prospect of doing your walk of shame is intimidating. You try to plot how exactly to skulk home as you search for your panties. It’s the only piece you’re missing. You have your skirt on, your shirt, bra, even both your shoes. Goddamn, they couldn’t have got that far.

You grab your purse and check inside. Of course they’re not there but you want to make sure you have everything. As your keys jingle noisily within, Curtis pokes his head out from the kitchen. You didn’t even realise he was in there.

“Off already?” He asks, “I was just about to start breakfast.”

You stop short as you look at him. That’s not exactly how these things work, is it? You clasp your purse shut and let it dangle from your elbow.

“Breakfast? Well, uh, I guess…”

“I don’t mind. You like smoothies?”

You remember all the times Stephanie complained about a guy sticking around too long. Or how Isla called her last boy toy a stage five clinger because he wanted a kiss. Were you doing this all wrong?

You meet his eyes. A cornflower blue so soft and pale you could sink into them like water. It’s an innocent offer. You feel bad just racing out but it seems just as awkward to stay. Still, you feel like you owe him.

“Sure,” you answer, “I like smoothies.”

“Bacon? Oh, shi–oot, you vegetarian? I got tofu, too.”

“Bacon’s fine, really,” you assure him, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Help? No, no, you’re a guest, just… sit down and relax. I’ll take care of you, bunny.”

You mull over his insistence. He’s being a good host but you can’t help but wonder why. He’s almost too nice to be true. Are you missing something?

“Everything okay?” He startles you as he touches your arm gently. You can’t help but wince.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, “it’s fine, I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Not at all. Please.”

You can’t argue with him. Not when he’s being so nice. You can’t complain for the night you spent with him. What’s another hour?

You retreat to the living room and take out your phone. You still haven’t heard from the other girls. That’s not really unusual but it’s not often you split up for the night. You typically keep a sort of buddy system. You feel a bit forgotten.

You sit on the couch as you scroll then pause and look down. You remember last night, right in this spot. You swear you can feel him still, hear his sultry growl as he coaxes you. You still can’t believe it. 

You never thought you were the one to fall for sweet words, yet you never had the opportunity before to prove that true. You melted like sugar at his first touch.

The blender whirs, followed by the noise of his cooking. You tuck yourself into the corner of the couch and try to distract yourself with a game of solitaire. You’re hungry but almost too nervous to eat. You’re not sure you’ll even be able to keep any of it down.

He emerges with a tall glass, a dark purple smoothie that he places on the table next to your elbow.

“I hope you don’t mind blueberry. Guess I should’ve asked.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” you assure him.

“Anything else?”

“No, no, that’s good.”

“Well, let me know. Anything you want, bunny.”

You smile and nod as you lift the smoothie. There it is again; bunny. It’s adorable but you’re not too sure about it. Pet names aren’t entirely warranted after a single night. You think. You need to stop acting like you know everything because quite clearly you’re clueless.

You sip through your straw as he goes back to the kitchen. You flick your finger up and close the card game. You can’t even win against yourself. The smoothie is delicious. You nearly drink half of it before you catch yourself.

You set the glass down on a wooden coaster and steady your phone. You flip through your contacts; Stephanie, Isla, Mindy… You should text them, make sure they’re okay.

“Here we go,” Curtis interrupts your indecision.

You put your phone down, tilting it on the popsocket as you look up at him. He carries in two plates and places them on the low coffee table. He stands and glances around.

“I have TV trays. Sorry, I’ve been tryna get outta this place. Somewhere a little more roomy.”

“It’s okay, really. My place is tiny compared to this.”

“This one’s yours,” he takes a plate and a keeps the cutlery from slipping off, “hope you like sunny side up.”

“It’s wonderful,” you affirm.

You admire the sliced avocado and the rye bread. The bacon looks like it’s turkey and his own plate only has egg whites. You can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. You don’t often have such a healthy breakfast.

You balance the plate on your lap and grab the cutlery. You get yourself situated and your phone buzzes loudly as he sits beside you. You glance over at your phone and quickly swipe away the call with your finger. You’ll call them back later.

You go to slice into your eggs as Curtis clears his throat. You focus on carving out a small bite, not enough to make you seem piggish.

“So, who’s Andy?” He asks.

Hsi tone carries an unexpected edge. You peek over at him then shake your head. You’re confused.

“That’s who called. Boyfriend? He’s okay with you going out?” He prods tersely as his knife hits the plate sharply.

“Boyfriend?” You laugh anxiously, “no, I don’t— he’s my boss. Probably had a call-in.”

“Ah,” he nods and you hear his breath, each one measured. You don’t know why he’d care enough to ask.

[mvltisstuff]

Hi

I have a Buck (911) fic idea. Buck saved reader at the tsunami. Reader can't swim that good, so she was really scared and he comforted her. Reader took care of Christopher while Buck was saving other people. Two weeks or something after the tsunami they meet again. Maybe reader is working at coffee shop and they meet there. Reader can't stop saying thank you to Buck and maybe he asks her on a date at the end.

You don't have to write this if you don't want to. I got this idea and thought I'll send it to you.

arms of a stranger - e.b

summary: request above :)

evan buckley x reader

the tsunami had entirely taken out a whole community and a street of small businesses. it came rushing through, causing immediate calamity and jeopardy. not the most ideal first date, but definitely gets you closer to strangers.

the first wave had washed buck and christopher off of the pier, sending them away with bits and pieces of the structure. y/n had been shoved under the waves, which were horrifying but also marvelous. her lungs were filling with water and sand from the shores. it felt like every time she came up it wasn’t worth anything, as she would be pulled back under seconds later.

she heard the screams from buck, hearing the sharp yells of someone’s name. the adrenaline in her system kept her brain moving speedily and her heart beating fast. the red engine had sparkled out of the corner of her eye from the sizzling sun of california. she forced herself over, when the man gripped her arms and pulled her on. she bent over, coughing up water and leaning back on the truck.

“hey, are you ok?” he asks, worried.

“yeah, i’ll be fine. are you two alright?”

“we’re good, just scared shitless,” buck chuckles a little, trying to bring a little light to the disaster.

“same, i’m no mermaid.”

“it’s going to be alright, ok? i’m here for you,” he reassures immediately. he must have an instinct to protect people, she thinks.

y/n vividly remembers sitting next to christopher, watching buck save other people, and bring them to the top of the truck. she remembers the exact feeling of her jeans sticking to her thighs and her scraped arms from the wood and sticks in the water. he was just a little boy, he didn’t deserve to be in the middle of such a mess. when people had succumbed to the oceans, she covered his eyes to maintain his innocence whilst she couldn’t look away.

buck had come back and forth, saving several people. she immediately admired him. you have no idea the amount of courage and selflessness it takes to put yourself in the eye of the hurricane. and buck did that without thinking twice. most people would stay put, but he knows there’s no point to life if you don’t do everything in your power to make it a better place.

all hell broke loose when the truck shook, knocking several people off as buck watched christopher disappear in the waves. everyone was separated. no one knew how to get back, and everyone was shaking in fear.

hours went by and the sun went down and bucks panic didn’t go with it. he lost the one thing he was given to care of. christopher was a light in the tunnel and the one who truly got him out of bed. people only had good intentions and the world took that to an advantage.

y/n walked around, soaking wet after the water had started going back out to sea. she wandered around the town, looking for anyone she knew or something familiar. suddenly, nothing had become safe until she saw the sitting boy on the steps of a building, his eyes small and tired. the one she tried so hard to save from floating away, and she prayed he was going to be ok when she walked over. he was slumped to the side, his head leaning on a railing. “y/n?” christopher’s eyes focus, squinting at her.

“oh my god, christopher! you’re ok!” she runs over with whatever energy she has left. she pulls him into her, checking him over with her hands on his face. “are you? i’m so sorry, buddy, it all happened so fast.”

“i’m ok, i’m tired though,” he remarks. “where is buck?”

“i don’t know, ive been trying to find out for you, but the woman said there’s going to be units here soon. we can find him.”

“is he dead?”

y/n pauses, taken aback by his statement. “i don’t think so, chris. he’s a tough guy, really tough.”

“he just got hurt, what if he is again?”

“he was hurt?”

“at work.” y/n sighs, looking around again for anyone before moving to sit next to him. christopher leans on her shoulder, dozing off lightly as y/n happily allows it.

at least fourty-five minutes go by before ambulances and rescue personelle arrive to the scene. there were probably a hundred people clattering about, trying to find out if their family or friends were alive. y/n was given oxygen along with christopher, who shared the tank due to an emergency shortage.

they were transported to the nearest hospital right after sundown. christopher arm was tangled with hers for balance, trying to find his dad and buck. y/n observes buck and the other man, diaz on his name tag. they both have tears in there eyes as buck stutters on about the boy. eddie looks behind him, about to run out of there and search for christopher when he sees him limping over, exhausted. “christopher?”

“dad!” he yells, as eddie sprints over to take him. he checks him over the same way y/n did, making sure every single part of him is safe. y/n looks away as eddie carries him away to get checked out and she locks eyes with buck. he’s talking to his fellow firefighters, them observing his disoriented condition. when he stares into y/n’s pained expression, his knees give out but his eyes stay locked on her. he blinks a few times and somehow, she vanished right before his eyes.

he had a whole speech to give her. she saved christopher, and she saved him. he could have never made it out of this alone and he had to say that, but she was gone before he knew it.

two weeks had passed since an entire portion of los angeles had been demolished in two minutes. the city coming together to help everyone affected was truly beautiful, but something was missing in bucks eyes. he felt like he had to see y/n, but he had no idea how to reach her or where to find her. he wanted to give her anything she wanted for being there.

he roamed around on calls, taking a second glance at anyone who resembled her or her name. maybe he misheard it or something? he didn’t want to give up, but everyone had been telling him to let the tsunami go out of his mind with the tide. one of those ways was to avoid that day and the reminders. was it the best coping mechanism? absolutely not, but buck would try anything and everything to forget a trauma.

until he was asked to watch christopher again, he thought there was no point in bringing up the memory for especially you. you’d been there the whole time, being a bad swimmer and nearly drowning with no past disaster training. buck had that, and she was worse off than him, he thought. when christopher mentions her name, he realizes there is no point in trying to forget. this happened and there is no erasing it, maybe what he needed was y/n.

he took christopher for another day out, far from the shore and the non-existent pier. they’d gone to the indoor arcades and fun little places to hang out or just talk. buck was desperate for an energy boost, so he dragged christopher into the nearest coffee shop. it was an adorable little place with a few businesspeople sitting around on their computers. the smell of coffee and cakes hit bucks nose delightfully. his eyes land on y/n, casually making an latte like it’s muscle memory.

he stares at her in delight and christopher is the one to nudge him close to the counter. “hurry up, buck!”

“i’ll be right with you in one,” y/n’s sentence comes to a halt when she turns around to see buck, the man who saved her, standing behind her. “second. um, hey! how are you guys?”

“we’re good! i- im good, i didn’t know you worked here.”

“have been for a while, it’s easy money for school.”

“oh, nice. what are you in school for?” y/n explains her whole major to buck and why she’s here, practically giving a life story.

“sorry. that was a lot of information you don’t care about,” she laughs, pressing the cover onto the hot drink in her hands.

“i care a lot!” buck says a little too fast. “or, i care about you. how have you been doing?” y/n looks down at the boy with a radiant smile, wanting to show her bravery and strength in front of him, but it’s hard. “hey, chris. why don’t you find somewhere to sit?”

once he walks away to pick out a table, she begins again. “it’s been tough. my sleep schedules all messed up and focusing is like trying to fight a grizzly bear.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n. it’s been so hard trying to deal with it. but give yourself time,” he says sweetly. “you won’t heal if you force yourself.”

she gives him a little smile, appreciating his generosity and now starting to appreciate his looks. her eyes dart around his face, looking into his alluring blue eyes and his lips, and she couldn’t forget that birthmark that is perfect to her. he’s a beautiful man, but an even more beautiful soul. firefighters come with a lot of respect in society, but she had that for him even before she found out. he would never say something too fast, but he noticed her the first time he saw her and grabbed onto her. his rescue response had turned on and was stronger than ever, and the aftermath made him fall in love with her resiliency. she was insanely hot, he had to admit. buck’s gonna buck.

“thank you, buck. for everything. i want to give you the ends of the earth,” she grins. “but maybe we can start with a free coffee?”

“a free coffee sounds amazing,” he replies. he builds up the courage from his crushing self to ask her yet another question. a more bold on, at that. “do you wanna go out sometime? maybe not on top of a fire truck, in a flood?”

y/n’s heart burst right then and there. she had been dying to ask him to same thing, but figured he was too busy with work. besides, he does what he did for her every day so she figured it meant nothing. at the end of the day, it did. “i’d love too!” she shoots out her words rapidly, almost immediately curing bucks anxieties. she shakes her head quickly, trying to rub off her hyper mood. “i’d really like that. here, this is my number,” she writes down the ten digits on a scraped receipt, handing it to him and walking away to make his drink and a snack for christopher.

“perfect,” buck states with a sly wink. “expect a text or two tonight.”

y/n turns back around, heading to the employee room. she can’t find it in her to wipe the rich smile on her face. meanwhile, buck walks over to sit with christopher at the counter by the window. christopher’s grinning at him, high-fiving him and saying, “and buck has done it again!”

[fuumiku]

Day 2 : Role Swap

Ok I have thoughts for this one bear with me. He’s a mage with a half-foot guild still but his activism is especially targeted towards half-foot mages specifically since they’re rare and so looked down upon (and the two are correlated).

Marcille scouts out places all Tomb Raiser style for lost treasures and knowledge, keeps maps and written info etc in her book. She’s still much of a scholar but more in an archeologist sense, she wants to discover the truth of dungeons and see if it could revolutionize the world. She’s a buildings and engineering nerd instead of magic nerd. She hypes herself up as a passionate cool rogue adventurer like in books✨ Chil thinks it’s a silly and unstable profession. All her um, grace and agility when doing headstands and dancing are coming through with this new role of hers.

Chil does need to borrow mana and so they hold hands a lot. I am so taking advantage of the mana transfer thing. "I’m out of mana, you’re an elf and you never use magic, give some to me! You have so much, don’t be selfish!!" -inparty fight breaks out as he chases after her and she runs away- I imagine that’s just kinda how he and half-foot mages roll? Dunmeshi-typical worldbuilding monologue that explains how "Most people don’t even use their mana, they don’t even learn magic. If you give me your mana I’ll be able to do more magic, win-win, no harm done." I imagine you have to be magic-savvy to be able to transfer mana to someone but it’s fine he can just steal it methinks 🌟 So he gets to be the one who’s very casual about physical touch. He does NOT want to be a healer it stresses him out but ah shit there Falin goes.

More AU details under cut

You’ve heard of onion knight now get ready for onion mage Y’know the saddest part of mage Chilchuck is that he wouldn’t use explosion spells

You know how Marcille uses her staff to grab people by the neck or head sometimes… Chilchuck would have a free choking stick he can use to make people listen to him. He can REACH THEIR NECKS . It doubles as a walking stick for his old man back… /j And a weapon, sort of. I think staff more than lance, but long weapons like that suit him I think. Holding the monster at bay with a 4 feet long stick like "Stay BACK!! Go for my party members shoo shoo!!!!"

From my observations, staffs for magic all have a ‘hole’ at one end, oh size, shape, material and form varying. For example both Marcille and Rin have a similar hoop, but Falin’s is a lantern which imo the metal frame of it and the glass form this hole I’m speaking of. Maybe it’s like, the staff condenses the magic inside the hole and helps channel it and give it form? What I’m saying here is I didn’t decide what it was made out of but I like to think it’s carved wood so it can be homemade but unique to him.

Marcille and Chil both fight in battles, but he stays where it’s safer and does long distance spells only. Marcile uses daggers probably… But yeah her role’s more being a scout rather than a fighter, while Chil’s role is being a magical fighter and his expertise on magical creatures and such.

I think he’d be self-taught, where it’s his own magic system… I think he likes theory more than vibes and working at the whims of creatures, so maybe elven with an half-foot script? He doesn’t seem like the type to get buddy-buddy with spirits much A bit like his cowl it’s like he always has a part of home with him a bit with his half-foot magic… He’d have sucked at the beginning, it’s pretty experimental magic, but he made it work and tbh he’s a Big Deal for it. Learning on the field ofc ofc he’s no honor student

I think the racial prejudices tension would be worse, because he’d be nervous of the whole ‘half-foots who get too curious about dark magic get taken away’, and I think as a half-elf who doesn’t do magic it might be uncomfortable for her to deal with how the half-foot is better at it than her and how her mana would have had better use with him instead of her? Idk brainstorming. I def think she’d habe more of a complex about being a half-elf… Still with existential dread and still Hopes to find a cure to death, but she goes about it through artefacts etc rather than magic. I’m unsure how her career would turn out that wqy exactly because job stability and academia are important to her, but yeah I think she went to school on an agricultural and history level and focused her research on that front? And then she could become that adventurer scholar who explores to pierce secrets of the world and ancient civilizations trope yeah I think that’s the angle.

Maybe his plans for the future after quitting being a dungeon diver would be teacher/mentor instead of shopkeeper 🤔 One one hand oh god have mercy on his blood pressure, on the other he likes contributing to his community and would want to encourage half-foot mages and pass down his knowledge and expertise I think. Empty nest syndrome where…- OHHH mage Meijack……. I was thinking becayse Meijack followed in his footsteps in canon but it could suit Puckpatti and Flertom too… Their dad would have shown them some magic tricks hehe. They can be a magical girl trio in my heart, Powerpuff Girls energy…

A rogue has gotta be able to make intricate af braids and updos with their fingers (ignore how in canon Chil is just barely decent at them nvm). I was thinking maybe one of Marcille’s lockpicks is Ambrosia-shaped… Or maybe it’s an hairpin. Maybe she keeps her lockpicks as pins in her hair but they’re easy to grab… Getting more gimmicky by the second but my heart yearns for it I cannot lie. I ended up doing something close to canon for Marcille’s outfits but at first I imagined she’d wear stuff more akin elven fashion, short dress with pants, light material, though also with a leather armor breastblate. She has long gloves like the ones that look fancy, maybe even up her upper arm rather than just forearm ooh… Also her little pouch, which actually contains stuff this time around (lockpicks). They still have matching pouches yay

In that last doodle Chilchuck weaved her a little familiar with twigs… So it is magical but it’s hers, and it’s a second stand-in for Ambrosia. Maybe a golem… It’s very silly and prob not real in the au but the thought of it is really cute. Someone on the discord said Fantastical Beasts Pickett which yesss lmao, it’s like a pokemon for "(lock)pick it!" I love arts and crafts Chilchuck so much. Sew clothes. Weave twigs. Woodcarve. Necromance a frankenstein. He can make himself a new wife (/J I AM SO /J)

Also for Izutsumi: I think the reverse of a ninja is a bard. Take that as you will. Angry bard who grew up in a troupe……