#the wasp x reader

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Building a Hornet’s Nest

Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.) 

When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere harem #male harem #yandere male harem #male reader #yandere x reader #monster boyfriends #wasp boyfriends #monster husbands #yandere husbands #yandere boyfriends #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Wasps

[zephyrchama]

Hi!! I love your hc’s , can I request how the brothers would react to a s/o from who’s deathly afraid of wasps , like phobia strength fear . (It’s spring where I am and I have a phobia of wasps so i really want comfort stuffs lol)

Thank you! I've been wanting to write something bug-related, hope I don't disappoint too much! If there's not enough fluff or comfort, I'll try to come up with something else. I wound up writing how they'd handle the situation.

(little scary note: Devildom wasps are probably awful monstrosities, maybe even bigger than human realm ones. They could have all kinds of RPG monster-style wasps in addition to the “normal” sized ones that humans are familiar with (yet have some crazy venom).)

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Lucifer revels in being the first person you go to when you feel afraid. He doesn’t quite get why it’s such a big emergency, and he doesn’t like the chore of having to stop what he’s doing just to take care of a common pest, but there’s a warmth in knowing you come straight to him when you're scared. At first he would tell you to go ask someone else. Or, couldn’t you chase it off yourself with magic? He knows that surely you’re more than capable. He has better things to do than deal with a wasp. But with enough begging, he’d give in. Especially if you bury yourself under his coat. He can feel you trembling. Grasping his shirt in your fingertips and shakily asking “Lucifer, please?” will usually do the trick. He takes his coat off and drapes it over your head so you don’t have to watch while he takes care of things. Typically, it only takes seconds to erase all traces of the wasp’s existence. It takes far longer for you to convince Lucifer to help than it does for him to actually help. As the problem persisted and the weather got warmer, Lucifer started insisting you wear bug repellant to keep the problem at bay. He stops you in the morning to make sure you’re wearing it. If you come to him later in the day with a wasp-related issue, he’ll hold you back and personally make sure every inch from head to toe is coated before you leave. "I can't have any pests approaching you when I'm not around," he explains.

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Mammon loves when you rely on him. He has no trouble getting rid of a pesky bug or two. The first time it happened, he panicked. His human was crying and shaking and could hardly speak - the human he’s supposed to be in charge of. If anything happened to you, he’d be in a world of trouble. “What? What happened, huh?” he asked, grabbing your shoulders. He couldn’t understand unless you told him. “Help,” you whimpered, pointing where you had been standing moments before. “What?” The only thing there now was a buzzing wasp, flitting to and fro. “That thing?” You nodded and the relief that washed over him was immense. He almost laughed. “Man, don’t scare me like that! C’mon, the Great Mammon’ll take care of it for you.” Now, he’ll ask for rewards. Nothing big, but just enough to motivate him and keep you from taking advantage of him. He can’t let you find out that your tears are his weakness, after all. Mammon makes a big show of playing the hero, saying “get behind me” and pulling you in close. He’ll wrap an arm over you, guiding your head into his side while firing off a spell with a “bang!” Sometimes he’s so focused on how cute you look that he misses and sets fire to a shrub, but as long as you’re not looking, he can coolly escort you in the opposite direction as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “Well? Don’t ya think the Great Mammon deserves a reward for savin’ ya?”

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“Do I have to?” Leviathan gets anxious and doesn’t want to confront the wasps. He can see how distraught you are and it’s tugging on his heart strings, but they freak him out too. He’s so much stronger and he knows it, but their unpredictability is unsettling. He’ll let you take shelter in his room for as long as you want, or under his hoodie as long as you don’t move too much. If you’re especially persistent, he’ll eventually work up the courage. It might take a while though. With a mighty wadded up newspaper in one hand and the other hand outstretched protectively in front of you, he’ll slowly inch forward towards any unsavory bug. At the smallest sound though, he’ll jump and it’s back to square one. If the wasp moves and you shriek, he shrieks with you. “Don’t scare me like that!! I-I… I almost had it!! Arrghhh!” If you two are lucky, the commotion attracts one of his other brothers who rolls their eyes and crushes the wasp like it’s made of paper. On days when backup never arrives, you have to play hype man until Levi finally works up the nerve to one-shot the target. “I did it!” He looks so happy, and he occasionally strikes a silly victory pose despite also falling back in relief. He is the hero who saved the human in distress, after all. The next time it happens he’s still incredibly reluctant, but he upgrades his rolled-up newspaper to one of those electric zapping polls so he feels a little cooler.

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Satan is usually unperturbed by the bugs. They’re certainly annoying, but nothing to fret over. “You want me to take care of that?” he’ll ask, no questions asked. You don’t even need to say anything. He notices when your attention wanders from him, when the look in your eye changes and your demeanor shifts upon spotting one. You don’t have to speak if you’re unable to. Grabbing on to the empty sleeve of his jacket is enough of an answer. Satan is especially handy if there are multiple bugs buzzing in the vicinity. It’s not often he gets to practice his curses on a moving target. If he’s having an especially rough day, he’ll pack all his frustrations and wrath into a single blow that’s way more powerful than necessary. That is doubly true if he’s interrupted during a nice moment. Satan likes to savor good times without being disturbed. He’s ruthless if a wasp comes along and ruins the nice atmosphere between you two. He tries to be careful around his book collection, but anything else in the way is fair game to be destroyed. His attempts to calm you down afterwards are less helpful. He tries to distract you with trivia. “That was just an infernal warrior bee. You can tell by the three horizontal stripes and ones vertical stripe on its back. We must have walked past its nest, they’re mostly harmless unless you get too close and they start unsheat-” ”Aaaaaahhh!!!” The quickest way to shut Satan up before your fear gets worse is just to shout louder than he talks, especially if you nuzzle your head against his chest while he does it.

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Asmodeus gives you a nauseated look. He could probably destroy a bug in seconds, but they’re gross. He wants nothing to do with them. “Isn’t there anybody else around to get it?” It’s quite a sight to see Asmodeus publicly charm people into disposing of a wasp for the two of you. It is the most convenient way when other people are around. He does it as naturally as breathing, and then the two of you have to run from his obsessed fans instead of an insect. If Asmo sends a distress text to his brothers, it’s rare for someone to actually show up. But if you join him and spam the house’s group chat together, somebody will inevitably come to your aid. The two of you have cowered together in a corner many times waiting on one of his other brothers to show up. Due to this, you’ve perfected a defensive formation. If you both hug each other, fingers intertwined and head resting on the other’s shoulder, it calms you both down while also minimizing the blind spots in the room. You can spot any bug approaching with a 95% accuracy rate. If it’s a long day and bugs are a major recurring issue, Asmo will snap. Enough is enough. He still manages to be so pretty, despite his raging demonic energy knocking down everything in its path. He feels so disgusted afterwards though and will invite you to bathe the grossness away with him in a long, long bath.

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Beelzebub the reliable. Beelzebub the wonderful. You have so much appreciation for this dude. Beel is often the one you can turn to when nobody else will help. He’s not the best at spotting the smaller insects so you need to be very descriptive about where you saw them, but he shows no hesitation when it comes to exterminating them for you. The way he casually just whacks them aside is astounding. He’s more concerned about your shaking and crying and will try to prioritize comforting you over handling the wasps, but that just makes you more scared. With each passing moment, who knows where they’ll fly to next? “Please, please Beel. Just please take care of it, make it go away!” The sooner the better. The corners of his mouth will turn down, hesitant to turn his back on you, but he agrees. “Ok.” You must ensure to reward him with plenty of snacks. It keeps him protectively by your side for longer and otherwise he starts wondering how the felled wasps would taste fried. He used to get concerned you wouldn’t eat with him, but has since learned you need time to calm down before you appetite returns. It helps if you can sit in his lap, a fortified spot you’re certain no wasps can get near.

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Belphegor is too lazy to lift a finger most days. If they’re not bothering him, he doesn’t want to bother with them. But the way you twitch, the way you shriek and jump over the smallest movements, will start to concern him. It’s cute at first. He enjoys seeing a new side of you, the easily startled side. It's amusing. If it goes on for too long though he knows you’ll get nightmares and it will mess with your health. Humans get sick easily like that. He’ll laugh at you and then fell the buzzing menace with ease. It’s easier to get Belphegor to help when he’s tired. The buzzing annoys him to no end when all he wants is a peaceful nap. He might not even be conscious of what he's doing and protects you out of pure instinct. When he’s cranky, he shows no mercy to the insects hassling you. You’ve got blanket permission to throw yourself in his arms when he’s taking a nap. His demon form tail is an especially potent fly (or any winged creature, really) swatter, ensuring nothing gets near the two of you. Belphegor will literally take care of everything in his sleep while he snuggles up to you without a care in the world. One time you were escaping a nagging Lucifer instead of a wasp and tried the same tactic. It only made him madder. But it was great to see him get bapped in the face with Belphegor’s fluffy tail.

#levi asmo and beel are based on that one wanderer's whereabouts scene #barbatos and diavolo are just so powerful the wasps never make it within a 60 foot radius of them. #barbatos once glanced at a wasp and it just self-eviscerated. #obey me #obey me! #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanon #obey me x mc #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me fluff #obey me imagines #ask #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphagor x reader

[cyberrose2001]

some tfa wasp comfort?? please?

maybe he lays on the reader’s lap while they stroke his helm and he starts tearing up because like?? what is this? kindness? and the reader gives him a kithh on the forehead <3

you can ignore if you what/have more important things to do.

TFA Wasp x reader

finally getting stuck into requests again uwu

apologies for taking this long, here’s some comfort for our bug boi

Warnings: None

Word count: 450

(comfort, GN reader, sfw)

You’re a kind person. The type of kindness that lets you stop and smell the roses, to watch your step for the tiny creatures of the earth as they scuddle across your path. It’s in your innate sense of carefulness and compassion for others, especially when that sense leads you to a trembling, albeit larger-than-average, insect in a confined alleyway of the city.

Your primal instincts told you to stay away, to back the hell off. But you couldn’t ignore a nagging thought that this creature wasn’t a creature at all, but one of those Cyber-tron-ians? Though you didn’t care for what it was, all you care to see is that it’s upset. So, you carefully convinced it to follow you back to your apartment, where it’s warmer and softer than the streets.

You’ve learned his name is Wasp, a supposed fugitive from his home planet, on the run from his own kind after being falsely convicted of being a spy. Honestly, the whole thing doesn’t make sense to you. However, you still sat with him on the floor, and you listened.

“So… you can’t go back home?” You questioned, bundled up in a soft woollen blanket.

Wasp cowers in the corner of the lounge beside you, his purple visors downturned pathetically, “Can’t go back… Wasp can’t trust no one.”

“Well, you trust me? Don’t you?” You tilt your head, “Or you wouldn’t be here with me, right?”

The poor creature lifts his head toward you, his bug-like visor softening at your words.

“Wasp… likes you.” He murmurs, “Human makes Wasp comfortable… here…”

You smile, thankful that he feels comfortable with you, but you can’t help but notice the slight tremble in his frame, “You look cold,” You gently toss the other half of the blanket towards him as an invitation, “C’mere honey.”

He tilts his head curiously before slowly crawling towards you, observing you for ulterior motives. But when he lays his helm on your lap and can feel you drape the blanket around him, he can feel himself melt into you.

“There, how’s that?” You bring a gentle hand down to stroke his helm, and with every stroke, you have to suppress a chuckle as he melts into your lap more.

“Feels… nice..” Wasp sighs, closing his optics as he lets you pet him. All the hurt, pain and betrayal he’s endured, he’s never experienced something quite like this.

“Good,” You lean down and softly kiss his helm. You don’t see it, but Wasp couldn’t help the blush rise to his face, “You can stay here as long as you need. I’ll be here.”

As much as Wasp wants to go home, he could get used to this.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers animated #transformers animated x reader #tfa #tfa wasp #tfa x reader #tfa wasp x reader #sfw #cyberrosewrites

[ofmermaidstories]

You are five when your Quirk manifests for the first time, with Rinchan.

‼️📍 content warnings: implied major character death, death in general, in a myriad of ways (falling, head trauma, old age, drowning, suicide), im a little graphic for emphasis, grief and mourning. there’s also some light smut and implied underage sex.

Rinchan. Rinchan who watches you while your mother goes to work. Rinchan with her big, soft, crepe-paper arms; who holds you in them for as long as you want, singing you songs as she shells peas into a metal bowl—you clinging to her, placid as a koala, your legs dangling over her lap. Rinchan who is probably your most favourite person in the entire world—the entire world being your neighbourhood and your school and the nearby park, overgrown, and the overwhelming shopping centre a car ride away.

Rinchan. Rinchan. Rinchan who, when you are five, starts appearing before you naked and wet, her face covered in blood.

The first time it happens she’s still alive; the sizzle of her cooking coming from the kitchen just behind you as you sit on the floor with a pile of milk-chews in front of you, staring in frozen horror at this other her—shining with water, her mouth stretched open in a startled O, everything about her soft and sagging.

You make a tiny noise—fear, caught in your throat, a baby mouse curled up—and then Rinchan, your Rinchan, Rinchan alive and warm and dry, calls out, “Are you okay, Baby?”

The Other Rinchan’s mouth stretches open further, like it recognises her—like it’s trying to say something back and you—

You wail in answer, scrabbling at Rinchan (living, alive) when she flys in, concerned, asking, “What? What? What is it? What’s wrong?” her soft crepe-paper arms around you tight as you sob into her neck.

She’s bewildered and a little frightened herself; but she hums as she rocks you, a warm hand stroking your back, soothing you both until your sobs are little more than wet snuffling, your hand curling into the fabric of her dress.

You loved her. You love her, still, after all this time. But that love doesn’t save either of you, and you are haunted by the other Rinchan for the rest of that awful summer: in the park, with your friends, Rinchan watching, mouth agape, from the bushes. Walking home, hand-in-hand with your mother, Rinchan behind you. Alone in your bedroom, at night, Rinchan standing over you as you watch the water drip down her skin. You start wetting yourself with the fear, whenever it happens—a response that quickly loses you those parkside friends and worries your mother and living Rinchan sick, the pair of them whispering about you when they think you can’t hear, their fear—your fear—condemning you to pull-ups, like a giant baby.

It doesn’t stop the end from coming.

Rin dies just before Halloween, when the shops are filled with green-faced witches and plastic skeletons that rattle and can’t frighten you, anymore. She dies alone, at night. A fall in the shower, your mother tells you in a whisper a couple of days later, red-eyed. You knew enough by then to be able to picture it: Rin, shining with water, her mouth stretched open in a startled O—her face covered in blood.

Your mother holds your hand at her funeral, too tight, and you cling back and say nothing.

The other Rinchan never comes back. Rin never comes back—cannot come back, no matter how much you love her.

Others do, though.

It’s a parade of the dead, shuffling forward to a dirge only you can hear. You learn, over time, that it’s specific to people you either know or will come to know—people you have some kind of tie to, some bond, good or bad. When you are fifteen it’s your homeroom teacher Miss Aoki: her head and shoulder caved in, her right eye bulging out at you, unseeing. You’d been drinking a bottle of milk-tea when she arrived, the blood stark and jewel-like in the daylight. You do not touch milk-tea for ages, afterwards.

You no longer wet yourself in fear, but you cannot look your teacher in the eye for weeks—it ruins everything. You stop pausing after homeroom to talk to her, stop sharing the music that brought you together, unable to face her, unable to face the bemusement and then the tiny flashes of hurt.

You cannot warn her. What would you warn her about? The trauma to her head could’ve been a fall, or some kind of rock—an accident or murder. And even if you knew, even if you could pinpoint it, she would not believe you. You know that because you had tried, with the ghost after Rinchan—with Yochan. Yochan, a boy from your neighbourhood and once, once before your Quirk had come, a boy you had followed around like a guiding star. You and all the other kids, faithful to him above all. But when your Quirk came and you got weird, he got mean.

“You’re a stupid piss-baby!” He’d shout at you, cackling. The other kids hung back, unsure of how to treat you—and this was how you saw him, the other him, standing behind the others with a swollen, awful face, his Endeavour shirt stained with a creamsicle, his eyes disappeared under the red, weeping slits of an allergic reaction.

You tried. You tried.

“Yochan,” you’d whisper, “please—”

His face would twist in disgust though, any time you came near him. “Freak!” he’d hiss. “Piss-baby! Get lost!”

He’d run away, then, laughing to himself and telling everyone that you had threatened him (“Piss Baby wants me dead!”)—and you had shut into yourself more, haunted by the agonised version of him that only you could see, that would stand there in your bedroom and twitch, the last throes of death.

It came for him, eventually. More than half a year later, during a game of softball where he’d knocked over a wasp nest and stomped over to it, the others too scared.

(The teacher explains it in class the following week and you sit there, in your seat by the window, untouched by the light. Empty.

Miss Aoki dies during the war, caught in the shadow of a collapsing building. You go to her service without your mother to hold your hand, and pray for forgiveness.)

You can map your life by the bodies that follow you. A year after after Miss Aoki it’s Hiroe: the tiny, fierce old woman down the street who grumbles at you every morning. When her doppleganger appears across the street from the pair of you, thin and wan and gasping as the hospital gown slips off her shoulders, the living her angrily talking about her carnations, the only thing you feel is relief. She’ll be in hospital—someone will be with her. It won’t be alone in a shower, or sprawled out on her kitchen floor, blood pooling under her. It’ll be death, still, leeching the life out of a woman who pertly tells you that the colour of your coat doesn’t suit you, but it’ll better than some of the lonely things you’ve seen, you live with.

(But it’s not better at all. Hiroe’s son works too hard, his hours too long in the aftermath of the war, helping the restoration. You visit her after school, bright flowers in hand and some of the colour returns to her face as she complains that you’re already dressing her altar, but her son is never there—and she dies alone, during the night, gasping for breath.)

You’re cursed, you think; cursed to see death everywhere you go, in everyone you know. And then you meet Kouki and realise that your curse smears over your future, too.

Kouki. Kouki with his brilliant red hair, like autumn leaves in the sunlight. Kouki who laughed easily, who would evenutally come to keep his pocket full of those old-fashioned milk-chews, just for you. Kouki, who, before you meet him alive, you meet dead—floating mid-air before you during your walk home one night, his hair dancing around his face, his eyes unseeing as his mouth opens and closes, gulping for air that isn’t there.

You are seventeen by this stage. It had been a hard couple of years with Miss Aoki, with the war, with Hiroe. Kouki appears before you under a streetlamp and you drop your schoolbag, your throat siezing.

“Don’t,” you say to this corpse of a boy you haven’t met, yet. “Don’t—don’t you dare do this to me.”

He opens his mouth; a tiny silver fish darts out and you burst into tears, overwhelmed, your new ghost lingering with you as you sob on the street, alone in the night. You don’t even know him. You don’t even know him.

He transfers to your senior class at the end of the month.

By then you had gotten used to the vision of him, numbly, the drowned boy following you around like a harmless stray—keeping you company on your walks home from your part-time job. You had sat with him as he floated, you solidly on the ledge of a park, unwrapping milk-chews and staring out at the dark before you, undaunted and unafraid, the most haunted thing there as his tiny fish flittered about him, again and again, on loop.

And then he walks into class that first day, and you are—you are frozen, even as he grins at you, bright and undaunted and alive.

“Hey,” he says after class, too interested and too friendly. “You look a little frightened—you good?”

Considering you had woken up that morning to his vestige floating at the foot of your bed, you most certainly were not good. What you say instead though is a curt, “I’m fine,” which proves to be mistake.

His eyes—big and blue—brighten at the challenge, and he grins.

“Fujita Kouki,” he introduces himself. “What’s your name?”

In the daylight, the light of the living where he can soak in the sun and return it, Kouki’s—Fujita’s—eyes are warm, not the milky colour you’ve been haunted with. You should walk away, you think desperately, wavering; you should retreat immediately. But the daylight is seductive. You are seventeen and it has a been a hard year and you are tired of being afraid.

Your lips part, even as you hesitate. But when you give him your name, his smile widens, and it almost—almost—chases the ghosts away.

Kouki quickly becomes your best friend.

Best friend is not the right term; it’s not fair to him and what you know about him. It doesn’t capture the horror of seeing him walk into your classroom that first day, nor the fear that follows you when he’s late to meeting up, or stays home from school because of a cold, because he’s bored. But—

He’s easy going. Refreshing, like cold, sparkling lemonade in the hot sun. He’s friendly and quickly becomes popular with so many of the others in your class and he wants to—he wants to hang out with you, walk you home. With Kouki you’re not the Silent Weirdo that never interacts with anyone. With Kouki you laugh—all the time, like all he wants to do is make you happy. He fills his pockets with those milk-chews and walks with you in the evenings, pushing his bike alongside you, telling you about the way his little brother terrorises his parents and how his father has been wanting to go on a vacation for years, now—and you let him. You let him become apart of your life, you let him walk you home. You let him sink into everything you know, into your pores, the fabric of who you are. He’s the good morning lets gooo texts before you meet up for school. He’s the warmth against you as you sit side-by-side on your park ledge, no longer the most haunted thing in the dark but what you should have always been: just a kid, sitting with a friend. Being with Kouki is easy, too easy. You no longer see the ghost of him—suspended in midair, his silver fish. You just see him, have him—Kouki, alive, chuckling to himself as he hands you another milk-chew.

“My dad’s finally free,” he tells you one night. You’re sitting on your ledge, mouth full of the creamy chews—Kouki (living) before you, lingering close.

“Mmph?” You question, unable to quite pry your jaw open enough for real words.

Kouki laughs like you had said something funny, and despite yourself your stomach flips, pleased to hear it. He’d been subdued; unusually quiet, had been since lunch that day, when Keichan had confessed her feelings to him in front of everyone. Keichan was pretty, effervescent—she laughed like he did, easily and among others who sparkled with her attention. On paper they were a perfect match and you almost wanted it—you wanted Kouki to be happy, however it happened. For as long as he could be.

But he had said no. You, sitting on the edges of the yard and picking at the grass, had been unable to help but watch in the same horrified, fascinated fear as everyone else, all of you silent. Keichan’s pretty face—shocked. Kouki’s red hair shinning brilliantly like fire, as he shook his head.

“Sorry,” he’d said, not sounding the least bit contrite. “I just—I don’t want that.”

In the evening gloom, he nudges your knee.

“The old man’s finally got that time off he wanted,” Kouki explains. You nod, swallowing your chews and trying to ignore how he moves forward—bracketing you, where you sit. “He wants to go fishing.”

“Oh,” you say, a little uselessly. Kouki’s hands are either side of you, distracting—the space between you warm, as he dips his head in closer.

You still. He’s always crowded your space but tonight in the silver light his face—normally so open, light—is afraid.

“You never tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, low, and you shake your head, emptied of words. It wasn’t true—you told him about the books you read, the songs you heard. The way you liked cupping sunlight in your hands because it made them glow, made you feel like you had a different Quirk entirely. You had never told anyone else that.

Kouki’s eyebrows tighten; pull. Frustrated, maybe, even as his hand balls itself into your skirt.

It pulls you closer to him, just a little. Your hand comes up between you—your fingers tracing the fold of his jacket pocket.

“You smell like those milkchews,” he whispers, and your heart is in your throat even as your lips part, his parting in echo as he watches them—

—and you don’t know who pulls who in first but then you are kissing, a hand cupping your face, anchoring you to the moment, to him as your fist tightens into his jacket. You sigh into the cool of his mouth and can almost taste the way he smiles before he presses in harder, hungry.

He pulls away after a moment; only to press more kisses, soft and careful, against your mouth, your nose, your cheek, laughing when you make a tiny, annoyed noise.

“You’re dumb,” he tells you, low, pressing another kiss against your hair, and then another. “And I’m gonna take you out and watch you eat those dumb sweets and make you tell me everything you’re thinking, forever. Until you’re sick of me.”

Your heart lurches. Forever.

“I could never be sick of you,” you tell him, the ache reopening inside of you.

Kouki grins, pleased and so, so alive; his brilliance softening to a glow as he dips his face close again, tracing your nose with his.

“I mean it,” he says, quiet. Promising. “You’re gonna have to chase me off.”

You try to stay in the warmth of him, the light and life, clutching at him, letting him kiss you again, soft.

But there’s a sob in your throat. And when you open your eyes, breathing in as Kouki kisses your jaw, your neck, his spectre is there—mouth gaping open, as a tiny, silver fish darts out.

(You beg him not to go, when his father announces the boat he’s rented, for his fishing trip. The man’s never been out on one before. Kouki has never seen your desperation, your fear, not like this and he almost stays, brows furrowed—but his little brother is excited. His father too. He buys all three of them matching fishing hats.

“It’s okay,” he whispers against the back of your neck, when you’re curled up together in your tiny, childhood bed. The house is quiet; you have it to yourselves, the sunlight dappling in your room, filtered through the tree outside. “I’m a good swimmer. Don’t worry.”

He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his fingers slow, tracing figures in the wet touch of your underwear. You breathe him in and to reassure yourself he’s right, that he will be okay, that you will always have this.

He’s gone by the following week. A storm. Kouki was right—he was a good swimmer. But his little brother wasn’t, and the love that made him go in the first place was the same love that made him search for him, endlessly, after their boat was capsized.

You go to the joint service. Kouki, his father, his little brother. His mother is held together by an older woman, desolate. In a row in front Keichan cries silent tears but you—

You stand there and you stare at Kouki’s portrait, his smiling face. He will never again soak in the sunlight and reflect it He will never again wait for you, his pockets filled with your favourite sweets. He will never again kiss you, with the cool press of his lips, the taste of his laugh behind them.

Fujita Kouki is gone. He is gone, slipping away—taking the you who believed in hope and a future where you could be happy with him.)

The years slip away. One, then two, then three and then four and then five. You move to a bigger city; and then you move again. You work in offices, department stores, a warehouse once, washing carrots—anything that will pay you, pay the bills. You keep to yourself and your coworkers lose interest in trying to keep up small talk with you and you don’t form any kind of tie, good or bad, that could manifest before you, rattling in death.

Kouki would never forgive you for this bleak existence, you think, if he could see it. But wherever he is it’s not with you, not on this plane, and so you keep your head down and when one of your ghosts does come to you, you grit your teeth and ignore it.

Even in isolation, they find a way to haunt you. You start seeing the clerk from the 7/11 you stop in to and from work, his neck snapped, and you avoid the store for three weeks before telling yourself it was stupid of you, that maybe you could say something—only to find someone else there, when you walk in, the guy already replaced.

The new hire at the office you work at starts appearing before you, swinging, his throat and face mottled as hands claw at a rope that’s not there and you—you thank him when he brings you a coffee, and try to be a little kinder, try to watch as he blends in with the others, laughs among them, the crack underneath his smile not showing.

He bungles a client, six months into working there. Your boss chews him out in front of everyone, the guy taking it with a silent, shame-faced nod, and when you try to say, “You worked hard, mistakes can happen to anyone—” he only bows hurriedly, already backing away.

(he doesn’t come back, and two weeks later his desk is cleared.)

Head down, keep to yourself. Another year passes. And then another. And then your curse rears its ugly head one final, terrible time.

You are waiting for the lights to change in the middle of a busy street, on a cold, bright afternoon, when you first see him.

You’re not paying attention; staring into the crowd on the other side of the street, thinking about what you had in the fridge at home and then he’s there, in your line of sight, his face twisting in fury, in grief, as he reaches out, shouting something—

And then there’s a flash of light, blinding and sharp and he is gone, startling you even as the crosswalk starts to sing, people moving around you like water around a stone as your heart races.

No, you think weakly. No. Not again.

He doesn’t return and you stand there, in the same spot, even as the crosswalk blinks back to red.

All your life, your Quirk has worked one way: showing you the death of someone you already knew, for better or for worse. Not someone famous, not a stranger. Kouki had been an—anomaly, you thought, desperate. Some freak tie. Japan had gone through so much in those years during and after the war: reports of abnormal adolescent Quirk growth had spiked, at its worse. You had always thought that maybe yours had been apart of that, that that’s what Kouki’s ghost had been. A result of stress, or your loneliness. Something, anything. And you’d only grown more sure of it when it didn’t repeat—

Until now.

You get home that night and in a fit of anger tear through everything, up end it all. Your clothes, out from the wardrobe or the basket, strewn along the floor. Your pots, clattering thunderously throughout your kitchen. You scream, pitching book after book across the room at your couch, the covers bending, pages tearing. You wouldn’t go through it again, you wouldn’t—

You curl up against your kitchen island, sobbing. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do this. Not again. Not ever again.

(But your heart’s already sinking. Already tender with the hurt, remembered and preemptive. His hair had been golden in the light—like winter sun.

When your hiccups calm, you look up—and he is standing over you, his face twisting again. You shut your eyes but the flash is bright, even then. Nuclear.

When you open them, he’s gone.

“Please,” you whisper to your empty apartment. “Please don’t do this to me.”

But it’s only the silence that answers you, the absence of mercy or comfort and you shudder, your tears nothing but salt in your mouth.)

Your plan, eventually, is simple: just ignore your newest ghost, when you finally meet him.

It should be easy. Even though he was a Pro-Hero he was also a famous one—and how often did you run into famous Pro-Heroes? They always had something to defend, always had someone to save. You just had to keep living your life, squarely and safe and you would be fine. You would skirt past each other and he would live or die just however a Pro Hero should.

A month passes. And then another. You begin to think maybe you’re safe; and then you’re not.

“If everyone can line up, then that’ll make everything go smoother,” your boss calls out, echoed throughout the office. Below on the street is the firetruck—overseeing the drill. You peer over the ledge of the window in worry, trying to count the firefighters out: seven that you could see. If you saw anymore than that while out on the street you were just going to close your eyes and wait it out.

Your boss calls your name—and when you glance to him, startled, he gestures with his megaphone, sheepish.

“Can you run and grab my laptop case for me?” he asks, already half out the door. “You’re closer, and I have a feeling we’ll be down there for a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, already standing. You leave your own things at your desk—as you’re meant to—and dart to his office, partitioned by glass. When you turn around, the case in hand, the office is empty—your boss’s megaphone calling out down the hall, down the stairway, leaving you alone in the wake of it.

You go to the window again, to count the firefighters. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

You freeze. There’s an eighth figure there, standing solidly with them, talking, his arms crossed. A Pro Hero—dressed in black, with bright orange details.

Your ghost, you think in alarm.

He looks up at the window and you jerk away, startled. He shouldn’t be able to see—the glass was tinted—but his face is suspicious and you clutch your boss’s case to you tighter, heart thumping.

Don’t give him a reason to single you out, you think desperately—you hurry to join the others but they have left you on an empty floor, already making their way down the three flights quickly, leaving you and your noisy footfall as you race down the emergency stairs—only to have the door to the lobby thrown open roughly before you could even reach it.

It bangs against the wall; leaving you to stare in silence as he fills the doorway fully, glowering, stopping you in your tracks.

“The hell?” He asks you, roughly. Under his mask his eyes flicker over you, over the case in your hands, unimpressed. “Why didn’t you evacuate with the others?”

You can only shake your head, tucking your hands around the case tighter. Even having his spectre repeat and repeat in front of you—it doesn’t compare to the space and heat of him in the flesh, taking up a doorway. He’s more solid now, more real and when he shifts, just a fraction, you step back in fright.

Something his eyes—ink red under his mask—don’t miss, narrowing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and mercifully your voice is calm. “I had to grab something.”

“You ain’t meant to take anything,” he points out, barely civil, and you duck your head into a nod—his jaw tightening in response.

You’d rather this, you think, wincing. The brittle patience, barely hiding his rippling irritation. Anything was better than the despair that’d been playing over and over in front of you.

Pro Hero Dynamight—Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight—scowls at you, jerking behind him. “The extra with the megaphone is doin’ roll call.”

He means your boss. You look at him, curious, and his mouth tightens. It doesn’t thin the curve of his lips, though, and when you realise you’ve noticed that—

You hold your boss’s laptop closer. “Okay,” you say, meaninglessly.

Dynamight only moves out of the way when you go to squeeze past him, your jacket catching against his suit as he grunts.

“Wait,” he commands, annoyed. You stare ahead and will everything within your mind to empty as he pulls you free from the catch of one of his grenades—you mutter a thank-you and don’t look back as you hurry to the glass doors, the light, the open outside away from him and the heat of his space.

(You hide behind your coworkers as your boss commends everyone for their examplumery speed and when one of the firefighters steps forward to walk everyone through the basic dangers of an office building fire it’s Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight who stands behind him, solid and real and flinty eyed, as he stares everyone down. Someone in front of you giggles; he glares at her until she stops, bowing her head in shame and letting him look directly at—

You. Standing at the back.

His mask moves; his eyebrow raised. You lift yours in a helpless, silent, question. He frowns, like you’re speaking two different languages and morosely you think to yourself, so much for not giving him a reason to single you out.)

It’s just one off-chance meeting, you tell yourself. Just a weird little moment to establish something there, and make you feel a little guilty when you hear about his death on the news.

Only—

Only it keeps happening.

Perhaps it’s your karma, for never saying anything to the ghosts that had followed you. Or maybe it’s one last laugh from Kouki, his evil delight in teasing you manifested. Maybe it’s just plain old bad luck—but whatever it was, it meant you kept running into Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight over and over again, humiliation on repeat.

He’s—there, in his Pro-Hero gear, at the konbini you get your morning coffee, scowling as the cashier stammers through the burglary you’d only just missed. He’s—crouching amid a group of excitable kids, his grin for them sudden and sharp and bright, distracting even in the middle of a busy street. He’s—walking past you as you startle, safely tucked away into a coffee shop as he patrols past, barely sparing the café window a glance.

He is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. And in turn his ghost is too: the blinding flash in your mirror, as you try to brush your teeth, squinting. The nuclear eruption that startles you awake, in the darkness of your room. The silent twist of his face as he reaches out to you, over your counter as you eat your cereal.

It’s worse than it was with Kouki, you think bitterly. When Kouki the living appeared in your life, Kouki the ghost receded. Now you were just being haunted on both ends, both versions just as fleeting as the other.

Your only consolation is that you are, truly, a nobody to him. Just another face amid a city full of them. For all the tiny run-ins, the awful timing, you manage to wriggle away quickly, without attention—or so you’d thought.

You’re walking home under the city dusk: a universe of lights below you as you trek up the winding path that leads home. Work had been awful. You’d seen your vision of Dynamight no less than three seperate times that day, the furious twist of his face, his silent shouting—his disappearing. He was taking you with him, you thought in despair. No other ghost of yours had been so persistent. Distracted, you’d bought a supermarket bento for dinner—some nectarines, for dessert. As you walked the bag swung low and slow, too flimsy; when it splits everything in it splatters, and tumbles.

You swear, skidding as you try to chase the fruit, rolling away as they gain speed—

Stopped by a black boot, it’s orange detailing almost glowing as it scuffs along the ground, blocking them.

Everything within you settles; flattens as you straighten.

Under his mask, Dynamight arches in an eyebrow.

“You good?” He asks.

You shrug, and hold up the remnants of your plastic bag—drifting like a bride’s veil, between you.

The Pro-Hero tsks, crouching, picking up your nectarines. “Weak crap.”

In the twilight the black of his uniform makes him a dark void—until he stands again, holding out your fruit to you. You frown, and watch him mirror it, his wide mouth turning down, unhappily.

“You afraid of me, or somethin’?” He asks, rough. His face is pinched—it makes him look like a little kid, trying to tough out a pout and your stomach squeezes with the guilt. The last anyone would see of him would be a flash of light—and then Japan’s dynamite, Japan’s explosive anger, would be gone forever.

And here you were—making him feel bad in what could, quite possibly, be his last days.

“No,” you admit, opening your handbag to take back the nectarines. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He squints at you, disbelieving.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Then why do you keep runnin’ away like you’ve shit yourself?”

Oh, you think, he’s disgusting.

“I do not,” you say instead, crossly, dropping to the ground grab the remains of your bento.

Dynamight grunts in dismissal. “Yeah you do. Every time I’m walkin’ down a street, or I have to drop into some shitty little place—you’re there, turning tail. If you ain’t on laxatives and you ain’t afraid, then what is it?”

“I’m prejudiced against all Pro-Heroes,” you tell him, stoutly. “And you keep foiling my plans for world domination. Why do you notice, anyway? Why are you here?”

His boots scrape against the path, suddenly loud between you, as he moves in closer.

“‘M on patrol,” he tells you. “It’s my job on patrol to notice weirdoes—and you’ve been the weirdest.”

“Congratulations!” you tell him sourly, skittering around the solid wall of his presence to a nearby trash can. It’s already overflowing, but you squeeze your own rubbish in and turn back to the Pro, as much apart of the world around you as the dark undergrowth of the pathway, or the city lights behind him.

He’s so real, you think angrily. And in days, weeks—maybe months, if he was lucky—he’d be gone, just like that.

“Now what?” You ask him, ask yourself. “What happens now?”

Below, a train screeches past. Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight shrugs, indifferent.

“Depends,” he says. “You gonna keep being weird?”

You almost laugh. You don’t, though, holding your handbag with your nectarines closer. You are standing in the last, dark moments of a twilight world with a man who will die, God knew when—weird was probably the least you could be.

“Maybe,” you say instead. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The Pro-Hero shrugs again. “Then I do my job, and keep an eye on ya.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, shifting awkwardly like a school boy and you—

You let your shoulders sag. You are an adult, no longer seventeen—but has been a hard life, and you are tired. Tired of being afraid. Of always being at the edges of your own life.

“Okay,” you tell him, tell yourself. Tell your ghosts, wherever they’re gathered. “I surrender.”

Dynamight snorts, kicking out a loose gravel and when he glances back to you his face has softened from its suspicion—waiting, instead.

A new pattern starts.

He walks past the coffee shop when you’re there and squints at you—acknowledgement you return with the ugliest face you can manage, the woman at the table across from you snorting into her mug.

You walk past him one weekend, surrounded by fans, and he looks up and sees you—bright eyes flickering over the fizzing orange juice in your hand, your wide sunhat, not hiding the startled surprise on your face—and grunts at the kids around him, holding up his hand as he tries to squeeze out, to you.

“Your hat makes you look like a frilly grandma,” he complains, loudly, as the fans follow him, encircling you both.

“I like your hat!” One girl says, brightly. She’s wearing a GEMG:D shirt with his scowling face under his title scrawl; you touch the brim of your hat, self-consciously.

“Thanks,” you say, self-conscious. She beams at you, even as Dynamight starts jabbing at you, trying to get you to move.

“I gotta get grandma home,” he tells everyone, as the group groans. “S’gotta have that nanna nap.”

You let him bully you. You let him pick you out, every time you cross paths. You don’t fight it—and when you start seeing him out of his Pro-Hero gear, his weaponry, your heart tightens in on itself in warning.

“You hungry?” He asks you, one evening. You’d been walking together, the pair of you having finished work at the same time; you in your neat, office wear, your leather handbag. Dynamight in sweats, a loose shirt, a dufflebag over his shoulder.

The sky above you is pink, the moon a silver crescent. A manga moon, you think to yourself; overlooking a love story.

“Yeah,” you answer him, eventually. “I’m starving.”

He nods, resolutely not looking at you—though when you glance at him his jaw tightens, head turning away.

“Denimhead introduced me to a place near here,” he says, gruffly. “They’re decent, ain’t wankers. And they’re cheap. Private.”

He should be doing this with anyone else, you thought to yourself, desperately, watching your shoes. Anyone. Someone who wouldn’t be counting down the days, the weeks, the months.

“I’d like that,” you say instead, softer. “I’d like to go.”

He doesn’t risk looking at you but his smooth face reddens, even as he passes a large hand over the back of his neck, like he could rub the colour out.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s go then.”

It’s a bistro; a tiny pocket of a place only marked by a single, hanging sign of a smiling cow, the sizzle of steak permeating the alleyway. Inside the lights are low—Dynamight stands back to let you sit at the bar first, watching hawkishly, before he follows, the bartender smiling at you both.

“They gotta menu,” he says, nodding to the mirror behind the bar, where a sparse few dishes are written. “Otherwise if ya trust me I can—I can suggest shit.”

His gaze flickers over your face as you watch him in turn. He was so—here. Alive. With every tiny movement—the draw back of his elbow, the flex of his hand—you feel it, too aware.

“I trust you,” you tell him.

He grins—sudden and pointed and startling a smile out of you too, even as you try to bite it back.

(He orders blistered tomatoes, the size of doll heads, dressed in olive oil and a sweet fig vinegar, a soft cheese that bursts over them. There’s toasted baguette—slathered with bone marrow, garlic butter. There’s steak cut like it’s been shared among cavemen, several inches thick and still on the bone, bleeding even as it sizzles. The bartender puts down a little plate of fine, perfectly ruffled pasta in front of you; dressed in pesto, charred greens, tiny flowers and you have to share it with your Pro-Hero, who’s nose wrinkles when you try to offer him a speared garnish.

He is warm and he is close and he smells like the char of a grill and soap and a sweet wood layered over warm skin and neither of you move to touch each other—

But his leg presses against yours, and stays. Your hand slips over his by accident as you move to help yourself to dessert, a soft creamy dish with fruit—and he turns his palm up, catching it. Squeezing your fingers for a brief moment before letting them go, unmooring you only to anchor you again when you walk side-by-side, back to the train station, the warmth of him reassuring, and inescapable.)

Days. Weeks. Months.

You walk together, have dinner sometimes, lunch others. He complains about the other Heroes he works with; you listen, side-eyeing him when he then mentions feeding them, making meals at the agency because everyone was useless—

He doesn’t poke at you to talk, but you start sharing anyway. The book in your handbag; the gossip the others at the office always had.

“Tell ‘em to either deal with it or shut up,” he suggests, and you laugh despite yourself.

Days. Weeks. Months.

He goes away on a mission across the country—after a villain the news was calling Hazard. He’d been responsible for the complete destruction, the levelling, of a factory, a shopping centre, slipping away before anyone could scramble through the rumble and detain him. It rains the entire time Dynamight is gone, leaving you to walk home alone, an umbrella over you, as the news loops over about flood warnings.

(When he comes back it’s an overcast day; finally dry. He’s waiting for you at your usual crossroad, now, and when you see him you smile, his eyes following the curve of it before flickering over you.

“You good?” He asks.

“Better now that you’re back,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

You were. You had stayed up every night he was gone, on your phone—watching the news, the tags, waiting for his name to appear, footage of the flash that would take him. There’d been nothing; no arrests, no collision.

But your Pro-Hero’s face softens, just slight, and you realise that he’d read something else in it when he says, low, “Yeah. I get it.”

Days, weeks, months. Your heart thumps to it, reminding you and nervously, you shift away.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, wanting to fill the space between you with anything else.

He watches you skitter away, trying to encourage him to move; his eyes ruby.

“Yeah,” he repeats and in relief you turn away, all too aware of his stare, at the back of your head.)

Days. Weeks. When you finally kiss it’s at his table, in his home; empty plates in front of you.

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you tell him honestly, quietly, the smears of your tiramisu the only remains as you stand, to take your plate to the kitchen.

“You’re always tryna—dart away,” he says suddenly, still sitting.

You startle at the look on his face—serious, soft mouth trying not to pout.

“I just—I just want to help with the dishes,” you say, but his brow furrows, pinched, and when he stands it’s carefully, slow, the coiled draw of a bow that shivers, waiting.

“I can’t get a read on you,” he admits to the quiet, his knuckles against the table. “Can’t—guess at whatever’s goin’ on in that squirrelly head of yours.”

You swallow, and run your hand across your forearm, too aware of the soft edges of your sleeves, of your Pro-Hero following your fingers.

“There’s nothing,” you whisper, and he snorts; boyish, disbelieving. It makes him less of a threat and more of a man—real, living, breathing, with his own thoughts and his own feelings.

“Like hell there is,” he swears, stepping closer. It brings his warmth in; the smell of coffee, of his cologne, aniseed sweet. “Whatever you’ve got spinnin’ around in there keeps you worlds away from this one. And I ain’t—”

He stops himself, his mouth parted around the rest of his words as his eyes flicker over your face, your lips; the way you can’t breathe for his nearness, hesitating in the space between you.

“—I ain’t gonna let you disappear,” he finishes, low. For a moment he traces your nose with his, and when your lashes flutter he sucks his breath in, tight; his mouth on yours, warm and sudden. A press. And then another. And then another and then the kiss is deepening and you tilt your head as hands fist themselves in your hair, keeping you close even as he pulls away, tiny, to pant against your lips. “Hah—”

You kiss him back. You take him back. Your hands are tight in his shirt, too flimsy to hold him and you whine and you can feel him snarl—or smile?—against you, his teeth hard against the corner of your mouth, scraping your jaw as he nips at your neck.

The plates on the table rattle as you both slide to the floor. You gasp as his mouth meets the bare skin of your thigh, then again as his thumbs hook under your underwear, the cool of his floor a shock. He moans, muffled; free of your ass your underwear drapes, wet and warm against you and he mouths at it, a heavy kiss as you gasp again at his tongue through cotton. He kisses deeper—you gasp again, and again, until you’re panting, tiny ah, ah, ahs that have him squeezing your hip, nosing the wet slop of your underwear out of the way so that his mouth meets your skin and you both moan.

(You are unravelled, on the floor—your clothes pooling, your breasts freed, your legs splayed. His hold is firm and warm and you are heavy-eyed, even as you gasp again, under him. You want to drift away—you want to stay, hissing as his blunt nails claw along the meat of your ass.

He lifts himself to meet you for a kiss—his mouth and chin shiny, his eyes glimmering as his shoulders ripple, panther-lithe as he leans over you.

His mouth is warm. You hum into it as he curses, tasting him—coffee, sex, you—as hot hands smooth the small of your back, the slip of him inside of you so, so easy and wet.

Even in the rut, the thrust, you are safe. You arch off of the floor like you’re trying to escape it, escape into the solid wall of him, waiting with another kiss, long and hard as he thrusts in deeper, deeper still.

You curl your legs against him, your heel in his ass. He grunts, then bites at your chin and your laugh is broken off into a moan as he ruts in hard.

Days. Weeks. When you come it’s sudden, starflash hot; you gasp for a final time and your hero is there to nose against your wet skin, to kiss you, his own undoing a groan, a sigh into your mouth.

There are no ghosts, lingering afterwards. Only him, panting; only you, your legs slipping together, your lips parting. Only him, only you.

He presses a kiss against the side of your head, almost forcefully.

“Wasn’t too shit,” he says, gruff, and you laugh around your breathlessness, anchored and alive.)

Days, weeks. Days.

Your Hero asks you stay over; you do, waking up in sheets that smell like him, that smell like sex, like you. You give yourself the moments—let yourself kiss his shoulder in hello, when he’s brushing his teeth. Lean into his touch, when his hand smooths up and down your waist.

“The others wanna meet ya,” he says one night, grumpily. “Said something about a lunch—I told ‘em s’up to you.”

At the counter, you hesitate. Who knew what you’d see, around them, the country’s frontliners. And it would only make this death, the one you were waiting on, worse—

But your Hero is determinedly not looking at you, his face pink, and you realise—he wants it. He wants you to meet them. Them to meet you.

Oh, you think, stricken. This was going to hurt.

“Okay,” you say. “I’d—I’d like that. Let’s do that.”

When he grins it twists his whole face into childlike brightness. You smile back with a wobble, looking at him and only him—ignoring his ghost behind him, shouting at you before the flash.

Days. Day. It’s a bright Saturday and you were meant to be meeting his friends, at last, the city busy as you hurry to the department store. There was a store in the food hall that sold small, perfectly round cream cakes, with glossy coatings and made to look like fruit—you wanted a tray of them, to take.

The sales clerk is handing you the bag, sealed with a ribbon when the shouting starts.

“RUN!” Someone screams, a flash from the back of the store blinding you. It’s the call, the break through the spell. Everyone panics, shouting as people start to bolt for the stairs to the street outside.

You’re almost torn away from the store—the girl serving you yelping as people barrel past, the force of them moving you, too, until the girl shrieks—trapped behind the counter.

“Wait!” You say, but a man almost shoves you aside and you drop your bag, your cakes, pushing against the others that follow him until there’s a gap. The sales clark is wincing, behind her case, but there’s a ominous rattling above you and you scream, “Come on!” at her, your hand held out as everyone on the floor screams.

She sobs as someone smashes into her counter, shoved up by a crowd and you wedge yourself out of the way and scream again, “We have to go! Now!”

You’re almost blind in your panic, wheezing as your elbowed in someone else’s desperation—but then she’s scrambling with the hatch, reaching out to you too and when her hand is in yours you run, following the crowd.

You’re separated in the push—there’s more screams, as more and more flashes fill the room and someone, an older man, almost claws at your face to get in front of you.

Outside there’s a wail of sirens; someone on a megaphone, shouting for surrender.

The explosion is small. It doesn’t feel like it—everyone tumbles to the ground with the shock wave, the smoke quickly filling the space and trying to tunnel out the same way and someone grabs your elbow and tugs, begging you to move—

You follow them. Her, the girl from the cake stand, her face puffy and bruised. The pair of you crawl over people, stand, and when you break out of the glass doors and into the daylight it’s almost a relief—until you see the ring of Pro-Heroes, police officers, all tense.

Your stomach swoops. The Pros, the cops closest to you are ashen-faced—looking beyond you, to whoever is now holding you in place with a calm, heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Just put your hands up,” one of the cops calls out, over the megaphone. “And surrender. There’s no need for hostages.”

Behind you, broken glass shifts. The hand on your shoulder squeezes tighter, a warning, and you stare out at the crowd, trying to empty your mind even as the clerk, still next you, sobs.

Day. Moments.

Beyond the crowd you can hear his sharp voice, his shouting and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to know, not wanting to see—

But everything within you is attuned to him. The world falls away into white noise and all you can hear is your name, being screamed furiously, and you have to look.

You blink away your tears, and he’s there, two other Pros trying to hold him back as he swears, elbowing out at them; his face twisting in fury, in grief. Your eyes meet—and he surges forward again, shouting something to you as he reaches out, an officer barrelling into him as nails dig into your shoulder—

And then there is a flash of light. Blinding and sharp.

And you are gone.

#‼️📍 content warnings at the beginning of the post 📍‼️ #tw: major character death #tw: death #tw: bludgeoning #tw: wasp stings #tw: drowning #tw: suicide #tw: grief/mourning #tw: smut #bakugou x reader #prompts and drabbles and other things #merms apology tour

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N: I know you wanted to see Taylor Swift this year so for Christmas I got you-

Cassie: tickets to her next concert!?!

Y/N: ehh…close

Y/N pulls out a container with a magnifying glass to reveal a little ant dressed like Taylor Swift and trying to chirp one of her songs…

Cassie:

Y/N: see Scott! I told you we should’ve used your Avengers clout to get tickets!

Scott: they didn’t believe me even after I showed them my new book!

Cassie: it’s so weird and ugly…I love it!!! Thank you baby!

Cassie hugs Y/N…

#marvel #mcu #ant man #cassie lang #cassie lang x reader #ant man and the wasp #Quantumania #stature #stature x reader #christmas #marvel Christmas #Scott Lang #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #cassie lang imagine #ant man and the wasp Quantumania #kathryn newton

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! It's me Again! Firstly, I want to say thank you so much and I really enjoy/love it!

If it's okay to request could you do another part of this request (Elita One's twin sister w/ Sg Blackarachnia)?

The reactions/interactions of other Cons, Shockwave, Lockdown, Swindle (you can change/add Wasp or other cons, if you like);

Or reactions/interactions of Autobots (team Prime)?

(Takes place after reuniting with Optimus Prime, Autobots meeting Bot and their reactions/interactions to her)

also if it's okay to make a one of them as a separate request?

(Sorry if it's too much/complicated. Also take your time and thank you so much!)

She is back!!! Our Spider is back!!

I will be posting the second part to this request later on.

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's twin sister with SG! Blackarachnia's personality reaction to Shockwave, Lockdown, Swindle, and Wasp

SFW, Platonic, Hint of Romantic, Slight Angst, Cybertronian (techno organic) reader

TFA

As Megatron’s personal and only medic in the Decepticon army, Buddy sometimes had to travel where he went. From across the mountains to someone on the opposite end of the screen. That was how she got to know many mechs in the army.

“We are going out.”--Megatron

“We?”--Buddy

“You and I.”--Megatron

“Me? Sorry, not today My Lord. I have to work on the med bay.”--Buddy

“What needs to be done in the med bay?”--Megatron

“Not going to tell you because then you’re just going to get someone else to do it. And no one here can organize my stuff the right way. I was trying to fix Blitzwing’s servo, my tool kit was nowhere to be found. For about half an hour I was searching for it, and it was under your throne. Who puts stuff there?”—Buddy

“You have been stuck here for the last couple of cycles. I do think it is wise for you to get out and stretch your struts.”--Megatron

“You would love to see that wouldn’t you?”--Starscream

“Starscream!”--Megatron

“Wait what did he say?”--Buddy

“Nothing! We are going!”--Megatron

Megatron grabbing Buddy’s servo and leaving without a word.

When Buddy met Shockwave, it was through the main screen in the Decepticon HQ on Earth.

Shockwave had all her information from her Academy records. To say he was skeptical of Buddy’s position on the team was an understatement.

It wouldn’t be the first time the Decepticons would have a former Autobot change sides. No doubt Buddy would be the last one to do so either.

In this case, however, it nearly seemed too good to be true.

Shockwave going through going through Buddy’s file before the video meeting.

“Let’s see here… death certificates with no body found… former student at the Autobot Academy…several medical certifications, impressive… Special powers? Strange... Excellent marksmanship… Former protégé of some field tech, boring… Most likely to follow the Prime status? Unexpected but nothing more…what… had connections with Ultra Magnus?!”--Shockwave

It truly seemed too good to be true, but he kept quiet about his skepticism to himself. His first step was to get close to Buddy and try and get some information on them. Maybe find out if she is a mole or any potential blackmail material.

Shockwave was expecting someone sketchy trying to fill in the stereotypical Decepticon role or an Autobot with a poor, and or, offensive Con skit memorized.

Not someone who had their own unique style that would be associated with Decepticonism and who deeply cared for their comrades.

“Shockwave.”--Megatron

“Lord Megatron.”--Shockwave

“This is our newest chief medical officer on Earth, Buddy.”--Megatron

“Hello Shockwave, it is a pleasure to meet you.”--Buddy

“Erm—thank you Buddy, is it? Such a peculiar name.”--Shockwave

“Yes, it isn’t a common name or one that sparks any fear into the sparks of the enemy but, that is who I am. How has your day been?”--Buddy

“My what?”--Shockwave

“Oh, sorry was that not an appropriate question to ask?”--Buddy

“I—it has been a good day as of now.”--Shockwave

“That’s good to hear. We can’t have one of the Decepticon’s top spy’s in a rough shape can we?”--Buddy

“Top spy?”--Shockwave

“Yes! I have read a little bit about your work through the reports.”--Buddy

“You’ve read my reports?”--Shockwave

“You’ve read some of the reports?”--Megatron

“Of course! They are interesting to read. And it also doesn’t help when you leave some of the data pads out in the open My Lord. Especially around my work area.”--Buddy

“Don’t you have to go and reorganize the medbay’s newest supplies?”--Megatron

“Oh yes! Good-bye Shockwave! I do hope to get to know you better and that your work is truly—”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Megatron

“All right, all right I’m going. Bye!”--Buddy

Buddy walks out of the room.

“… She seems like a nice addition to the medical wing.”--Shockwave

“Yes…”--Megatron

“… I am not looking for a relationship now, My Megatron. Anyways Buddy is not my type.”--Shockwave

“…”--Megatron

Shockwave was left a bit confused after that interaction with Buddy. It only got worse once Buddy had willing gone to the screen to contact him.

“Hello Shockwave!”--Buddy

“Hello Buddy. Has something happened? This call was unscheduled.”--Shockwave

“I know but I wanted to talk to you.”--Buddy

“About what pray tell?”--Shockwave

“Anything.”--Buddy

“I’m not sure I am following…”--Shockwave

“Last call you seemed… well you seemed a little bit lonely. It cannot be easy keeping up the façade of being Longarm Prime all day, especially in front of the council, Ultra Magnus, and the entire Elite Guard.”--Buddy

“…It is not. But there are certain bots here that are a bit dimmer than the average bot. It makes things easier. One of the Prime’s has the IQ of a bag of rusty bolts.”--Shockwave

“Is that so? Ouch! Do tell more.”--Buddy

“I believe one of the Autobots are on to me.”--Shockwave

“Are you sure? Do you need back up or something?”—Buddy

“No, not at the moment.”--Shockwave

“Good, you can never be too safe.”--Buddy

“Yes…”--Shockwave

Shockwave was in denial of the friendship that was forming through those calls. He didn’t need friends talking to his audial all day long!

It’s not like he looked forward to having those talks with Buddy.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

It’s not like the two of them have swapped personal com lines to further talk about personal things and away from the prying optics of other Cons that entered the room.

It isn’t until one late night he realizes how deep he is in.

Longarm listening to yet another boring presentation with the other Primes, trying not to stab Sentinel’s big chin with a pen. His mind slowly wondering what Buddy is going to talk about this time when he tells them about Sentinel’s big chin.

He freezes.

Oh.

Oh no…

He has a friend.

He has a good friend now.

How does one keep a good friendship like this from falling into pieces in the face of a war?!

A little while later Shockwave starts searching up ‘Ways to keep good friend’ on Bing.

Blurr opening the door, giving Shockwave just enough time to go back into Longarm form.

“I know there is a spy here Longarm! I can feel it—what are you looking up?”--Blurr

“Umm… engex bottles.”--Longarm

“…”--Blurr

“…”—Longarm

“Oh really! What years are you looking at? I personally think—”—Blurr

Longarm/Shockwave sagging in a bit of relief from the scare.

Swindle and Lockdown met Buddy at a weapons meet.

Megatron had invited Buddy to meet his arms dealer and favorite mercenary, Swindle and Lockdown. Buddy didn’t get much information on the two, being that they were on the borderline sections of potentially ‘sell outs.’

“Lord Megatron, is there any more things I need to know about these two mechs?”--Buddy

“Lockdown will not speak out of line. He is more interested in getting the latest gadgets for his collections.”--Megatron

“Mod collector, got it. And this ‘Swindle’?”--Buddy

“Any price he tries to get you to buy is a terrible one. Leave the bargaining to me.”--Megatron

“And when you mean bargaining, you mean peacefully or using intimidation?”--Buddy

“Yes.”--Megatron

“You are impossible sometimes.”--Buddy

“Only for you.”--Megatron

“What?”--Buddy

“Here’s our stop.”--Megatron

Swindle had been told beforehand that Megatron was bringing someone else to meet him. The new medical chief, from what he understood.

He thought about displaying a couple more weapons for this new Con, maybe get them to buy something.

Swindle placing a big cannon on the table.

“That’s a bad idea Swindle.”--Lockdown

“Oh hush! You don’t know what he is like.”--Swindle

“First, she. Second, I did my homework.”--Lockdown

“But they could have a fascination in cannons once they see this beauty.”—Swindle

“Like I said, I did my homework. I heard around that the medic isn’t too found in weapons.”--Lockdown

“If that is true, then why would she even want to go to a weapons meet with Megatron?”--Swindle

“I don’t know—Speaking of which, look who’s here.”--Lockdown

Megatron landing on top of the platform with huge mechanical spider coming off of his back as they both transformed.

“I thought you said Earth spiders didn’t get that big!”--Swindle

“That’s the chief medical officer, numb nuts.”--Lockdown

The two Cons were not expecting Buddy.

Well, more Swindle, after all, Lockdown did do his homework.

Lockdown kept to himself while politely introducing himself to Buddy. She politely responded back with a small smile.

Swindle kept on showing the weapons to Megatron as the other two made small talk about modifications.

“Hey Buddy!”--Swindle

Lockdown mouthing ‘no’.

Megatron wondering what this was about.

Swindle wrapping an arm around Buddy.

Megatron’s optics are staring at it like it did a capital offense.

“What do you think of these bad boys? I’m sure that there is something here that has caught your attention.”--Swindle

“Oh? Sorry I’m just here to visit, I’m not interested in buying.”--Buddy

“Oh please, I’m sure we can work something out. You’re the new chief medical officer, right? How about I show you some of the tools I—”--Swindle

Lockdown coughing.

“Lockdown and I got at another exchange. Top notch and… and…”--Swindle

“Umm, Swindle are you feeling, okay? You’re looking a little bit queasy?”--Buddy

Swindle just now noticing the Death Glare Megatron was giving him, specifically at the arm still wrapped around Buddy’s frame.

Swindle quickly dropping it.

“How about this, Buddy. I give you these tools, for… free. For free, and you tell everyone at the base about the great deals you got here!”--Swindle

“I mean, I could—”--Buddy

“That’s wonderful! Here they are and here are the weapons you purchased Megatron!”—Swindle

Megatron still glaring but nodding.

“Oh! Okay, Bye Swindle and thank you for the tools. I’ll be sure to tell everyone back on base.”--Buddy

“Anytime Buddy!”--Swindle

“Good-bye Lockdown. I hope you have a good time finding those new mods!”--Buddy

“Much obliged Buddy, bye.”--Lockdown

Megatron and Buddy transforming, Buddy getting on Megatron’s back as he zooms out of there.

“… Did you soil yourself?”--Lockdown

“N-no!”--Swindle

Swindle brushed him aside and continued organizing his stuff in his chassis.

Lockdown just wondered if one day he might see Buddy again. It was nice to have someone else besides Swindle to talk to sometimes.

Buddy met Wasp under less pleasurable circumstances.

Buddy had been taking a break from the stuffy base one night and decided to take a walk on one of the islands nearby.

They had been walking around the area when they heard noises.

Like rapid little pede steps.

It couldn’t have been the Dinobots. Their steps were a kin to a mini earthquake.

It was someone else.

Quickly, she webbed herself to a nearby tree and watched.

A small green mech appeared from the brush.

He looked scared.

But what could have scared him?

Sure, Grimlock and the others were a bit much but if they were after the mech then Buddy would have heard them.

No, someone or something else was after the small guy.

“Wasp!”--Optimus

Buddy freezing.

“Wasp, I know you’re out there! Come out with your servos up!”--Sentinel

Wasp making more whinnying noises.

Buddy quickly snapped out of it and webs him up into the tree with her.

“Ah--”--Wasp

“Shh! Don’t scream, I’m here to help. But I can’t help you if you continue to scream, okay?”--Buddy

Wasp nodding slowly.

It was Optimus and Sentinel.

As much as Buddy wanted to know what was going on with both parties, her attention was on the shaky mech that looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

Wasp didn’t know what to think at that moment, but right now this bot was helping him get away from the Elite Guard so he decided to play along.

The Autobots suddenly came out of the brush.

Buddy and Wasp froze seeing them from their hiding place.

Wasp was already looking for a way out when he saw his savior start to shake.

At first, he thought it was out of anger and that they were going to pull out their weapon and start shooting up the place.

Until he saw her optics.

Big, wide, shaky, filled to the brim with fear.

He had seen those optics before. Those were his optics sometimes.

What had those Autobots had done to this Con to get a reaction like this?

Buddy thought that she had finally come to terms with everything that had happened, especially when Optimus showed up.

Seeing Sentinel there sent another wave of flashbacks her way. It was too much; it was too much. She knew that she should have been listening in on the conversation, it could drop some important information for the team.

But the flashes of Elita’s smile, Sentinel’s antics, and Optimus’s laughter filled her senses like no tomorrow.

Buddy was in such a shaky state she didn’t know it until the little green mech held her servo gently. Like one would do to their kid if something was scaring them.

He was trying to calm her down.

She slowly stopped the shaking as the Autobot’s left the area. After a bit more of waiting, the two climbed down the tree.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you had to see that. I was the one trying to help you and you ended up helping me.”--Buddy

“Wasp is glad you okay. Nice lady bot scaring Wasp a bit.”--Wasp

“Again, sorry about that… Wasp? Is that your name?”--Buddy

“Yes. This is Wasp.”--Wasp

“Well, I’m Buddy. You have some scratches on you. I have a med kit with me, I can fix those up right now if you want.”--Buddy

Wasp looking at Buddy hesitantly before nodding.

Buddy getting to work.

“You are doing such a good job at staying still Wasp. Most of my patients like to move a lot. You’re doing so much better than they are right now.”--Buddy

“Wasp doing good job?”--Wasp

“Yes, yes you are Wasp.”--Buddy

“Buddy bot too nice to Wasp.”--Wasp

“No one can be too nice Wasp. It’s just that sometimes… sometimes empathy can get lost in wars like this.”--Buddy

“Wasp don’t like Autobots.”--Wasp

“I feel you Wasp…”--Buddy

“…Autobots hurt Buddy bot? Hurt Buddy bot bad?”--Wasp

“…Yeah, you could say that…”--Buddy

“…Autobots hurt Wasp too.”--Wasp

“I’m sorry to hear that Wasp…”--Buddy

“Wasp sorry for Buddy bot…”--Wasp

“Welp, I finished fixing those scratches and dents.”--Buddy

“Thank you!”--Wasp

“…Would you like to come with me to the Decepticons? That way you’d be safe from the Autobots.”--Buddy

Wasp pausing not sure what to answer.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that right away. That’d be selfish of me to expect that from you right now. This is my private channel, if you need me, just call me.”--Buddy

Wasp in amazement simply nodding.

“You take care okay, Wasp.”--Buddy

“Bye Buddy bot!”--Wasp

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfa megatron #tfa lockdown #tfa shockwave #tfa swindle #tfa wasp #techno organic buddy #tfa elita one twin sister

[cerise-on-top]

hey AleRudy poly anon again!!

your girl is going through it :( So I was wondering if I could request Alejandro and Rudy (together) x a reader who is insecure about their baby face? It’s been hard lately and it doesn’t help with the fact I haven’t had a date before.

thank you!! Your blogs help me so much!!

I wasn't sure if you wanted your blog to be public since you forgot to go anonymous in the second ask, so I cropped your name out, I hope that's alright with you! Besides, anon, you're drop dead gorgeous! You're adorable to no end and I can assure you one day you'll find someone who will go through quicksand just to be able to go on a date with you! Just give it some more time!

AleRudy with a Babyfaced Reader

If I were you, I’d advise to not voice your discomfort with your baby face to these two men, neither of them take too kindly to you beating yourself up over something that is neither your fault, nor something that you can change just like that. However, if you want to be cheered up a bit, reassured that you’re beautiful, regardless of what may be, then go right ahead, tell them that you aren’t satisfied with the way you look. If anyone ever tells you to your face that you aren’t pretty then you have Alejandro and Rodolfo at your side, willing to defend you and your beauty. While Rodolfo may not be as confrontational normally, usually letting some things slide for the sake of being left alone, he will fight whoever dares to make a mean comment about you. You’re the most beautiful person on this planet along with Alejandro, so naturally he will settle for nothing less than the truth. Alejandro will just straight up challenge anyone who’s mean to you to a fight. He’s a heated sort of person, so it’s not too hard to rile him up. It’s usually Alejandro taking it up with whoever said you weren’t pretty while Rodolfo comforts you in the back. Sometimes the two of you watch a colonel beat up some no one, though. It’s fun, I promise, because Alejandro doesn’t hold back when it comes to you. Even if his knuckles end up bloody, he will fight for you.

If you’re just feeling down about your face in general, then the two of them will comfort you to the best of their abilities. Generally speaking, Alejandro sometimes gets cuteness aggression when you or Rodolfo are being especially adorable. This includes, but is not limited to: The both of you focusing on a video game, smiling at some cute animal videos or just existing in general. If he can, then he will squish your face. Don’t worry, he’s gentle with you, but it might hurt ever so slightly nevertheless if he gets carried away. Squeezes you, squishes you, pulls your face, pinches your cheeks. all the while cooing at you about how adorable you are and how lucky he is to have such a cool and awesome and gorgeous partner. He will pepper your face in kisses as well all the while he’s doing so because he just can’t hold back. Why would or should he? It’s you we’re talking about, and you deserve to feel loved and appreciated.

Rodolfo goes about it in a different way: He’ll have you internalize some compliments whenever you’re feeling down. Or on the daily. Doesn’t matter if you believe them just yet, you will eventually. Even if it’s just a simple “I look really cute today”, it suffices for him. Besides, if you’re ever in need of ideas as to what you could be internalizing for the day, just ask him or Alejandro, they have a lot of good things to say about you. You can also expect a sweet little kiss from him for every self compliment you’ve made. Or maybe a hug. Maybe five minutes of cuddles as well. He wants you to associate being confident and loving yourself with good things, so naturally he’s going to reward you somehow. It might be hard at first, but you’ll get there eventually, you will end up loving yourself in your entirety, that’s his and Alejandro’s mission. And throughout it all, the both of them will support you, no matter what.

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #alerudy #alerudy x reader #I've never been good at comforting someone but I hope these can help you at least somewhat #anon these two men would fight the entire world just to be with you trust me on that one I know them personally #don't feel too down about never having had a date before. neither have I. but someone out there will go on a date with you #besides don't ever let anyone tell you that you aren't gorgeous and don't deserve the best #those sorts of people deserve to get stung by bees and wasps and are not worth your time in the slightest #I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries here but I do mean what I'm saying #you're beautiful. you're adorable and you deserve the absolute best in the whole entire world #and I do hope it will come to you someday!

[torossosebs]

#mcu #marvel #disney plus #marvel x reader #ant man #ant man and the wasp quantumania #scott lang #paul rudd #kang the conqueror #jonathan majors #kang the conqueror x reader

[quin-ns]

Inevitable (Kang the Conqueror x Reader)

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: you don’t know kang, but he knows you

Tags: antman and the wasp: quantumania spoilers!!, canon divergent, avenger!reader, one-sided affection, soulmates (kinda), denial

Request: anon: “Ohohoho the DRAMA of a Kang fic okok so how about an avenger who’s super powerful, and loves Scott as a friend and is a good person and has a strong moral compass, somehow they end up in the quantum realm with scott and cassie etc…. And when they meet kang it’s like he knows her… he shows her them in the future being lovers etc… it’s almost like they’re soulmates and she is horrified, she thinks he’s good looking but nuu he’s a bad guy…. How will it all turn out o.O”

A/N: loved this prompt- I did deviate a towards the end but still hope it lives up to expectations. kang was fun and interesting to write for. complex villains are the best ngl lol

cross-posted to ao3 • mcu masterlist • writing masterlist

You didn’t blame Cassie for her invention going haywire and pulling you all into the Quantum Realm. Still, it wasn’t exactly ideal.

When you, Scott, Cassie, Hope, Janet, and Hank all got sucked into the Realm, you all got separated. You, Scott, and Cassie ended up together thankfully. You could only hope that the others were all together as well.

The three of you did your best to stay out of trouble. Except that’s exactly what you got into because, well, who knows? Avengers seem to have bad luck. If you were superstitious you’d say that you and Scott both being there amplified that.

There was an attack by what you thought was a sun—you all quickly found out it wasn’t—and then some big purple… thing. You were saved, but then next thing you knew, you were being captured by what Cassie called quantum people.

Great.

They separated you and brought you to their weird town. It was a marvelous setting, but you didn’t exactly get to admire it all that much. The people surrounded you and chanted loudly, spiking your anxiety. At first you were scared, especially when they poured red ooze into your mouth. You suddenly could understand them.

The leader, Jentorra, warned you that because you were from above, he would be hunting you. The Conqueror. He didn’t sound like someone you wanted to be captured by.

The attack was sudden. Ships shooting blue lasers descended. Robots, or what you thought were robots, began to go after people. It was a mess. Some of them evacuated, some fought. You, Scott, and Cassie ran. You all knew that you were the targets and you couldn’t get captured. Not before finding the others. You saved as many people as you could along the way.

There was a giant floating metal head—MODOK is what it called itself—that stopped you.

Turns out, it was an old acquaintance of Scott (and sort of Cassie). Darren, they called him, showed his—maybe this was mean, but it was true—hilariously ugly giant face. He took you to a tower and divided the three of you into cells. Scott cracked some joke about how he had been in jail four times—one more than Cassie.

Darren revealed that he worked for the Conqueror, who built him into what he was. As it turned out, the Conqueror built a lot of what you were seeing.

You were pacing around your cell, trying to devise a plan, when the sound of heavy footsteps began to echo through the hall. It caught your attention. You watched as a man in a green and purple suit approached Scott. His face was veiled in blue and his eyes shone with the same color.

He walked right up to Scott’s cell and they began to conversate. You were diagonal to Scott and next to Cassie. You weren’t sure if the man even saw you.

You heard Scott tell him he was an Avenger, and the Conqueror casually asked if he’d killed him before. “I’ve killed so many, they start to blur together…” the Conqueror mused.

Scott asked who he was, the Conqueror told him he was the man who had lost time. He began to explain that he had a plan for Scott.

You couldn’t fully hear him, and you decided to speak before you could think to stop yourself. “Hey, if you’re revealing your evil plan, can you clue us all in?”

The Conqueror fell silent. He turned to face you. The moment he laid his eyes on, a chill ran through your spine. The blue mask was gone. You could see him more clearly now. The look on his face… there was recognition in his eyes. Sure, he said he’d killed the Avengers in other universes, but this didn’t seem like that.

“Oh, you…” the Conqueror said, seemingly surprised. Pleasantly surprised. “MODOK said there was one he never met. I didn’t know it was you. I should’ve, though.”

The fact that he was handsome threw you. You were expecting someone… scarier looking? Or more alien. Although you supposed not every villain you dealt with after Thanos would be like him.

“Am I that much of a surprise?” you asked, raising your brows.

“A bit,” he admitted. “You look so… well, like you.” The Conqueror approached your cell, Scott forgotten.

“Okay, what does that even mean?”

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” he sighed out. There was a longing in his eyes that seemed so out of place given everything you knew about the man. “It’s good to see you.”

“I don’t know you,” you told him, shaking your head.

“Oh, but you do,” he replied smoothly.

The barrier on your cell dissipated suddenly. The Conqueror extended his hand out to you, passing easily through the barrier that had once been.

“If you would come with me, Y/N.”

You hated the way he said your name. There was an unearned sense of familiarity. Despite the allure in his tone and the gesture of his hand, you ignored it. The Conqueror let out a sigh. He turned on his heel and began walking away. Slowly. Waiting for you to follow him like he knew you would.

You looked to Scott’s cell. His eyes found yours. He didn’t speak, but he was trying to warn you silently.

That was Scott, always looking out for you. But if you had a chance to negotiate, maybe get you all home unhurt. You had to try, right?

You stepped out of the cell. The Conqueror hadn’t gone out of sight. The moment he heard your movement, he halted his own. You didn’t know the man, but you could see the victorious smile he wore before he even turned to face you.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” he said knowingly. You began walking towards him cautiously. “I have something to show you, dear. I think you’ll find it quite enlightening.”

You stopped next to him, jaw clenched. “Who are you?” you questioned. “I want a name.”

“Kang,” he revealed. “You can call me Kang.”

You nodded. Okay, that was something. You waited for him to lead the way, and he did. He didn’t offer his hand again, he realized you had no intention of making contact with him.

You looked over your shoulder one last time. You couldn’t see Cassie from the angle you were at, but you gave Scott an assuring look. The one he returned didn’t quite match your confidence.

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Kang revealed once the two of you were alone.

“Yeah, because this is what I had on my schedule today,” you replied sarcastically.

Kang let out a laugh. It was short, but genuine. It was an odd sound to hear from someone who’d sent an army to take out civilians. That reminded you that you in fact should be scared of him.

You arrived in what appeared to be the center of Kang's tower—or whatever the hell he wanted to call it. It didn’t matter what it was, it was where he had been leading you.

“What’s on your mind?” the Conqueror asked, looking your way. You were put off by sincere curiosity.

“Okay, what is going on?” You couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Why did you bring me here? Huh? Why just me?”

“Nice to know some things never change,” Kang said, mind distant for a moment. Then, his gaze refocused on yours. “You always were a curious one.”

“Stop talking like you know me!” you snapped.

Kang remained eerily calm. “But I do. That’s what I wanted to show you.”

Without further word, Kang turned his attention to—well, you weren’t sure what it was. Your best guess was something similar to a projector. He did something, you couldn’t tell what, but suddenly beams of light shot out of it.

In front of you was a projected image of… you? You weren’t alone, though. At your side was the Conqueror himself. His arm was around your waist and your head was resting against his shoulder. You were both dressed formally. You couldn’t tell where the two of you were or what you were looking at, though.

The way the projection displayed, you were staring into your own eyes. It was unnerving to say the least.

“I liked this universe,” Kang spoke up. You nearly jumped, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was at your side in reality as well. “We had a lovely wedding.”

Your head snapped to him, unable to believe his words. Kang looked at you and let out a content sigh. “We’re married in a lot of universes. And even in the ones where we aren’t, we’re bonded.”

“You must’ve forced me.” It was the only explanation you could think of. “You say you’ve killed the Avengers—I’d never abandon my friends to love someone who’d do that.”

“There was no force.” He sounded briefly offended before regaining composure. “As for the ‘why’?” Kang allowed a small smirk to cross his face. “I won’t spoil the ending, dear, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen every ending.”

“Why are you showing me this?” you asked.

“Because, I need your help. Well, you and your friend. Scott, right?” he finally recalled. “I need to get out of here,” Kang explained.

���I saw what you did to those people,” you argued. “Why would I help you?”

“My future directly impacts yours,” he explained simply. “If I get out of here, you could come with me.”

You let out a mocking laugh at that. “No way. I already told you, I’d never be with someone who has done the things you’ve done.”

He looked offended. Hurt, even? But it wasn’t like you lied. There was even a flash of anger but he regained composure.

Kang stepped close to you and you stepped back. Behind him, the holographic image changed. You and Kang. Then it changed again, then again. Picking up speed. You were watching as your future in hundreds of different universes played out. Different paths, different lives, but they all ended up the same way. With Kang.

He was proving a point.

“You and I are inevitable, Y/N. In every universe where we exist,” the Conqueror revealed calmly—calculating—and continued to approach you.

You shook your head. “No,” you stated firmly.

Kang tilted his head slightly, eyeing you curiously. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

It was right in front of your eyes and yet you refused to accept it. “I know it’s not true.”

“You don’t know anything,” he dismissed passively. Like he just knew he was right and didn’t see the need to genuinely argue. “Not yet, at least.”

It wasn’t until Kang’s hand rose to your face, his gloved hand brushing your cheek, that you’d realized you had fallen still in front of him.

“But you will see,” he revealed in a way that you could only label as ominous. “You always do.”

#quin-ns writing #request #kang the conqueror x reader #kang x reader #kang #kang the conqueror #quantumania #ant man and the wasp quantumania #kang the conqueror fic #jonathan majors #marvel #mcu

[copper-wasp]

Warm Offer - Cidolfus Telamon/Fem Reader

⮚ (there's no way y'all didn't see this coming)

✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warning Tags: None, but I did choose a random name for Cid's lady to avoid using y/n ✦ Words: 2465

• 🙪 ● AO3 ● 🙪 •

Cid groaned as he slowly made his way back inside the Hideaway, many hours past when he should’ve arrived, the night nearly dark as pitch. He knew everyone had gone to sleep already - well, nearly everyone, seeing a familiar figure as he headed towards the solar. 

Wylla was at the mess, a lone candle lighting the page of the book she was reading as she nursed a mug of something in one hand.

“You’re up late,” Cid said by way of greeting, walking over to join her.

“Can’t sleep,” she explained, taking a drink from her cup. “What’s your excuse?”

“Unplanned…detour-“ he began, but noticed her nose start to wrinkle as she sniffed the air, leaning forward in her chair. She covered her mouth with her hand when she realized the awful smell was coming from him .

“Ungh, Cid, you stink like a bog!” she said with a laugh, trying to fan the air away from her with her unoccupied hand. “Did your detour take you through a sewer?”

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, trying to smell himself, the awkward heat of embarrassment flooding his skin.

“Yes! Please go take a bath before the whole hideaway starts to reek of it.”

“Care to join me, Wyl?” he offered with a smirk, knowing she’d roll her eyes in response. He couldn’t help but tease, she was always so receptive, usually having a prepared quip of her own to fire back at him. He tried to ignore the tug of attraction to her that pulled from behind his navel, but it didn’t always work.

“A kind offer but, no thank you, Cid. You’ll just trick me into washing your back for you.”

“Ah, you’ve found me out,” he replied, pulling out one of his cigars to light on the walk back to the solar. He didn’t miss the wistful little smirk on her lips, nor the way her eyes traced down his body, but he kept it to himself. “G’night, Wyl,” he called with a wave, hearing her bid him goodnight in return.

Cid rarely filled the bath all the way, but thought he’d make an exception this time, piling his clothing as far away from him as he could, deciding to deal with any lingering scent in the morning.

He sank into the water, the heat soothing his sore muscles, eyes closing to focus on the heat. He chuckled to himself as he replayed his exchange with Wylla, hoping that she’d manage to get some sleep, regardless if she needed a cask of wine to do so. It was nice seeing her out of her leathers, wearing a soft white nightdress and robe with her feet bare, her normally tightly braided hair gathered in a loose knot at the base of her neck. The two of them were the hideaway’s insomniacs, often meeting in the wee hours of the morning to commiserate about their bodies’ refusal to rest.

Cid heard the door unlatch, his eyes springing open to find the woman haunting his thoughts gently closing it behind her. She turned to face him, and Cid was very aware of how clear the bath water was, trying to quickly cover himself with one hand.

“Wylla? Why..? W-what…are you doing here?” He rarely stumbled over his words, but never in a thousand years did he think she’d actually play into his teasing.

“Joining you in the bath,” she replied nonchalantly, setting the candle she’d brought from the mess down before shrugging her robe from her shoulders to pool on the floor. Cid didn’t reply, he could only stare at her as she walked slowly towards him, trying to moisten his bottom lip with a suddenly very dry tongue. “Unless that was not a serious offer you made to me just now?” 

“It’s serious if you…want it to be,” he said, watching her intently as she re-tied her hair on top of her head to keep it from getting wet.

“I think I do want it to be serious,” she said, barely above a whisper, the promise in her voice hardening his cock.

“H-hurry in then, ‘fore the water gets cold.” His eyes greedily roved over her body, waiting for her nightdress to come off to reveal herself to him.

“Turn around,” she said, twirling her finger at him. He gave her a look, but she only grinned at him, daring him to challenge her. “Turn around so I may take my clothes off, Cid.” With a mighty groan, he did as he was told, shaking his head as he turned his back to her. 

“Bloody tease,” he mumbled, hearing her tut in reply. He focused entirely on the sound of shuffling fabric, having a better time imagining what she might look like than he thought he would. He knew she had a puckered scar above her left hip, he’d been with her when she’d been slashed by the soldier’s blade, but everything else about her was an intriguing surprise. He felt her move into his orbit, her palms soft and warm when she placed them on his shoulders.

“Scoot forward, go on,” Wylla encouraged, giving him a light push.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to wash your back for you,” she replied, squeezing his shoulders.

“Come on Wyl, you know that wasn’t serious,” Cid sighed, but he couldn’t stop a pleasured groan from slipping out as she dug her thumbs in with just a bit more pressure. 

“Scoot, Cid,” she said once more, and he complied, her tender touch welcome on his tired body. He felt the water ripple when she climbed into the basin behind him, her legs moving on either side of him and her chest against his back. She pressed a kiss to the base of his neck as he placed his hands on her calves, caressing as far down as he could reach without needing to move away from her soft lips. He felt her shift, grabbing the soap from the edge of the tub and dunking it beneath the surface. 

A silent moment passed before Cid felt her hands glide across his skin, the light scent of lavender in the air. He sighed, removing the weight of the world from his shoulders for just a little while. Wylla began to hum, nothing he recognized but beautiful all the same, and soon his eyes shut, allowing her to continue with her delicate work. 

She thoroughly washed his back and shoulders, and he let her guide him to lean back against her so she could run her soapy hands across his chest as well. She kissed his neck, feeling his pulse beat heavy against her lips as she trailed her hands down to his abdomen, feeling raised scars and peaks of muscle, an interesting sculpture for her fingers to trace.

“Wyl?” he murmured, almost completely under her spell.

“Yes, Cid?” she replied, pausing her ministrations. 

“…You are far too good to me,” he admitted, not being able to remember the last time he’d felt this cared for; usually it was him doing the caring, but he couldn’t deny how damned good it felt to be on the receiving end. All the little things she did for him came to the forefront of his mind, insignificant at the time but all signs of her generosity and concern.

“Don’t I know it,” she quipped with another kiss to his jaw. He turned his head to look at her, finding her looking unsurprisingly smug.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, covering her hands with his where they rested on his chest.

“The great Cidolfus Telamon paid me a compliment, of course I’m going to let it go to my head. I’ll make sure Gav never hears the end of it, how I’m your new favorite and how you’ll start sending me on all the good missions-”

“Get over here, you,” Cid interrupted, exasperated. He adjusted their positions until she straddled his lap, and not an insignificant amount of water was on the floor. He tried to come up with another remark, but the look on her face robbed him of speech. She reached a hand up to caress his cheek, a smile playing on her lips. She looked happy, and not just the forced mask that she normally wore, the smile reached her eyes and the chuckle that came afterward was sweet as a bell. Perhaps just for the slightest moment she’d forgotten about the torture she’d endured at the hands of her masters; forgotten the nearly worse pain of removing that damned brand from her cheek.

Cid grasped her chin, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. She melted against him, her eyes closing to fully enjoy it, her hands moving to either side of his neck. He was gentle, yet insistent, one hand sliding around her waist to the dip of her spine, flattening his palm there to draw her nearer. She sighed against his lips, feeling him there between her legs, stiff as he tried not to rut against her.

He moved his mouth to her neck, drawing every tiny noise she held within her to the surface, his palms rounding over her arse while his teeth nipped at her skin.

She whispered his name, maneuvering his face back up to meet hers for a kiss hotter than the bath. She grasped his wrist, dunking his hand beneath the water to rest between her legs. 

“The cheek on you,” Cid teased, gently tracing her slit.

“Oh, you think your constant teasing had nothing to do with this?” 

“Of course it did,” Cid chuckled, circling her entrance. “Took you long enough to realize it.” He slid his thick middle finger inside her, her head falling forward to rest on his shoulder. He waited patiently for her to adjust to the intrusion, adding a second when she began to rock her hips, his thumb rubbing her sensitive nub in tandem.

Her breathing quickened, on the precipice embarrassingly fast, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She was so close, but she didn’t want this here, no, she needed to feel him, feel his weight atop her. 

“Cid, w-wait-“ she stuttered, finding his eyes. He stopped moving his hand, beginning to withdraw at her request.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, just-“ she paused, searching the room for where he slept. “Would you…take me to bed?” He gave her a gentle nod, kissing her again before standing so abruptly that even more water splashed to the floor.

Cid helped her out of the bath, pulling her into an embrace as they stumbled to his bed, a trail of water in their wake. Helping her onto her back, Cid guided his hand back between her legs, watching her expression change as he slid inside her once again, two to the hilt. His lips wrapped around her nipple, and he felt her fingers weave into his hair, a quick scratch at his scalp making him groan. He fucked her open on his hand, so warm and wet she was that his cock was leaking in anticipation.

“Please, Cid-“ she begged, spreading her legs wide enough to accommodate him. 

“Aye… patience , love,” he replied with a sweet kiss, spreading her slick over his length. Cid hooked one hand beneath her thigh, guiding her leg over his hip and supporting it as he pressed himself inside her. 

She moaned softly, her chest heaving to try to quell her increasing heartbeat, her eyes foggy with lust; the most beautiful thing he’d seen in many moons. He caressed her cheek, letting her wrap her arms around him to keep him close when he began to move, ramping up in intensity when she dug her heel into his lower back.

They were being far too loud, the solar filling with the sounds of their coupling, but they didn’t care, feeling relaxed and cared for and loved after so many years without. Cid kissed and nipped at her neck, one of her hands fiercely trying to find his; he chuckled, grasping it and weaving his fingers with hers.

“Oh, Cid- I… I’m… fuck ,” she cursed, biting her lip. He grinned, mumbling filthy things in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and biting hard, a moan of absolute pleasure erupting from her throat. Wylla dug her fingernails into his shoulders in reply, her body stilling for just a moment before he felt her clench around him, choking on her cry. He slowed his pace, taking a moment to lightly trail a line of kisses up her jaw.

He didn’t want to pull out of her, but her cunt was about to make the choice for him, so he withdrew, but not before holding out as long as he could. He fell to his side facing her, wrapping his hand around his cock, nearly upon his own climax.

“Let me,” Wylla offered, still catching her breath. Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingers taking the place of his around his girth. He wasn’t expecting her to be quite this willing, and the surprise of it had him cursing. It was her turn to lavish him with attention, turning to face him so she could lick his lips, coming in for a kiss before he felt her teeth nip him gently. She moaned his name, laying it on thick to usher him over the peak, the groan he made something she burned into her memory to revisit.

“Fuck me, Wyl,” he said, thrusting into her hand until he finished on her stomach, her fingers insistently stroking him until he was fully spent. 

The both of them gratefully fucked, they locked eyes, grins spreading across their lips. Cid leaned in to kiss her forehead, softly stroking her hair before rolling to the edge of the bed. 

“Hold on, I’ll clean you up,” he said, gesturing with his head towards her abdomen. She turned onto her back again, Cid returning quickly with a cloth that he used to wipe her stomach clean. He fell back onto the bed with her, drawing her in for a deep kiss, her palms resting on his chest. 

“Well,” Cid began, “Not how I was expecting my night to end, considering how it began.”

“If only we had done this sooner,” Wylla replied, tracing circles on his bicep. 

“No, the timing was…perfect, Wyl,” he assured with a caress down her side. “Think you’ll be able to get some sleep now?”

“Oh, yes, I’m going to sleep like a baby.” Her eyelids were already heavy, Cid’s warm chest a perfect place to lay her head.

“Don’t feel like you need to go back to yours,” he teased, Wylla already snuggled up tightly to his side, one arm draped over his stomach. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

• 🙪 ● 🙪 ● 🙪 • • 🙪 ● 🙪 ● 🙪 • • 🙪 ● 🙪 ● 🙪 •

Thanks so much for reading, reblogging, and/or liking!

You can find me: AO3 Twitter

#ffxvi #ffxvi fanfic #cidolfus telamon x reader #cid #cidolfus telamon #no spoilers #copper wasp writes

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

#scott lang #scott lang imagine #scott lang x reader #ant man #ant man x reader #ant man imagine #scott lang x child!reader #hope van dyne #hope van dyne imagine #hope van dyne x reader #hope van dyne x child!reader #wasp #wasp x reader #wasp imagine #ant man and the wasp #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ooh, kang x reader where she's trapped in the quantum realm and he finds her, quickly becoming infatuated with her. she's kinda awkward at first but eventually warms up to him, because he's so loving with her and only her. basically strangers to friends to lovers. pleaseeeee.

OMFG IM SO GLAD THAT OTHER PPL LOVE HIM 😭😭 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Stuck

You have absolutely no clue how you ended up in… where ever this was.

You were stuck here, you learned after a while. Until you met someone, or two people.

“Hello…?” You said, as they both stood in front of you.

“You’re human.” One said.

“Uh, yeah.. I don’t know how I got here or where here exactly is.. do you know a way out?”

They both looked at each other and then back to you.

“Nathaniel.” The man said.

“Janet.” The woman said.

They seemed friendly. And they took you back ti their camp with them.

“You’re in the quantum realm. It’s a place without time or space.” The man explained, in easy terms. You don’t know where Janet went, but it didn’t matter. It had seemed like days you’ve been alone, so you didn’t care.

“So what are you guys working on, exactly?”

“We’re working on a way to escape the quantum realm. We’ve been here for a while now.”

———————————-

While Janet and Nathaniel worked, you took a small break. You sat and watched what looked like the sky. It was beautiful, you would admit. You’ve been here for what you assumed was weeks.

You heard someone coming up next to you and you turned your head. It was Nathaniel.

“Hi.” You said, and turned your head back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He said after a while of silence.

“Yeah. Sometimes.. I don’t know. I just feel like sometimes I don’t wanna go back, Y’Know? Like no one’s waiting for me back there. And here at least I have…” you looked at the ground now.

“You know you can tell me anything.” He said, he brought his hand to your chin and directed your gaze to him.

He knew that you were destined to be together, all of his versions had fallen in love with you. No matter what you looked like or how you acted, no matter how different or how similar each version of you was, no matter if you were dead or alive, they all fell in love with you.

And he couldn’t help but feel the same way. He just hoped that you would understand eventually too, that you both were meant to be together.

“At least here I have you.”

He smiled, and he glanced back. Janet was not looking or paying attention to you guys.

You both leaned in for a slow, and passionate kiss.

———————————

And when Janet betrayed him, and set the place and plans to ruin, he protected you like it was the last thing he’d do. He covered your entire body as you both went flying back.

You didn’t leave him when Janet said he wasn’t who he said he was. You stayed next to him the whole time.

You were really the one meant for him.

If he wasn’t in his weakest form, if he hadn’t just been banished maybe things would have been different and he could have protected you better.

You were still alive, thankfully. You looked up at him and he stroked your hair.

“Don’t worry, love, we will find another way out.”

#kang the conqueror x reader #kang the conqueror #ant man and the wasp quantumania #ant man and the wasp quantumania x reader

[scary-lasagna]

Masky with a proxy s/o that's part bee(has cool bee wings and antennas) and buzzes around after him on the daily?

(Another day of saving the beeees)

:O!!! This one is so cute!!

Masky w/ bee s/o

Little bee-knowest, Masky surprisingly isn't the greatest fan of bees.

He'll tolerate their existence in the forest, but if there's a will, there's a way, and he will always fall ail to whatever bee is in the nearest vicinity.

Not too long ago before you arrived, he had an encounter that involved hiding near a wasp nest, accidentally pissing them off, and running off screaming toward a lake.

He didn't know that wasps will wait until you surface for air.

Long story short he had to get an emergency teleport from Slender.

Brian always makes jokes about it, claiming that he "is just the sweetest", and Masky returns with a shove into the nearest bush.

But now there's a bee that follows him around at all hours.

Amazing. 

The constant buzzing makes him thoroughly annoyed with you, consistently asking in a (surprisingly) polite manner to get you to shove off. 

But as time progressed the buzzing became a part of his daily routine by how much you refused to busy yourself with some other task away from him.

He caught himself staring as you cared for your antennae, or brushing through your fluffy collar. 

The color yellow seemed to invoke a feeling more of happiness than despair and hopelessness of his dirty uniform.

He tore his eyes away from you more times than he could count and even brought you a lovely gift he spotted while walking past a thrift store.

Just a little painting of a bee on top of a hexagon background, totally coincidental that your favorite colors were incorporated.

Not like it was anything more than a friendly gesture, or so he says.

You knew of his underlying feelings long before he even came to terms with them on his own time.

Which is the main reason you even began following behind him to start with.

Masky will supress his feelings until they blow up and explode in his face, or at least until an unstoppable force pulls it out of him.

Slowly you can drag him out of his shell, asking him to help you reach the sugar on the top shelf, or help stretch your wings after a long day.

Soft activities to help him warm up to the idea of falling in love.

He's not stupid though, he knows this, and eventually the two of you become an item.

He will retrieve treats for you, like bags of pollen or sugar or whatever you may be in the mood for after work. 

He loves to just relax on the bed or couch and run his fingers through the tuff of your collar. It's just so fluffy, and it feels great on his calloused hands.

"Maybe bee's aren't the worse." He'll joke after a long day

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #slender #masky x reader #tim wright x reader #proxy x reader #bee!s/o #bee #wasp #insect

[galactic-cumslut]

gimme brains

my rick obsession has become a monster i fear…so enjoy this piece of a fic i started but can’t finish

the usual rick warning, wasp!rick, monster fucking, idk anything about wasps so here ya go

“h-how is going to fit”?

he cackled. “that should be the last of your worries sweetie”. his monster sized cock was positioned before your entrance and he was getting impatient. “you’re going to make it fucking fit so don’t go bein a baby about it”.

six legs caged you in preventing your escape. it was too late now for you to turn back.

you could hear his giant wings start to buzz with excitement as he shoved the leaking tip of his dick inside you, earning a pathetic cry from your quivering form.

“holy shit you’re tight” he groaned- not even the full tip of his massive length had entered you and yet you felt the most full you’ve ever been. maybe being a wasp wasn’t as bad as he originally thought. “i’m going to ruin this pussy”.

you wanted to answer-give him a rude remark of some sort. submission is usually forced with you not given - but seeing the bulge of his dick in your lower stomach was enough to leave you speechless.

rick didn’t hesitate to push his cock deeper inside your gummy walls. the sensation was driving him into a frenzy. “fuck fuck fuck”. he groaned through clenched teeth. “you’re the perfect toy”

#this is so short #idk how to keep going #like #it’s been rewritten like four times #being a writer is hard #HAHA JK #i don’t do real writing #i respect all the actual authors #y’all are awesome #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez smut #wasp rick #wasp rick x reader #wasp rick smut #rick sanchez x reader #esha writes

[fandomnerd9602]

Hi, can you write about Hank Pym x six-year-old granddaughter Y/N.

Hank: pass me the 3/8th wrench

Y/n passes the 5/8ths wrench...

Hank: sweetheart I asked for the 3/8th

Y/N: i think the 5/8th will work better, grandpa

Hank tries it out, perfect. Hank smiles proudly...

Hank: you're definitely your mother's daughter.

Scott: she's my daughter too, Hank

Hank: don't remind me, Scott

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #ant man and the wasp #ant man #hank pym #hank pym x reader #grandpa #michael douglas #yellowjacket #scott lang #scott x hope

[cerise-on-top]

hey!!

First of all, just wanna say that I hope you are doing amazing! And I hope you don’t feel pressured or anything by the asks, and if you do, please take a break! You deserve it!!

I was still wondering if I could request AleRudy poly with a s/o who is a Metalhead? Like they have a battle vest (a vest with band patches all over it), loves punk and metal music, hell, maybe how they would react to me stagediving (climbing into the stage the band is playing on and jumping into the crowd) or me in a mosh pit (I can send you a video of one)

Thank you! And like I said, you are amazing!

Hey! Thank you, those are very kind words, I appreciate them ^^ And don't worry, if I feel overwhelmed I will take a break, but I mostly just get 1-2 requests a day these days, so it's alright!

AleRudy with a Metalhead!S/O

Rodolfo would somewhat vibe with your music. Whenever he’s especially pissed, he likes to listen to some aggressive music, like metal or some hard rock, to let out some of the anger. It doesn’t help in calming him down, but he feels better afterwards anyway. Outside of that, Alejandro sometimes listens to some classic bands, like AC/DC, The Rolling Stones or W.A.S.P. Aside from that, neither of them really listen to any of your music. It’s good to vibe to, has a great tune, but they usually leave some pop music on in the background, something they can just have on and ignore for the most part. Alejandro does like some classic Mexican music as well, though. So, neither of them would be too familiar with what you’re listening to. However, they think it’s really cool that you can enjoy such rough and fast paced music, many people shy away from it, after all. You could probably somewhat get them into it if you start out with either the classical songs or just some more mellow ones that aren’t too rough just yet. They love your little vest, though, since it looks awesome and really shows your dedication to those bands you like or have seen. If you slowly introduce them to your music, then you can slowly get them to have a vest of their own as well. It won’t be as magnificent as yours is, but they’ll try to add some patches of bands they’ve seen with you, which they liked. It’d be a small incentive for them to go to a concert with you, if they have the time.

You’d actually have an easier time dragging Rodolfo along than Alejandro. Don’t get me wrong, neither of them really mind going to concerts with you, but Rodolfo has found some bands he likes already. Because many of the classic bands don’t really play anymore, and because he doesn’t really know that many modern bands, Alejandro won’t know what he should listen to . Plus he prefers listening to the music he already knows. He may be open to something new if it’s really good, but he just sticks to the classics if he can. While neither of them may be familiar with the etiquette and customs of a concert, they’ll try for you. However, both of them will grow concerned when there’s suddenly a circle starting to form, one that you want to be part of. Rodolfo has heard about moshing before, but doesn’t really know what to think of it. It seems unnecessarily violent and crude, so he doesn’t want you to be part of such a thing. Alejandro is also hesitant, even if he has no idea in the slightest what’s going on. Both of them would try to convince you to not take part in it. With enough persuasion and asking them to get off your case, you could come to the agreement that Alejandro would go with you so you wouldn’t get hurt. You can tell him all you want that that’s just par for the course, he will come with you. Watches over you like a mother hen the entire time. Rodolfo does too, but he stands on the side and watches it all go down from there. It would take a few kind strangers helping you up to show them that moshing actually isn’t as bad as it might seem at first. However, one of them will always come with you and run alongside you whenever you wanna go moshing.

Once they’ve gotten accustomed to the idea of a mosh pit, you could partake in a wall of death as well. But that time both of them would be by your side. He wouldn’t admit it, but the idea of just ramming into someone does seem kind of fun to Alejandro, who, in turn, would convince Rodolfo to join as well. He would mention your safety being the highest priority, but in reality he just wants to goof around a bit with Rodolfo.

By then Rodolfo will likely have understood that metalheads really aren’t as scary as they may seem at first. He’ll just let you stagedive to your heart’s content, as long as you meet up again by the time the concert is over. It would actually be Alejandro who would fuss over you a bit since he’ll lose you out of his sight. Just convince him that you’ll be fine, that you won’t get hurt, and he’ll begrudgingly let you. He may not be too happy since he doesn’t want to lose you in a crowd this big, but he’ll let you if you really want it. Both of them will try to grab you and move you along, if you’re within reach, though. Again, as long as you find each other again once the concert is over, all is good. However, Alejandro won’t stop bugging Rodolfo about how you might be doing. It’s rare for Alejandro to be the uptight one this entire time and for Rodolfo to be so relaxed, but it can happen. The latter just really wants to enjoy the music. You’ll be fine, he trusts you.

So yeah, drag them along to a festival or a concert, they’ll have fun. Both of them have tinnitus from shooting guns anyway, so a concert won’t hurt them. They get to spend time with each other and with you, all the while listening to some good music.

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #alerudy #alerudy x reader #I actually grew up with metal myself. my father would always play it whenever we were in the car #even now I still hear it a lot. I remember In Extremo. Heaven Shall Burn and Eluveitie #those are some really good bands too. but I prefer the classic bands myself. my parents introduced me to wasp today #I don't really like screamo all that much but I can appreciate a good fast paced tune #I've only been to one concert so far. Starset which is my favorite band. they're so good and I was so happy when I got to see them live #but I really wanna go to another concert again at some point! It was so good! #besides going to concerts seems like so much fun! it's got a really nice flair! #I just don't know which concerts to go to unfortunately #anyway thank you for the request! I got to talk to my parents about music because of it which is always nice #metal is so good even if I'm not the biggest fan of the rougher stuff myself