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steviewashere · 19 days

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In it For the Long Haul (And Then Some)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor Internalized Ableism Tags: Post Canon, Post Season Four, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Medical Conditions, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma (Brief Mention), Amputee Steve Harrington, Amputee Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Disabled Eddie Munson, Whump, Implied/Referenced Depression, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve's Injuries Actually Have an Effect On Him, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Medical Accuracies (Surprising, I Know), Tattoos, Implied/Referenced Sex, Getting Together

Guys, oh my god, my Apple keyboard has prosthetic emojis?! That's so cool.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 He thought it’d be another concussion that would put him out this time. It’s practically the stamp of approval left on his body by the Upside Down. Should be bright green and sticky on his forehead and in big bold letters for everybody to read. But it isn’t a concussion. And he’s not sure what to do with himself.

Maybe they should’ve taken him to the hospital to get medical treatment after the bat bites. It wasn’t just on his back and arms and stomach. The marks were on his legs, too. Even though he had tried to kick the demobats off, they still sunk their teeth in when they had the chance, albeit briefly. Considering, too, he also walked through that hellhole without shoes on. He should’ve seen a doctor. First thing, he should’ve seen a doctor. But he didn’t. And he had the infection to show for it. Except, his body hadn’t healed the way it was supposed to. His immune system didn’t cooperate. It didn’t keep up.

The infection spread through the muscle of his left foot. And when it didn’t go away fast enough, it worked its way through his toes, shot up his ankle, and into his calf. Right below the knee.

His pinkie and ring toes went first. They—and he wishes he could spare the gruesome details—turned purple and swollen and numb. That’s when he knew things would be different. As soon as those parts were gone, he had begun to turn his face away from the window of hope. Instead, he looked out at the deep ocean waves of regret and grief, and imagined himself as a sinking ship. Filling with water. Plummeting to the bottom. Rotting.

Robin and the kids would all come around. Flood into his room. Talk to him while he was delirious from anesthesia first, then morphine next. Spoke to him when he hissed through phantom pains. Looked away when he had to be wheeled into the all too spacious hospital bathroom. “Tug the red chord if you get stuck,” he recalls a nurse saying. “Don’t put pressure on this foot, it’s still draining,” another had said. And by the time he could stay out of the wheelchair, he forgot what it was like to pee without the reminders, what it was like to go to the bathroom and be able to stand on his own.

Because of his luck, though, he lost the whole foot next. The infection had worked its way into his tibia. Didn’t fall asleep willingly after he was taken off of medication. Just sat in his cramped hospital bed, staring down at the stump of where part of him once was, and wept. Hands curled over his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, lips tight against his teeth, unblinking and weeping softly into the silence of his room. The first night without morphine and without the foot, he sat in the dark. In the black ink of his room. Choking on himself. Uncaring towards his limp and greasy hair dangling in front of his eyes. And he didn’t sleep. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t take the glare off his absent foot.

He stopped flexing the other foot, stopped running it against his left leg when he did try to sleep, stopped wanting to use it all together.

It wasn’t until the calf was removed completely, leaving him with half a leg and just his knee, did he stop talking. He just sat in the bustling white noise silence of his room. Wide eyes that were dry and red and bloodshot staring down at the thin cloth blanket draped over himself. An even thinner hospital gown stuck to his sallow skin. Stomach rumbling with hunger, but he couldn’t eat in the presence of himself. He just sat and thought of blankness, of absence, and of loss.

He’s been in the hospital nearly a month—endless surgeries and endless bouts of infections—when Eddie finally visits. Steve barely glances at him. Notices his silhouette and odd gait and the hiding of his right arm, but nothing more. Goes back to his lap with a raw emptiness, gaping and pulsing the more and more he sits in this room. Still recovering. Not even at the point of physical therapy yet. Still trying to heal his, how he views it, now useless body.

Eddie sits down in the chair to his left. Grunting with the exertion. He releases a measured, deep breath. “I heard from Robin that you were up here,” he states conversationally. “Thought I’d come up and see you now that I’m not stuck in my own room.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. Just traces his thumbs over the hem of his blanket. He thought he’d be angrier at the mention of Eddie being discharged. Filled to the brim with bitter jealousy. But all that tinges in his chest is a beastly want. An ache. The sizzle of something dwindling out.

“Haven’t had the chance to thank you, Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “I thought I’d die down there. Figured it was the best option, y’know, considering my circumstances? But then you and Dustin did the whole tourniquet thing and risked your lives and welcomed me in like a friend. So, my mind’s been changed. Hate this town and how it hates me, but I’m glad to still be here with some of the best people I’ve met,” he says sincerely. “But—I, uh—I wanted to come keep you company, as a friend. Show you something, too.”

At that, Steve raises his eyes slightly. Enough to catch on where Eddie’s knees are pressed firmly against the side of his bed. Angled oddly to stretch out and wiggle his right arm in sight of Steve’s vision. That’s when his eyes catch on the limp sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing. How it just flattens to the bed, red and black, lifeless.

The sleeve rolls up to reveal the stump of Eddie’s arm. His hand, wrist, and half of his forearm completely gone.

“We match,” Eddie says. And it should be grim. It should be a devastating statement to make. But something in Steve starts to warm. A desperation sort of growth, one that comes from the want and need to be seen. Eddie continues, “And—Look, I know it’s not ideal. It really isn’t. If anything, this is like majorly fucked up for the both of us. But…We’ll figure it out, you know? Get prosthetics. Cut up our clothes to accommodate our limbs, or well, lack of. But you aren’t alone; that’s my point.”

Hesitantly, Steve raises his head. Finally looking at Eddie in his entirety. The palm sized scar on his cheek, pink and shiny and stark against his face. The ring around his neck and the other red raw scars that creep into the collar of his t-shirt. And his hair. It’s gone. Shaved down. Replaced by a bit of fuzz and one long scar that goes from the widow’s peak of his hairline, to where it tapers at his neck. Steve doesn't remember Eddie getting injured there, but it must've been from when he fell through the portal—limp and loose.

He realizes, looking down at himself, that there are swirls of scars from the back of his own arms, deep white lines on his knuckles, the ring around his neck surely present, and that doesn’t even include the ones that ache on his back. He looks back to Eddie.

Eddie reaches out a slow hand, cupping his cheek, wiping at something. That’s when Steve realizes that he’s crying. “Hey, oh, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t think that—“

“You get it?” Steve squeak-rasps. His throat throbs. It's dry and brittle and painful all the way through him; down to his stomach, into his sweaty palms, at the base of his stump. Phantom stings that make him twitch. But his voice...It's nothing like him. It's haunting to hear himself. And for a moment, he wishes he didn't speak. Eddie, however, startles and softens all at once. Eyes glistening at Steve, worried and concerned and cautious, but also enamored and welcoming and empathetic.

Nodding, Eddie says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I do. I’m still getting used to it, too.” He pushes up into Steve’s messy hair, swiping it away from his forehead. Doesn’t even grimace at how gross it surely feels on his fingers. “You don’t have to sit alone about this. ‘Cause I’m right here with you. And…” His eyes grow immeasurably softer. “…I may not have both hands, but I’ve got both arms to hold you," he breathes.

It’s easy to lean into Eddie’s hand. To close his eyes and let himself feel this. Sobbing quietly, muffled behind his lips. Shoulders shaking with it. He blubbers, “I hate this, Eddie. I hate this, I hate this, I—“ And cuts himself off with a loud, unashamed, explosive sob.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie is saying as he wraps himself around Steve. Tucks himself in close, to where Steve is able to set his head on his shoulder. He sits on the edge of the bed so that he doesn’t overcrowd. And just holds on tight. “You feel how you need to feel, Steve. Get it out, it’s okay.”

Steve groans harshly in the back of his throat. Gasping in short breaths, chest rattling with the effort. He slams his forehead into Eddie’s chest, over and over. Muffling into the fabric of his shirt, “Nobody else gets it. They don’t understand. They don’t…All of them.” Eddie doesn’t speak. Afraid that Steve will stop if he does. “They think I’ll just bounce back, but everything is different now, Eds,” he cries, “Everything.”

And he finds that he does mean that. He knows he's too quiet. Knows he's behaving too serious for his bones. Too mature for his lungs. He's hollow to his core, and bleeding between his teeth. There's something deeply fractured in him now, even if he were to ever show a sliver of who he was before.

He allows himself to cry for a few minutes more before slumping with exhaustion, but he doesn’t close his eyes. Doesn’t let sleep pull him under. Just shakes and shivers and twitches in Eddie’s warm hold. Until, Eddie pulls back. Arms set firmly on Steve’s shoulders. Eyes wandering his face, his hair. “You look so tired, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Steve shrugs in lieu of a response. Eddie's eyebrows twitch down, a frown wanting to form, but he worms it away. Offering with a well-crafted small smile, “How about you sleep and I keep watch for you?”

He shakes his head. “They’ll take more of me if I close my eyes. They keep doing it,” Steve mutters. His voice is weak and slightly petulant.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” And Eddie's face drops again. Frowning through the floor.

“They come in here and tell me the infection spread. Tell me about how it goes bone deep. Or how my limbs are turning purple. Or how something doesn’t look good,” Steve rambles on, “Then, they have to take me back for surgery. And I have to let them because I get it, I do, because my body isn’t healing right. And it's not something I'll just make up for at home, so I let them. I let them and then...I wake back up and more of my leg is gone. I can’t let them take more from me. I can’t lose more of myself. I can’t, Eddie, I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—“

Softly, Eddie shushes him. Rubbing his remaining hand up and down Steve’s arm in long stripes, carefully avoiding his still agitated scars. “Shhh, baby, you’re okay. It’s scary, I know. But they said that you’re doing better. Treatment is working, Steve. You won’t lose anything else, okay?” His eyes are wide and imploring. Deep brown, enriching, swallowing Steve whole. “You won’t. This is it. They just need you to rest. I’ll be right here while you do so; I won’t let them do anything to you that you wouldn’t want. But you need sleep. You’re wasting away on me.” His hands push firmer on Steve's shoulders. Imploring again, searching and hoping for Steve to understand. He reiterates, “You’re wasting away.”

“I’m not,” Steve weakly argues.

“You are,” Eddie whispers, “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Stevie. And the doctors already told me how you’ve been refusing to eat. That’s not good. You gotta rest and get healthy, to a place they need you to be, so that you can go home.” Steve doesn't like that idea. Back to his big, almost always empty house. Eddie must read that, somewhere, on his face. He gently splays his hand over Steve’s chest, shoving at it with light force. Promising low, "Home can be with Robin or Nancy or me, Stevie. But you have to get better first. You have to. Just lay down and talk to me, sweetheart."

Hesitantly, Steve lays down with Eddie’s push. Head lolled on the pillow so that his face is pointed towards where Eddie sits. He stretches out his hand and weakly grips to Eddie’s fingers. “I’m scared,” he finally confesses. The words falling heavy from the tip of his tongue.

And though Eddie knows, Steve can see it in his eyes, he asks anyway, “What’s got you spooked?”

Steve blinks groggily. Wrung out from the tears. From the sobbing. The speaking. From existing the way he has been. “Of not being myself,” he answers, muttering. “I can’t drive now. I can’t work out the way I used to. Can’t even stand to use the bathroom. I’m not losing more of my limbs, but it’s like I’m gone.”

Eddie’s thumb pushes firmly into the back of Steve’s hand. And he looks straight on at Steve’s tired, tired, tired eyes. “I ain’t letting you go,” he swears. “We’ll find what works. We’ll find you again, I promise. Especially now that we have all the time in the world.”

“It’s going to take so long, though. You don’t want to be stuck with me during that.”

Simply, Eddie shrugs. “So, what? I’ll be figuring out myself again, too. And from what I’ve heard, you’re the kind of guy to take no shit. If anything, you’re going to be the one stuck with me.” His voice grows lower and lower as Steve’s eyes dip to a near close. “Go ahead and sleep, Steve. It’s okay.”

With a long, grieving sigh, Steve closes his eyes completely. Mumbles, “You’re a good guy, Eddie.” Voice slow and sticky. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

As Steve’s grumbling snores fill the room, Eddie stands to lightly open the curtains. Soft sunlight pooling through the room. It makes Steve glow in yellows, his hair shiny and his skin glistening. He’s worse for wear, that much is evident to Eddie. But he can work with that. He’ll accommodate all that Steve is willing to give. And he’ll keep an eye and an ear out, too. Even if that’s all he’s allowed to offer.

He sits back in his original chair. Stretching himself so that he can lean over Steve's bed. And swipes the stray hair away from his eyes. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs into the white noise of the room. He stays until visiting hours are over.

And comes back every day until Steve gets to go home.

——— Their prosthetics don’t match perfectly to their skin (the prosthetic’s skin being a shade darker than what they’d usually have), but they make do with them. And they find a way to joke about it. To mingle with the still raw ache of what they’ve lost.

Steve ends up painting the nails of Eddie’s prosthetic hand to match his real fingernails, black and shiny. Eddie aids with changing out Steve’s sneakers so that they match his polos and sweaters. And they find it especially funny, when they get together and hook up for the first time, to be laying in a pile of limbs quite literally on Eddie’s bed—but to look off at his side table, their arm and leg are cradling each other. Just as they do. Holding one another on the worst days, through the phantom pains and the afternoons where they sob. It comes easily, being with one another.

It takes time, like all things do. Like watching paint dry on some days. Or waiting for water to boil on others. Prone to lash out, sure. Prone to stay stock still in bed with far away eyes. But they’re in it. They live it. And as time pushes, days grow to be normal. To be expected.

“We should draw tattoos on our limbs,” Eddie suggests one day.

“I can’t draw, Eds. But what do you have in mind?”

In it for the long haul, with a drawing of a hand, is put on Steve’s prosthetic calf.

And then some, with a leg wearing a Nike sneaker, goes on Eddie’s wrist.

“Can’t believe my first tattoo literally cost an arm and a leg,” Steve mutters later, admiring the work Eddie’s done. And all they can do afterwards is laugh until their stomachs hurt, air is impossible to catch, and their cheeks are wet with tears.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 When my mom was alive and, obviously, still used her prosthetic leg, she'd threaten to beat up my bullies by taking her leg off and whacking them with it. Also, her leg had a piece of see-through plastic on it where she could have something customized in it, it said "Kicking ass and taking names."

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #disabled steve harrington #disabled eddie munson #amputee steve harrington #amputee eddie munson

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gothsugarbunnidisco · 2 months

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lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

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Survey Says-! (18+ Rodimus/EVERYONE)

Chapter 5: Software Update (Rodimus/Brainstorm/Perceptor)

Rodimus is NOT bitter about the results of the crew satisfaction survey, in fact, he’s fully prepared to change! He’s determined to change his crew’s minds, and what better way to do so than to get to know them- in the carnal sense that is.

There are no problems with this plan in Rodimus’s mind. There are many in Ultra Magnus’s. Magnus engages in some unfortunate(for Rodimus) damage control as head of Cybertronian Resources. Rodimus is not easily deterred.

Other Chapters Here! Read On AO3 Here!

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FIC TAGS: Rodimus/Everyone(But y’know, not like. EVERYONE. Just a lot of various background characters and also more specifically with some others), Takes place post dark cybertron, but pre the whole ship disappearing thing and the mutiny, smut, Chastity, denial, Rodimus is a slut, Ongoing humiliation, HR Violations as comedy, Ultra Magnus is clueless, sticky sexual interfacing, comedy, sexual comedy, dubious consent (if you squint and tilt your head), contains illustrations

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Authors notes: Okay you guys simply MUST hear me out on this one okay? this one was the fun chapter for archie to have fun writing. okay? okay. btw this chapter is extra long bc it kinda got away from me

CHAPTER TAGS: Plug n play, brain fuckery, submission, bondage, brief loss of bodily control, threesome, throatfucking, thigh fucking, rodimus is ignored in favour of whatever the fuck percey and brainstorm have going on

The broken dataslug felt like it was a thousand tons bouncing around in Rodimus’s subspace. He could keep kicking himself about his fuck up, and probably would be for the forseeable future, but he was on the way to fix things. He could faintly hear the sounds of work down the hallway from the lab, the fizzle of sparks and the whirr of machinery. Rodimus prayed that he’d catch Perceptor alone again.

He tried not to feel too upset when he heard the sounds of conversation floating from the laboratory.

“-mit its impressive, certainly, but the scale is a bit much for our current facilities, wouldn’t you think?” Perceptor’s voice reached Rodimus first, even and calm even slightly shouted over the sound of the power tools working.

“You lack vision, dear Percey, I think we could absolutely handle it!!” Brainstorm called back.

Rodimus paused, waiting for something from Nautica before approaching the door. He started as the door swung open on its own, the aforementioned femme jolting at the sight of him. “Oh! Hello captain.” She greeted, offering a cheery little smile.

“Nautica.” Rodimus smiled back politely. His finials twitched a bit as he felt her field tense back against her just a bit too late to hide the knowingness in it. He attempted to retain a cool demeanor. “Where are you off to?”

“Just on my way out!” she chirped, averting optic contact. “Going to Swerve’s, maybe I’ll see you there later, bye!” The bot scooted around him, ducking under his spoiler and trotting off down the hallway.

“Rodimus?” Perceptor called from within.

Slag. He could already hear the sound of work halting as his presence became fully known. The speedster stepped into the lab, the door closing behind him with a pneumatic hiss. “Yes, hi, sorry for dropping by unexpectedly.”

“...Again?” Perceptor added, biting back a smirk. He was sitting at one of his work stations, in the process of putting something together that Rodimus had no hope of understanding. Brainstorm was similarly engaged, though as Rodimus had entered he’d taken the time to spin lazily around in his seat, resting his cheek knowingly in his palm with a suggestive look in his eyes.

“... Yes. Again.” Rodimus muttered.

“And how could us two geniuses be of help, Rodimus?” Brainstorm prompted, amusement clear in his tone. A flare of heat churned in Rodimus’ tanks, his optics flicking back and forth between the other two mech’s faceplates. “... What’s with these looks, what’s going on here?” Rodimus snapped out, crossing his arms.

Brainstorm snorted involuntarily, quickly resetting his vocalizer. “WELL, Perceptor was just recently telling us about a very interesting project he worked on-”

“YOU TOLD??” Rodimus blurted out incredulously, mortification washing over his frame. It wasn’t as if he was mad at Perceptor for kissing and telling, in fact he hoped most of his partners were inclined to do so. It was more… the whole vulnerability of the matter, that someone else knew he’d been desperate enough to ask for help.

Perceptor shrugged a bit. “I talk about my projects with Brainstorm most of the time we work in the lab.” Projects. Rodimus fought off a shiver. That was what he was in his eyes, then, a project… that should have been insulting, probably.

“Good for morale.” Brainstorm agreed, beaming at his lab partner. He then turned back to Rodimus, all affection in his expression melting out in favour of a mocking smile. “You’d know all about morale, wouldn’t you, captain?”

If he weren’t already in enough trouble with cybertronian resources, Rodimus might have throttled him. “Yep.” He gritted out instead. “Look- I just need a new copy of the… project you gave me.”

Perceptor cocked his head in confusion. “A new copy? Is there something wrong with the last one I gave you, Rodimus?”

Rodimus shriveled. It was embarrassing enough to come crawling back, it was embarrassing enough to ask for a new one, but now with someone else- someone else not sworn to secrecy(with some apparent caveats)- in the lab? This was torture.

He sheepishly reached into his subspace, pawing around for a moment as he approached Perceptor’s desk. He daintily set the crushed dataslug on the table there, offlining his optics in preparation for the reaction.

Rodimus was right to do so, clearly, as Brainstorm burst into laughter. Perceptor cleared his vocalizer, clearly covering up a snicker of his own as he prodded at the shattered circuitry with a stylus. “... You broke it already?”

Rodimus looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably under the two scientists' gazes. “... I actually broke it the same night you gave it to me-”

“THE SAME NIGHT??!” Brainstorm gawked, now peering over Rodimus’ shoulder. “Oh you poor thing.” He crooned mockingly, patting him on his back plating gently.

Perceptor reached into a drawer of his desk, absently picking out a new dataslug and placing it on the table. “Alright, you have a seat Rodimus, I’ll get you a new one.”

Rodimus blinked. “Oh- You don’t need me back on the-” He gestured at the table he’d been on during his last visit.

Perceptor finally glanced up from his work, raising a brow ridge at him. “... No? I have all my work backed up here.” He said, wiggling a datapad in his hand.

“Oh. Okay.” Rodimus blushed a bit, feeling stupid for assuming. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted to spend another half hour getting toyed with and experimented on like some sort of science project… He’d just come to get a new copy of his magic overload stick, that was all.

This was a good thing.

Rodimus wasn’t disappointed even a bit.

Brainstorm brushed past him, now leaning over Perceptor’s shoulder to read the datapad. He mouthed the glyphs on the screen, brows knitting together as he squinted at the lines of code.

“Feh.” Brainstorm sniffed finally, rolling his optics.

Perceptor paused, turning to face the other with a pointed look. “What?”

“... I don’t know, I just feel like you played it a bit safe, Percey.” Brainstorm said. He had that tone to his voice that he only seemed to get when he was trying to play it cool while also silently begging you to ask him what he meant by that.

“What do you mean by that?” Perceptor scoffed.

“I don’t know, I just…” He leaned back, arranging his frame into a haughtier, annoyingly smug pose. He examined his digits nonchalantly. “... Expected it to be a little bit more interesting.”

Rodimus swallowed, optics bouncing between the two of them. “Interesting…?” He mumbled out.

“Well, the client in question didn’t ASK for interesting, he asked for some help, and I gave it to him, and he was happy with it!” Perceptor huffed, spinning in his chair to further face Brainstorm.

“And I’m sure he was! I’m only saying that there are a lot more interesting ways one could have solved the problem, and your methods of efficiency are always very admirable, Percey.” Brainstorm put his servos up placatively, his tone infuriatingly condescending.

Perceptor scoffed again, standing up from his seat. “Well, if you’re so certain you could have done a better job, why don’t you prove it, Brainstorm?” He sneered, jabbing an accusatory digit into Brainstorm’s chest. How Perceptor managed to remain oblivious to the giddiness in Brainstorm’s field was a mystery to Rodimus, it was nearly bowling him over.

“I’d be happy to!” Brainstorm grinned, swinging his helm around to face Rodimus. “What do you say, Captain?”

Rodimus thought for a long few klikks. Brainstorm was just as smart as Perceptor, he could likely play Rodimus’s processor like an instrument just like him too, but his disposition was generally more… unpredictable… in a way that might not have been conducive to his goals.

“... Fine, but I don’t want to hear about anyone else hearing about this, okay?” Rodimus conceded. It was only when he saw the look in Brainstorm’s optics go from excited to elated that Rodimus considered he might have made the wrong choice.

Rodimus was beginning to feel like a bit of a third wheel. Which was odd, because it was him who was currently laying on an examination slab, tilted just a bit upright, while the two scientists bickered over him. He could see his own diagnostics and files brought up on a myriad of screens and datapads that Brainstorm had hooked up around him. Rodimus wriggled uncomfortably on the slab, itching a bit at Brainstorm’s plug in his diagnostic port. He felt less like a mech and more like a missile the scientist was working on. The thought made Rodimus’ plating feel hot and uncomfortable.

“Well see, there’s the problem-” Brainstorm tsked, snapping Rodimus from his thoughts as his servo came down to grip the crest of his helm and tip it to show Perceptor the interfacing port on it’s back. “Who puts an interfacing port at the back of someone’s head?”

“H-hey!” Rodimus started, giving Brainstorm a pointed glare.

“Ahh… I see, that definitely could pose an issue then.” Perceptor nodded a bit.

“Not if you use a topical patch instead of a plug.” Brainstorm waved his servo dismissively, releasing Rodimus’s helm to return to his work.

“But then that makes it harder to take off if you want to stop.” Perceptor said, as if it were an obvious problem.

Brainstorm just laughed, “I have many doubts that Rodimus would worry about stopping.”

“I can- I’m still here you know!” Rodimus snapped.

“Well then you can answer our query then, would you feel more comfortable with a datastick or a topical patch?” Perceptor asked, holding up either one in his servos. Rodimus turned his helm to consider them.

“Uhh-” He began, cut off quickly when he felt the shiver of a command being typed into his processor.

[Action input- Test- Tactile sensors]

Rodimus felt a shudder ripple over his body, each of his sensory inputs warming up briefly before turning off, showing each one was in proper working order. The mech rolled his digits into fists, letting out a shaky vent. “E-either one is fine- I don’t- I don’t care.” He offered helpfully.

Perceptor frowned and sighed. “Fine then.” He broke his attention off from Rodimus when he heard another chuckle from Brainstorm, his frown sharpening.

“Ahh, Perceptor… Really, this code is just adorable, it’s like you didn’t even think of all the ways one can manipulate a sexual code.” Brainstorm mused, mostly to himself.

[Action input- Stimulus reaction- Anterior node- 50%]

Going from zero sensory input to fifty directly on his node was not what Rodimus would describe as ‘cool’ or ‘fun’. A sudden shout punched itself from Rodimus’ chest, his hips jumping off the table as if his valve were attempting to escape the pressure. His pedes came down with a clang, his body arched up in a quivering bridge. “A-AH- FRAG- Brainstorm-!” Rodimus gritted out, waiting for the stimulation to go as he squirmed.

“See, you probably noticed a big amount of his pleasure based coding centers around his valve, right, but-” Brainstorm started to explain, gesturing with his stylus at one of the screens for Perceptor’s benefit. Rodimus blearily noted the diagram was some quick three dimensional mockup of his array. “You know even if a majority of the frame’s favoured stimulant nodes are in one place, it doesn’t mean you-”

“BRAINSTORM!!” Rodimus wailed out, still writhing. The pleasure was burning, his body alight with charge demanding a place to go.

[Cease action input]

Brainstorm sighed and rolled his optics as Rodimus went limp on the table. The whole situation would be sexy if Rodimus were more into the blatant negligence the two of them were clearly treating him to. He tried to focus on steadying his fans as they kicked on.

“As I was saying, I think there are more interesting nodes you could stimulate, in addition to those in the array, to give a more interesting experience.” Brainstorm finished. “At least for a project as boring as ‘data stick that makes you overload’ anyway.”

“B-boring? Primus, Brainstorm, I should’ve considered how scientifically stimulating my own problems were for you before coming here, that’s on me.” Rodimus huffed out indignantly, pinning the jet with a glare.

“Oh, your problems are incredibly scientifically stimulating Rodimus, I can think of a dozen ways to solve your whole panels plight off the top of my head, but Perceptor chose the most boring solution-” Brainstorm rambled exasperatedly, going through a few more codes before hitting the enter button on his datapad.

[Action input- test- oral tactile sensitivity]

[Action input- test- audial sensitivity]

[Action input- test- tactile sensitivity- thigh and hip plating]

Rodimus squirmed. His optics flickered a bit as his processor fought to follow all commands at once. A fuzzy, tingly wash came over his glossa and dentas, then the same over his thigh and hip plating, as if someone were stroking over each bit of plating very lightly. Finally, his audials became suddenly more sensitive, taking in each minute whirr and buzz of the room around him. The sensations came to a slow, easing stop after only a few seconds, leaving Rodimus with an odd feeling in his tanks.

“Boring?” Rodimus finally breathed out, glancing at Brainstorm.

Brainstorm didn’t make optic contact with him, he was too busy inputting commands. “Yes, boring.”

“Would you mind enlightening us then, Brainstorm, on what the dozen other ideas you had are?” Perceptor prompted, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat.

[Action input- Sensory stimulus reaction- valve calipers(1-10) 15%]

[Action input- Sensory stimulus reaction- valve nodes(1-6, 10-18) 10%]

Rodimus moaned lowly, offlining his optics and gritting his dentas. That felt more familiar, his valve squeezing around a phantom sensation, more akin to digits than a full sized spike.

“Well if we wanted to go closer to brute force, there’s technically nothing in the statement ‘crew members are not allowed to remove the magnetizer until the period of punishment is over’ doesn’t extend to one… applying a local anesthetic and removing the lower modesty panels entirely.” Brainstorm started.

“N-no- thats- I don’t want that thanks-” Rodimus’s tanks squeezed uncomfortably. His legs instinctively came together around his panels, earning him a tap from Brainstorm’s stylus.

“Keep those open please, I need to keep an eye on your panels. In fact you could do with squirming a lot less- Ah, don’t worry.” Brainstorm was speaking a thousand miles a minute, leaving Rodimus’s already foggy head spinning.

[Action input- disengage automotive directives from user: Rodimus- neck down]

Rodimus’s entire body went slack with a thud as his legs hit the slab. He let out a choked off cry, willing his frame to move and finding himself limp as a ragdoll.

“W-wait!” Rodimus squeaked out.

“Don’t panic, your body is in good servos, Roddy.” Brainstorm cooed, patting his leg briefly before going back to his work. “Now, I know you’re still keeping up those one on ones, right, Captain?”

“Y-yeah- Hey, listen, I know I move a lot but this is-” Rodimus began to protest, trying his hardest to ignore the ongoing sensation in his valve.

“Relax. I’ve got a way to make those more fun for you if you’re going to be using your intake…~” Brainstorm sing songed, his optics scrunching in an impish little smile. “Here, hold on, I’ll give you your body back in a second, just-” He began, rolling his seat away out of Rodimus’s view and returning with a few yellow painted metal loops. He handed two of them to Perceptor, who seemed to understand the idea just fine as the two of them arranged Rodimus’s limp form into a wide, spread out X shape.

Rodimus dimly felt the familiar sensation of four magnetizer cuffs activating and latching to the metal of the table. “W-why the frag do you even have those in your lab-?” Rodimus asked.

“Don’t ask.” Brainstorm answered, “They’ll just keep you in place for me while I work alright? Do I have your consent to mess with your mouth?” He made a show of asking, clearly more for Perceptor’s benefit than Rodimus’

[Action input- previous input disengaged]

Rodimus was quiet for a moment, the ongoing feelings in his array making him feel like he was about to start leaking. He gave his restraints a testing wiggle, finding himself stuck, but still able to squirm, to a more controlled degree. He cleared his vocalizer, his intake feeling dry as he spoke. “... Yeah okay.”

Brainstorm’s optics flashed just long enough for Rodimus to feel regret before the data inputs came through.

[Action input- cease all inputs- area:Valve]

[Action input- reduce gag reflex- 100%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Glossa-60%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Dermas-60%]

[Action input- increase tactile sensitivity- Intake- 40%]

[Action input- increase oral lubricant production- 50%]

[Action input- sensory link- tactile oral sensation = pleasure center activation]

Rodimus was overwhelmed for a moment, letting out a glitchy, confused grunt as his intake tingled with sudden sensation. He ran his glossa over his dentas experimentally, turning more pink at the shudder of pleasure that ran down his spinal strut at the feeling. “Oh- Brainst- ah-” Rodimus wheezed. Even just moving his mouth to speak felt oddly good, every brush of his tongue over the expanse of his palate suddenly feeling charged with arousal.

“A brief look at your more recent updated data in your pleasure centers shows general intake sensitivity has already had some spikes on its own, I’ve just..” Brainstorm trailed off, reaching out to playfully tap Rodimus’ lip with his stylus. The feeling sent tingles down Rodimus’ frame directly to his panels. “Heightened the effect. You can call me a genius now.”

Rodimus groaned weakly, too busy squirming in his bindings to pay the scientist much mind. The feeling was weird, good, but weird. He appreciated the thought but it wasn’t like he wanted to go around getting a reputation for finishing just from oral. He had some semblance of dignity to uphold.

A semblance of dignity he was apparently giving up for the time being as he greedily ran his glossa against the roof of his intake, sending sparks skittering across his plating. Rodimus keened, optics flickering and going dim with want.

“Really, this is just gratuitous.” Perceptor scoffed, his faceplate bright pink from Rodimus’ lascivious display. He turned his vision away from him to Brainstorm. “When do you have the time to think of this kind of… thing?”

“Unimportant,” Brainstorm dismissed, standing up and setting his datapad aside. “I have more tests I’d like to run! Rodimus, be a dear and open wide for me?” The scientist patted Rodimus’ cheek, holding his stylus up and wiggling it between two fingers.

The captain complied, letting his jaw drop open and his tongue hang out.

“Very good, Rodimus.” Brainstorm cooed, running the edge of his stylus slowly down the flat of the other mech’s glossa. Rodimus’s valve cycled and squeezed around nothing, his spike twitching and stirring in its housing.

“Nnghhuhuuuhh…” Rodimus answered intelligently. He dimly heard Perceptor clear his vocalizer, but chose not to care, instead opting to curl his glossa around the edge of the stylus and stroke against it.

Brainstorm chuckled, freeing his stylus and running it along Rodimus’s top derma. “It’s very easy to remap pleasure centers to elsewhere in someone’s frame, I could do this to anywhere you liked, but I figured this would be the most advantageous, yes?”

“Y-yeahh…” Rodimus mumbled breathlessly, trying to keep himself as under control as possible. He shook his helm to try and clear the fogginess in it, only to let out a wanton moan when Brainstorm’s free servo came down on his helm crest to hold him still.

“Try not to thrash so much, or I’ll have to take your bodily control away again, and we don’t want that, do we?” Brainstorm hissed, before letting go of his stylus in favour of gripping Rodimus’ tongue between his middle and index digit. Rodimus’ squirmed, trying to hold his helm still as his back arched up off the table. He felt like his whole frame was on fire in the strangest way. He fought to keep from making a further fool of himself, but it was a losing battle. Brainstorm released his glossa, instead shifting his servo to pet his digits over the surface of it.

Rodimus moaned dumbly and began to suck at them on reflex, letting his optics fully go offline as Brainstorm worked his digits gently in his mouth.

Brainstorm leaned down, chuckling as he murmured hotly in Rodimus’ audial. “And I could go further than this, too, I could increase some more of your priorities, make every bit of these ‘apologies’ make you-”

“Alright, I think that’s- that’s quite enough, Brainstorm.” Perceptor interjected. Brainstorm drew his digits from the captain’s mouth with a wet pop, standing back up straight. Rodimus definitely didn’t crane his neck after his servo, and absolutely did not let out an embarrassing noise at having his mouth empty.

“Oh not at all!! We haven’t even tested his throat’s responses!” Brainstorm feigned ignorance at the lewdness of it all, putting his still wet servo on his hip as he gestured across Rodimus’ coolant slick frame. “I’m going to put my spike in his mouth and see-”

Perceptor sputtered for a moment. “This is hardly scientific-”

“Well sure, but it’s more fun if you pretend it is, isn’t it?” Brainstorm chirped, stepping around the side of the table to stand by Rodimus’ head. He hit a button on a nearby console and the slab tilted back until Rodimus’ helm was level with Brainstorm’s modesty panel, at which point Brainstorm carefully rearranged the other bot so that his head was hanging languidly over the edge of the table. “How are you doing down there, Roddy?”

“F-feels weird… good…” Rodimus panted. Had he been more eloquent at the time he might have said something like ‘it feels like my panels are going to fall off’ or ‘please put something in me’, but Rodimus’ foggy mind somehow spared him that added embarrassment. He simply stared at Brainstorm’s panels hopefully, letting out a relieved whine as he saw them transform away.

“Yeah… thats good, I’m glad. Percey, if you wouldn’t mind monitoring the datascreens while I test?” Brainstorm asked, absently petting over Rodimus’ jaw and neck as he coaxed his spike from it’s housing.

“Er- Of course, thats just fine.” Perceptor agreed, turning to watch the readouts with his faceplate almost entirely pink.

Rodimus craned his neck out to Brainstorm’s slowly extending spike, hungry for it in a way he’d never felt before. The first brush of the tip against his dermas sent shivers down his back strut, his engines revving involuntarily as he rolled his tongue against the slit. All this teasing and excess charge couldn’t be good for him, but by this point, Rodimus hardly cared.

He let out a grateful moan as Brainstorm slid his spike carefully into Rodimus’ intake. The captain was vaguely aware at this point that he was salivating more than usual as a ribbon of oral solvent slid headily down his cheeks. Rodimus was startled at the ease with which Brainstorm managed to press his spike into his throat, but any untoward feelings about the matter melted away, replaced with arousal and desperation as his body blazed with charge. He sucked greedily at the intrusion in his mouth, laving his tongue over the topside of Brainstorm’s spike.

“Aaahh, that’s just wonderful-” Brainstorm sighed out, leaning over Rodimus’ body to stroke his servos over the speedster’s overcharged chassis. “I’m so good it scares me sometimes.”

Perceptor chuckled dryly. “All vitals look to be reacting normally. Though, the lack of gag reflex could pose some worries couldn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re too cautious.” Brainstorm dismissed him, beginning to pump his hips into Rodimus’ throat. He disregarded the muffled groans Rodimus was making in favour of teasing his digits along the sensitive edges of the other mech’s spoiler.

“Hardly! I just think things through longer than you do.” Perceptor chuckled again, but there was a note of breathlessness to his voice.

Again, that was probably lost on Rodimus, who was too busy straining his wrists against his restraints in an attempt to grab Brainstorm and press his spike even further into his mouth. He needed it, needed it in a way the other mech couldn’t hope to understand. He swallowed his own drool uselessly, mewling at the feeling of his throat tightening and rippling against the scientist’s spike. He thought he might die if he didn’t keep using him. Every intrusion was getting to him, the feeling of his digits groping at his prone form, the weight of the spike in his mouth, the burning connection of the plug in his diagnostic port. He was helpless. The feeling was so alien, so wrong, so frightening, and yet all Rodimus could do was moan for more.

“Mm-muh-!” He moaned out, gurgling in mindless ecstasy as Brainstorm redoubled his efforts of pounding into his mouth.

“You seem a little bothered, Percey~...” Brainstorm cooed to his partner mockingly. “Is something wrong?”

Perceptor reset his vocalizer with a meaningful click. “No- Nothing, its uhm… only a very… unprofessional display…”

“Well… I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out as well, if all this… unprofessionalism is making it hard for you to focus…!” Brainstorm’s words were heavy with implication and lust, each snap of his hips rocking Rodimus’ frame. The meaning behind his retort finally dawned on Rodimus’ groggy mind, and the bound mech writhed and squirmed, drool bubbling from his lips as he whimpered in need. “See?” Brainstorm chuckled darkly, thumbing lightly at the bulge his spike left in Rodimus’ throat.

It was hard for Rodimus to focus on much other than the weight in his mouth, so he continued to worship, rolling his glossa over each node and biolight and ridge, drinking in each involuntary twitch and gasp Brainstorm let out. He hardly noticed when the magnets on his ankles came away, barely gave any mind as the table below his lower half bowed out, only really giving the movement any mind when he felt Perceptors delicate servos grasping his thighs. His digits seared against Rodimus’ leaking, overcharged panels, making the captain buck and squirm and squeal around Brainstorm’s spike.

“R-Rodimus, is this alright with you?” Perceptor asked, voice heavy with need. Rodimus nearly cried out when Brainstorm pulled his hips back to allow him to respond.

He coughed and swallowed, his mouth drowned in oral solvent and prefluid. “G-hhahh- Go f-for it, please- f-frag- anything-” Rodimus babbled, leaning out to try and get the spike back into his mouth. He whined low in his vocalizer as Brainstorm slipped his spike back home, soothingly petting over Rodimus’ chassis and neck. Rodimus went slack under the two mechs’ ministrations, luxuriating in the rolling sensation crashing over his frame. He felt Perceptor’s spike pressurize between his slick thighs, drinking in the gasp he let out as it slid against the charged heat of his modesty panel.

Rodimus could hardly tell the magnetizer was there anymore, the ache of his array was negligible when compared to the heat of the spikes in and against him and the servos gripping at his dewy plating. His mind went blank, arcs of charge rippling over his body with each thrust, both of the other mecha grounding their own lust through him. Rodimus was lost in it, swallowing intakefuls of solvent and fluid, face growing sticky and messy as his mouth hummed with perverse delight.

He could feel every bit of his plating vibrating, every inch of metal and protoform alight with need. Pleasure gathered heavy in his tanks, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He couldn’t get enough, squirming between the two scientists, puffs of hot air filling the room with steam. He swallowed around Brainstorm’s spike and felt his valve clench under his panels. Perceptor’s spike between his thighs sped up with a punched out moan from the microscope, his digits digging into Rodimus’ plating and threatening to leave scratches there.

Rodimus felt Brainstorm’s rhythm begin to stutter, his servos coming down to grip the table as he chased after his overload desperately. “O-Oh- Perceptor-” Brainstorm huffed out, steam billowing from the slits in his mask.

Rodimus might have been offended. He should have been offended. The blatant way with which the scientist ignored him, even as he spent his overload down Rodimus’ throat should have made the captain bitter. But instead that heat just gripped him deeper, his engines roaring with lust as Rodimus himself tumbled over into his own climax. His body was strung out taught, writhing and groaning in ecstasy. Transfluid spilled from his dermas and over his face, spurting in equal measure around the seams of his modesty panels and magnetizer. He dimly heard Perceptor gasp and moan at the display, and keened as he felt jets of fluid paint lewdly up his abdomen and across his chassis.

Rodimus laid bare, steaming, panting as Brainstorm slowly dragged his spike out of his intake. Rodimus’ head swirled. He barely recognized the feeling of Brainstorm unplugging his diagnostic cable, hardly noted the stickiness coating the better part of his faceplate and crotch. He allowed himself to bask, savouring the afterglow of his much needed overload as it hung cloyingly to his frame.

Rodimus couldn’t help but feel like he was being rushed out. By the time he was being ushered to the door, he was still a bit out of sorts, a topical patch containing the affectionately named ‘intake interface initiative’ code in his servo.

“Let me know if there are any bugs even though I know there won’t be! And happy trails, take care, buh-bye!” Brainstorm said hurriedly, offering a slightly breathless grin as he shoved Rodimus through the door of the laboratory.

“Uh- Yeah, thanks for-” Rodimus was only able to get the sentence halfway out before the door slid closed behind him. He let out a long, tired sigh, massaging his vocalizer lightly. It was a little bit raw, for good reason. “... Cool.” He muttered, beginning his trek back to his office.

Rodimus eyed the topical patch in its casing, flipping it between his fingers casually. He wouldn’t admit this to Brainstorm or Perceptor(or probably anyone else), but the thing kind of scared him. He was certain there had to be some other bug in there that made his processor work wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t have… well he wouldn’t have gotten so into whatever that was.

He reminded himself frequently what these meetings were: a means to an end. He was getting to know his crew better, he was making a connection, he was showing them he was dependable and generous. What was more generous than sucking spike? Not much, from Rodimus’ point of view.

It was weird to let himself get so lost in the whole matter, like that code had made him do. Yeah, made him. That was it. It wasn’t so bad to let himself enjoy the attention now and then, especially when he’d actually been able to use his array during, but if he got that carried away… just from sucking someone off? That was a bit embarrassing.

Some part of him considered the situation- prone, experimented upon, disregarded but praised, teased… used. It couldn’t have been any of those feelings that had made him act that way.

It was the code!

It must have been.

Rodimus shook his helm, tucking the patch into his subspace delicately. Some parts of his plating still felt sticky, his jaw ached, his vocalizer was raw, there were black paint transfers around his thighs and hips from Perceptor’s groping. He looked like a cheap shareware whore.

…

Rodimus closed out the prompt in his processor to open his panels for what felt like the thousandth time. He let the door to his office close behind him and sat uncomfortably at his desk.

He eyed the fresh stack of datapads and the order his workspace had been brought to and frowned. Ultra Magnus had been there while he was away. Again.

Rodimus took a long, deep vent in.

Just 5 more cycles until his midway meeting with Ultra Magnus. He’d lie his aft off about how much he’d changed, he’d get that magnetizer off, and then things would go back to normal. He’d get through the list once and for all, and everyone would finally recognize how much he did for his crew.

Rodimus briefly considered what it would look like having to endure another 16 cycles if he was unable to convince him.

He swallowed thickly and did the unthinkable to keep his mind off that grim idea.

Rodimus started working on his datapads.

#valveplug #transformers #mtmte #transformers mtmte #/nsfw #my fic #my art #rodimus #brainstorm #perceptor #brainrodceptor #?? is that the ship name? idk #maccadam

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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The Bad Batch Teaching You Their Skills

Pairing: Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Echo x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, teasing, flirting, training, sitting i their lap, teasing touches, neck kisses, distractions

A/N: This was requested a while ago via DMs so I hope its worth the wait.

Hunter sees you looking at him when he's training with his hunting knife so instead of assuming you're looking at him specifically he thinks you want to learn how to fight like him. When he offer you lessons you have to chuckle at how cute he can be sometimes despite looking so tough and rugged. You could actually use some lessons, its not fair that he gets to be the only one who can do cool and attractive things with a knife.

"You've been looking at me an awful lot sweetheart, I'm flattered you want to learn from me. Then... if that wasn't the reason then why were you staring? At me... heh, should have known. It gets you all hot and bothered seeing me handle this knife doesn't it? You can learn it too."

Crosshair does want to help you learn sniping skills but he also uses it an as excuse to be really touchy with you without having to be sneaky about it all the time. He helps you aim, his hands on your, his mouth close to your ear, both talking and kissing at the same time. Why did you miss? That's bad form don't you know? You'll stay with him at the shooting range until you get better at it. Just one hit.

"Keep your eyes on the target at all times, don't you dare look away no matter what. Touching you? I'm just helping you aim, there's nothing wrong with that is there, darling? Tch, you missed, and that was a beginner target. Looks like we're gonna be here all day, just me and you, all alone, shooting blanks."

Wrecker can hardly contain his huge smile when you ask him about explosives. There are one of his three passions: food, explosives and then you, of course. He would like nothing more then to teach you about them. You have to start with the smaller ones and work your way to bigger things. Just like you did with him.

"Keep your hands off the big stuff sugar, unless its me. You got some real good hands, it'd be a shame if anything happened to them. Not on my watch. You can have the little ones first. I like the enthusiasm but just because you can handle me doesn't me you can handle other big things."

Tech is a little hesitant to let you pilot the ship when you've never been a pilot before. One wrong move and they could get caught. But you can sit in the pilot seat with him and watch him work. Hey, no kisses like that, he's trying to focus on teaching you something important. Unless this was your plan all along?

"Do you want to learn or not, love? I let you sit in my lap and you're kissing me instead. I assure you, you don't need kissing lessons. Pay attention to the control, focus on my hands and fingers. Wh- ah, very funny, you know I didn't mean anything lewd by that."

Echo is quite the hacker but its a little easier for him because of his mechanical implant. He can teach you skills that you can use as well, but it will take time, you'll have to be patient alright? If you're willing to put in the work he'll be glad to show you however he doesn't need hacking know what that smoldering look in your eyes means.

"I was surprised when you said you wanted to learn this, sweetie. Any special reason? Just interested in what I do, well that nice, I'm thankful. Although I couldn't help but notice how your eyes got unfocused when I was talking earlier, was there something else you wanted me to hack?"

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #the bad batch imagine #the bad batch headcanons #the bad batch fluff #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #star wars fluff #tbb x reader #tbb imagine #tbb headcanons #tbb fluff

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months

Text

The heart is an Ocean (brat oc x darkish aemond)

Darkish aemond x reader/oc (?) (TITANIC THEMED!)

Cool devider credits: its uhm me.

Tags: Au Aemond, criminal Aemond, angst and hurt titanic au aemond x oc aemond x you aemond x

🔷Summary: You attend the ship of dreams, the Balerion in hope of finding your match to enrichen your family. But fate is cruel for those who dream. And the Balerion might not even reach the harbor of Valyria.

🔷Author's note: ''WILL THIS BE THE MOVIE REWRITTEN'' ASHSHSHDH I WISH! NO, its so not the movie. I was planning on naming the ship ''Titanic'' but I could not do that, it felt so icky. Big fan of the movie, big fan of books, the boat in general, and big nerd of it all. I went with a copy of the boat, and named it the Balerion. The route was original from Belfast to America i think but it will be from Crownlands to Valyria.

🔷Wordcount:4397

Warnings can be found under here

🔷Warnings: blood, arranged marriages, smoking, cocaine, illegal drugsdealing, eventually...you know, and murder. (the you know refers to the well-known fate of the boat) Classism, violence (not aimed at OC) and darkish criminal ruthless aemond.

1912

The year 1912 started the way only a disaster year would. Your father, who had finally found gold and diamonds in a mine somewhere in Dorne, had been killed in a mysterious incident, leaving your mother widowed with you and two of your younger sisters.

But your family would not be your family if you had not survived into the cold and golden world of the rich for generations. And your mother was assured that you would continue the generation, by finding a rich match.

‘’Another boat,’’ You commented, putting your gigantic elegant hat straight on your head. ‘’I hope Mother tires of these useless vacations soon.’’ The boat looked like a monster that had just risen from the bottom of the sea. A steel death trap, filled with dozens of already cheering workers and middle-class citizens who had been dreaming of even touching the dirty decks of The Balerion.

‘’Don’t be negative, Y/N.’’ You rolled your eyes at your sister’s constantly annoying optimism. ‘’And besides, it’s a ship. The Balerion is known to be the ship of dreams.’’ You thought you would not survive being with your sister Maelyn that long. You would not see the Port of Valyria before you had thrown her overboard, into the cold icy waters. Or so you thought.

Your brain had no trouble seeing the negative, dark reality that all fools around you ignored. ‘’Why does it look like a nightmare, then?’’ You commented. ‘’It’s like a death trap. Once we are at sea, nothing will save us.’’

‘’Y/n!’’ Your mother hissed as you passed suitable gentlemen of your age. You briefly lingered to inspect the men. Some smiled back at you, some adjusted their ties. You huffed before walking back in pace with your mother, climbing the big stairs and finally, you walked the bridge that connected the big ship to the shore.

Your cabin had been styled in the latest true nobility fashion, with a double bed and your very own vanity, and fresh roses were put in every vase they could fit in your room. Your servants had already brought your luggage and your dresses were neatly hung into your wardrobe. You let yourself fall in the luxurious blush-colored armchair, comfortably resting your arms on the soft fabric.

It could very well be your last vacation as a rich noble lady, should you not find that match your mother seemed so eager for. You had always known you would marry for stability and riches, but back then it suddenly felt real. As if you have been eating good meals all your life, and someone just handed you the bill. You were not aware of the consequences.

Your second youngest sister, Dysera entered your rooms, looking at your cabin in clear envy and with balled fists. ‘’When will I get the pretty grant rooms?’’ She whined like a little spoiled brat.

You didn’t even look up from your gloved hands. Dy was often not worth the effort. Just a teenage spoiled brat looking for trouble. ‘’The moment you bring home a man. It is expected of me that I have the bigger cabin, as I am the heir and the eldest.’’ You tell her, your voice bored and yet very sharp.

Her envy only grew as you reminded her of this fact. ‘’You are only the heir because mother failed to give father a son. The only thing you attract is drama and toxic men. Good luck finding a match here, sweet sister. I think you’ll need it.’’ She turned to leave, but your voice called her back, hissing as a wildcat.

‘’What is that supposed to mean?’’ You demanded an answer from her. She turned around to face you, with a wicked grin.

‘’It means, that’s a point for me.’’

—-----

Your mother wasted no time throwing you at suitors, as she hired one of the many restaurants for your quick-sessions to meet the eligible men aboard. She had no regard for age. Or rather, no respect for yours. Men that were so old that they could have been there to witness the grace and beauty of the dinosaurs themselves.

One man was interesting, around your age. Jacaerys Velyaron. He was to inherit the Velyaron cruises from his grandfather, the very same man who designed the boat you were both dining at. Jacaerys or Jace as he preferred to be called, was a true gentleman in all aspects, having raised incredibly well in manners and grace. When the waiter tripped and spilled your meal over your gorgeous red wine dress, Jacaerys helped up the waiter first.

That was a little annoying. You are the lady. His concern should be with you. Not some waiter who can’t keep his tray straight. ‘’I must say, I had hoped your staff would have been better vetted.’’ You entrusted him with a half-meant coyish catlike smile. ‘’My dress is simply ruined. You must make it up to me, now.’’ You told him, filling his head with guilt, manipulation, and lies, folding your hands as you placed them under your chin, smiling seductively at a blushing dumbstruck Jace.

‘’I shall, Miss.’’ He promised you quickly. ‘’I shall. My apologies for your dress-’’ He might have been your best shot at marriage at the ship. The other men were old enough to wet themselves if you told them a funny joke about the likes of the lower class you have seen aboard this ship.

But when you returned from ‘’adjusting’’ your dress (slightly loosening your corset so that Jacaerys could see more of your wares) you were met with a horrible and utmost disappointing matter. Jace, your perfect victim, was with a harlot—a gold digger.

Someone beat you. Someone bested you. And someone just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

The girl laughed loudly at his jokes and you could tell she had him wrapped around his finger in ways you never could. ‘’Damn it.’’ You muttered, under your breath as you made your way over to him. You smiled sweetly at the girl. ‘’Sweetie, I think you got lost. The third class is actually below us.’’ You told her, waiting for Jace to laugh but the weasel kept quiet.

‘’The only one who is lost is you, Miss Waters.’’ She told you when she rose from her seat, perfecting her annoying gorgeous blue dress. ‘’You seem to have forgotten that your family is powerless and poor. No man will look at you.’’ You faked a smile.

‘’You would know what men like, don’t you, Lady Baela?’’ You would recognize her everywhere. Gorgeous girl with silver locks and beautiful blue gowns, that was Lady Baela. Your mother had warned you about her and her sister, who too, were hoping to find a good match. There were only so many good men aboard this…disaster and she scooped up the only good one that seemed somehow a bit decent.

Baela seemed very contemptuous with your hatred and dislike. ‘’You know my name. I am shocked that there was even enough space in that delightful little thing you call a brain.’’ That hurt, and you were close to ripping that diamond necklace off her neck right there and then. Jacaerys was the only reason you remained civil.

‘’At least I have one.’’ You bit back, your fists balling in an unladylike fashion as Jacaerys became uncomfortable. He made a gesture to the waiter who nodded. You watched in shock as he came to you, to Y/N Waters, heiress and rich heir. ‘’That must be why you are clearly trying to compensate with your jewels for what you lack inside your head.’’ You replied, smiling as Baela’s smug little smile died a miserable death.

The waiter who had ruined your dress earlier had the audacity to open his mouth to you. He spoke three words that would dig his, and Baela and Jace’s graves. ‘’Miss, please leave.’’ You scoffed, thinking he was joking at first. Perhaps that is something new under servants. But that was not the truth. He was serious about your removal.

So you became angry. ‘’Me? My mother hired this restaurant!’’ You yelled, in righteous anger. ‘’If any should leave, it’s her.’’

‘’For only an hour Miss.’’ The waiter told you and you were shocked at that. The thought that you were just a third-class passenger, was disgusting, disheartening, and unfair. You were more than that. Why didn’t those stupid people see that? Why didn’t anyone see your worth?

Baela snickered and Jace joined her. You felt your cheeks redden with shame before you left the restaurant, but before you left you made sure to accidentally bump into a very expensive vase, causing it to fall into a thousand little pieces. You smirked at Baela before bringing your hand to your mouth, faking a gasp, and heading off.

You sighed, groaning when you had left the mediocre restaurant, and looked for anyone or someone to help you find your way back to your cabin. The ship was like a maze to you. You would not be surprised if you opened one door that led straight to the ocean floor itself.

Hot tears full of anger ran down your face, as you angrily wiped them away with your satin gloves, as you noticed tiny holes in the fabric.

The lights briefly flickered, sent chills down your spine, and made you briefly clutch your locket. When the lights were turned on again, a man in an elegant black and white suit greeted you with a small elegant bow and a boyish smirk on his lips. ‘’Fancy a smoke?’’ He wondered, his voice betraying he was from the Crown lands.

You huffed, still insulted that your fish did not take your bait. ‘’Do I look like I smoke?’’ You are a lady, a woman of noble class. Smoking is for the gentleman and the homeless.

The man stepped into the light, and for the first time, you could take in his good remaining eye and his sapphire that covered where the other once used to be. ‘’You look bored and stressed. Any man would tell you to smoke.’’ You would enjoy a good cigarette, just blowing off some steam and forgetting the ugly world for a moment. You loved smoking, that was a truth, but your mother always disencourage you to do it in front of other men or anyone important.

He must think your worries could be solved by a simple smoke, he must think you were some lonely depressed rich girl in need of her daddy. The worst part is, you were just that. You needed and missed your daddy’s fortune, but most of all, you missed him. Your mother had barely made time to mourn him and soon you would be married into a loveless marriage, making you completely alone.

‘’You would be too if they sent hoards of bored old men your way.’’ You replied, and usually, your icy cold exterior sends men running from you. Men don’t like women they can’t outsmart or control. Men don’t like well-read women. Men don’t like unknown or mysterious women. Men want to know what they purchase when they try to find a wife.

This one started to smile, however taking you completely by surprise. ‘’You’re the Waters girl.’’ He knew of you. You exhaled deeply. You could not take another peasant storming in and demanding you to leave the room again. You could not face the reality that this could be the final chapter of your family’s legacy and that you would be their downfall.

You had hoped to shut him up before he would even start. ‘’Yes. What of it?’’ You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest when readjusting your dress.

He briefly scratched behind his left ear, before he stepped closer, his hips swaying to the rhythm of your every unsteadier growing heartbeat. ‘’Quite hostile, aren’t we?’’ He tsked, grinning from ear to ear and revealing his beautiful white teeth.

He grabbed your left hand and went to his breast pocket before handing you a cigarette. ‘’Smoke with me, Princess. It might do you some good.’’ You looked at his cigarettes, likely all the good stuff from the Riverlands. The good stuff.

You wanted to smoke when he grabbed his lighter and made a flame for you, carefully shielding it with his hands. But you pretended, as always, that you were not interested right away. ‘’Alright, let’s see if you have anything worthy of my company.’’ You brought the cigarette to your lips after he had lit it for you, and for a brief moment the tabaqua cleansed your soul of all its troubles and misery.

He stood there, watching as you peacefully smoked his cigarettes, both of you not giving a damn about the bypassing passengers who glared daggers. ‘’What is your name?’’ You asked him after you finished your cigarette.

He spoke again, his voice rough as a diamond with a befitting sharp edge that could slit throats. ‘’Aemond.’’ He said.

Your chin lifted and you nodded, as you recalled that your mother had given you and your sisters a warning about absolutely not engaging with this ‘’new-money’’ called ‘’Aemond Targaryen’’. You wondered how a Targaryen could be New money, as most of them relied on their ancestors for wealth. Yet you were in the mood for teasing, perhaps in the mood for upsetting your mother.‘’Oh, mother warned me for you.’’

The moment you mentioned that, something changed and shifted the mood from teasing and fun to serious and worry. ‘’Did she?’’ He asked, his fingers slightly fumbling with his ring. You eyed it, curiously. It did not look like a wedding ring, however.

You nodded, eager to make him sweat. ‘’Yes. She says you are a bit of a bad boy.’’ You recalled what your mother told you, as well as many ladies in her gossip circle.

He smirked, quite liking your description as you moved closer to him, staring at his pink luscious lips that seemed quite comfortable to touch, perhaps to lick. ‘’Hm.’’ Was all that left his lips, and you would not know if it was an answer or a moan.

You continued filling his head with info you overheard, reminding yourself in the process why he would be a horrible match. ‘’You have a reputation of a horrible temper, flirtations that don’t end well respectively, unbefitting of a follower of the Seven.’’ You were a good religious woman. Your faith mattered to you.

Aemond seemed insulted by your catlike smirk, before grinning. ‘’Life is too short to keep yourself chained down. Unless you like your chains.’’ He added, sizing you up and down as if he was picturing you in chains.

You huffed. ‘’You see, Mr Aemond: I am a woman. Our reputations matter and we can’t just flirt with anyone.’’ You were insulted that he would think you would let him tie you up as some weak meak thing.

Aemond grabbed your gloved hands, making contact with your skin before staring into your eyes, making contact with your very soul. ‘’Are you really that bored with the old fucks she sents your way?’’ You heard of the word fuck before, but never in that way, and certainly not o describe your future husband. It is disgusting, but the silver lining is, whoever you would marry would perhaps not live very long.

‘’Mr Aemond-’’ You started, your sentence unsure as he pushed his fingers against your reddened lips, silencing you before grabbing you gently by your hips.

He breathed against your throat. ‘’Yes or no, love?’’ He asked as you felt more like a woman than any of those old fucks ever could.

You nodded, hesitant at first. ‘’Yes.’’

He grinned, happy that he was handed what he was ever. ‘’Good girl.’’ He whispered against your lips as you breathlessly watched. ‘’I will make you a deal. My father will name me heir soon, and I’ll become a very wealthy man. We can pretend you are my fiancee.’’ His breath briefly raged over your throat, as his eye danced with mischief and promises he would not dare to keep. ‘’No man would dare to bother you during this voyage, after that, I help you find a proper match.’’ You had never been very romantic or desperate. Not the way your little sisters are.

You knew what men wanted. You knew it back then, you know it now and you would know it until the Stranger dragged you into the seventh hell, screaming and dragging your nails into the carpet. Yet you asked, coyly as if this was a great sacrifice. ‘’What shall you wish in return, Mr Targaryen?’’ Aemond grinned, brushing his fingers against your cheeks before slightly bending his face so he could whisper in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His price was simple. ‘’One night alone with you, love.’’ He had hoped for one night alone with you. You can imagine what you will be doing that night. ‘’I want you to surrender fully to me, for one night. Just one.’’ He must mistake you for a harlot.

You knew his intentions and you knew his plans. Yet you kept coy as a lady and pretended to not understand where he was hinting at. ‘’And what shall we do on that night?’’ Aemond glanced subtly at your breasts.

He grinned devilishly. ‘’I can think of many things.’’

You liked the attention of someone your age for once. And there was something else about him too. He was like fire and you loved to get burned. You knew he would hurt you, but that didn’t stop you. But no businesswoman would accept her first offer. ‘’What if I talk to your father, hm? How you dare to propose this ridiculous offer to me?’’ You knew Viserys Targaryen was on this ship as well.

His smile vanished and he became quite catty and serious. You liked how he glared at you, clearly affected by your threat. ‘’Talk to him all you want love, I did so for 20 years and he’s not very good at listening.’’ You and Aemond decided to take to the quiet coffee lounge.

‘’But your father has four other children. How are you so certain that you will become the heir?’’ You asked him.

He grinned as if he found it very funny before answering. ‘’I just am, Love.’’

You nodded, lowering your eyes as his lips got closer to yours. ‘’Confidence is the most attractive trait a man can have.’ He simply nodded and bent his head to kiss you. You turned at the last moment, letting your locks touch his lips before you took another cigar from his breast pocket, your red-stained lips curling into a smile. ‘’But cockiness is not.’’ He tried to trap you under his arms, with a grin before you outsmarted him once more, stepping aside, taking off with the cigarette. ‘’I enjoyed your company, Mr Targaryen. Let me know if you ever become anything more than your father’s second-born son, and we shall converse again, perhaps under the delight of a glass of champagne.’’ He grinned, his breath still heavy of your almost kiss before he ran a hand through his silver-blonde hair, nodding as you walked away.

‘’Miss.’’ He muttered, more to himself than to you.

—

Aemond Targaryen stood on the deck of the Balarion, smoking a cigarette and watching the beautiful stars drift by, as clouds blurred the skies. He liked to watch the stars, even when he was homeless for a while, the stars were all he had. And he was soon to be atop of the very world, and he would soon have everything they tried to take from him.

An eye, a woman, a legacy. It was within his grasp. He could not lose focus now. He would not lose focus now. One of his handymen he hired for his dirty work, made himself known by whistling the few short tones they had agreed on. Aemond snapped his head. ‘’How did it go?’’ Cregan wondered as he took a seat beside Aemond. No one was there but the regular watch post.

Aemond grinned, madly as his best friend took a seat beside him, also stealing one of his cigarettes. He thought back to the girl he saw earlier. The photos they sent him did not do her justice. Her luscious lips, her beautiful hair, and her attitude. He always loved a strong-minded and strong-willed woman. ‘’Excellent. She is even more stunning than her in the photos.’’

Cregan brought the cigarette to his lips before taking the lighter from his pocket and smoking a well-earned cigarette. ‘’You weren’t worried about that, were you Boss?’’ He always called Aemond boss, despite Aemond insisting they were friends.

No. Her beauty was unmatched and unrivaled. ‘’I was worried about my nephews fucking it up, I knew she agreed to meet with Jace and various other men. I must snatch her up before her little kitten claws wander to another man.’’ He muttered. ‘’I’m new money, she does not like new money.’’ And that could be a problem.

‘’Money is money,’’ Cregan commented with a shrug. Aemond would agree. Money is money.

He nodded.‘’To us, yes, we are sane men.’’ But they were not sane men. ‘’To them its like an insult. But I have seen the way she looked at me. I will get her on her knees.’’ He vowed to himself before taking another smoke.

‘’You’re evil, boss.’’ Another man commented, who had just arrived with a very important guest. Aemond made eye contact before grinning, sending his guest into waves of terror.

He stood up. ‘’I know. Perhaps if the good path gave me the rewards the evil path has given me, more people would choose for good. Good does not pay pills, unless you’re a septon.’’ He strutted over to the guest, before grabbing him by the throat. The poor man was arranged with sending the suitcases to Y/n’s rooms. He knew where she slept.

Aemond and Cregan ignored their hostage and the watch did nothing, as the entire trip, the entire ship, was one big coverup to get Cocaine to Valyria. The ship, the walls of it, were filled with bricks as big as doors. ‘’I will seduce her. She seems to like me, so far. I just need to keep sabotaging her little attempt at finding a rich husband, and she will have no one to turn to but me.’’ The more he talked with himself, the more he became convinced this could and would work.

Cregan grinned as their hostage briefly whimpered. ‘’Does she remember you, boss? Do you think she recalls?’’ How she kicked him out of the house? How she left him to die in the cold, in the streets? How he almost starved? That brat would not only not know, she would not give a damn. He was middle-class. But now he is upper. And soon, she would become his.

‘’No. She did not. Y/N Waters thinks herself a clever woman, but I assure you, she is not.’’ Aemond turned his attention to the hostage. ‘’Now, I believe you handled the suitcases for my lovely lady friend. Do you know where she sleeps?’’ He saw the fear increase in the eyes of the poor stewart his men kidnapped after dinner.

He nodded, the foolish man, fiddling with his glasses before speaking. He did not eye Aemond at all, afraid of him. ‘’I do, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you, Mr Targaryen.’’

Aemond did not bother to respond.

Cregan laughed.

He continued, nervous and scared. ‘’She is a lady, it would not be proper to share her room number with just anyone, Sir. Please unhand me.’’ That is true, Aemond admitted to himself. Normally he would not ask, but this was not a normal situation.

He nodded to the other man, Cole. ‘’Very well. You can unhand him.’’ He told his loyal watchdog.

The stewart was relieved at first, until Aemond grabbed him by his dirty blonde hair, dragging him with him to the prow of the ship, where the decorative seahorse was hanging. ‘’No! Sir! Please!” His terrified cries echoed over the sea, and Aemond briefly exhaled the sweet scent of salt, fear, and death.

He whispered one thing in the Stewart’s ear, convinced the boy would wet himself in terror. ‘’Her room number?’’

The boy finally caved, tears streaming down his face as he told Aemond. ‘’192B. The second door on the left.’’ The boy whimpered once he was done speaking. Aemond grinned, pleased as Cregan had noted the number down.

Aemond slowly petted his sweaty hair, rubbing him as a loyal good dog. ‘’That’s a good boy.’’ He told him.

‘’Please sir…’’ the boy croaked, weakly. ‘’I told you. Please let me go.’’ That would be a risk.

He kept the boy above the waves, staring down as the ship created new fresh waves, ever moving forward. ‘’I wonder if they have sharks here. What do you think?’’ He asked the terrified boy.

He shook his head. ‘’No, Sir. Sharks are common in warm waters, they dislike the cold.’’ Aemond was surprised by that but didn't show.

He kind of could sympathize with the sharks. Lonely, powerful misunderstood creatures. Killers. ‘’Hm. I can understand. I am the same way. The cold, cruel waves. No one would live long. You would not drown, it will be the cold that stops your heart.’’ He told the terrified boy. The boy clung tightly to the rails before Aemond slashed his fingers off, sending a scream to the boy's lips. Cregan handed him a wrench, and all Aemond had to do was hit the back of his head. The wrench craved a hole in the skull, knocking the boy out cold. He then used his dark boots to give him a final kick that sent him flying in the cold dark waves below.

No one would hear him scream, for he was now with the gods, if not now, then he soon would be. The fishes would eat away the evidence and the problem was solved.

Nothing was heard except the engine of the boat and Aemond’s pleased sigh as he became a step closer to his revenge and a step closer to building his empire.

And now you have seen my horrible banners xD

no, im just going to share this here, its my playlist for the story. You are not like FORCED to listen to it, but i wanted to share it.

And thank you for always reading my random stuff. It means the world.

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rainbowstargazerlilies · 3 months

Text

Mechs Ships Tournament: Resurrection Round Part 2!

Hi! The winner of this poll will proceed into the final poll to face off against the other Resurrection Round poll winner, Polymechs And Lyf, and the HNOC trio. This will only run for one day. Hope you all are ready!

Link to the other poll here

Propaganda under cut:

Tim/Bertie:

The entire “Tim Goes Mad” section of GTVTMK. Tim looses it because his best friend dies and goes on a murderous rampage. Also that one art that Reegis made of the younger version of the two of them.

gay moon bitches fr

Gptvstmk

*blows up the moon for you*

#TimBertie are literally so stuckycoded ngl#ITS ABOUT THE DEVOTION ABOUT CHILDHOOD FRIENDS GONE TO WAR ITS ABOUT THE VIOLENCE OF TRAGIC LOSS#ITS ABOUT GRIEF AND THE WAY IT HURTS YOU SO YOU EXTERNALIZE THAT HURT TO THE ONES WHO TOOK YOUR LOVED ONE#HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MOON KAISER IM PISSING ON THE MOON YOU IDIOT!!!#im normal about timbertie (tags via @watermelonselfship)

Carmilla/Odin:

Lesbiabs

Because. Unethical lesbians who should be in sickly sweet love is not appreciated enough.

FUCKED UP TOXIC MILF YURI!!!!!!!

kinda bonkers women

TOXIC MILF YURI!!!!

Violinspector:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37936555/chapters/94742191

violinspector (the stars claim them)

The Stars Claim 'Em

yoyr fanfic idk i thought this was funny [Poll runner's note: I'm the author of The Stars Claim Them.]

it slaps. that’s all

no thoughts. only them.

Ashes/Jonny:

bc like... the vibes. i also like ashes as hades and jonny as cerberus. ashes is so cool, and jonny is so... jonny.

their backstories both end with them murdering their father figure and then literally burning all of their ties to their former homes. its narratively satisfying. of course theyd be together.

#ASHES/JONNY MY EVERYTHING#good lord okay#they're best firneds. they were there for eachother since the beginning#jonny's a freak and ahses has to deal with jonny's bullshit & is also really the only one who knows how to put up with her bullshit#they're so awful but they really truly care so much about eachother#they're smoking buddies#ashes & jonny taking a moment and sitting together for a few minutes without saying a word#smoke break#they just Understand eachother do you feel me. they just Get eachother please (tags via @dropitdoeeyes)

Ivy/Raphaella

them <333 science vibe lesbians. Pedantic archivist and sciency scientist. Must I say more???

science saphics + ivy infodumping while raph does science™ is awesome

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41629023/chapters/104419359 :3

they could be called research paper which is based so vote them

no heart of gold, just flesh and blood - quantumducky - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own](Fic contains gore and some sexual content. It's about a vivisection :3) (via @mothocean)

#ivy raphaella sweep!!!#do it for the nerds! do it for the girls! do it for the nerdy girls!!#aa (tags via @jewishdainix)

Brian/Galahad:

i think they would kissies

Galahad sat on a murder chair because Brian said to. (via @bookworm-girl2002)

#mechs ships tournament #the mechanisms #the mechs #spumblr #tournament poll #shipping round 6 #gunpowder tim #raphaella la cognizi #ivy alexandria #bertie the mechanisms #lyfrassir edda #marius von raum #ashes o'reilly #jonny d'ville #dr carmilla #doctor carmilla #odin tbi #drumbot brian #galahad hnoc

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rzyraffek · 1 year

Text

I made one cute post about slashers(ghostface and yautja) finding random child in forest. Its still in my head so imma do part 2. Its pure platonic made to be cute and funny😊. (By kid i mean she can talk walk normaly already ect)

Request open

Yaujta with human child

Yall this is part 2 but I know that not everyone seen part 1 so basicly what u missed: he finds kid in forest, looks for her perents, turns out they are bab people, he temporary takes kid to his ship...

Yeaaah Temporary, thats what he thought, he rly hoped to find some good place for her but He kinda failed? Lol

He will be grumpy, well no suprise! He didnt plan having random alien kid in his ship! But he cant Just leave her too

He has No clue about perentship so he will probably fail miseribly (trying to feed kid with raw food or trying to train her isnt top tier parent stuff)

But he tires okay! He may stalk some acuall human families to see how bebis work (misspelling bebi is my job)

Wait till he finds out that humans in fact dont train their kids in hunting/killing

Duble points in cutness if kid loves aliens! Like yknow every kid has phases dinosaurs/ponies/aliens/dolls idk what else its been 11years since i was kid idk what kids do this days (I was dinosaur kid myself)

I can imagine kid being like: 🤯alien dad😊 while hes like: 👽we woo *alien noises*👽

No but He will melt if kid calls him alien dad/ space dad/ just dad. He will be suprisingly very happy and proud

Okay okay he wont train his kid🙄 but dont make him cook pls😩. As long as yall are on earth He will steal some food(he is the reason why take out food you ordered 2hours ago never came)

"How are bebis made?" "uh eh they hatch from eggs?(has No clue how to human)"

Kid is very shmol (in comparison) and the ship is verrry big. Kid gets lost a lot. Yautja panics a lot. wheWHERE IS SHE I- EE NOT AGAIN

They love playing hide and seek, tag is cool too but He never knows if he should let kid win or make them loose in 0.23 seconds

He brings her a lot of stuff, mostly paper crayons, toys(dino plushies pls), clothes ofc, stickers. He will kinda love if she draws him or put stickers on his armor. I mean she shoudlnt be in armory and she is banned from going there due to sharp objects but awwwwe cute stickers on his armor

Mostly He is too busy to multi-task (taking care of kid while doing other stuff is difficult) so he just lets kid vibe on his lap or around him overall.

Yautja is very good in learning kid how to deal with emotions (both positive and negative) and overall respect, self defence ect

When kid grows up(teenager) he is doing his best to support her and show empathy (and yautjas arent know for being very emphatic) but please on love of God do not be mean to him he will be heartbroken. As the kid grows he will kinda try to train them with sertain weapons of just simple self-defence. Its not like kid will ever be in danger but its more like dad trying to show his favorite hobbie to his kid in hope that the kid will like it too

Funfact out of context! I liked yautjas before i saw any movies and I thought they had tails :( u can imagine my disapointment

#yautija #yautja x reader #yautja #alien vs predator #slasher headcanons #slashers #slasher x reader

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villainessprefect · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you do a Idia X female or gender neutral reader where they like to show off Idia a lot to the point where he gets embarrassed but is actually happy to have a girlfriend/partner who talks great about him? I enjoy your fanfics and I wish you luck in getting inspired to write more!

hello hello!! I hope I got this prompt down?? Initially thought it would be funny to show him off and you just hear him keysmash through his tablet but changed it to this route haha. again, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy this one as well!!

title: warm admiration

summary: You just wanted to try and ride a Blastcyle, yet here you are praising your boyfriend.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 1,473

Read on AO3

"Are you sure you wana ride that thing? Wouldn't you prefer to test it out virtually first?" Idia asks, his gaze lingering on you as you sit on the Blastcycle he made...for fun.

He didn't see the point in riding these things. Sure, tinkering with them and making them from scratch was thrilling, but taking a ride on it? Yeah, no. It has to be just as bad, if not worse, than flying. Okay, maybe he can see the appeal just a bit. Anime characters look so cool when they drift dramatically onto the scene just in time or when the main character went on a drive with the sun setting in the background.

It's so cringey that he imagines himself doing that for you. Ugh. At this rate, he's going to end up like a real normie. Gross.

"That's different," you argue. You let your fingers glide across the machine while balancing on it. "I can't feel the wind in my hair or the motor- it does use one, right?"

"If you want a simulation of the real thing, I can make it in a snap." He grins, full of pride. And you believe him. "Yeah, I guess in your case. Magic is supposed to power it, but you can be basic and go without it." A pause as he pulls his hands together. "I-If you need me to power it with my magic I can."

"Really?!" Your eyes widen and you smile. "Than-"

"Prefect!"

Idia jumps as he hears another voice, one that isn't Ortho or Grim's. He's quick to hide behind you to avoid any sort of interaction. So much for having some alone time out in the fields. Normal people wouldn't be out here while the sun is setting. While Idia would have preferred coming out in the dead of night, even he knows the roaring sound of this machine could wake the heaviest of sleepers.

"Hey, Deuce!" You wave to your friend as he approaches.

The first year comes to a halt in front of you. If it weren't for Idia's flickering flames, he may not have noticed him.

"Oh, uh, hello, Idia! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I wish you hadn't..." You hear him mumble. You reach out behind and put a soothing hand on his shoulder, rubbing him gently.

He's grateful for the comfort and glad that one of your more...calmer friends approached. Well, somewhat calm. As long as he didn't activate his delinquent mode then Deuce wasn't too bad on his own. As long as that other extrovert isn't tagging along with him, he may just survive this encounter.

"What brings you out here? I thought you had to study per Riddle's rules?"

"I do..." He sighs. "But I started to get a headache and decided to take a walk. Clear my head a bit, ya know? But hey, I didn't know you had a Blastcycle." Deuce eyes the machine more than he does you. A part of him feels like he has to apologize for giving it more attention than his friend, but could you blame him?

"Is it a new model?" His eyes are filled with childlike wonder and awe. You can tell that he just wants to reach out and touch it, grasp the handles and take it for a spin. It's taking all his might to simply keep his hands at bay instead of touching this priceless piece of machinery.

"No? Kind of? It's homemade." You point to Idia, who flinches as the conversation switches to him. "He made it."

"Idia made this?!" Deuce gasps. "Ignihyde is known for its technical powers, huh? It looks even better than the latest model..."

"Right?!" You chirp, leaning forward and nearly sliding off the vehicle. As you steady yourself, you continue, "I don't know too much about Blastcycles, but I saw Idia put the whole thing together on his own! Not even Ortho helped him out. It's like he knew the machine like the back of his hand! He even said he added some new thrusters! This thing even has some magic energy saver, which is cool to! You know, I bet if Idia made me one that I could use I'd beat all the magic riders." You say with a bright and confident grin. "You included, Deuce."

"Is that a challenge?" He says, getting excited by the prospect of a friendly fight.

"Hmph. They'd definitely beat you," Idia mumbles, not expecting Deuce to hear him. He retreats into his hoodie when their eyes meet and turn so his back faces him.

"Whatever Idia makes, I know it will be better than anything else." This time your voice loses that bit of fight, going softer. "He's just cool, ya know? Smart and pretty. I'd trust in whatever he makes me."

A part of Deuce melts at how sweet you can be towards your boyfriend. Of course, he still thinks he could win in a match against you, but he also knows that he shouldn't doubt his senior's skills. Even if said senior is hiding in his hoodie and trying to hide that fleeting pink hair of his within it.

"Do ya think I could test it out sometime?" Deuce asks to take his attention off Idia.

Now, you turn to look at him. You're not too surprised to find him hiding from the conversation, though you had expected him to throw in an answer.

"I'll ask him later." You say to your friend. "I can get him to say yes, don't worry," you add with a grin.

Deuce's eyes light up once more. He then clears his throat and stands tall to act as if he was never offered a golden opportunity.

"Thanks, Prefect!" Now he's excited. Then it dawns on him that he's out here for a reason. And now he's probably third-wheeling a date. Should he apologize now or just go? He isn't quite sure, but he decides on the latter. "And, uh, thanks for talking. I'm going to head back to my dorm now," a sigh. "Or it'll be off with my head..."

As you wave to your friend, you pray that he'll survive his study session. It's not his strongest point, but you do want him to do his best. Once left alone, you turn your attention back to Idia. While he may not have been active in the conversation, you always checked up on him after a hard encounter.

"You okay?" You ask as you slide off the Blastcycle and stand beside him. He seems okay compared to earlier as he's not too hunched over, but he still grips his hoodie and keeps it pulled down. And that's worrying.

Until you see his pink flames. A tendril of once-blue hair seeps from his hoodie. He couldn't conceal all of his lengthy hair no matter how hard he tried.

"Wh-Why do you talk like that...?" He asks, lifting his head so your eyes can meet. You find that his cheeks are colored the same as his hair.

"What do you mean?"

"So...lovey-dovey. It's cheesier than those Markhall movies."

"Do you not want me to do that?" You frown.

You adored talking about Idia, especially with Ortho. The younger Shroud was happy to have someone who could appreciate his amazing older brother. But sometimes, you slipped. Like today with Deuce. At least your friend didn't seem to mind the way you spoke about him, although to be fair others would be. You're just thankful it was Deuce who dropped by and not Ace. You didn't want to hear him fake gag over your love.

"I could dial it down a bit if you want."

"N-No! I just..." He releases his hold on his hoodie, fumbling with his hands as he tries to figure out what to say. "No one really hypes me up aside from Ortho...A-And hearing it come from you is like a dream...! They're like super special voice lines I should have recorded..." He's desperately trying to hide that toothy smile of his. You know he dislikes it, meanwhile, you found it charming.

"It's all true, you know," you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're the coolest person I've met. The best one too. Should I list all your wonderful attributes?"

"D-Do you seriously want me to KO here and now?!"

Another laugh escapes you. "I'd rather you stay conscious. So, I'll keep it for another time." You lean towards him to give him a quick peck on the cheek. If you couldn't kill him with your kindness, you would with your love.

Idia burns even more with that display of affection. At least no one, aka Deuce, is around to see it. He loves what you do to him, but at the same time, he feels as if his heart can't keep up.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x you #ignihyde #request #deuce spade #anonymous stars

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littleseasalt · 4 months

Text

ok, i worked out fueled by grief over qforever, had breakfast and took a shower so now im more recomposed to be sappy about forever like kia did on her profile despite the fact that i did not sleep at all this night. full text under the cut to not clog the tag and YES I AM GONNA TAG THIS TEXT BECAUSE WE DROVE THE FOREVER BUS I FEEL LIKE WE'RE ALLOWED TO DO THIS IF WE WANT TO 🗣️🗣️

The qsmp is my first direct experience with mcrp and this kind of smp. Previously, my only contact with stuff like this had been dealing with Dream stans on twitter so uh. Not a good light. Before the qsmp i really had a negative view on mcyt and its fans in general (specially when it comes to shipping because i didnt really understood at the time). Then, suddenly on my twitter I saw a commotion about brazilians joining a gringo minecraft series, and that kinda make me go "? interesting", but I didn't really thought much. Then, my uruguayan friend send me the brazilians announcement when it happened, asking me if I knew those streamers.

Now! Fun fact! Unlike 95% of the brazilians in this fandom, these people were, in fact, not my childhood. I knew who Cellbit, Felps and Tazercraft were, of course, they were/are famous as hell. But, at the time they were at the peak of brazilian mcyt, my side of mcyt was the opposite of theirs (I was a rezendeevil fan. long story one day we need to put all the gringos up to brazilian mcyt lore), and previously I had only watched the old guard of brazilian mcyt (venom extreme kind of stuff). FUN FACT! I HAD NO FUCKING IDEA WHO FOREVER WAS! I had literally never heard of that man before and it just seemed so random to me, a random ass guy put along Cellbit, Felps and Tazercraft FEKWGFOIKWRRE

Now, due to them not being my childhood, I didn't really care about the qsmp. Like, oh, cool, brazilians are joining. But that was it to me, I had no interest in watching it at all. Then, the brazilians first day happened while I was sleeping, and my tl was FLOODING with videos about it. I saw fun clips of Cellbit, Felps and Tazercraft and found them funny, but that was it. After that I was just gonna ignore whenever it showed up on my timeline, block tags if necessary.

...And then I started seeing clips of Forever and Philza. And it was the most HILARIOUS stuff I had seen through the week. It was their interactions that made me be ok with the qsmp constantly showing up on my timeline, and it was their interactions that made me be somewhat more okay with mcrp.

So, fast foward a month. By then, I was used to qsmp clips showing up to me and some tweets about it, and then regret arc and guapoduo happened. This made me actually get interested in actively keeping up with the qsmp instead of just waiting for stuff to show up at my timeline. After a few days, I decided I'd hope on a qsmp stream just to see how things are.

This is the fun part: I was meant to be a Cellbit main, considering how it was regret and guapoduo what motivated me to watch a qsmp stream. But when I decided to hop on, Cellbit wasn't streaming but Forever was, and I was like "oh its the philza guy right? yeah im okay watching him" and decided to hop on. I think the first stream of his I watched was the one where he set up the Jaiden stasis chamber at the ordo.

And honestly, at first I tried really hard to keep up with Cellbits pov whenever Cellbit was streaming at the same time as Forever, but it just got harder. I don't know exactly what called me into Forever's pov at the time- maybe it was his relationship with Richas, maybe it was the way Forever was handling rp at the time, which had (and when he's not 100% loreing, still has) a thin layer of meta that just aligned with my current views on mcrp at the time. But Forever ended up being the pov I grew most attached and used to. I'd watch tazercraft during afternoons, sure, and I love them! But the moment Forever would open stream I'd come over running to him. I'd watch Cellbit when Forever wasn't on, but between the two, I'd always pick Forever.

And honestly, as a main Forever pov with a private twitter account and a tumblr lurker at the time BOY it was hard. my man was getting hate for some stupid shit and elections arc is a whole can of worms im not gonna open right now. But I'd never expected to grew so attached to a minecraft pov and to actually keep up with a streamer before- after 2016 I kinda just fell out of keeping up with youtubers/streamers.

And then we have the happy pills arc. This arc CHANGED my brain chemistry. But the pre happy pills arc stream, the one with the clock, I think that's the marking point for me. Because I cried when he wrote the letter to Richas, and let me tell you something, I don't cry easily watching media. The only times I had previously cried were:

Opening up KH3 and hearing dearly beloved for the first time (I had spent MY WHOLE LIFE SINCE 2013 waiting for KH3)

"Unsaid Emily" from Julie and the Phantoms (I have issues with my mom.)

Super Sonic in Sonic 2 movie ( Im a big sonic fan lmao)

So the fact that I cried with that letter SHOCKED ME. Never in a million years I'd have thought I would be crying over minecraft rp. And then in the next day he pulls the rug from underneath out of his viewers feets with the happy pills arc, surprising EVERYONE. The happy pills arc is still my favorite qsmp arc of them all and I hold it very close to my heart.

I think it's kinda funny that I kinda had the same evolution towards rp as Forever did- at the beginning the thought rp was cringe and said he'd only play normal minecraft in the qsmp, and now he delivered us two AMAZING arcs full of rp (I'm never getting over him smiling and crying to richarlystone and the black make up with the bleached hair, what the fuck)

I think I just fried my no sleep brain after writing all this cause Idk what else to write LOL. I appreciate cc!forever a lot for all he has brought to the table in the qsmp, for how he started as "haha funny brazilian man with his antics screaming and being funny obsessed over philza" and ended with one of the most tragic qsmp characters ever. I appreciate cc!forever for changing my view towards mcrp.

And also thank quackity for inviting forever to the qsmp and thank philza for having a urahara skin LMAO things would have gone very different for me if it wasnt for them.

I'll be keeping up with stonkscraft 3, but whenever forever comes back to the qsmp I'll be ready with my arms open to embrace what this man brings to the qsmp <3

also I WAS NOT KIDDING WHEN I SAID MY GRIEF OVER QFOREVER SERVED AS A FUEL FOR MY WORK OUT. i never progressed so much weight before (my leg press is insane wtf) and never did such a well done cardio on a >leg day< before what the actual shit

#qsmp #qsmp forever

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madameminor · 10 months

Text

In More Ways Than One, Part 8.5 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Aftercare

Summary: Aftercare with Crosshair

64.media.tumblr.com

Tags: 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: Nothing really. Just two people takin' a shower.

Notes: Thank you, thank you everyone for letting me know your feels about IMWTO! I'm inspired, I've written out a few more chapter ideas and I'm very excited to keep going. I hope this little bridge chapter makes you feel as warm and fuzzy as I do re(rerere)reading all of your kind words. Enjoy!

Word Count: 800

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10

Crosshair places his forehead against the cool durasteel of the fresher wall, letting the water run over him as he bathes in the smug satisfaction of a job well done. Ooooh that had been SWEET, watching you squirm for him, beg for him - especially after your little tantrum out there in front of the regs.

His bratty princess. His beautiful, bashful, bratty princess. How you had screamed. He hopes the whole damn ship heard you cum for them, command be damned.

You’d deserved it too, after that little stunt. His smirk dims a bit, thinking back. Kriffing regs.

He’d have to keep a closer eye on you than before - he didn’t want any of them getting the wrong idea, thinking that they stood ANY chance with his Princess. No way in any of the seven sith hells was he going to give them a shred of hope that maybe she would possibly look their-

Hands slide over his lower back, around his waist and up his chest. Warm breasts on his back. A nose nuzzled along his spine.

“Thinking about me?”

Hm. There you are.

“In a way.” He turns in your arms with a smirk, capturing your lips with his and pulling you against him. “Wondering if we need to keep you tied up from now on - keep you from causing any more trouble.”

You smile up at him, eyes dancing with tired mischief. “Do you really think that would work?”

He smirks. “I’d hope not.” He brings his hand up to your cheek, letting you lean into it, into him. Your eyes close as you sigh your bliss.

His beautiful, bashful Princess

“I believe you have something of mine,” he smirks down at your upturned face.

Your eyes half open in amusement. “Then come take it.”

He gently spins you around, one hand on your belly as the other pushes gently between your shoulder blades, making you bend into his palm. You gasp as he traces up your slit to the plug still nestled in you. With a satisfied hum he slides it out, taking care, moving slowly. He lets it drop in the corner of the shower stall before pulling you back against his chest, nuzzling into your hair.

“Better?”

You relax against him, sighing in relief. “Yes.”

You feel like you fit perfectly in his arms. “Did you enjoy it?”

There’s a smile in your voice. “Yes.”

He can’t help his smirk against your ear. “What you hoped for?”

“Hah. Better than.”

He kisses your head tenderly. “Good. Tell me more later.”

Arms still wrapped around you, he takes the soap from its nook and starts lathering up his hands. When there are plenty of suds, he puts back the bar and starts tracing up your arms, over your shoulders, down your back, bending you forward against the far wall to wash off everything below your waist.

He’s never done this before - but he’s wanted to: taking his time with a lover. Anyone before you wasn’t around long enough, or just expected him to leave afterwards - they’d both gotten what they wanted, what more was there? But you’d asked him to stay that first night. You’d chosen him, given to him.

So he felt safe giving this to you.

He pulls you back against him to rinse you off in the water, kissing you mid-shoulder in greeting. He reaches for the soap again, and you languidly turn around to face him, arms sliding up around his neck, your face relaxed and… mischievous?

“If this is what happens when I’m bad, maybe I should flirt with regs more often.”

He frowns, eyes narrowing, pinches your ass cheek.

“Ow! I’m kidding, Crosshair, I’m kidding.” You give your best sorry eyes and his frown softens - damn you and your adorable, he can’t stay irritated. “Really. I won’t do it again,” you say solemnly, seriously - before your eyes light up with merriment again. “At least, not without permission.”

“Hmph. Good.” His clean hands find their way into your hair, rubbing more soap in to remove the day’s sweat. You hum under him in delight, leaning back into his touch, savoring the feeling. He brings you into the stream of water, watching the suds wash away, revealing clean breasts, curves, hips, hair- and the smiling, peaceful face of his Princess

For a moment, he can only watch, taking you in, his heart full of… something. Just… something.

If feels nice.

As the last of the soap washes away, he runs his hands over you once more before pulling you close. He turns off the water, then looks down at you, eyes brooking no argument.

“Sleep in my bunk tonight.”

You smile. You kiss him slowly, gently, letting the softness seep into his soul before whispering against his lips.

“I’d love to.”

What up, tag list?

@nunanuggets @mywheezingisalertingtheguards @allhailkingboba @valiantlyminiaturecreature @ladykatakuri @ben-is-a-hoe @klay97 @kaitou2417 @dumfanting @kuromisheart @koifish08 @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @badbatch-simp24 @pointy-sharp @rainytears2 @gabile18 @nedxwynert @chopper-witch @nexxxxxxxxx @nightscissor @corona-one @babypandasugar22 @pumpkinkpatch @oohyesplease @princessclaire2 @just-a-shit-ton-of-trama @badbatch-simp24 @foreverhockeytrash @unholy-t-rin-ity @reeny26 @smurderous @xxeiraxx @discarded-beskar @just-an-anxious-ball-of-flesh @mybigfatspoonielife @whore4rex @andyoufollowyourheart @lokigirlszendaya @captain-splock-you @darkangel4121

#in more ways than one #tbb in more ways than one #tbb smut #the bad batch smut #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x f reader #madame writes #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch

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stomach-rental · 5 months

Note

this is a very silly question, but what is endosoma? i've seen it tossed around here and there but i haven't seen an explanation

also, why do some character names have slashes (the /) in them?

Hi! It's okay, it gets a little confusing around here sometimes.

Endosoma is a concept similar to vore, but not quite as specific. It's about being inside of another person's body, but includes all Kinds of parts of the body, not just the digestive system-- heart, lungs, nerves, muscles, you name it! All vore is endosoma, but not all endosoma is vore, sort of like the rectangle/square type deal. It's very popular in "vore-type" media, especially from the late 1990s and 2000s, to use endosoma instead of vore since endosoma can be more exploratory, alien, and strange. It's also definitely less close to sexual-- after all, usually people are much smaller in endosoma and are inside of ships or similar things, so it's not as easy to push into the whole person on person dynamic. Think Innerspace, Magic School Bus, Fantastic Voyage, etc.! But there are types of endosoma where it Is just someone in the body instead of utilizing some ship, more popular with non-human anthropomorphized settings where parts of the body are actually little people running things, and those parts can be really cool too.

Endosoma is hard to come by due to the mass popularization of using endosoma as a catch-all term for safe vore, despite safe vore having its own terms already. This means that actually finding real endosoma content that isn't Just Vore is super hard to come by, and that's part of why I've been advocating so hard for people to separate the tags and only tag endosoma if it's beyond just the stomach/mouth situation (even though vore Does count as endo). It just makes it so hopefully we'll not be trying to find a needle in a hay stack anytime anyone wants to talk about endosoma specifically, AND ensures that people that might be triggered by this more body-horror-accommodating concept don't accidentally come across it while trying to go through their usual interests.

Some people use slashes or other things to break up names of characters directly from outside media that is not vore related, because Tumblr will automatically group those in with the *normal tags for that show/game/etc.*, leading to people finding the vore who were NOT wanting to see it. By putting the dashes and other separations in the way, Tumblr doesn't screw up the search system, and it's safer! Of course, I don't typically do that with my stuff because Getting In Deep is a vore centered story, and anyone looking for it is obviously going to be comfortable with vore to some extent that they will Expect it to show up. Same with OCs-- not that my OCs are usually vore centric, but. You know. Nobody's gonna be searching for them so they won't get surprised by it, which means there's no need to break up the names.

I hope that answers your questions!!

#asks #endosoma #safe vore

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dinsverdika · 1 year

Text

A Yellow Leaf & Glowing Flowers (one shot)

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Tags (as posted on AO3): fluff, mutual pining, early relationship, me making stuff up about space flora, me making a planet up, angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, helmetless din djarin (but only in the dark), keldabe kiss (which can be considered as a first kiss), use of mando'a, not canon compliant, reader's gender is not specified

Word count: 4,098

Notes: Hi! This piece has been sitting on my WIP shelf for many months. The entire premise of this one shot has been changed as I couldn't find any more inspiration for it. I hope you enjoy!

not canon compliant: Din's ship hasn't been blown up (it honestly makes writing x reader fics easier.)

use of Mando'a: translations in the footnotes.

ps: the Reader doesn't know Din's name but the narrator and well, you the real reader, do. I'm also my own beta reader so mistakes and typos may've slipped by me, apologies!

You had been walking for a while, it seemed. You could not exactly pinpoint how long it had been but this matter swiftly left your mind as the walking trail you’d been following opened up to a glade. You stopped dead in your tracks and scanned the area, nothing seemed out of order or unsafe. You left the pathway as you stepped forward into the secluded spot.

Your chest expanded as you inhaled deeply. You held your breath, letting the scent of the nature surrounding you reinvigorating your senses. A renewed feeling of wellness blossomed within you as you exhaled, making you feel weightless. You repeated the breathing exercise a couple of times until every single muscle in your body had let go of unwanted stress. You blinked your eyes open, focusing your gaze on what was above you: a purple sky decorated with a few orange clouds here and there. Their fluffy texture made it seem as if someone had painted them there. The sun was not entirely set but a pink moon was high in the sky and a few stars had started appearing as well, freckling the sky with their soft twinkling.

A splashing sound diverted your attention from the sky, you almost missed seeing a tiny frog swimming away after it'd jumped into the water.

A river.

The body of water was a few steps away from your feet. The stream created a soft burbling sound, putting you at ease.

You threw a look at the walking trail behind you and weighed your options. With a shrug, you chose to enjoy what the glade had to offer. You promised to yourself to not lose track of the time. You'll go back to where you came from eventually.

Your shoes were in your hands as you wiggled your toes in the fresh grass beneath your feet. It was soft and slightly wet as you strided to the riverbank. The river was not as shallow as you had expected. The water was clear, allowing you to see the riverbed easily. You patted your morning self on the back for choosing to wear mid-length trousers, you could dip your legs up to your calves without worrying about making your clothing wet.

A single yellow leaf appeared in your field of vision as it floated on the water, following the stream. You trained your eyes on it until it had disappeared down a short waterfall on your left and continued its way deeper into the woods. You had no idea how seasons worked on this planet, making you wonder if it was a sign that autumn was near.

With that in mind, you dipped your toes, testing the temperature. The water was cool but not cold.

Leaned back on your hands, sitting on the side of the river, your legs were swaying back and forth in the water.

The sun had fully set now, going below the horizontal line hidden by the trees in front of you, letting place to the darkness of the night. The clouds you had seen when you first arrived had dissipated; nothing was obstructing the moon from casting its purple-ish glow on the glade. Contentment filled you as you fully relished in the peaceful moment the galaxy had granted you.

A flower suddenly bloomed near you with a soft puff. A soft, comforting glow emanated from it, lighting up the darkness surrounding it. Child-like wonder buzzed within you as a few dozens of flowers bloomed around you as well. You glanced around in awe; the flowers all bloomed randomly around the glade. The trail you had taken also had the same flowers on each side of it, as if to guide night-time visitors to this spot in the middle of the woods.

One last flower bloomed by your thigh.

“Late bloomer, aren’t you?” you chuckled quietly.

You gently held the flower from below its receptacle and tilted it, wishing to take a better look inside it. It had white petals with a thin light blue streak in the middle. Each petal had the same pattern. Even though you could not tell how or why it happened, it was evident that the glow was coming from its pistils. Its faint sweet scent hit your nose, urging you to take an even closer look; you feared that the pretty glow emanating from the flower would die off if you were to pluck it out.

“Here you are,” said a modulated voice from behind you.

The sudden voice made you jump. Relief coursed through you as you whipped your head around, your eyes landing on the Mandalorian.

“You scared me,” you said, resting a hand on your chest. You could feel your heart beating at a rapid pace beneath it.

“I didn’t mean to,” deadpanned Din.

“Was I gone for long?” you asked, recovering from the short-lived scare.

“No," he replied, shaking his head. "You were gone for an hour, I’d say. The sun had set fast, though,” he added. “I was working on the ship until these flowers bloomed and grabbed my attention. It's been a short walk from the ship.”

The cold air of night surprised you as soon as you got up as it hit your wet legs, making you shiver. The temperature must've dropped a lot quicker since the night had settled in.

“This place is beautiful,” you stated, making your way to the Mandalorian. “I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know what these flowers are?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, crouching down to gently tilt one just like you did a few minutes ago. “They’re pretty, though.”

You nodded in agreement. “Do you think their glow would die out if we were to pluck some of them out?”

You gasped as Din swiftly pulled on the flower he was holding, ripping it off from the grass.

“Mando!” you shouted.

Din pushed himself back up and inspected the flower wordlessly. He rubbed the inside of the petals, smearing the pollen on his fingertips. Curiosity overtook you as you pressed your side against his, taking a better look at what he was doing.

He hummed and brought his hand closer to your face. “I don’t know if you can see it but it seems like each particle of pollen produces light. That must be where their glow comes from,” he explained.

Din watched you take his hand in yours, he tore his eyes away from your joined hands to train them on your face. A frown had appeared above your eyes, creating a crease between your eyebrows as you focused on the product smeared on his fingertips. Endearment washed over him as you tilted your head. He swallowed as his eyes lingered on your pursed lips, they've never looked more kissable than right now. The moonlight complimented your face beautifully.

“These flowers must contain a lot of pollen then,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The Mandalorian hummed in agreement and replied, “it also means that they only lose their glow once they have wilted.”

“I wonder if bugs pollinate these flowers…” you said out loud. “Do you think glowing honey can be produced out of them?” you asked.

"It could be a possibility," he replied.

He glanced around the area, seeking anything that could resemble a pollinating bug. Nothing unusual jumped out of the darkness surrounding you, even after he'd activated thermal vision on his visor.

"I'm not seeing any bugs around, though," he added.

His gaze landed on your face once more, your attention wasn't on his hand -although, you hadn't let go of it- anymore but on the glade too.

A soft breeze made the leaves of the trees around you rustle before hitting you head on. The Mandalorian couldn't feel it, his armour and flight suit protecting him from it.

The same couldn't be said for you, the thin clothes you were wearing were optimal for warm weather -which this planet had proved to have a few hours ago- but not for the colder temperatures the lack of sunlight was providing.

You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to shield your body from the unrelenting breeze.

Your arms were of little help as you shivered once more. Your legs were still wet from earlier, accentuating the coldness striking you.

In a flash, the Mandalorian had you pressed against him, his back turned to the breeze; doing a better job at shielding you from the cold than your arms.

You brought your curled fists up to your mouth, deeply exhaling into them, warming them up in the process. Din's hands were on your back, rubbing it up and down. Warmth spread in your chest as you nuzzled his chestplate, pressing yourself against him even more.

A giddy feeling joined the warmth in your chest as you relished being pressed against the sturdy Mandalorian. The beskar against your cheek may have been cold but his touch was making it easy to ignore.

You'd thought his attentiveness was part of his job, being a bounty hunter meant being on high-alert all the time; being aware of your surroundings at all times must have become second nature for the Mandalorian. Yet, Din had proven to you countless of times that his attentiveness was not only reserved for his bounties, but for you as well.

You hadn't been the only object of his attentiveness, you'd seen how conscientious he was with Grogu. You tried swallowing around the painful lump forming in your throat.

“We should probably head back to the ship, it must be getting late,” said the Mandalorian, tearing you away from your reverie.

You agreed wordlessly, reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace. Din cupped your face, his leather gloves were warm on your skin, their oaky scent filling your nose.

A frown appeared above his eyes as you gave him a contorted smile.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

You sighed and leaned into his touch, "yes," you lied. "I'm just tired."

The Mandalorian didn't believe it but let it go for now. Soon enough, his hand was on your lower back, guiding you towards the walking trail.

The soil crunched underneath your feet as you walked back to the ship in comfortable silence.

Din was scanning the area from under his helmet, ready to unholster the blaster hanging off his belt if a threat were to appear out of nowhere. Your eyes, on the other hand, were gazing up the trees, searching for a beehive… a glowing beehive, maybe?

Disappointment felt heavy on your chest as nothing popped up to your eyes and the shape of the Razor Crest appeared on the horizon.

The Mandalorian reached the top of the ramp and turned around to be greeted by the sight of you standing at the bottom of the ramp, staring into the darkness of the wood. Your shoulders were low as if you were carrying the weight of the galaxy on them. You were chewing on your bottom lip, preventing it from trembling.

An invisible force pinched the Mandalorian's heart. He made his way back down the ramp and grabbed your hands, covering them with his. You looked up at him, a silent gasp died on his lips as he noticed tears gathering on your waterlines.

“I’m sorry this is all very futile, it’s just that-” you apologised. A sob came up your throat, making it difficult for you to finish your sentence.

“I understand,” he nodded. “It’s been difficult for me, too.”

Your eyes bounced between his eyes through the visor. It was fruitless, the tinted transparisteel was impenetrable.

Seeing his face contorted by sadness and pain was not something you could've handled anyway.

“We should go up and rest,” said Din, trying to move the two of you away from the painful topic.

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to not give away how upset you were.

The Mandalorian made his way up the ramp once more, his fingers laced with yours.

“Come on,” Din said once the ramp had hissed shut. “Let’s go.”

His hand was back on the small of your back, guiding you towards the cot. He rummaged under the pillows and retrieved your sleeping clothes. You quietly changed into them while Din had retreated to the 'fresher, offering you a few moments of privacy while he freshened up.

Exhaustion washed over you as you pulled your sleeping shirt over your head. A grimace pulled on your features, vulnerability crawling its way in your chest. Insecurity prickled your fingertips as you uselessly flattened your shirt with the palm of your hands. The lump in your throat hadn't reduced, sobs threatening to breach your lips to ease the pain.

It had been a long day.

"A few long days," you corrected yourself internally.

With your sleeping attire now on, you crawled into the cot and slipped under the cover. Air hitched in your throat as you turned on your back and your eyes landed on the hammock hanging above you.

Nothing could have held back the painful sob from breaching your lips this time. The Mandalorian had crafted and hung it above the cot many months ago -which felt like years now.-

Grogu's little coos had become a comforting sound, it made you feel at home and safe. Yet, seeing it now brought you no comfort. All it did was remind you that he was gone.

Din appeared in your field of vision, blurry by your tears. He had removed his armour apart from his helmet. He'd ditched his flight suit for a long back shirt, his legs were bare. You leaned up on your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks. You used your shirt to wipe them away.

The Mandalorian was also staring up at the hammock, his helmet blanking his face of expression.

You hiccupped a muted sob as you watched him. Din shifted his attention to you, he brought a hand to your ankle, grounding you a bit.

You sighed into his neck as he maneuvered you onto him, his lips pressing kisses on the crown of your head. His helmet was now forgotten on one of the shelves implanted in the walls of the cot. The door had been slid shut and the lights turned off, plunging the two of you in darkness.

Quietness fell upon you as you settled in your night-time routine, enjoying the physical closeness.

"He would’ve loved it," said Din after a while.

His arms tightened around your middle and you scooted closer to him, pressing your fronts together. One leg tangled between his legs, one leg above his hip.

“He would’ve,” you agreed. “The frog I saw jumping into the river before you arrived would've not appreciated his presence, though.”

Images of the Child squinting his eyes in concentration, lifting his three-fingered hand up, channeling all of the energy his tiny body could muster into the force as he would try to levitate the poor frog out of water popped in both of your heads. It made your bodies tremble with laughter, knowing that Din would have to reprimand him while you would feel sympathetic towards the frog he would have been forced to spit out.

Your laughter eventually died down and quietness filled the cot once more. You fell asleep with no more words exchanged between you.

Your eyelids were still heavy with sleep as you fluttered your eyes open. Slightly dehydrated, your mouth felt pasty. A yawn bubbled up in your throat and breached your lips. You patted the mattress beside you, expecting to feel the body of Din next to you. A confused crease appeared between your eyebrows as it fell flat on the mattress.

You pushed yourself up and reached for the button near the sliding door. It slid open, letting the light from the cargo hold seeping into the secluded, dark area. You squinted until your eyes got used to the bright, artificial light.

One look around the cargo hold confirmed your suspicions, the Mandalorian was gone. His helmet was not on the shelf either. It’d always been one of the skills you envied the most; being discreet and stealthy came with the job of bounty hunting. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t heard the cot opening and closing. You must’ve been dead asleep.

You threw your feet over the edge of the cot, the durasteel floor beneath your feet pushed the remaining drowsiness out of your body with a final yawn. You brought the heels of your hands to your eyes and rubbed them until tiny suns appeared in front of your closed eyes.

When you'd reached the cockpit, the viewport allowed you to see that the sun wasn’t that high in the sky. It was still pretty early in the morning. With that in mind, you went back down the ladder and made your way to the refresher.

The ramp of the ship hissed open as you were brushing your teeth. Your heartbeat slightly quickened as you rapidly spat the toothpaste and cleaned your mouth. Although, you were fairly certain that it was the Mandalorian who was entering the ship, hearing the familiar sound of his steps on the floor reassured you a bit.

Din seemed surprised to see you awake as you exited the refresher to meet him in the cargo hold, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness off your mouth.

“I didn’t expect to see you awake,” said Din.

“I haven’t been up for long,” you waved off. “I didn’t hear you leave the ship.”

“You were sleeping pretty soundly,” he replied. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” you scoffed.

“You do,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you said. “Where were you anyway?”

He didn’t answer right away and fished around in the bandolier bag resting on his thigh plate instead. You trained your focus on the bag, not seeing Grogu peeking out of it brought back the sadness that a few hours of slumber had managed to wash away. Fortunately for you, Din retrieved a jar from his bag before the unwanted feelings could truly settle in.

Din watched as your eyes widened in surprise as he presented the jar to you. Joy bloomed in his chest as a bright smile appeared on your face. The jar fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. It was of a generous size, too. Yet, he could tell that this wasn’t what had caught your attention.

“Is that-?” you asked, stepping towards him and taking the jar away from his hand.

A soft smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his eyes followed you. You walked to one corner of the cargo hold. The darker area heightened the brightness of the product inside the jar.

Din joined you and leaned his pauldron against the wall, his arms were crossed over his chestplate.

"It's honey," he said.

You looked at him in awe, “honey from the flowers of last night?"

He nodded. “There's a market not too far away from here,” he explained, “a vendor was selling a lot of artisanal food. Among the different food was dozens and dozens of honey jars."

His hand went back into his bag and pulled out another jar, “I got two of them.”

Your mouth dropped open as your eyes shifted from the jar to his visor repeatedly. You took the jar from his hand and brought it next to the other jar you were holding.

The light emanating from the jars was even more intense than the light emanating from the flowers. Your gaze sinked into the Mandalorian's eyes. The tinted visor prevented you from seeing his eyes, you were met with the beskar of his helmet instead, the glow of the honey bouncing off it. From behind the helmet, Din was admiring how the brightness of the honey complimented your eyes beautifully.

It seemed time had stopped as you gazed at each other. Yet, the air around you thickened and an invisible force was pulling you closer to one another. Your guts tightened from the tension growing between you.

The Mandalorian's teeth were sinking in the flesh of his bottom lip. The tension between you was coming to a climax as he watched you slide the jars back into his bag carefully; the sudden close proximity had his heart beating into his ears, muting everything else around him.

It ached. You were aching to show your appreciation for the man in front of you. The tips of your fingertips prickled as you wished to cup his face and thank him for the sweet gesture. Instinctively, your hands reached up and cupped the sides of his helmet, meeting the coldness of the besker instead of the warmth of his face you were craving to feel.

Air hitched in Din's throat as your hands reached for his helmet and lowered his covered face to yours. He let you maneuver him until his forehead was pressed against yours. All of his senses were on fire as he registered what was happening. His heart was rapidly pumping blood in his veins, facilitating the fondness he was feeling for you course through him and reach the tips of his limbs; making him weightless in the process.

"Vor entye," you whispered.

Butterflies sprung free in your tummy as the Mandalorian rested his gloved hands on your hips and brought you closer to him. Your hands slid from his helmet to around his neck, you hooked your chin onto his shoulder. A deep sigh escaped you as you relished in the embrace.

Protectiveness crashed over Din in several waves as he felt you growing putty under his touch. He'd circled the small of your back with one of his arms while his other hand was caressing your back tenderly.

"Ba'gedet'ye," he whispered back.

Quietness fell upon you once more as you enjoyed each other's arms.

You were the one who broke the silence first.

"I wanna gift one of the jars to him," you said quietly.

Din replied with a questioning hum.

"The honey," you repeated. "I think Grogu would like it."

Din hummed once more as an affirmative this time. "I wanted to gift him something as well," he added.

You laid your hands flat on his chestplate and leaned away from him, keeping your tummy and crotches flushed together.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

The Mandalorian untangled himself from your arms and walked towards the weapon locker. He picked up the spear made of beskar which was left to be leaned on the locker.

"I thought of having it melted and turned into a chain mail," he explained.

"That'd be an amazing present," you retorted. "It'd almost be as if he had his own little armour."

The Mandalorian nodded and put the spear back. "I'll have the Armorer do it," he said.

"He'll have something to remember us with," you stated. "Is he allowed to receive gifts?" you asked.

Din shrugged, "I don't know. I don't see why not."

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your pointing finger. "On which planet did the Jedi take him to again?" you asked.

"Ossus," replied Din as soon as the words escaped your lips. "It's a planet in the Middle Rim. I'm not supposed to know where it is but I've put a tracker in Grogu's coat, the Jedi hadn't seemed to have removed it."

The Mandalorian knew the Jedi wasn't stupid, he must've noticed the tracker and chose to not remove it.

"We should go now!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together.

Din smiled at you softly under his helmet. "We can't go now," he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. "We have to get the chainmail done first."

"Ah, yes," you replied, letting your hands drop to your sides. "Do you know where your Tribe could be?"

The Mandalorian nodded, "somewhere on a space station called Glavis Ringworld."

"Somewhere?" you repeated. "You don't know the specifics?"

"No," he replied. "I'm sure I could get the information I want in exchange for a job done, though."

"'Makes sense," you agreed.

"Come on," he said, guiding you to the ladder going up to the cockpit, "the quicker we get this done, the faster we get to see him."

"Can I get some of that honey while we travel there, though?" you asked, looking down at him from your spot up the ladder.

You couldn't help but giggle at seeing shake his head.

"Of course," he replied, amused. "That's what I bought it for, I guess."

Mando'a translations:

vor entye: thank you (I accept a debt)

ba'gedet'ye: you're welcome

source: mandoa.org

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fluff #angst #the mandalorian #din djarin #afab!reader #gn!reader #my writing

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