#AND THEY WERE BONDMATES!

[dira333]

Bonded - part 2

Spock x reader

“How is it?” McCoy asks when you walk into med-bay.

“How is what?” You ask back while crossing the distance towards the replicator, requesting two cups of coffee.

“Having a bond with that green-blooded hobgoblin.”

“It’s been a day, okay?” You quip and hand him one of the cups, “So far we haven’t killed each other.”

McCoy grins at that and takes a sip.

“You acting like you hate him won’t fool me, dear. You’re pretty obvious about your feelings.”

You groan and step aside, hoping that will end the conversation. It doesn’t.

“Date night?” McCoy asks two days later when you step out of your office after having gone through all your paperwork - or more accurately, PADD-work. You rub your lips together self-consciously, aware of the color of the lipstick you rarely use.

“What does it matter?” You ask back, hiding your anxiety behind a cool facade. Not that it works, McCoy sees straight through you.

“Nothing. Have fun.” He grins while saying so and you roll your eyes at him and step out of med-bay.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that date night with Spock usually means the choice between two things: Meditate with him or play chess with him.

You usually opt for chess as it gives you the opportunity to talk while doing so, but you’re rather bad at chess so you’re mostly quiet as you try not to lose too badly.

It takes you two weeks or four date nights until you’re tired of it. But how do you tell him that without offending him?

You don’t want him to realize it by reading your feelings through the bond and keep calm as much as possible until you’re tired of that too and drop in the seat in front of McCoy’s desk with a groan.

“What?”

“How do I tell him that I hate chess?”

“By using your mouth, for example?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I would have done that if it was easy. For someone so intent on nosing around in my matters you could have better advice.”

“You want better advice?” McCoy puts down your PADD and looks at you, “Do you think you two are still bonded because you are a shy wallflower that says yes to everything he likes and does? If he wanted something like that, he could have found plenty of those on Vulcan or elsewhere.”

You stare at him wordlessly for a few seconds before you push yourself out of your seat.

“This must be the worst version of ‘Be yourself!’ I’ve ever heard,” you tell him as you walk out his office.

“I hope so!” He calls after you as you leave.

“You are early,” Spock tells you as you step into his ready room.

“Well yeah,” you say, “I like spending time with you.”

He looks up at you, eyebrow raised in question.

“You have something to say?”

“Yes. I hate chess.”

Spock stops short and you take a breath.

“Well, I don’t exactly hate it, you know, but I’m really bad at it, but I figured we could still talk while playing chess whereas meditating seems just plain impossible to me.”

“What do you propose then?”

“There are so many things to choose from. Watch a movie, listen to music we like, make music even or just, I don’t know, talk like we did that first time. And that’s just the innocent part of my ideas.”

He quirks the left side of his mouth upwards until it positively looks like he’s smiling and you grin back at him.

“I’m open to all of your ideas,” he says and you nod.

“Well, how about you show me what we can do with that bond thing anyway?”

You feel a tingling sensation at the back of your head where the connection rests and close your eyes involuntarily as pictures, sounds and feelings trickle in.

You can see yourself talking on a conference, can hear Spock talk to Captain Kirk how you would be a viable addition to the team and feel his eagerness to talk to you when you first step onto the Enterprise.

Your eyes snap open as you realize what he’s trying to show you and the connection stills.

“I am very interested in what you might have to tell,” Spock tells you softly and gestures towards the couch for you to take a seat.

-months later -

It feels different to date when you’re bonded.

It feels different to be bonded.

You are not just yourself anymore and everytime you say or do or feel something, you are reminded of that.

When Ensign Kreger vomits all over your shoes you can feel Spock’s annoyance pricking you right at the back of your skull. It makes it harder to stay calm.

It also makes it harder to stay friends with Dr. McCoy because you can literarily feel Spock’s feelings whenever the CMO makes you laugh. Not that Spock would acknowledge himself having feelings at all, anyway.

“Stop that,” you tell him one morning as soon as you’ve made it to your quarters after an exhausting Gamma shift. You’re sprawled out on the bed and Spock is standing in the doorway, face passive, but annoyance ringing loud and clear through your bond.

“I merely wish you would take better care of yourself,” he states and you grunt.

“Liar.”

“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock claims and steps forward to pull your shoes from your feet.

“But you keep information to yourself. You are annoyed by the fact that I’ve managed to have fun with Dr. McCoy.”

He stops what he’s doing and it’s getting harder for you to stay awake.

“That is true,” he finally confesses, “I admit that the logic of your friendship with the CMO appeals to me in a way I do not particularly like.”

“What?” You turn your head to look at him. “What logic?”

“Doctor McCoy has similar interests, a similar sense of humor and he is fully human. You fit together.”

You snort. “But he does not make my heart jump whenever I see him. Something you should know because we are bondmates.”

“That is a feeling and therefore purely illogical.”

“Illogical or not, I love you.” You tell him, your tongue made loose by exhaustion.

He leans forward to press his lips to your temple.

“I love you too,” he mumbles softly against your skin as you slowly but surely lose your fight and fall asleep.

A relationship is always hard work.

Sure, the bond helps you understand what the other is feeling and it makes many things easier, but not all.

The bond intensifies feelings, the positive ones and the negative ones as well.

You feel twice as happy when you’re happy with Spock, but you also feel twice as angry when he’s angry with you. Or when you’re angry with him. The lines blur until the source of the feelings are no longer clear.

“You could just tell me what she’s telling you,” You snap as you pull out a new uniform from your cupboard.

“I did. She informed me about the progress of the new vaccine.”

“And why did she giggle then?” You throw him a look, annoyance coursing through you, “Don’t tell me vaccines have turned into some new joke nowadays. Or is it just the French way to look serious?”

“Are you jealous?” He asks back, too calm for your liking, “Of Dr. Lefebvre?”

“She never talks to me, okay?” You tell him, huffing out in anger, “And when she does she speaks French which she knows I don’t understand and now she’s talking to my boyfriend, all giggly and smiley and I’m sorry if that makes me feel anxious, okay?”

“I do not think smiley and giggly are terms that-”

“Spock!” You interrupt him, “I don’t want a grammar lesson! I want you to tell me that no French Doctor could ever take you from me because you don’t like French or something like that.”

You wave your hands in the air, trying to capture what you’re feeling as if Spock didn’t already feel that through the bond.

“Dr. Lefebvre thinks we are married,” he says instead and you gape at him.

“What? Why?”

“Because we are close, we’ve been dating for almost two years. I told her we aren’t and she was giggling because she mentioned something about getting down on one knee and found it amusing that I did not get the reference.”

You lean your head against the door of your cupboard.

“Humans go down on one knee when they propose,” you explain to him and he nods in understanding. “That makes sense. Vulcans sing when they propose. Or hold a speech, whatever feels more natural to them.”

“Do you want to?”

“What? Sing? Hold a speech?”

You smile at him trying to copy your humor and shake your head.

“Get married.”

“Oh… well, we are bonded. In Vulcan terms, we are already engaged.”

You laugh at that and step over to where he’s standing, waiting for you to get ready.

“Take my hand, Spock.” You can feel your heart picking up speed, your brain trying to get you to rethink what you’re doing, but you’re not one to rethink yourself.

“Why?” But Spock is.

“I’m trying to ask you to marry me, so take my damned hand!”

He pulls a face at you but takes your hand and watches you with curious eyes as you go down on one knee. It’s difficult in the uniform you’re wearing, but possible.

“Will you, Spock, do me the honor of becoming my husband as soon as we make it to the next starbase?”

Spock crinkles his nose. “Our next stop is on Delta Vega, which is an ice desert void of any civilization. If you do not want to get wed by the poor man working the starbase, I’d advise waiting for a more suitable place.”

You groan.

“Would you marry me then on the next starbase we are both happy with?”

He sends you a strong feeling of happiness through the bond instead of answering and you laugh and jump up to wrap your arms around him.

“And now, the custom of kissing my fiancé,” you joke with a smile before leaning in.

He meets your lips with his own and you can feel an emotion through the bond, taking over your mind.

It’s happiness in its purest form.

It’s love.

[badnewswhatsleft]

(x/x) oh my god they were bandmates....

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) OAUUGHHH lawrence and adam rooming together out of the hospital because it's made VERY CLEAR that they need each other close and safe after the trap. like @lucradiss said, they had to be moved into the same room because even after the smell of blood and shit and fear were cleaned off of them, their distress scent -- raw and unfiltered "NEED, COME BACK, DON'T LEAVE, WHERE ARE YOU, NEED YOU" -- was palpable enough to send their respective floors into a state of unease. and adam's being evicted, and tensions are high between lawrence and alison right now, so....

their new place doesn't scream "doctor's salary" but it's not a shithole either. one floor, too. at first they're in separate rooms but..... lawrence hasn't slept alone in years, and not having adam as close as possible still gives him some unease (if he can't see him how can he be sure he ever came back for him, got him out of there, let him live). he doesn't even get a chance to wheel by adam's room before the man himself is slipping into his. "keep seein' shit in the shadows. think i gotta take the door off my closet."

lawrence grants him half his bed easily. he also learns fairly quickly that adam is a funny sleeper. he burrows and squirms relentlessly in his sleep until he's nearly sideways with his head on lawrence's ribs. one time he woke up to adam sprawled bonelessly across his middle, slightly crushing him but mostly just endearing himself to lawrence.

the point of no return for Feeling Something More for adam was when diana stayed for the weekend. they hit it off well in the hospital already, so he wasn't worried about that. no, it was simply how much adam worried about making her feel safe there, because it might be her dad's place, but her dad has a roommate now and they didn't meet under fantastic circumstances. he doesn't want her to see him like zep, like some stranger in a home that isn't his.

(it is his home, though.)

he's trying so hard for this eight year old who's been through some shit, he wants her to like him, to be okay with him being there, and it chokes lawrence up if he thinks about it too hard. it feels a lot like a binding point between his old life and his new one. he loves them. he loves him.

diana learns what a 'pup pile' is that night. she has no siblings to pile up with, so she never got to learn, which just Isn't Right in adam's eyes. so that night adam stuffs them into their bed with the pillows and blankets from his old room they'll convert to be diana's, says, "three's not much a pile, but we'll work with what we got, right?" and hustles them into something comfortable, twined and piled on each other.

and if lawrence cries a few happy tears that night, well, he's allowed some by now, isn't he?

[android-and-ale]

Headcanon du jour: What if most Vulcan’s aren’t massively bigoted space racists?

The majority Vulcans we’ve met have essentially been Vulcan Royalty. You know, the institution which, here on Earth, is notorious for being bigoted, backwards, and inbred. 

Tuvok and T’Lynn aren’t like that. 

But then, they’re not direct descendants of Surak, son of a galactically famous ambassador, born and raised in the capital city of Shi’Khar, heirs to a massive estate on the homeworld, and educated in schools where admission to the elite Vulcan Science Academy is taken for granted. 

Spock is the adult Vulcan equivalent of Prince Archie, if Harry hadn’t left The Institution.

Of COURSE we get flashbacks of Vulcan kids bullying Spock! The Learning Center is equivalent to the sort of British Boarding School where they sent King Charles. These places are meant to break kids. They’re all about exclusivity and maintaining the elite status quo. After all, maintaining tradition is only logical, and holy shit do Vulcans love their rituals - even if those rituals include hardcore school bullying. 

Look at how the British royal family and media treat Meghan Markle. Now look at how all the Vulcans in Spock’s orbit treat Amanda Grayson. If Amanda had married a nice Vulcan biologist somewhere out in the colonies no one would have cared, but no, she married the single most high profile Vulcan Royalty of his generation. Plenty of Vulcans were no doubt jealous she snatched up that prize of a bondmate, then masked it as criticizing his choice for being “illogical in the extreme.” 

I like to think that most Vulcans are just out there living their best IDIC lives. 

Meanwhile, the S’chn T’gai family is out there living by Royalty Rules in everything they do. 

Mutiny? Pshaw. Our great grandmother T’Pau knows a guy who knows a guy who will make the paperwork disappear. Stealing a ship? Well, the family could buy it outright, but that would be gauche. Starting a cult? Sybok is a direct descendant of Surak himself. Who better to lead a revolution?

[trippingontheescalator]

I've got some headcanons about Vulcan evolution and ancient Vulcan civilizations, and what better way to share them than on here?

So, despite their cat-like tendencies, I think that Vulcans originally lived similar to elephants in segregated, nomadic herds. Like these are cave Vulcans, Australopithecus Vulcans. The women and children lived in one herd, and the adult men were either solitary or in two pairs. The two groups typically only met up during Pon Farr, which coincided with the rainy season. They did not originally form bonds with each other, but women were more receptive to breeding with men who were mentally compatible. Vulcan men evolved to be highly, highly aggressive during this time because like this is their only shot to pass on their genetics in seven years. Because of how harsh the planet is, they might die before the next Pon Farr comes, so they've got to learn how to knock the competition the fuck out. The Vulcans with the highest level of hormones were the most aggressive, and therefore the most likely to pass on their genes, but this was a double-edged sword: it made them more likely to die if the Pon Farr was not fulfilled. The majority of women do not experience Pon Farr, but it isn't necessarily uncommon -- about 10-15% of the female population -- to undergo Pon Farr on some level as well due to naturally elevated hormones.

A thousand years later, women discover agriculture. The women became more settled and create villages, culture, writing, government, etc. The different herds become clans, each headed by a matriarch, and come together under one village. This is when they start bonding children at a young age. Adult males are still not allowed to integrate within the all-female clans. Bonding and the kahs-wan used to be intricately linked. Once a matriarch bonded a boy to a girl, he underwent the kahs-wan: a ritual banishment. He was now considered an adult and was banished from the village. The bond he now had ensured that at the next Pon Farr, he would be naturally drawn to his bondmate, seeking her out from wherever he was in the desert like a homing signal. Now the kahs-wan is like a hardcore camping trip that all genders undergo to prove their maturity.

Of course, not all Vulcan males would return to the village to seek out their mate. Some, instead of remaining solitary, paired up with another man. Vulcan men began creating their own culture and writing, parallel to that of the women, placing particular emphasis on the t'hy'la bond they shared with their chosen other. Women had a similar bond with other women; they had a wife and then a mate who would show up once every seven years.

Well, eventually the men were like "this is bullshit, I'm tired of living in the desert, let me into your village dammit." Now men and women start having real marriages with each other, though men -- who are entering a world that women created and are beholden to women by virtue of needing to mate or they'll die -- occupy a lesser social position. Because they are now settled and have access to steady food and water, Pon Farr is no longer tied to the cyclical rainy season. It's still seven years, but when it starts is now dependent on the Vulcan's biology. Some civilizations have women retaining their wives as their primary spouse and keeping a harem of men. Other civilizations start adopting a one woman-one man system of marriage to ensure that everyone has a mate, though still giving women a powerful loophole in the koon-ut-kal-if-fee. A few civilizations retain vestiges of the old way of life; men remain part of their mother's household and likewise their bonded wife stays with her mother's household, and they only meet during Pon Farr, with the father never meeting his biological children and instead helping his sisters raise his nieces and nephews. Eventually the one woman-one man system of marriage became the most dominant.

Eventually men get equal rights and Surak comes along and is like "logic is better than violence" etc etc etc. There are still matriarchs and the koon-ut-kal-if-fee and the vestiges of the kahs-wan, but sexism is illogical. Though Vulcans are not perfect logic machines, and there are some women who are still a little bit sexist towards men. A man arguing with a man or a woman arguing with a woman might say something like "Your logic is not sound" but if a woman wanted to put down a man during an argument, she might say "Is it your Time?" which is the height of rudeness. Like asking a human if she's on her period.

[kaeso4ka]

You've learned something about Cybertronian culture. You got to have a nasty conversation with Optimus

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

The thought that kept you awake was, of course, the theme of freedom.

The theme of freedom permeated every inch of your life: your core, your essence, your mind. You were woven from the desire to be free. Just like any other person who has been held captive.

But thinking about it always led you to strange paradoxes. Unsolvable paradoxes. Like this one.

You sat on the platform, sawing the back of the working Optimus with your gaze, and couldn't decide where to begin your claim.

You had many complaints about Prime, but this one in particular...

You've never noticed Optimus Prime's arrogance. Quite frankly, you were the more arrogant of the two of you. By right of forced servitude, you tried to respond to Prime's superior strength with aggression.

And yet there was a much deeper issue. Unresolved, making her feel even more insecure.

“Optimus.”

“My Spark?”

“We need to have a serious talk,” it just so happened that you rarely spoke to Optimus. Usually he did the talking. Or you yelled at him. But this wasn't a conversation. It wasn't a discussion, and you knew - according to Megatron - that Optimus was hellbent on talking.

Prime didn't need to be told twice to have his full attention on you. Optimus lowered himself onto the platform next to you, his whole demeanor radiating a willingness to listen.

But instead of starting, you stared at Optimus for a few seconds. It was as if she were trying to find answers to her questions without voicing them.

“I'm not a slave,” the subject opened with a direct statement. You didn't like to voice the obvious, but you had to often, “do you agree?”

Optimus' optics flashed brighter. Prime was almost confused. Almost.

“Y/N...”

“Answer. Do you agree with those words?”

“Yes. You are not a slave,” Optimus accepted the rules of the conversation: he decided to wait for clarification.

“Good,” it became easier. At the very least, “indeed, I am not a slave. I am not a pet. Is that right or wrong?”

“Yes, my Spark. You are not a pet,” Optimus tried to find answers in your gaze, but you weren't looking at him. You weren't looking at anything.

“You're not above me...” you splayed your hands, ”physically, of course I am. But not socially. You're not my king, you're not my God. Your word is not more important than mine. I am your equal. Are you?”

Now Optimus was slow to answer.

“I don't want to lie to you, but let me ask you this: where are you going with this conversation?”

“Ratchet recently shared some articles with me... Cybertronian science articles. He told me to embrace my future culture. And I learned a lot: both that organics up until the war - and even now - were considered almost animal-like; and that Prime always towers over everyone... Even his own Bondmate,” you could barely contain your anger. The disgusting epithets bestowed upon billions of sentient metal fools in their pseudo-scientific articles were infuriating, “I understand my perspective perfectly well. I will be with you. You have and will continue to limit me. But I will not allow you to carry around in your CPU the idea that you are above, better, and more in charge than me. And it's not about the strength of your guns or the processing power of your CPU.”

The fact that Cybertron society has always been divided into stupid classes because of altmode didn't bother you... Until you admitted to yourself: one day you yourself will live in that society. You'll live, but you won't let anyone look down on you from the height of your own ignorance.

On Earth, that was easy. On Cybertron, hardly at all.

“I understand,” Prime's mechanisms sounded quieter, calmer. Even the tone of his voice became even more subdued, “I know how important this is to you. I have always treated you as an equal. Even if there were disagreements between us.”

“Disagreements.” You always had other terms for that, but there wasn't time for them now.

“That makes me happy,” you actually felt better. It would be doubly unpleasant if, somewhere inside, Optimus thought of you as nothing more than his toy. You longed for an equal confrontation, “I was relieved.”

The revelation burst out and hung in the air with a pleasant understanding silence. For the first time in forever.

[herenya-writes]

your mom liked me? 🥹 also, I love youuuuuu!! So glad we got to hang out, literally a dream come true!!

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last ten people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals & followers!! <3

Things which make me happy:

1) jessi

2) meeting jessi last week

3) after Jessi left, my mum said she felt like she'd known them for years

4) Jessi on my dash

5) free space (also Jessi)

[kurokawaia]

❛ Marriage ❜ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²

Lan Wangji X Fem!Reader

WC; 5.4k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem! reader, afab reader, cunnilingus, oral -> female receiving, overstimulation, come eating, squirting, virginity taking, slightly rough sex, cervix kissing, hickies, marking + probably more i can't think of lmao

REQUEST? YES (link to the request)\

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: When her husband comes back to Jingshi reader asks for Lan Wangji to consummate their marriage because she believes its her duty to do so, to satisfy him in bed. Wangji only takes this so far by giving his pretty wife head. Only then a few nights later, Wangji comes home late from hunting and then there they make love to each other.

1.4k more than what i intended to write but thats okay...

part 1 | part 2

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

The night air was cool, crisp, with just a low noise of nocturnal creatures stirring in the darkness. The moon cast its silver light onto the landscape; in vain, it was unable to still your fidgeting. Lan Wangji had gone on a night hunt, so he had left you alone in your chambers. That is one of those moments when all will be well, and you know how capable he is at anything bound to come his way, but yet something nags in the pit in your stomach at his absence beside you, to put all at rest.

Those hours ticked so slowly, every single minute pulling on for such a length of time. You walked up and down the room, him on your mind all the while. The strong, silent support had just interwoven itself into the bedrock of your existence, and now that it was gone… you were lost. Finally, you could take the taut silence no longer and went to stand by the window, looking out into the darkness in the vain hope that his familiar silhouette would come toward you.

You finally heard the sound of footsteps as the first light of dawn tinged the world beyond. Your heart lifted within your chest as the door creaked open and you turned to face him. It was Lan Wangji. His robes were not as immaculate as they usually were—slightly ruffled by the night's activities—but his eyes were clear, the calmness sculpted into them once more.

"Wangji," you breathed, feeling the wash of relief from head to toe as he finally arrived.

He stood there, his eyes locking on yours, and even the tension in your shoulders seemed to leave you. "It was a quiet night," he repeated, his voice level and reassuring.

At his words though, you could feel the barrier that time and fate had thrown up like an invisible wall between you, the same one that haunted your marriage. With feelings heightened by his absence, you felt a desperate need to close this gap tonight more than ever.

"Wangji," you started hesitantly, your voice quivering with fear. "I've been considering… about us, about our marriage."

His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of his concern in those eyes. "{Y/n}, you should rest. It has been a long night."

You shook your head as determination thrummed in your heart. "No, I have to say this. I understand the why of our marriage—the duty and the honor—but I want more. I want to be close to you. I want us to be truly united, not just in name."

He took a step closer, his gaze unbreaking from yours. "We are already so close, my bondmate; we do not have to be in a hurry."

He inhaled deeply, summoning all his courage. "Please. Lan Zhan."

The moment his birth name left your lips, something in him shifted. His calm and cool exterior shattered, and raw emotion flirted in his eyes. In a second, there he was in front of you, cupping your face with his hands as he captured your lips with his in a fervent kiss. This kiss had the intensity of everything compacted into it that left you breathless.

Breathe hard, his forehead hung over yours, the moment he let you go. "You don't even know how badly I wanted to hear you say my name, without my telling you, since the moment we met," he said, his voice hoarse with longing. "But we can't rush into it. Not until you're really ready."

You nodded with his words, even as your heart almost broke with longing. "I get it," you whispered, your eyes filling, "I just. I want to be close to you."

He brushed a tear off your cheek with his thumb, not really touching your face. "Fine."

At that sudden change of heart, shock moved your eyes up to his. "For real?" you said, a slight shake in your voice.

"So you want this, don't you?" Wangji asked you.

How Lan Wangji has waited for this moment. Wangji wants his wife with some untranslatable primal need, but he doesn't want to take away her virginity just because she feels it's her responsibility to do so. He wants to wait for that moment where his wife grows to desire him as he does her.

Wangji wants her to love him—really love him—but he gets no prize for refusing her when she looks at him like that, all piteously wide, doe-eyed stare.

The breath on your face was warm, steady, almost demanding, and Lan Wangji's arms held on a fraction tighter. Pulling back a little, you met his gaze. Inside the inferno of your chest, his eyes were burning.

"Lanzhan," you whispered back, his birth name seeming more right on your lips.

His eyes had softened to the sound, and you almost could read the longing and love he held for you. You couldn't contain yourself, so you bent down over him, pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. He tensed slightly under your touch.

You went on, bestowing soft kisses all over his face, on the bridge of his nose, on his cheeks, in the corners of his eyes. Each kiss was a promise, an unspoken word of just how much you felt your love for him would overpower you. His skin was warm under the press of your lips, and you felt his heart quicken.

"Zhan," you murmured between the kisses, "I want to show you how much you mean to me."

His hands drew a little tighter, the knuckles digging into the fabric of your robes, one at your back and another at the side. His eyes slammed shut as, with a small exhale, his lips parted ever so slightly. You kept peppering his face with soft kisses, light as feathers but so ripe of emotion.

Finally, when pulling back, his eyes slowly opened again, this time all darkened with desire towards and something deeper, more profound in nature. He reached out and cupped your face with one hand, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek.

"You are everything to me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But we must take this slow. I want you to be ready."

"I am! Please, Lan Zhan," you beg, though it felt like you had to do this since you are husband and wife, but there was a throbbing need in you, a need to have him touching your body, to have him fill you up to the brim.

"Lay down on the bed," crooned Wangji as he followed your movement down to the bed, and you hesitantly lay down.

This was your duty as a wife now wasn't it? You have to make sure you please Lan Wangji, alright.    Lan Wangji was trying so hard to give a shit as he had his own urges. He has been in love with you for much longer than he can remember and here you are, wanting to please him, willing to have his cock stretch out your pretty pink virgin cunt.

But he won't take you tonight, he'll savor you tonight, having you beg for more on his tongue until you can't even think straight. Until you recognize your feelings for him. 

Lan Wangji unties your pretty white and blue hanfu robes, the colored robes that distinguish you as a Lan, that display that you are the Hanguang-Jun's wife.

Even more, you are lying naked on the bed, while he was fully clothed. You didn't know what to do or say because you are his wife; hence he could do with you whatever he wants, and him doing anything with you did not include you asking any questions about it.

"Just stay still and don't move," Wangji said, and you nodded at his serious statement. He was just dying to take you right there and then. You looked so small, vulnerable beneath his broad, huge body. You nodded at his stern statement, underlining the word 'don't', as your body stiffened rigid underneath him. He almost held that lingering fear inside him that maybe you would break.

Wangji brushes that thought out and gets things going to feel the good. Not that he feels the same about it, he does this so that you would later understand how much you would need him physically.

Wangji cranes his neck forward, pressing kisses to your soaked clit through your underwear, making you want to clench your thighs around his head. His head was in the way of you doing so, Wangji's hands gripped onto your thighs, reminding you of your place.

"Lan Zhan," you breath out, not knowing what to do at the foreign sensation.

He simply showed no desire to stop, because after all, he was doing it not just to satisfy his needs. Your soft thighs were locked on his broad shoulders, holding you in bed. He did this not just to satisfy himself, but also for your good.    Lan Wangji really wished you to wake up to your needs; otherwise, he would do something he'd regret.

You moaned, hands getting knotted within his long black locks. His bun at the top of his head had come loose, and the essence of his back fell free. Your back wanted to arch away from the tingling sensation, to squirm out of his hold, but you were immobilized—utterly weak under his touch.

"You, stop moving," he intones with a milder iratedness and you obey, trying your utmost not to twitch with the kisses he lathers onto your clit through your wet panties. Lan Wangji moves the fabric to the side, baring your wet folds, and he doesn't hesitate. '

He waited for far too long to finally have a taste of you, and Lan Wangji was going to enjoy himself like there was nobody else there—with you, with your puffy little clit between his lips, sucking it until you came over and over again, with his tongue. Push you with his tongue into overheating.

The grip on your thighs strengthens as you feel his nose bump against your sensitive clit, and your fingers tighten on the hold you had on his hair. A mewl slipped past your plump lips, and the groan of satisfaction rippled through him into your folds. His tongue drags from your soaked hole up to your clit, and moans slip from your lips.

You're desperate to remain quiet and not make any of those lewd noises ring out past your mouth. One of your hands falls from his hair and moves up to cover your mouth which Lan Wangji didn't like one bit. 

"You cover your mouth again and I won't be too nice," Lan Wangji says sternly, pulling your hand away from your mouth, which causes a yelp to leave your lips.

Lan Wangji wants you moaning, whimpering as loud as possible, with your head thrown back hard against the fluffy pillows beneath you and your back arched into his tongue, that is sucking lewdly on your aching clit.

That was the moment when thighs clenched around his head through his restrictive hold, and a moan reverberated into your clit that made you grind down against his face. A chant of his name was spilled from your lips, and he reveled in every second of it.

"Lan! Fee. Zhan! Fee.funny!" You whimpered out, that weird feeling in your stomach as something built up inside you, and you didn't know what it was. "Zhan! St'op!! Fee. weird!!"

"Shhh," Lan Wangji cooed to you against your clit, and you moaned again, the coil in your stomach growing tighter. "You getting close, that's all."

Your eyes widened as he said it. This is what an orgasm would grow to feel like. It feels so good. Closer to your orgasm, two fingers pushed through your folds into your gummy walls, and they immediately found their place. Fingers pressed up against that soft spot deep inside your walls every time he curled his fingers when he inserted them in at a quick pass.

"Yes, that's it, {Y/n}," he moaned against you, his hips rutting into the mattress, trying to relieve some sort of sexual buildup that was anything but getting better.

He was in such dire need of you.

The way your hips pushed back into that rough grind onto his face elicited a groan from you. "Good girl," he praised.

You chant his name, broken letters, and his movements, quicker, hungrier; the single hold he had on your thigh clamped tighter. The coil in your stomach just wound tighter, and the fingers locked more around his locks; they kept him in place, but he groaned more into your folds.

It only pushed me right over the edge, for a moan to spill from the lips at the moment that he pressed his tongue hard against my clit—what was once a soft scream leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach now unleashed, his face totally drenched. Lan Wangji lifts his head out from your drenched folds; his chin is soaked with your cum.

Your chest heaved with the aftermath, breasts falling to the side from your subtly arched back. His chest swelled with a need for you but he wanted to wait for you; wanting to wait for you to want him. He wants you to want him out of love for him, not respect or responsibility as his wife.

Just your pure love, that's all he wants.

'I'm not through with you," were his final words just before his tongue started, once again, to toy with your clit, over except for you.

"Lan Zhan!" you cried in shock from how overwhelmingly the sensation was, a loud moan slipping past your lips, and your thighs clenched extremely tight around his head. This time, he wouldn't let you block his airways, his hands trying to pry open your thighs. And this time, he really would make you come with nothing but his tongue.

And so you did, a thousand times. Over and over your clit throbbed and ached. Your pussy ached and gaped for more, but he didn't give it to you. You'd begged for him to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. Lan Wangji knew you didn't want this, no matter your actions and words. Your cunt begged harder for more and more releases.

Lan Wangji continued to lap up from your folds, and you were definitely sure of a different sensation bubbling inside. "Zhan! Wait!" You whimper, but still your juices spill out from your cunt all over his face, the liquid obviously wetter than earlier.

Lan Wangji stood from between your legs, the realization that it was you who just squirted. A wave of tiredness swept your countenance and you sluggishly went down like a sack of potatoes, submitting to the warm clutches of slumber, and Lan Wangji sighed. Before Lan Wangji could allow himself to catch some sleep beside you, he had to tidy you up, which he did, cleaned you up quite nicely before he changed the sheets without waking you.

The week after that night in Jingshi was spent with a rededication to closeness with Lan Wangji. Every shared glance and every touch, however fleeting, was a promise of deepened feelings, an unsaid understanding that their bond was growing.

But tonight, the hours inched by, and Lan Wangji had not come back from his night hunt. Anxiety began gripping you in earnest as you strayed to and fro across the chamber, filled only by the doing of such a thing. The night was painted as if to be colder, darker, and one couldn't shake away the fear that maybe something happened to him.

At that very moment, you had been about to head out in the search of him yourself, when the door slid open soundlessly and Zewu-Jun stepped inside. His face was calm but serious.

"{Y/n}," he spoke softly, "Lan Wangji has returned. He is safe."

Relief washed over you, wordlessly brushed past Zewu-Jun amid the aching drumbeat of your heart. You entered the courtyard and found Lan Wangji standing there. A little tattered, with worn spots in his face, was the only flaw in what otherwise was him being all right. At the sight of him, relief came pouring through you, and with it trickling down all worry and fear.

"Lan Zhan!" You choked out, hurtling towards him.

He turned at the sound of your voice, and his eyes widened in almost surprised realization as you closed the distance from him. You didn't bother to say a word; instantly, you just threw your arms up and about him, squeezing him as hard as possible for reassurance that he was actually here.

"Zhan," you started, your voice trembling. "I can't… I can't hold it anymore. I-I've been so scared that I was going to lose you. But then I thought… I realized how much you meant to me."

He pulled his face back just a little so he could see down into your eyes. "{Y/n}…"

"I love you, Lan Zhan," you cried, breaking to pieces inside of yourself. "I love you so, so much. I can't bear the thought of being without you."

His face softened a fraction, eyes alit now with relief and joy in equal measure. "You love me?"

You nodded your head, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "Yes, I do. More than anything."

Lan Wangji's eyes sparkled, then he took you again, drawing you close. "I love you, {Y/n}. So much, for so long. To hear you say it… It means more than I could ever have asked," he stuttered.

He bent forward and took your lips in a kiss that spelled all the passion and love ever withheld. His arms tightened around you as well, through which you felt all his feelings, all that depth stored in every touch, every move. In that kiss was a mixture of relief, desire, and intoxicating love.

And then, without realizing it, the kiss deepened, and you only got yourself lost. The world around you just seemed to fade away—there was only you, Lan Wangji, and the beat of both of your hearts that now thumped against each other.

The spell was broken, and you turned to see Zewu-Jun standing a few paces away, the expression a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment.

"Sorry," he apologized, "but this is not your Jingshi. This is the Hanshi."

His smile warmed as you realized where you were, and a blush started to creep up your cheeks. Still holding your hand, Lan Wangji's thumb rubbed lightly over yours.

"Thank you, brother," Lan Wangji said, warmth flowing in his voice. "We will take our leave."

You never released his hand from yours until you both reached your own chambers, and you never felt like you were floating.

You both rapidly went back to the Jingshi, and the two of you never waited for a moment: his lips were on you. His face closed an inch towards yours in a gentle purpose, and all of a sudden you felt the soft brush of his lips against your own. Across the impassable physical distance, Lan Wangji's hand slides through the back of your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his touch seep into you as you flutter your eyes and close them halfway in satisfaction.

The hand cradling the back of your head, holding it in place, suddenly changes from cradling to directing your chin upward, and your stomach swoops in a sickening wash of vertigo. Lan Wangji's face falls, and his exhale is strong over your neck shell, the pulse of scalding heat almost tangible. A second no more, and it leaves an electric impression in its wake.

While his lips are at yours, his other hand cradles your neck from behind, providing an overall warmth that leaves a shiver running down your spine. His lips press again into yours. The rhythmic dance of our tongues surprises you, and you are lost in that tender exchange. You bury your head in the security of Lan Wangji's shoulder, pulling away from the overwhelming intensity. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shoulders for grounding in the now.

Lan Wangji gently manipulates your head to an upward tilt using the tips of his fingers. The moment your eyes lift, meet his, it's all clear, and the flutter in your stomach is palpable. He bends his head to the side of yours, his breath intoxicatingly filling the sensitive skin next to your neck. In another moment, the sensation of warmth coursed into every part of your body and you felt the electrifying connection that joined you both.

His fingers trace down your spine, and somehow it feels like little trails of tingling fire. Lan Wangji's lips find yours once more, in a tender way that deepens this connection between the two of us. The room fades as we become entrenched in this shared intimacy. Your fingers trace at the small of his back now, tracing gentle patterns, and you savour the closeness that lingers between you.

A broken kiss seals together our foreheads, our breaths intermingle in the silence as Lan Wangji meets your gaze, a gaze that he lets an upswell of feelings warm in the shade of water that is shadowing down his face. There is an unspoken understanding in the charged atmosphere, and as his thumb brushes against your cheek, there is a bond—if the words aside should be counted—forged between both.

"Lan Zhan," you exhale. "I want you. so badly."

You back from the desk, and Lan Wangji is matching the action never letting go as you back across the room and to his bed for support. The baseboard of his bed hits on the back of your legs, bending your knees, and you sit back at the edge of his bed.

You offer liquid grace from the table, your every motion definitive, and subtly Lan Wagnji takes your lead. His hands on your hips remain firm and reassuringly in place as you back up, step by purposeful step leading us towards the bed.

So you rise onto the bed, and, by this time, Lan Wagnji is there, too, rising from the Hanfu on a slide, expectation sits still in the space. I slip off your own with a malevolent eroticism. And so, showing without a word the fragile form beneath, I abandon you in your bra.

LAN WAGNJI'S HAND goes on a longing journey: the palm trails up your hips and waist, leaving the rest of the hand to hold your thigh flush against the side of his body—the room charged in the way that we negotiate the unspoken performance.

Wan Wagnji kisses you again, deeply and passionately.

I gasp under the sheer sensation being pounded into my wanting body, and then, in sheer anticipation, your back arches equal to his. The room seems to shrink, not large enough as he unclips your bra and drags the feverent material off your breasts.

His fingers lightly tease the skin above your collarbone. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks.

You take in a deep breath before pushing softly against his lips again, and breathlessly answering, "I'm sure."  Hardly setting your words in a breathy sort of utterance to escape from tremors reacting to the touch already, "I will do anything for you," you add, sighing into your mouth as he brings his lips to mine again.

"I know you would," he murmurs, his hand on your thigh for just a second longer, dragging his two middle fingers down your covered slit, making you jolt and forcing a whimper out of your lips.

Your skirt was still gracing your body, along with your panties. There wasn't even a moment later when your panties weren't tugged by Lan Wagnji and left at an unknown spot. And then the work did commence a heartbeat later when the pad of his thumb teased your clit, back and forth, until he urged a snap of your legs, that brought the smirk leaving hikey in its wake, against the skin of your neck.

Two fingers slid in immediately, inside your heat, and began to curl at your gummy spot. Helplessly you moaned as your arms wound around Lan Wagnji's neck, as if this would help lift some off that pleasure.

"I've found it, have I?" Lan Wagnji asked, slowly moving his fingers in and out of your wet hole and each time he entered again, slowly curling his fingers into your gummy walls.

"You moan as ecstasy sears through each nerve of your body.

"Mmm, please what

"Need you," you whimper out, and he keeps that slow, aching pace. Long fingers curl in at the right time to hit that one spot, which makes you feel so, so good. But he knew that and went on doing this ridiculously slowly, making sure every one of your moans and whimpers was heard.

"More," you choked out, and you felt another smirk roll against his lips.

"You'll get more, I'll take my time with you - " he said to you hotly, breathing into your ear, looking at the task force trailing us, and still wanting to get more out of Light.

"Jus' want you to go f-faster," you say holding back the moan when he curls his fingers once more. "You're such a dirty girl," Lan Wagnji degrades and complies with your request and picks up the pace causing the knot in your stomach to grow.

"Please, please, please," you went on chanting over and over again, asking for an orgasm's release that has a deadly threat lying over your body, "Ngh, Zhan, please."

"Fine, girl, let go," he tells, and a moan of his name leaves your throat. Your back is bending into his chest, his arm slipping around your waist, and you close to him. Lan Wagnji lets himself drop to kiss you again, letting the warmth of the kiss float around when he pulls back. "I'm not done with you; you're going to take my dick all in your tight cunt. You got that?"

You nod dumbly, just wanting to feel the ache deep inside of you.

Lan Wagnji flipped you around, your breast squished tightly against the bed as you felt Lan Wagnji abs press flush against your back which was considerably bigger than your back. His hands gripped the backs of your hands, pressing them into the bed, making sure you wouldn't move out of his iron grip.

He quickly switched his grip, moving your arms to one of his hands and pinned the two with one hand above your head. "Relax," he cooed in your ear, realizing you were tense. 

You felt a big and heavy tip prod at your entrance, you gasped at the thick length. "Lan Zhan," you whimper out. "P-please."

"That might hurt, so breathe," he added, but instead, you did the opposite as you felt your gummy walls invaded by his thick and warm cock.

And Lan Wangji? Dear God, he was trying so hard not to beat into that tight pussy. Your walls squeezed so hard against his dick that he could explode right there and then. "I said breathe. You're too tight." Lan Wangji moaned and the noise went straight to your cunt.

You exhaled the breath you were holding; the initial pain that was there throughout your body had been replaced by pleasure, which coursed now through the veins.

Lan Wangji's breath tickled at your ear, the hot air causing your body to tremble further against his. His cock lodged so deep in your gummy walls it made you mewl out in pleasure, but Lan Wangji wasn't moving; he was keeping himself snug inside your drenched walls, enjoying the pleasure.

Why, had Lan Wangji not mind-hacked himself, he would have combusted right then and there, inside you.

Hot and steamy kisses trail from your ear down to the dip between neck and shoulder, and before you know it, a breathless sigh is escaping you—lips parted just as Lan Wangji rolls his hips into yours with his shaft length, scraping all the sensitive spots of the hot insides of you to elicit a moan to roll off your tongue.

"L-Lan Zhan!" you moan out and your cry is responded to by a deep groan which causes you to tremble beneath him.

But Lan Wangji's legs kept your own spread apart, so that you couldn't move from his trapping embrace while his movements became faster, his cock slipping in and out of your needy hole. He is groaning and panting into your ear.

He was filling you up to the hilt, his tip prodding every hit against that spot which made you moan loudly with pleasure. Repetitive moans leave your mouth while he pounds and grinds into your heat. You had this instinctive urge to press into his length, but it was too heavy; his weight was a force against which you couldn't move. You were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"H-ha, you're so big," you mewled out as your body trembled beneath him, and he moved one of his hands off mine to let his bicep wrap around your throat—not tightly but to lift your head from the futon and pillows beneath us. He drew you to him more closely and twisted your head, attaching our mouths in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pushed his tongue inside and groaned deeply at the intensity rising.

Lan Wangji drew back, but thrust harder, hitting your perfect spot. "I feel so good, don't I?" He rasped in your ear as your mouth continued to let out desperate moans.

Tears streamed down your heated cheeks in pleasure as you nodded within his movement-restricting hold. "Such a good girl," He mumbled in your ear chased with a deep groan, your insides clenched at his praise and his hips stuttered in their movements.

You spasmed around his length, your end washing over you, legs shaking as the weight of him pressed down even more than it was. He didn't slow his thrusts, making you whimper in overstimulation, but Lan Wangji helped it; his hips continued to rut into me, further aiding me to ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips mashed against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside you causing you to moan into his kiss.

"'M love you so much," you whimper into the kiss.

"I love you, more," Lan Wangji groaned.

You were sure you were done until you felt his hips roll into yours again and you moaned. "I'm going have sex with you all night, not until you pass out."

The first touch of light that night was just streaming into the curtains, warming the room with deep and rich hues as you moved just a bit, sleeping. Everywhere, small moves each one bringing a reminder of how the previous evening felt and, oh so wonderfully good, sore muscles. Lan Wangji lay beside you in the bed, face at peace, and content, hand lying protectively, possessively over his.

He roused from the brief state of transcendence, returned to his spot, and as soon as he opened his eyes, they met yours. "Good morning," he began in a soft voice.

"Morning," you answered, almost inaudibly and with shyness apparent.

He brushed the hair from your face and whispered, "Are you okay?"

You nodded but wincing a little. "Just a slight sore."

The slightest flicker of concern passed in his dark eyes before he straightened up, extending his hand to help you do the same. "You should sit. I'll bring breakfast here."

As he motioned to leave, you reached out your hand to snag his, pulling him back in for a quick kiss. "Thanks, Lan Zhan."

He smiled, the sight of it filling you with warmth. "Anything for you."

For the next few days, you replayed moments of the night before. The soreness was still there, though met with happiness and satisfaction. And Lan Wangji, as always, was so careful that he practically made sure you had nothing to want for as you recuperated. Insistent on doing most things for you himself, of course, so you could relax and recover.

One fine morning, as you sipped your tea by the window that Lan Wangji had made for you, you just could not help but be full of admiration for how your relationship had transformed. Each and every gesture, each and every look of his that spoke of affection, drew your heart.

"How do you feel today?" he would ask as he passed by to sit with you.

"Better," you leaned your head to one side, resting your forehead against his. "Thank you for looking after me. That's quite a bother and an honor."

He kissed your forehead tenderly. "In my duty and it's always an honor to look after you."

The days which followed were full of soft moments and shared laughter. Lan Wangji was unconditionally supportive and affectionate toward you, which made your recovery much easier. He would find solace in walking the gardens, for he found peace with Lan Wangji. They could stay hours reading in each other's quiet company, basking in the tranquil atmosphere of the Cloud Recesses.

One afternoon, even when you'd just been doing light stretches to work out the lingering soreness, he'd come up to you with a slight smile.

"I have something for you."

You would look up inquisitively. "What is it?"

He holds out a small, intricately carved wooden box. Opening it, you find herbs and salves, all carefully prepared by him to aid in your recovery. "I thought this could help with the soreness.".

Tears of thankfulness welled up in your eyes at this.

"Thank you, Lan Zhan. You're always thinking of me."

He enveloped you in his arms, gently.

"Because you are my everything. Got to make sure you're in good condition when we fuck; can't have you passing out on me now."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | mo dao zu shi m.list

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 11

The second one for today. Steve and Eddie have an actual conversation about their wants and needs from the relationship.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Eddie laughed when Steve explained the reason for the flowers that night over drinks. “Do you really think your parents will leave you alone now?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll fuck off for awhile at least. And honestly you can’t buy that kind of peace.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. My own dear ole dad came out of the woodwork when Corroded Coffin hit it big. Tried to take credit for teaching me to play guitar.”

Steve leaned forward, chin on his fist. “I’m guessing that’s nowhere near what actually happened?”

“Oh hell no,” Eddie scoffed. “He taught me how to hotwire cars, blend into crowds to get away from cops, and how to lie through your teeth so convincingly that no one could tell. But you want to know who did teach me how to play? My Uncle Wayne. The man who took me in when the cops finally caught up with the rat bastard.”

Steve sighed wistfully. “God, what I would have given to have an Uncle Wayne. But sadly, when the test came back as infertile all they could think about was how to ‘recoup the loss of having an omega for a son’.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I wish I was,” Steve said mournfully, shaking his head. “Most of the men on my dad’s side of the family were alphas and if they weren’t then they were omegas pumping out babies like a machine.”

Eddie winced and took Steve’s free hand in his. “I’m sorry, baby. That’s got have been so hard.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand with a sigh. “The disappointment was so palpable in that doctor’s office you could cut it with a knife.” He shook his head. “They even refused further testing, even though my great-great grandmother on my mother’s side was a golden omega.”

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn. Those are super rare.”

Steve nodded. “I have two friends with red hair and that’s more common than a golden omega.”

“But if they were so desperate for money why didn’t they test for it?” he asked gently.

Steve shrugged. “My dad is a skinflint. The cost of the test outweighed the gamble on my chance of being ultra-fertile instead.”

“Damn just think you could have had your choice of any alpha in the country,” Eddie teased, “if they had and you turned out to be one.”

Steve shook his head, wrapping Eddie’s hand in both of his. “Nah, I prefer it this way, I have a job I love, a best friend I couldn’t live without and you. If I had been a golden omega, my parents would have made me chose from the crustiest, conservative assholes they could find.”

Eddied ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “So I’m assuming the label sent you a copy of the interview today?” he asked shyly.

Steve nodded. “Of course. You were so cute.”

“So call me stupid,” he said clearing his throat, “but I didn’t know escorts were allowed partners. I looked it up, a couple even have bonds. Like how the fuck does that work?”

Steve laughed bright and clear and Eddie went to remove his hand from his, but Steve held on tight.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, babe,” Steve soothed. “I was laughing because Robin thought that you weren’t aware and told me to clear it up with you. That was the main reason for drinks tonight.”

Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “But to answer your question about how omegas with bondmates can still be escorts, you forget that a lot of what we do isn’t about sex. Everyone associates escorts with sex, but that’s just a common misconception. Sometimes people just want the attention of a kind omega with no strings attached.” He kissed Eddie’s knuckles gently. “And then there are the ones that want a ‘cheating’ scenario without the drama of actually cheating.”

Eddie frowned. “So how does that work?”

“They want to have sex with a bonded omega,” Steve explained. “But without having to worry that there would an actual alpha gunning for them.”

“And their alpha doesn’t care they’re having sex with other alphas?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gentle and curious, not judging.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Things can change, of course. A famous Starcourt escort Mia Sanchez retired last year because her alpha asked her to. But they had been bonded for fifteen years before retirement.”

“Huh.”

That filled Eddie with a warmth he didn’t know he was missing until that moment. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

“And if I wanted to properly court you,” he asked easily, “what would you say to that?”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’d say yes.”

Eddie leapt from his seat and came around the table to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Steve laughed, breaking the kiss, but Eddie didn’t mind. He couldn’t be happier.

“So you don’t want me to chose between you and my job, then?” Steve asked, referring to their contract.

Eddie shook his head. “If there was a way that you could be happy with both, darlin’, that was choice I was always going to make.”

“What about the Grammy’s and your rut?” Steve asked, concerned. He felt bad, but he still wanted to get paid for those things. He didn’t want to suddenly have Eddie expect them for free now that they were courting.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Eddie murmured into his omega’s ear. “The contract will still be for those things, we just won’t have a fake break up of our fake relationship after my rut.”

Steve’s lip wobbled. “Would it be a real break up of a real relationship?” he asked softly.

Eddie pulled him in for a big hug. “Not for all the gold in all the world. Okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m okay with that.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to sit down in his chair. “So for the Grammy’s I looked over those two outfits you sent me for suggestion on what you should wear.”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of topic to something safer and more comfortable for him. “Yeah, which one did you prefer? I mean, I have closet full of amazing clothes and if nothing suits your fancy...” he half shrugged, “it gives me chance to go shopping.”

Eddie laughed. “No, no. I loved them both. Though taking you shopping has it’s appeal...” He shook his head. “I’m getting off the track here. I want you to wear the mini to the awards and the pant suit to the Vanity Fair after party.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he grinned. “That is a fantastic idea. I love it.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Eddie said with a grin. “Do you get to wear much stuff that’s just for you or do you have to be ‘Starcourt Escort’ twenty four seven?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a bit half and half if I’m honest. I don’t have to be dressed to the nines all the time...”

“But if you don’t,” Eddie said with a growl, “all the tabloids say that you’re ‘letting yourself go’?”

Steve blushed and nodded.

“What would you want to wear if you weren’t ‘escort Steve’?” Eddie asked, motioning to the waiter that they needed another round.

“It’s stupid,” he said, tucking his chin tightly to his chest. “I’m a fashion plate. That’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “None of that. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my boyfriend, not even himself.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “I like the polos, Henley’s, and chinos look. Lame I know.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought it would have been sweat pants and baggy sweaters.

“It’s not lame if it makes you feel good about yourself,” he insisted.

Another couple of bottles of beer arrived and Steve grabbed one. He just held it in his hands. He let out a long sigh.

“You know how we can roleplay situations for clients?”

Eddie nodded. They had done the meet-cute in a bar roleplay just last night.

“There’s one you won’t find on my list,” he continued. “At least not anymore.”

Eddie could feel the tension build between them. Whatever this was about was fucking hard for Steve to talk about.

“Sometimes busy executives and business owners like to have a scenario where they come home to a cute little omega housewife. If it’s a female omega, think the 1950s type. Dresses and high heels.”

And suddenly what Steve was talking about hit Eddie like a fist to the solar plexus. Male omegas would be in the polos and chinos. But the roleplay had tainted Steve’s love for those kinds of clothes and it made Eddie furious.

“And if you’re seen out and about wearing them,” he guessed, “people think you’re doing the roleplay, don’t they?”

Steve flushed in shame. He nodded once.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you sure you like this job?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Yes! The good far out weighs the bad. Like ruts without an omega can actually fuck up an alpha body. Like completely wreck it to hell. So I get to go in and help these alphas that don’t have an omega they can trust and help them through one of the worst weeks of their year and that it happens multiple times, anywhere from three to five depending on their age. Yes, I’m trained to be charming and great in bed, but that? That’s what makes everything worth while.”

He was panting at the end of his rant, eyes wild, hands clutching Eddie’s fiercely.

Eddie chuckled. “All right, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Steve ducked his head and Eddie gently lifted it back up with two fingers. “I like that you’re passionate about what you love, honey. It makes you sparkle.”

Steve looked down at his watch and cursed. “I’ve got to go.” He looked back up at him. “But I’ll see you on Friday?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s a date, sweetheart.”

Steve hopped off his seat and walked away.

Eddie shook his head and murmured, “Hate to see you leave, but damn do I love to watch you go.”

Steve ass looked amazing in whatever the guy wore. But now Eddie understood his need for hyper-masculinity. Even when he was wearing that golden dress, it highlighted his flat chest and broad thighs.

People made assumptions about who Steve was based on what he was wearing at all times and if he was even the slightest bit not what people expected he got hell for it.

In a lot of ways, Steve’s every move was even more scrutinized than Eddie’s and he was the frontman of a very famous metal band. He couldn’t imagine living the way Steve did. But despite all the hang ups and downsides, Steve was happy and you really couldn’t buy that.

He paid the tab and walked out onto the pavement. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let out the smoke slowly and flicked away the ash.

Eddie was content with his lot in life for the first time since he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. Wayne was always supportive of whatever Eddie wanted to do in life and was happy to hear about Steve.

And even happier when Eddie had called him this afternoon to tell him Stevie might agree to date without all the hoopla of the agency. Everything Eddie did, Wayne was sure to hear about it first.

Wayne was home. No matter the distance. Something Eddie never thought he’d find out here in California.

Stevie was quickly becoming home for him. He never thought he would want to mate, not after seeing how horrible his parents acted. But now?

Now he couldn’t wait to start courting the most beautiful omega in the world.

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away. He hailed a cab and gave directions for home.

He couldn’t wait to show Steve off on live television. And maybe just maybe win a Grammy or two.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth

[theshadowrealmitself]

Human who enjoys fake outs (like how people expect peanut brittle containers to hold fake snakes, so they start putting actual peanut brittle into the containers) and it always seems like their Vulcan partner is unaware of what’s happening

Like they’ll get visitors and the visitors will pick up a container that says “completely non-suspicious peanuts, contains no snakes,” and they’ll slowly open it to find…peanuts, and they’ll go “oh. I was expecting snakes.” and the Vulcan responds with “I thought that label was illogical, but I understand now why my partner thought it was needed, I assure you there are no snakes in that container.” while their Human partner is just. dying of laughter and hiding it terribly by standing behind their partner

And it should be obvious, right?? That the Human is putting weird labels on stuff to make people think that there’s something wrong with the items, but even with the Human always giggling into their partner to uselessly hide their laughter from people, their partner just always responds with “I see now why we needed to specify that the drinks were not poisoned on its label, my bondmate foresaw that you would think they were poisoned”, like aren’t Vulcans touch telepaths, shouldn’t you know when they’re laughing against you that your partner is pranking your visitors??

Everyone finds out later on that it’s actually the Vulcan who makes the labels and puts them on everything to make their partner laugh, and then feigning ignorance to make them laugh even harder

[traeumenvonbuechern]

🐉 Dragon Books To Read If You Liked "Fourth Wing" by Rebecca Yarros 🐉

The dragon romantasy "Fourth Wing" by Rebecca Yarros has taken over the bookish community, so I wanted to give you some recommendations on what to read after you finished it.

Dragonfall by L.R. Lam

Long ago, humans betrayed dragons, stealing their magic and banishing them to a dying world. Centuries later, their descendants worship dragons as gods. But the 'gods' remember, and they do not forgive. Since they were orphaned, Arcady has scraped a living thieving on the streets of Vatra, dreaming of life among the nobility - and revenge. When the chance arises to steal a powerful artefact from the bones of the Plaguebringer, the most hated person in Lumet history, they jump at it, for its magic holds the key to their dreams. But the spell has unintended consequences, and drags Everen - the last male dragon, who was once foretold to save his kind - into the human world. Trapped, and disguised as a human, Everen soon realises that the key to his destiny, and to regaining his true power, lies in Arcady. All he needs to do is convince one little thief to bond with him completely - body, mind, and soul - and then kill them . . . Yet the closer the two become, the greater the risk both their worlds will shatter.

To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose

A young Indigenous woman enters a colonizer-run dragon academy—and quickly finds herself at odds with the “approved” way of doing things—in the first book of this brilliant new fantasy series. The remote island of Masquapaug has not seen a dragon in many generations—until fifteen-year-old Anequs finds a dragon’s egg and bonds with its hatchling. Her people are delighted, for all remember the tales of the days when dragons lived among them and danced away the storms of autumn, enabling the people to thrive. To them, Anequs is revered as Nampeshiweisit—a person in a unique relationship with a dragon. Unfortunately for Anequs, the Anglish conquerors of her land have different opinions. They have a very specific idea of how a dragon should be raised, and who should be doing the raising—and Anequs does not meet any of their requirements. Only with great reluctance do they allow Anequs to enroll in a proper Anglish dragon school on the mainland. If she cannot succeed there, her dragon will be killed. For a girl with no formal schooling, a non-Anglish upbringing, and a very different understanding of the history of her land, challenges abound—both socially and academically. But Anequs is smart, determined, and resolved to learn what she needs to help her dragon, even if it means teaching herself. The one thing she refuses to do, however, is become the meek Anglish miss that everyone expects. Anequs and her dragon may be coming of age, but they’re also coming to power, and that brings an important realization: the world needs changing—and they might just be the ones to do it.

She Who Earned Her Wings by Vaela Denarr & Micah Iannandrea

One does not learn to fly without taking a leap. And one has to fall to be caught. Nomi is a young druid finally taking the chance to spread her wings and leave her home. To see the world and discover its magic, beauty… and maybe love. Calia is a dragon on the hunt for angels, trying to square an old debt. That, and to get Laura, her desired bondmate, to finally return to her side, where she belongs. Nomi immediately catches the eye of the powerful dragons. Calia entices her with honeyed words and a skillful tongue. On the other hand, Laura, much smaller but equally intimidating, takes it upon herself to protect her. Despite the warnings, Nomi can’t help being drawn to Calia's charm, her power, her fangs… and the hidden gentleness in her eyes. She promises danger where Laura promises safety, and Nomi is torn between the two. Luckily there is a convenient cult out for the dragons’ heads, providing Nomi with ample distraction and at least one dragon egg to steal, hatch, and raise by herself. Perfectly normal things for a young transgender druid to get involved in! In the clutches of dragons, battling dark forces from beyond the stars, Nomi faces the questions of who she is and who she wants to be. Whether she deserves the love offered to her, and what it truly takes to earn her wings...

[witchofthesouls]

What’s your thoughts on the Cone head seekers?

I got a lot. But it's expanding on the "Starscream is Vosian royalty" trope in the tf fandom.

The Coneheads are part of the Vosian Elite hierarchy. The tension between Starscream and Thrust is made worse by their family connection as well as their heritage and social customs. They're 'cousins' through their mothers.

Vos is a matrilineal society and places a deep emphasis on full carriages. Vosians believe that the newsparks gain more durability being nurtured within their carrier's frame. Starscream has a higher rank due to his own carrier belonging to a femme who's the sparkling of femme Winglord's clutch, and she managed to bring Starscream to term despite the high-risk medical complications that unfortunately whittled down to only one viable sparklet. (She was a favored daughter and an excellent diplomat for other city-states. With strings, she buried the medical records that another attempt could kill her before the sparklets had a chance to drop down.) A very ill omen among the Vosians as it means an early death or major compatibility issues with others.

Meanwhile, Thrust came from a "proper" clutch from a carrier that can trace her lineage to a Ruling Trine. However, she was sired by those mechs upon a bondmate.

Going back to the Coneheads. It's a high-ranking trine that is the equivalent of head of the royal security forces and major contenders to succeed to the Ruling Trine or court a femme Winglord or settle her heat should she has no claimed trine or lover.

Non-Seekerkin can not understand how they can function with that kind of system that allows the possibility of deception and treachery. But it's their way of checks and balances within their social structure. The push-pull between the Winglord with the Ruling Trine and the constant testing with the outer and inner rings will hone skills and keep instincts sharp as violence is settled in acceptable manners.

Starscream and Thrust have major beef with other as they both differ on how to guide the remaining Vosians... and surviving Seekerkin. Thrust is very much: Vosian first. Decepticon second.

He also thinks of his cousin as a fuckup. He won't deny Starscream's brilliance, but it's crippled by how Starscream allows himself to be corrupted by 'outside' influences rather than keeping to themselves. A weakness, Thrust views, that stems from Starscream's attempts to go against traditions and expectations. Skywarp was an utter hellion of a Wilder barbarian, and Thrust still can't believe that Starscream trined to that when others mechs were willingly to overlook Starscream's ominous signs and standoffish quirks. The addition of a Praxian femme Thundercracker as the war escalated nearly had Starscream and Thrust come to blows. Starscream catapulting his way into Winglord and Decepticon SIC did have them come to blows. Starscream's trine won the right to lead.

Meanwhile, Starscream sneers at his cousin's lack of imagination. He's upset that Thrust's shortsightedness had been nurtured by Vosian sense of superiority... which crippled them with interacting with other city-states and blinded them to their own troubles. And it even follows them to this point in the war. Even now, there's little mixing between Vosian Seekers and the rest of the faction. Unlike Skywarp that relishes his duties as the Left-Wing to a Decepticon SIC and Winglord and the remaining Decepticon Praxians and Polyhexians that have no issues intermingling with the rest of the faction, Starscream sees that they are getting isolated. He's banging his head against so many walls because that's something that needs to be taken care of before they're written off as they further dwindle. Air superiority means little without the proper numbers, and he already is verbally vivisecting any plans that propose to split trines to further air support across divisions. He may be the established Winglord, but he has too many duties to counter the social pull the Coneheads have on the remaining Vosians. Thundercracker keeps them in line, but she can't force them out to interact with the others.

(Their family was hoping that Starscream and Thrust would trine together as they had compatible skillets and opportunities to grow well together. Thrust could handle Starscream's acerbic words and guide him to of the more successful ventures, whereas Starscream had the creative vision to go well with Thrust's excellent social finesse.

However, their personalities and motivations clashed too much as neither of them are willing to back down. They kept hoping as Thrust was still settling with his brothers and classmates but still gravitated to Starscream, even to heckle at him... They eventually gave up after Starscream trined with Skywarp.)

[smilesheartshugs]

How colors work:

A continuation of my soul mate au:

First a recap of the base colors:

Blue= parent child bonds

Green= sibling bonds

Orange= aunt/uncle niece/nephew bonds

Yellow= friendship bonds

Gold= grand parent grand child bonds

Red= romantic bonds

Purple= trust bonds

Pink= a mysterious adult bond no one is willing to talk about

Black= mortal enemy

Grey= a dead bond

Silver= a weird time travel dead bond/unformed bond

How coloring the bonds work:

For most bonds the color is a combination of the two souls that form the bond. (This is why Jason’s bonds that form after his dunk in the pit all have a green hue to them)

With parent child bonds however, the bond is a reflection of the child’s soul. Most people consider the bond formed when holding your new born infant to be a first look at your child’s soul. Some parents won’t name a child until they see their bond with the child.

Trust bonds are a reflection of how much you trust the person you are bonded to. For this reason it is possible for a trust bond to form on one person but not the other. A completed trust bond will be a deep royal purple color. Complete meaning that you 100% trust this person. This does not necessarily mean the person trust you. An incomplete bond will be a softer and a lighter shade of purple. Most trust bonds start out as a soft lilac color and will gradually become richer in value as the trust becomes stronger.

Okay so placement doesn’t have as much meaning as color does.

Of corse there are places certain bond types form, but that more of a were to look type thing. Over time placement became symbolic in nature. “I trust you with my back” (trust bonds form on the back) “you have my heart” (romantic bonds form over your heart) you are like the scum on my feet (enemy bonds form on the soul of your foot)

The placement also make it easier to identify the type of bond some one had after it has been greyed out

What happens when a bondmate dies (and if the realive later)

When someone dies, their bonds (both those physically on them and the match in their mate) will grey out.

When archeologist find old human bones they find old soul bonds. This make it easier to identify the kind of relationships ancient people have had with one another. This also makes it easier to identity human remains.

Now when someone comes back from the dead their bonds will still be greyed out. When Jason comes back he was convinced that he was unloveable because of his dead bonds. How ever, once you touch your mated ones again the color will return. Jason and Dick learn this after Dick had trapped Jason in one of his octopus hugs.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction a/b/o fics that have nesting as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Harry/Louis—

🪹 You've Got A Higher Power, You're Once In Any Lifetime by BoosBabycakes / @boosbabycakes28

(E, 113k, slow burn) In a society full of prejudices, finding a family and being accepted, also seemed like an unrealistic utopia. Louis sets out to do what no other of his kind ever has before and in doing so, he finds love, friendship and more about himself than he thought he would.

🪹 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(E, 65k, omega/omega) Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking.

🪹 Sometimes You Just Know by @2tiedships2

(M, 33k, exes to lovers) the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

🪹 never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same by fearsparks / @onlythebravest

(T, 27k, friends to lovers) Harry and Louis have relied on each other for over two years now, always turning to each other every time they need anything from touch to pheromones. But after Harry's omega unexpectedly causes him to drop in the pub, their relationship is no longer the same.

🪹 Empty Nest by @littleroverlouis

(E, 16k, established relationship) pregnant Omega Harry is stressed about a nest

🪹 Nest To You by @neondiamond

(T, 14k, fluff) Ten different nests Harry builds throughout his relationship with Louis.

🪹 Anything that feels good by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 13k, established relationship) the one where alpha Harry gifts Louis nesting supplies, but the omega doesn’t nest.

🪹 When Tomorrow Comes by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 11k, uni) the one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

🪹 Midnight by @kingsofeverything

(E, 10k, fwb) All Harry’d wanted to do was be a good neighbor. Now, here he is, half a year later, balls deep and four months into a no strings attached, sex only situation with the Omega of his dreams.

🪹 Waiting by @allwaswell16

(E, 10k, friends to lovers) Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

🪹 Can We Start Believing by xogucciblue

(E, 8k, friends to lovers) Harry keeps stealing pieces of Louis' clothes to make his nest. Louis keeps letting him.

🪹 All at once, this is enough by @lunarheslwt

(G, 7k, friends to lovers) Harry, overcome with burn out, wants to nest but he has never nested before, doesn’t know how to. Louis, his best friend, is only happy to help him make a nest and be there for him.

🪹 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, friends to lovers) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🪹 All I Do the Whole Day Through by @lululawrence

(NR, 6k, roommates) There was a nest on Harry’s bed. But why was Harry using Louis’ clothes and items that probably smelled like him in his nest?

🪹 I Want You to Linger by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, friends to lovers) A friends-to-lovers fic in which oblivious alpha Louis courts his best friend, nests with the gifts he gets him, and is faced with the reality that sometimes telling someone you love them doesn’t go to plan (but turns out better in the end anyway).

🪹 Like air to the fire I need you to breathe by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 5k, established relationship) Harry is in preheat and Louis is nervous about his upcoming heat, fearing that he might not be able to fulfill his mate's needs.

🪹 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(G, 5k, youtuber) AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets

🪹 Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren

(E, 4k, uni) Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

🪹 Simply the Nest (Better Than All the Rest) by @homosociallyyours

(G, 2k, nesting store) It's been a few months since Louis moved to a new town, and he still hasn't managed to get his nest to feel as comforting as he'd like it to.

🪹 Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 2k, birthday) The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

—Rare Pairs—

🪹 a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 10k, Niall/Harry) Touch deprivation makes a lot of sense now that Harry thinks about it. Niall seems generally unwell; he appears to be weak, his skin is pallid and his lips look chapped, and his breathing is ragged.

🪹 If you let me be your man by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 5k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn can't help but trail after someone's scent when he starts his heat in the middle of their history exam. The man offers to help Zayn get home safely when he literally runs into him, but Zayn mistakenly thinks it's an offer to help with his heat.

[lostcybertronian]

MegaSound Week - Day 7

Last day! I had fun. Thanks one last time to @mega-wave-superior for doing this.

Prompt: Free space - Part two to Day 4

---

“Did I not order you to find me when you are experiencing cortex terrors?” Megatron’s voice was sharp, for potential listeners– though there seemed to be none, the halls of the Nemesis were empty at this hour, and any soldier on patrol would be quick to make himself scarce– but through their bond there was only a quiet irritation and a glimpse of the concern he showed only for Soundwave, and even then very rarely. “I had not known you for disobedience, Soundwave.”

“I had not intended to sleep at the console.” Soundwave patched together a few different audio snippets, gathered from conversations around the ship. He did so a few fractions of a second later than he would have, had he been fully rested and alert.

“So, you are also overdue for a recharge cycle.” Megatron noted. “I will not have my officers lacking.”

Perhaps because he was feeling rebellious, or perhaps because he was simply overtired, Soundwave displayed a clip of Starscream, recovering in the medbay after extensive physical punishment, doled out by Megatron himself.

Megatron growled, a low rasp of a sound, and dull notes of anger pulsed through their bond; Soundwave was pushing his limits. “That is different. You are well aware of this.”

Instead of provoking his master and bondmate further, Soundwave inclined his helm in acquiescence. 

They rounded the corner, approaching Megatron’s private quarters. Soundwave stood aside as Megatron input his personal code into the door. It was not automatic, as many of the doors were, and surely the Decepticons onboard would know better than to trespass in their leader’s private space; like most everything else in Megatron’s long, long life, it was an exercise in control. Only Soundwave and, on the odd occasion, Starscream, had ever been granted access.

“You will complete your recharge and refuel cycle here,” he said, once the door had locked behind them, and they truly were alone; Soundwave had no access to surveillance in here, nor would he want it. “And only once it is done may you leave.”

Soundwave tilted his visor from Megatron to the berth, then to the surrounding room and its militaristic, bare-bones design. Faintly, it reminded him of their time as gladiators, and what Megatronus’s room had looked like, then. 

“Yes?” Megatron prodded impatiently, in response to the unspoken.

Soundwave pointed one long finger from Megatron to the berth.

“Will I stay with you?” The response was clipped. He huffed. “A truly ridiculous request.” A pause. “Fine.”

They barely fit; Soundwave’s helm ended up tucked against Megatron’s chestplate as the bigger mech propped himself against the wall and read datapads. 

It wasn’t uncomfortable, Soundwave surmised, and shut himself down for recharge.

[kaeso4ka]

You walk away from Optimus and he's full of grief

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

Optimus regretted that this was what had happened. That you - his Spark, his little organic Bondmate, his everything - had died. Death in war is normal. For thousands of Vorns, Prime had to get used to other people's deaths, but he couldn't accept yours.

Even though life went on, even though the war was over and Cybertron was recovering, it didn't change anything. The pain wouldn't go away, it just kept bubbling and bubbling somewhere inside.

Optimus couldn't stop going back to Omega One. At first, he went there because he could be alone with his grief, and then... Then, because he didn't need to be alone with the death of his Spark anymore.

You were there. Left in the tangle of Omega One's corridors. Silent, motionless, translucent. Never said anything, but liked to appear abruptly and unexpectedly. Optimus was never frightened, never even activated his combat protocols. He was always waiting for you to show up.

One day, he brought Ratchet. You appeared, but the Autobot medic only glanced at you, not even a click of his optics. Then Prime only grinned sadly. Either he had lost his mind, or you didn't want to show yourself to your old foe.

And so, once again, Prime is sitting on the floor of Omega One, in his and your compartment. Staring into the darkest corner, smiling warmly at you, at your blurry silhouette. Even recites ancient poetry in Old Cybertronian, and when interrupted, echoes only forgiveness.

And stares. Staring into the dark, empty corner.

***

… but sometimes he talks to you. And you even talk back to him.

Optimus still has your number. Your phone had been destroyed for so many years and no one used the number anymore, but sometimes you did answer him. Prime could sit in his apartment on Cybertron, hundreds of light years away from Earth and his base in Jasper. But sometimes he couldn't stand it and texted you at your former number.

Your replies were never complete. They were a cacophony of scraps of phrases, symbols, numbers. Sometimes Optimus would receive voice messages as a reply, and he could hardly make out your voice in them: everything was blocked out by white noise.

Optimus realized that it was very hard to reach the living from the other side of the world - the human Afterlife.

But, of course, it was a pity that all of Optimus's messages went into the void. And as he read your strange replies on the datapad, he stared into the faded screen.