#hELLO he's a mINEr

[gem-morey]

Every Kiss Begins with Kay🔥[Self-para]

In which Gem buys Snow a gift for their three month anniversary...[takes place: October 14, 2024]

[cw -- none except don't read this bc it is embarrassing]

🔥🔥🔥.

“May I help you?” said a man with slicked back hair, wearing what looked--to Gem’s untrained eye--to be a proper suit. 

Gem immediately felt underdressed and out of place, standing in his work boots and jeans. But, then, he remembered that he hated classist bullshit. He had the money. And he had every right to be here. His eyes narrowed for a second, wanting to tell the man at the counter to fuck off. 

But then, he realized that he was, in fact, standing in the middle of a jewelry store. A place he’d never been before in his life. The whole place was sparkling--bright and expensive. This was the kind of place that would probably chase him out of, if they knew who he was. 

And maybe he did need help. 

“I am looking for something for my girlfriend,” Gem said, his chest full in an uncomfortable sort of way. It got like that when he mentioned his ‘girlfriend’ because he didn’t do it that often. There was still a part of him that felt like it was a lie. That he didn’t have a girlfriend. That Snow Song, of all people, wasn’t his girlfriend. And he’d hallucinated or gaslit himself into believing that she was. 

“Ah! Wonderful. A special occasion?” 

“Uh--anniversary?” 

🔥🔥🔥.

[link here]

🔥🔥🔥.

[glfry]

I was thinking about the whole thing about the HMDS cast all being descendants from the fomt/awl cast and then I realized there’s a very good chance that Skye is Huangs/Wons descendant and I just had to take a minute to process that.

[lightpickles]

I played my first Harvest Moon game when I was like 9, so 20 years ago. Two entire decades (!!!) after becoming a fan and playing a lot of the other HM/SoS games, I'm finally playing More Friends of Mineral Town. And GOOD GOD I GET IT! I UNDERSTAND!

I'm on like Winter 22 of year 1 and it looks like I'm gonna marry our chicken man Rick and tender sadboi Cliff. The latter is no surprise, but the former......??

Anyway this is making me extra appreciative of The Shy Newcomer by Durotos on AO3, which is a VERY LONG and VERY GOOD Claire/Cliff fic that I'm way behind on. And now I want to write everything in the world about my beloved eggmonger :')

[cathymee]

me when i have 4 hours to finish a project before submission

[raeathnos]

.

[jellie-tamer]

Okay. It'll be fine in the morning. I have the day off. No one will know. No one will know.

[jweekgoji]

hello, you can resquest scenery, TFO Orion Pax, D-16, B-127 and Sentinel wait for their Conjux femme reader to give birth to their Sparkling. (about the others except Sentinel, where they go to the surface and return to Iacon and it would be that they meet their newborn Sparkling)

TFO Chars/Pregnant!Femme!Reader [hcs]

featuring: Orion Pax, D-16, B-127, Sentinel Prime tw: pregnancy, very brief mentions of violence, slighty yandere!Megs by the end, mixture of fluff/angst. word count: ~1940 a/n: I hope I understood your request well. Feel free to correct me if I did something wrong so I can remake it.

Orion Pax.

I feel like Orion (cogless, since it's before they went to the surface) is probably that typical young dad that has no idea how to take care of a child and might as well set on fire the kitchen in attempts to warm the bottle of energon for the sparkling.

But! He is very enthusiastic about it, and he supports you in every way he can; it's just that he lacks any real experience with it. Reading in the archives about sparklings, pregnancy and how to be a good mentor is easy; the hardest thing is to actually deal with it.

There is a big possibility that you are also cogless like him, and I'm not sure Sentinel actually cares about poor pregnant miners to give them at least a one-day off. Your supervisors would constantly remind you to continue working, since there's always a big need for energon.

Orion often picks up fights because of it. Can't those big bullies see that you're sparked? You need rest and good care, not lifting heavy equipment...As usual, he gets scolded by Elita for not doing his job properly, but he makes sure that he helps you with everything. You can rest during your shift, while Orion is happily working for both of you, so you won't be reported to the higher-ups. It's a little hard, but there is nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Following my last statement and the previous headcanons, Orion desperately wants the best future for all Cybertronians. He hates the thought that his sparkling will grow up in the same place as him. No actual home, no equality, only hatred from the others. That's when he sees the opportunity to change the future, he grasps onto it.

It pains Orion to leave you in Iacon. It wasn't really his fault, though. He would have come back to you after the Iacon 5000 race immediately if it wasn't for Darkwing throwing him on sublevel 50, and the next events after that...

Orion gains the maturity he lacked, and with realization of his other past mistakes, he also understands how careless he was before. You're probably scared to death without him; he left you without a word, and now you have to only guess where your conjunx is. How stressed you will be after someone tells you that he's dead.

Just as much as it scares him and makes him angry at himself, it also motivates him for more. No matter what, he will come back to you.

The moment he sees you, he is relieved. The reunion looks awkward, his form towering over your smaller one, but that doesn't bother either of you. When he finally meets the sparkling, his own little spark, all the pain from the last battle is gone.

Orion swears to you that he will never leave you alone after today; with a new spark born in this world, there is a hope. How meaningful it is for his own child to be born the day the Iacon becomes free.

D-16

Just like Orion, D-16 has a little to no idea how to take care of the sparkling. If his best friend will be so happy to be a sire, D-16 has mixed emotions about this.

Don't get me wrong, he is excited about it just like you, but D-16 is the bot who is reluctant when it comes to going against the rules. He is not sure if this is actually the right place and time for the sparkling to be born now. Both of you are cogless, and there is no great future for you. Maybe after countless cycles ago he can get a higher position, a bit better life, but will it be enough to raise someone so young?

Even then, he shows you that he is happy. He doesn't want you to think that he hates the idea just because he's not so sure about your current life.

D-16 is a naturally strong bot, probably one of the strongest when compared to other miners. He gets extra affectionate with his conjunx, holding you close and maybe even carrying you around if you show him the tiniest sign that you're tired. He is really sweet.

As Orion drags him into the race, he begins to slowly lose his cool. His outburst in the cave after finding out about the truth is even stronger. The betrayal, pain, the sick feeling of worry about you and his sparkling. If only Orion didn't drag him into that damn race, he would have been with you, making sure that you're safe, none of that would have happened.

The frustration boils over with each step he makes. He needs to come back to Iacon, to you, but first, he has to get rid of the one who caused the cycles of pain and humiliation.

 The time D-16 gets his servos on Sentinel, ripping him apart in front of anyone, he thinks it is the only way to solve everything. Only he can fix it, and only he can trust himself with protecting you.

You weren't there to see him deal with Sentinel, thankfully. It is for the best to avoid all the stress it could have caused if you saw him. Your dear conjunx is seething with hatred. Sentinel took many things from him; he wasn't even able to be there with you when your sparkling was born. D-16 Megatron will cherish both of you forever, and he will make sure to raise his little one as strong as him, so they won't live through the same events as D-16 was.

B-127

Oh, this one is a little too sad to speculate. Let's say, both of you are cogless but met each other a long time ago before you two ended up on sublevel 50. The moment you two failed to please the higher-ups and also the moment you find out that you're sparked up. What bad timing!

B-127 seems to be more happy than you are when he realizes that he is going to be a sire. A little too happy. Even though he doesn't fully understand it. You might go like, “You're going to be a sire, Bee” and then he hits you with, “I am sparked up??” which is kind of funny. Is that really your man?

Out of other bots, I can see  🐝 being the best sire ever. Of course, he gets a little confused, but who wouldn't be if they dealt with their first child? You try to explain to him everything you know about the topic, and he quickly catches up on it.

B-127 is already thinking about the names. Does Badasstron Junior sound like a good name for sparkling? Or maybe he should practice combining your names together? Anyway, it really helps him not to get insane down here. Having you around is good for Bee's mental health, though you're not so sure how much time passed since you were demoted.

Even then, Bee shows his caring side. He does get serious when the situation really needs it, so he is constantly tied to your hip because he wants you and the sparkling to be safe. The conditions are not great, but he makes the best of it. No matter how bad it gets, he always makes you smile, even though sometimes he has no strength to keep his cheerfulness.

Bee is happy to have more new friends and to partake in the journey of finding the matrix of leadership, but he doesn't want you to get hurt. That's why (with tears in his optics) you two agree that you should stay. But hey, it will probably not take too much time. He will come back with his new friends to Iacon with the matrix; the energon will flow again, so there's no need for you to stay!

Bee doesn't stop yapping about the fact that he is going to be a sire to Elita. This fella just likes to talk and when he sees the opportunity, he doesn't miss it! Poor Elita has to listen to him how hard it is to choose the name for the baby, or how he is going to be the best sire ever once the group comes back. Ohh, did you know that he also really-really loves you? And his sparkling? Elita barely handles him, but even though she never met you, she knows everything about you.

After Bee comes back to Iacon, he almost faints. First he got a cog, then met the high guard, got a job with the government, AND became a sire? When he sees his sparkling, he feels a little sad that he wasn't there with you, but he will compensate it in no time. Every little move your sparkling makes is cheered by,  and Primus have mercy on the poor bots around him. He is probably that dad who will show you the pictures of his kids...

Sentinel Prime

Being a conjunx of Sentinel has its own perks. Lucky you, no work for you! It will be too bad if you get sparked up and cogless, huh?

Sentinel is a busy bot. There is always work waiting for him, especially the oh so important ‘‘searching for matrix of leadership’ thing. Even then, when he is in Iacon, there are lots of paper jobs and meetings  being here and there since everything should be personally controlled by him.

One of the cons while being sparked up and being conjunx of Sentinel is that he doesn't have much time for you. By the end of the day, he always comes back to your quarters, but it's just so lonely without him! You're always surrounded by the guards, the medics, but they can never replace the presence of your loved one.

All the changes in your body don't help at all, the mood swings, the certain energon cravings in the middle of the night, so-so hard to deal with, but he's a Prime, after all, so that shouldn't trouble him that much...

Sentinel might be a little irritated with it. When you wake him up, just to ask for something Primus-knows-what-next, that will probably take hours to search for, but he has no strength to deny you. If his conjunx wants it, he gets it!

I like to think that Sentinel is probably always aware of your and sparkling's health, but in a slightly concerning way. Yes, he can miss one or two meetings at the doctor's with you, but that doesn't mean he is ignorant. Everything is reported straight to him, so if anything, he will drop his work and join you. There is also a looong track of every checkup you had, and he has a timer that counts seconds to when the sparkling is born.

Imagine how annoyed Sentinel is when he gets humiliated by the quintessons and misses the birth of his sparkling? He practically scowls when someone reports him about it and totally has to restrain himself from strangling someone on his way to Iacon, but he manages it somehow.

Sentinel's mood quickly replaced with warmth for you and the sparkling, even though inside his head, he is still annoyed. How could he miss it? When he planned everything to the last second? The one thing that keeps his mind occupied is the little one he has in his servos. He's not going to leave you two again. At least, when he still can.

[emeraldsandpearlsss]

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hello, Can I resquest, Transformers One, Yandere Sentinel Prime with a cybertronian reader conjux HCS

Oooh Sentinel Prime - lowkey, I believed I was gonna hate his guts until my very last breath. But I forgot I like fucked up characters that also have babygirl tratis (I mean - I am obsessed with Starscream, I understimated myself).（〃｀ 3′〃）

Yandere!Sentinel Prime (TFO) w/ Conjux Cybertronian!Reader (HCs)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, possessive and obsessive elements, manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, forced relationship.

Sentinel Prime is definitely a manipulative, possessive yandere that is not afraid to punish his Conjux with psychological or emotional punishment types.

You were older than both Orion Pax and D-16, a miner too - a hard working one who was always kind and tried to remain positive to everything, even when the guards were kind of jerks and your teammates got hurt while working.

Sentinel met you one day he went down to the mines to just say empty words and promises that fooled enough his blind admirers to keep up working hard. The moment his optics met yours among the other miners... he felt like his spark vibrated.

Uh, how strange - he was sure he was definitely disgusted by any bot, no matter if they were femme, mechs or none, that were a miner.

But here he is, thinking about you and talking Airachnid's audials off about you.

Maybe now he understood what Megatronus said about feeling his spark sing whenever Solus Prime was by his side.

Sentinel Prime started to look after you, visiting you down in the mines and trying to woo you. And while you were quite flattered... something in your spark knew something was wrong. You didn't knew exactly what it was wrong - but everything pointed at Sentinel, one way or another.

You tried to be polite and paint an imaginary limit line between you and the false Prime - but Sentinel knew what you were doing. And he wasn't gonna have it.

"Hehe... oh, sweetspark - it's so funny how you think you can just reject my advances! You should be grateful I have my optics on you, dear! But... Oh, well, I wished we had an organic 'fall-in-love' story to later tell our sparklings! But you left me with no options."

You were... confused. And scared. But before you could even step back, you felt a painful kick in the back of your helm, soon everything going dark.

When your optics onlined, you were met with a... new faceplate.

"Oh, thanks Primus! My love, are you okay?" The unknown mech asks as he gently craddles your faceplate with his servos.

"Where... where am I? What...?" You start to ask, blinking a few times before tilting your helm, staring with curiosity at the mech. "Who are you?"

The mech seems to smile a little bit more to then change his expression one to sadness. "Oh, my sweetspark - you don't remember me?"

The mech - Sentinel Prime - gently held your servo as both of you walked among the big, luxurious hallways of his home, explaining to you how you both were soon to be Conjuxes, him being a Prime and you were part of the guards. While on a mission against the Quintessons, you got hurt and your T-cog got taken, you nearly died! But your beloved soon to be Conjux saved you!

You just... accept it. I mean, you didn't remember anything (but something felt like missing inside of your system). But you didn't mind, you felt safe and loved in Sentinel's hold.

If Sentine Prime was not around because of needing to attend important Prime business, Airachnid is always with you - and she became a sort of... guardian. One who always followed you and kept Sentinel updated about you.

Sentinel blatantly manipulates you whenever you show any type of doubt or consideration on what he says or does. "My sweetspark, please... I nearly lost you one time. And I felt like my spark was going to die. I cannot lose you again, please. I love you so much."

It always works - after all, you don't know exactly who you were once are. Sentinel Prime is everything you have.

"Without me - you are nothing."

A few days after having woken up from your forced induced stasis mode, both of you became the Conjux Endura of each other, everyone on Iacon saw the event and celebrated. Sentinel Prime held you closely, snuzzling his helm softly against the top of yours, keeping one arm wrapped your behind and his free servo holding yours.

And you smile, preciously painted and adorned. But... something still, deep inside of your spark, knows something is wrong. But whenever you see at Sentinel's smile, you can't help but smile back and ignore that uncertain sensation.

After all - You've always been meant to be Sentinel Prime's conjux.

Everything is okay.

(ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Vhaos out!

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi ! Just discovered you through your D-16 x reader fic and your writing is MWAH MWAH yummy 😋 ahhhh thank youuu, I've been craving for tf one fics, I want to request a short fic with D-16, Orion Pax and Gn! Reader who's a racer from that various reader prompts you posted awhile ago? Anything else is up to you! Go wild

Thank youuuu 🫶💐

Pairing: D-16, Orion Pax x gn!racer!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Showcasing your appreciation for your fans leads to an unlikely encounter.  Warnings/Tags: Pre-canon, cybertronian!reader with a cog, size difference, awkward flirting??, forehelm kisses, and fluff.  A/N: Aww ty for the love! Hope you enjoy :) Word Count: 800+ words 

"What are we doing back here?" Came a rushed whisper from one bot. 

"What does it look like, genius? We're here to meet, ___."

"What?! You said you wanted to show me something, not break into a racer's personal quarters!"

"Psh, I bet they meet all sorts of fans back here all the time, besides, I'm sure they won't mind the bot they blew a kiss at to come and meet them backstage." 

"...you mean me?" 

"You?" 

"They blew the kiss at me."

"My friend, you need to get your optics checked, I'm pretty sure that kiss was meant for-" 

Orion didn't get to finish his sentence when the door to your quarters opened and your shiny figure stepped out and into the hallway. You glanced down at your newly filed digits before glancing up to spot two small, cogless bots standing in front of you. 

"...." 

"..."

"Why, hello there…where did you two come from?" Your voice was as warm as the sweetest energon and caused the tense mechs to ease up. You crouched before the two and placed your servos on your knee pads. One mech was blue and red, a lot more colorful in appearance and personality compared to his standoffish, silver colored mech companion. They were obviously miners from what you could tell from their chipped paint and dusty frames. 

The blue and red mech cleared his throat and prepared to speak until he was nudged back by his friend.

"We were lost! Yeah, we didn't mean to come…all the way here," The silver mech gave his friend a side-optic glare. 

"Could you help us find our way out?" The red mech briefly met his companion's shocked expression with a teasing smirk before switching his bright gaze onto you. "The name's Orion Pax, this mech over here is-"

 

"-D-16, nice to meet you…I'm…your biggest fan! I've been to almost all of your races and-" D-16 stammered out his introduction and seemed to be digging a further hole for himself as he rambled on. His friend watched with a familiar fondness before he snapped his gaze to the racer when their bell-like laugh rang out. 

"Aren't you two the cutest fans I've met," You cooed before pushing yourself up to stand. "I'll show you the way out, follow me." 

Orion pumped a servo when you turned away and winked at D-16 as he went to walk by your side. D-16 only rolled his optics and quickly went to catch up. 

“So, ____, how do you win like all the time?” Orion started the conversation. 

“Practice makes perfect,” You replied with a smile. 

“And what do you do when you lose?” Came the interesting inquiry from the silver mech. Realizing how his question might imply something bad, “I mean, how do you deal with the pressure of needing to be the best? I couldn't imagine having all those optics on me at all times.” 

You giggled and mulled over his question for a few nanokliks. “Well, I suppose I don't beat myself up about losing a race, after all the races would be boring if my rivals weren't on my level.” 

“Right! Makes sense. I, uh, thank you." D-16 felt his face plate warm as your bright optics made contact with his. 

"You're welcome, thank you two for seeing me,” You stopped when the exit came into view. “I haven't had this much fun in a while, I hope to see you too at the finish line again.” 

“We'll be there, ” Orion nodded as he nudged D-16 toward the exit. 

D-16 bit his bottom derma before turning back around and walking over to you. 

“Can…can I get a signature?” 

You blinked before your dermas curved in happiness at the timid request made by the mech. You see, instead of signing merch the regular way, you usually left your ‘mark’ on any special fan who caught your attention. It was a very rare occurrence which is why those bots claimed they'd never wash the mark off. 

 You crouched down and tilted the mech's helm back by curling a digit under his chin. D-16's breath was caught in his intake as your dermas pressed against his helm. He stood there frozen even when Orion came to his side and asked for a mark as well.

You obliged and kissed his helm as well. 

Orion leaned into it as you pulled away, you stifled a laugh as you booped his nose to snap the red and blue mech out of his daze. 

“Well…I'll see you two at the next race,” You mused before turning to leave. 

Orion and D-16 were standing there, pedes frozen to the ground as they processed the previous events. 

“Guess that blown kiss was meant for both of us.” 

D-16 only rolled his optics before smacking Orion's arm.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. like my writing? consider buying me a kofi :)

banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[makeyoumine69]

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Sugar And Spice

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x reader

Synopsis: Peeta gets jealous when a guy keeps coming into the bakery to flirt with you

Masterlist

“Can you watch the bakery for a second while I frost a cake?”

“I can do it but I have to warn you. I’m super charming so we’re probably gonna get a bunch of customers and sell out immediately.” You said and held up your hands in defense. Peeta couldn’t help but smile as he watched you tie an apron around your waist. Something about you wearing something that had his last name on it made you even more endearing. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that, but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t doubt your charm but we haven’t had any customers all day.” He reminded you.

“That’s because you’ve been keeping me in the back. Go frost your cake. This place will be packed when you return. Just watch”. You said and shooed him okay.

“Okay.” He replied sarcastically.

You were only alone in the bakery for a few minutes before someone came in. It was a guy around your age wearing a hard helmet so you could only assume he was a coal miner.

“Hello.” He smiled at you as he walked up the counter.

“Hello.” You replied. “Welcome to Mellark Bakery.”

“Do you guys sell bread?” He asked you.

“Here? At the bakery?” You asked and stepped to the side to give him a full view of all the baskets of bread behind you.

“Okay, it was a dumb question.” He admitted.

“It’s okay. It’s probably the only question you can ask that I could actually answer. I just learned what yeast was a little while ago.”

“Oh, so you don’t usually work here?”

“I don’t. My best friends family owns the place. But his brother gave his mom a cold and then the whole family caught it. I’m just filling in until they’re better.” You explained.

“That’s a shame. I thought I’d have two reasons to come in here now.” The boy said with a coy smile.

“Two reasons?”

“For delicious bread and a chance to see the pretty girl working the counter.” He replied. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his flirting before smiling. You’d never had a boy flirt with you so boldly so it made you feel good.

“Well, thanks. How can I help you?” You asked him.

“My mother sent me to get that brown bread but I keep forgetting the name of it.”

“Isn’t all bread brown?”

“Well, yes.” He realized. “But she said this one is browner than the others.”

“I actually think I know what you’re talking about. Is it pumpernickel?” You asked and pulled out a loaf of pumpernickel bread.

“Yes! That’s the one. Look at you being smart. I’ll take a loaf of that.” The boy said. You didn’t really like the way he acted like it was shocking you’d say something smart but you didn’t say anything.

“Surely. Anything else I get you?” You asked as you handed him the wrapped up loaf.

“How about your name?” He smiled as he handed you the money.

“It’s Y/n. You?” You said through a nervous laugh. You weren’t entirely sure you liked the attention anymore.

“Hi. I’m Lycan.” He said and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lycan.” You smiled politely and shook his hand.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Will you be filling in all week?”

“Most likely.” You told him.

“Then I’ll be back. Thanks for the help.” He winked at you just as Peeta came out from the back. He saw the much taller and stronger looking Lycan leaving the bakery and stopped in his tracks.

“No problem.” You called after him. Peeta caught the way Lycan’s eyes lingered on you after he left the shop and he didn’t like it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach when he noticed that you were flustered.

“Who was that?” Peeta asked.

“That was Lycan. And he bought the last loaf of pumpernickel so we knead to make more. And that was a baking pun, by the way. But it would’ve worked better on paper.”

“Oh. Do you always learn the customers names?” Peeta asked as the weird feeling in his stomach grew. He was feeling jealous already and now that he knew you learned that guys name, it was even worse.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But he asked my name so I asked his.”

“He asked your name? That was nice of him.” Peeta said through a forced smile. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that you had caught the attention of the attractive stranger. Maybe because you’d caught Peeta’s attention years ago but still hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah. I guess he was nice. He called me pretty.” You said and looked at Peeta as if you were expecting him to disagree with that statement. Peeta clenched his jaw but kept a straight face.

“You are pretty.” He insisted. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess because no one’s ever just called me pretty before. Except maybe my mother. But I’ve never heard it from a boy. It was kinda, I don’t know, nice.” You said as you stared out the window. Peeta was kicking himself for never vocalizing how beautiful he found you because now you had to cling to the compliment of a stranger.

“I think you’re pretty.” Peeta said quietly. Your head turned to Peeta and you had a surprised smile on your face. Peeta turned a deep red as he waited for your answer.

“You’re pretty pretty yourself, blondie.” You replied as you passed by him. You started to rearrange some of the baked goods but Peeta was still hung up on this stranger who called you pretty.

“Did you like that guy?” Peeta asked you and feared for the answer.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “It was nice to be noticed. But I don’t him enough to know if I like him.”

“Right.” He nodded and desperately tried to take his mind off it. You noticed the far off look in Peeta’s eye but didn’t understand what was bothering him.

“So how’s your cake?” You asked.

“Not good. I made the frosting a weird color. Can you go look at it and tell me if I should scrap it or not?”

“Sure. But if you go check on it later and there’s a piece missing, it wasn’t me.” You teased.

“Very funny.” He said sarcastically.

“I know, right?” You laughed and went to the back. Peeta laughed as well but his smile quickly dropped when the door to the bakery opened. Lycan walked back in and Peeta gulped. He’d only seen him through the window before so now he got to see just how tall and handsome this guy was. Peeta nervously fumbled with the tie on his apron and felt a little insecure to be wearing it when this guy was covering in soot and dirt from being down in the mines.

“Hi. How can I help you?” Peeta asked him. Lycan was visibly disappointed to see Peeta there and was ignoring him as he looked around the bakery for you.

“What happened to the girl that was working here just a few minutes ago?” Lycan asked.

“Who’s asking?” Peeta asked without dropping his cheery smile. Lycan looked Peeta up and down and scoffed a little.

“I am.” He replied. “I wanted to ask her where she lives.”

“Why would you want to know that?” Peeta frowned.

“So I could see her again. I was planning on stopping by sometime. I figured she’d like that.” Lycan answered with a smug expression.

“Well I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t want me telling a stranger where she lives so…” Peeta trailed off and let Lycan fill in the blank.

“Hm. You must be the friend she mentioned. I guess I’ll just have to ask her myself. But why don’t you do me a favor and tell her I stopped by?”

“Surely.” Peeta replied. Lycan recognized the same word you had used and narrowed his eyes at Peeta.

“Thanks, baker boy. Bye.” Lycan smirked and left the bakery. Peeta blinked in surprise at the unexpected rude tone. If he was feeling insecure before, he was feeling even worse now that Lycan made it obvious that he looked down on him.

“Who was that?” You asked when you came out from the back.

“No one.” Peeta lied. “How’s the cake?”

“I actually like the grey color. You should leave it as it is.” You told him.

“But it was supposed to be a wedding cake. Won’t the customer be mad?”

“If I was getting married and my cake was baked by you, I wouldn’t care what it looked like because I would already know it was delicious. But you don’t have to worry about that because the cake looked great. Your cakes always look great. You’re the best cake decorator I know. So stop worrying about it.” You said and playfully smacked his chest.

“I’m the only cake decorator you know.” He said with a shy smile.

“That may be true.” You agreed. “But even if I knew more, you’d still be the best. You’re an artist. All your cakes are lovely. I promise.”

“Thanks for saying that.” He blushed. “We can have a grey cake at our wedding then.”

“Oh? Our wedding?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your wedding.” He quickly corrected. “I meant your wedding. I will make you a grey cake for your wedding.”

“What if my groom wants a white cake?”

“He’ll want whatever you want.” Peeta said confidently.

“What makes you so sure?” You asked skeptically.

“Just a guess.” He said quickly. He wasn’t about to tell you that if he was the groom, you’d get whatever and however many cakes you wanted.

“Well he better. My mother is already on me about finding someone and settling down. That’s all she thinks I’m gonna be apparently. A wife.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Oh, yeah? Is there anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” Peeta asked without looking at you.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be against running off and eloping with you to get her off my back.” You joked. Peeta blushed at the joke and hoped there was some truth to it.

“Or maybe I’ll just marry this Lycan guy to shut her up.” You added, making Peeta’s smile drop. He was definitely jealous now and it was only gonna get worse.

The next day, you went to the bakery again and helped Peeta run the shop. He had you handling the customers while he stayed in the back to bake. Even though you had said it as a joke, you actually were bringing in a lot of customers and selling through baked goods fast. Unfortunately, you brought in Peeta’s least favorite customer.

“Oh no.” Peeta said when he saw Lycan through the windows.

“What?” You asked just as the door opened.

“Hello again.” Lycan greeted you and didn’t acknowledge Peeta in any way.

“Oh, hi, Lycan. What can I get for you today?” You asked him.

“How about you get me your favorite thing in the shop?” He asked with that smug look Peeta hated. Peeta rolled his eyes at the lack of manners but held his tongue.

“Well, that’s hard to pick. Peeta bakes everything and it’s all delicious. He’s an amazing baker.” You said and patted Peeta’s back. Peeta and Lycan made eye contact and gave each other tight smiles.

“Oh, so this is your friend who runs the bakery? Did he tell you I stopped by yesterday to see you?” Lycan asked knowing full well Peeta didn’t mention it. You looked at Peeta in surprise and Peeta gave you a sheepish smile.

“Must’ve forgotten to mention that.” He said quietly.

“Right.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I love the cinnamon buns Peeta makes. And we just frosted some so I’ll go grab one from the back.”

You went to the back to grab a cinnamon bun, leaving Peeta and Lycan alone together. Peeta kept his eyes down as Lycan stared at him with a smug expression.

“So how come you had her running the shop all alone yesterday?” Lycan asked with judgement in his voice.

“She was fine. She was only alone for a few minutes but she would’ve been perfectly capable of running the shop all day. She’s great at this stuff. She’s better than me and I grew up in this bakery.” Peeta defended you.

“I could tell.” Lycan snorted. “But running a business is no place for a lady. She should’ve been doing the baking while you handled the customers. A girl like that should be able to sit still and look pretty while you man the place, you know what I mean?”

“Um, no, I don’t know what you mean.” Peeta smiled tightly. “She’s not the type to sit still but you wouldn’t know that because you don’t know her. And we “manned”the shop together all day. I just happened to be in the back decorating the cakes when you came in.”

“Oh, so you make all these? Where did you learn how to do that?” Lycan asked with a condescending smile as he looked at the cakes on display.

“My mother taught me.” Peeta said quietly.

“Oh, I see. My mother taught me that a man’s job involves getting your hands dirty but hey, what does she know?” Lycan shrugged.

“Clearly not how to teach her son manners.” Peeta mumbled. You came out from the back and Peeta relaxed.

“Here. One hot cinnamon bun.” You smiled kindly and handed the treat to Lycan.

“Thank you. It looks almost as good as you do.” He said with a much kinder tone than he had given Peeta.

“Oh. Thank you.” You laughed in surprise and looked over at Peeta. Peeta was too busy staring daggers at Lycan to notice.

“See you tomorrow?” Lycan asked you.

“See you then.” You waved as he left the shop. Once he was gone again, Peeta could finally breathe.

“I don’t like that guy.” Peeta shook his head.

“What? Why not? He’s so nice.” You said. As much as Peeta disliked that guy, he wasn’t about to burst your bubble and tell you Lycan had implied you could not and should not run the bakery by yourself.

“He’s too nice.” Peeta insisted. “And I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me?” You frowned.

“The same way every guy looks at you. Only he looks dumb enough to try something.” Peeta mumbled. You let out a laugh and Peeta was confused.

“What?” He wondered.

“Nothing. I’ve just never heard you call someone dumb before. Here I was thinking you were all sunshine and flowers.” You shrugged with an amused smile.

“I can be tough. You don’t think I can be tough?”

“Well, I’m sure you can be. I’ve just never seen it. I’ve only ever seen your good side.”

“I can be tough. I can be a real tough guy.” Peeta insisted but it sounded unnatural coming out of his mouth.

“Okay, tough guy.” You chuckled. “Show me what you got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Say something mean about me.” You said and gestured towards yourself.

“What? I would never do that.” He laughed but meant it.

“I knew it. You’re too sweet. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. You’re all sugar.” You said and squeezed his arm. Peeta blushed at the contact and felt a little better about himself.

“Here’s something mean. That guy just tracked mud all over the floors. Why are coal miners so messy?” He scoffed and grabbed the mop.

“Maybe because they’re in dirty mines all day? Just a thought.” You teased as Peeta cleaned the floor.

“This is just gross.” Peeta huffed. “And did you see his hands? They were filthy.”

“I didn’t notice them.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, cause you were too busy flirting.” Peeta grumbled.

“Flirting?” You laughed. “I was not flirting with that guy.”

“Yes you were. I’ve never seen you bat your eyelashes like that before. And when’s the last time you warmed something up for a customer? You did that to flirt.” He half joked, half meant entirely.

“That wasn’t me flirting. I was just blinking because of all the dust he brought in.” You said simply. Peeta stopped mopping and looked up to see if you were serious.

“You really weren’t flirting with him?” Peeta asked hopefully.

“With a stranger? Who do you think I am?” You scoffed and grabbed the mop from him. You cleaned up the rest of the mud tracks before handing the mop back.

“Okay.” Peeta smiled. “Good.”

“Why’s that good? You didn’t want me to be flirting with him?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Psh. No. I don’t care who you flirt with.” Peeta quickly explained but even he didn’t believe it.

“Don’t you?” You asked and took a step towards him.

“I don’t.” He gulped.

“All right then.” You smiled sadly and went back behind the counter. Peeta looked over at you and wondered if you had wanted him to say that he didn’t want you flirting with anyone else.

The next day, Peeta was hesitant to leave you alone in the bakery in case Lycan came back to ask you out. If he actually made a move on you, Peeta knew he didn’t stand a chance. There weren’t a whole lot of options for dating in your district so if he asked you out, you’d probably say yes. But Peeta couldn’t stay in the front forever and eventually had to go to the back to frost cakes. And as soon as he was gone, the wolves descended.

“Good morning.” Lycan greeted as he came into the bakery. Your heart started to beat faster when he came in but it wasn’t from excitement. His presence was starting to make you anxious and you didn’t know if you liked the attention anymore.

“Good morning. What will it be today?” You asked politely.

“Some more pumpernickel please. But only half a loaf. I had some of my worker friends over last night and we went through it. We just get so hungry being down in the mines all day. You know how real men’s work is. It’s brutal but hey, someone’s gotta do it.” Lycan shrugged and leaned on the counters that you had just cleaned.

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“A smile. From you.” Lycan added. You gave him a tight smile back and realized you really didn’t like the attention. At least, not from him.

“Have a great day.” He said as you handed him the loaf and he handed you the money.

“Thanks. You too.”

“I already did. Because I got to see you.” Lycan said and pointed to you. You forced a smile back and watched as he tracked mud on the floor as he left. Peeta came out from the back a little while later and saw the mud.

“I see Lycan returned.” He said stiffly.

“He sure did.” You replied. Peeta rolled his eyes and grabbed the mop before looking at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You laughed. “It’s not my fault Mr. Muddy Boots keeps coming in here.”

“Yes it is. I heard him telling you to smile. He likes you.” Peeta mumbled and mopped the floor. His jealousy was back and in full force so he kept his head down.

“Maybe he was just being friendly.”

“But he wasn’t being friendly to me. Only you.” Peeta pointed out.

“Okay, true. But that still doesn’t mean anything. He might just want to be friends.”

“No way. No guy wants to be just friends with a girl as interesting and funny as you.”

“What about you? You just want to be friends, don’t you?” You asked and smiled at his words but he didn’t see it. He was too busy keeping his head down so you couldn’t see how much he was blushing over what you asked.

“There. Finally clean. But if he comes in here and gets the floors muddy one more time, I’m gonna ban him from the bakery.” Peeta said to change the subject.

“Maybe he’s had enough of your baked goods and won’t come in anymore.” You shrugged.

“He’ll be back. Although he might stop buying things and just start coming in to stare at you.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. When your laughter died down, you thought about what it would mean if this guy actually wanted to be more than friends.

“Do you actually think he likes me?” You asked quietly.

“Of course he does. And I can’t blame him. But I can be annoyed about how often he comes in here.” Peeta said and continued to avoid eye contact with you.

“But him coming in here means you get more customers.” You reminded him. “And what do you mean you can’t blame him?”

“Him coming in here means I have to look at his dumb face while he bumbles around and tries to flirt with you. All while making the bakery muddy. I wouldn’t mind losing him as a customer.” Peeta replied and conveniently ignored the second half of what you said.

“Well we should probably bake another loaf of pumpernickel in case he comes in tomorrow.” You shrugged and started to gather the ingredients. Peeta froze and watched you tie on an apron as jealousy burned a hole inside him.

“What?” You asked when you saw Peeta’s face.

“You want him to come back?” Peeta asked in a soft voice.

“I didn’t say that. But if he does, which I’m assuming he will, we should have bread for him.”

Peeta was quiet again for a minute as he looked at you. He didn’t think you liked this guy back until he watched you gathering ingredients to make something specifically for him.

“Do you, um, do you like him back or something?” Peeta asked you. He didn’t sound angry or anything, just sad.

“What I like is earning money. Which customers bring in. Customers like Lycan.” You said and headed to the back where the oven was.

“Fine. But just don’t bake that with love, okay?” Peeta called after you. He heard you laugh and felt a little better because it reminded him that no one made you laugh quite like he did.

“I’ll try.” You called back.

The next day, Peeta was ready for anything. He asked you to bake some muffins in the back while he dealt with the customers during the evening rush. He had made it through almost the entire day before he saw Lycan coming in to the bakery. He looked around for you as soon as he walked in before walking up the counter.

“How can I help you?” Peeta asked with a forced smile.

“Actually, I was hoping Y/n could help me. She here?” Lycan asked and peered behind the counter.

“She’s busy with the baking in the back.”

“Really? I thought frosting cakes was your job? Tell me, how do you make them look so pretty?” Lycan asked in a mocking tone.

“It takes a steady hand. And a clean one.” Peeta said as his eyes dropped to Lycans dirt covered hands.

“These are workers hands. But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you, baker boy?” Lycan said in a low voice as he leaned on the counter. Peeta gulped but was determined to stand his ground.

“I know about hard work. Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s any less important.” He replied.

“Are you serious?” Lycan laughed. “I risk my life everyday to get the coal that you use to bake your pretty little cakes. You’re not important. I mean, your work isn’t important. I know that, and she knows that.” Lycan whispered so only Peeta could hear. His words were getting to Peeta and he wasn’t feeling as confident as before.

“She’d never go for you.” Peeta said quietly.

“What other choice does she have? You?” Lycan scoffed. “I asked around about the two of you, you know. Everyone had the same thing to say. That the bakers boy absolutely adores her but isn’t man enough to do anything about it.”

“I could do something about it.” Peeta insisted.

“Oh really? Then why haven’t you?” Lycan asked him. Peeta opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He had no answer to give.

“That’s what I thought.” Lycan snickered. “She’d never go for you either.”

Peeta looked down at the ground and believed what Lycan was saying. You came out from the back and immediately sensed the awkward tension. You first noticed Peeta’s sad expression and then Lycan’s smug smirk.

“Oh, hi Lycan. Back so soon?” You asked as you looked between the boys and tried to figure out what had just happened between them.

“I just needed to get some bread. And seeing your pretty face never hurts.” Lycan said and switched to a nice smile.

“Aw, thanks.” You said with a fake smile.

“You know, being a coal miner is really dangerous. Nothing like the easy job this guy has.” Lycan said and nodded towards Peeta. “When the boys and I go down into the mines, we never know if we’re gonna get to come back out. So I try to take a minute and appreciate the beautiful things in life as much as I can. And that includes you.”

“Aw, thanks.” You repeated in the same uncomfortable tone. Peeta looked up and saw that Lycan was staring at him with a puffed up smile. In other words, he thought he ate that.

“See you around, doll.” Lycan winked at you before leaving the shop.

“That was painful.” You said once he was gone.

“For us both.” Peeta mumbled.

“I think you were right. I think he may be more than just friendly.” You laughed nervously.

“What gave it away?” Peeta smiled sarcastically.

“I just don’t understand what he wants from me. I don’t even know what to say when he talks like that.” You said and grimaced at the memory of his little speech.

“He probably wants a wife. And he wants you to say it can be you.”

“A wife?” You laughed in shock. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“But he wants to. That’s why he keeps coming in here. He probably wanted to ask you out today but wouldn’t with me in here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say yes even if he did. So there’s nothing to worry about.” You shrugged.

“Don’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about.” Peeta snapped. You were both surprised by his tone and stood in awkward silence following his exclamation. Peeta was too embarrassed to look at you so he kept his head down and played with the ties in his apron. He heard your footsteps coming over to him and suddenly, you were lifting his chin to get him to look at you.

“What’s this about?” You asked quietly. Peeta sighed and looked to the side.

“He works in the mines and risks his life. I work in a bakery and decorate cakes. He’s covered in soot and dirt and I end the day covered in flour and sugar.”

“So?” You laughed.

“So, he’s a real man.” Peeta insisted. “And that’s what you deserve.”

“Do you think I don’t see you as a real man?” You asked and wrapped your arms around Peeta’s neck. He turned bright red and finally looked at you.

“Look at me. And look at him. We’re not the same.” Peeta said softly.

“Just because he works down there and you work up here doesn’t make you any less of a man.” You assured him.

“It feels like it does. Especially when…”

“When what?” You asked when Peeta trailed off.

“When I thought you liked him. I assumed he caught your attention because he’s all big and tough and I’m just…soft.” He shrugged and gave you an embarrassed smile.

“He caught my attention because he’s annoying and dirty. And I happen to like that you’re soft.” You told him.

“You do?” Peeta asked skeptically.

“Of course I do. I like that you never have a mean thing to say about anybody. I like that you decorate cakes and smell like cinnamon all the time. And I like that you stop to pick flowers that you like. But you know what I don’t like?”

“What?”

“That guy. I don’t like how he thinks I shouldn’t run the shop by myself. I don’t like how he can’t compliment me on anything but my looks. I don’t like how he thinks his job makes him superior to us. And I don’t like that he made you feel bad about yourself.” You said. Peeta looked into your eyes and saw how serious you were. A smile tugged at his lips as he believed that he didn’t have anything to worry about.

“He made fun of my cake decorating.” Peeta added with a coy smile.

“What? Now that’s too far. Let’s ban him.” You played along. Peeta laughed and pulled you into a hug.

“I never want you to think you’re not good enough ever again, okay?” You said as you rubbed his back.

“Okay.” Peeta reluctantly replied. You pulled out of the hug and rubbed his shoulders.

“If he comes in here again, I’ll tell him to back off. Of both of us.” You assured Peeta.

“Good. Because I’m not much of a fighter.” He said through a relieved laugh.

“I know. You’re a lover. Thats what I love about you.” You told him and went to go clean the counter. Peeta watched you for a minute with a content smile on his face.

“It is?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Amongst other things, but yes.” You replied.

“There are a lot of things I love about you too.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Are there?” You asked with piqued interest.

“Of course. Dozens of things.”

“Dozens?” You pretended to gasp and looked over at him.

“Uh huh. A bakers dozen.” He replied with a coy smile.

“Hey.” You laughed. “Baking humor is my thing.”

“I know, I know. But I think that’s another reason Lycan bothered me so much. I thought he was gonna take you away before I got a chance to tell you any of them.” Peeta said simply. Your expression changed but he didn’t catch it as he went to change the sign on the door from “open” to “closed”.

“Well. It’s quitting time.” Peeta sighed and looked the front door.

“Right. We should go.”

The next day, Lycan came in bright and early in the morning. He was the first customer and walked in before you had even arrived yet. Peeta gulped when he saw him and hoped you’d get to the bakery as soon as possible. Then he remembered what you had said about what you loved about him and felt a little braver.

“Hey, Peeta. Just you today?” Lycan asked in a condescending voice.

“For now.” Peeta answered calmly.

“These are nice. You pick them yourself?” Lycan asked as he flicked one of the flowers Peeta had in a vase on the counter.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I did.”

“I thought so. Just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore pathetic. It’s no wonder Y/n doesn’t want you.” Lucan snorted. He hadn’t heard you entering the bakery from the back so when you appeared behind the counter where Peeta was, he gulped.

“Oh, hi, Y/n. Good morning.” He said nervously and hoped you hadn’t heard what he just said. You gave Lycan a big smile before turning to Peeta.

“Good morning.” You greeted Peeta before pulling him into a long kiss. Peeta was stiff with shock at first but then kissed you back as his hands found their place on your waist. Lycan watched this with a dropped jaw and angrily cleared his throat when he felt like it was going on too long. You pulled out of the kiss with a big smile and patted Peeta’s red cheek.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around Peeta’s shoulders. Peeta and Lycan were both silent as they processed what had happened. You made your choice loud and clear to the both of them and they were both too stunned to speak. Peeta finally smiled and took one of the flowers out of the vase to place behind your ear as a little thank you. You smiled in appreciation before looking at Lycan.

“So.” You shrugged. “What can we get you?”

Tag List 🥖

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@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

[robolvrr]

Love your writing soooo much. Could you make some sfw headcanons (and nsfw) if youre okay with it of conjunx (tfone) d-16 with his femme conjunx??? Also what do you think would be his ideal partner? Maybe someone shy and sweet or someone bolder to contrast him?? Would he ever want a family?? Hes so sweet i love him i cant stop ranting about him😭🤍

déjà vu ☆‿⁠｡✷

[ requests: 3/11 ]

d-16 x fem!conjux headcanons

warnings: nsfw under cut!

realistically, you're both miners. there isn't a lot of fraternization on shifts.. though every once in awhile, you catch his optics and he peels through the crowd (and shoves orion, too busy making kissy-faces and calling out embarrassing memories he's sure to pummel him for sharing), making efforts to get to know you.

d-16 is strong. mentally, emotionally, even his physique, is quite literally built for his role in all aspects. he's appreciative if you take care in yours and share that competence.

isn't judgemental over frames. while he is actually pretty charming and easy to speak with, he's not used to attention and doesn't even stop to think of the possibility.

of course - that was before you, that is. and this tug at his spark, that makes him ignore the cycles of grief, anxiety, fatigue and instead want to earn a bit more from you than a simple hello.

conjux aren't unknown, just a foreign concept for many of the uncogged. especially miners, due to the natural risk with the job. many had died and understandably, few were actually willing to grow close for this very reason.

it's not as if he hasn't weighed the decisions. a part of him is frustrated you smile at him because then he can't forget how his servos shake when you do.

in between short conversations - "what do you think about megatronus?" - "yeah, orion is kind of a glitch, but he means the best." - "oh. so you.. don't have someone waiting for you?"s, it's so obvious he wants you.

when you talk, he leans against the wall, his expression soft. because as violent as he can be, as grouchy or prickly his vocals edge, he wants be soft for you.

elita just shakes her head. he does pick up heavier gear and material around you, puffing his chest. offers you spare energon cubes even though it's digging into his rations.

d-16's love language is touch. he doesn't like it much but he initiates and if you're allowed to instead? then the unspoken is obvious. he may be... stubborn, at first, admitting his feelings. his actions do the talking.

i think he'd do well with a combination - someone who isn't as pessimistic, someone who can still encourage his hope to continue to burn. a little bantering never hurt anyone and coupled with attraction.. well. he's not as irritated with it as one might think.

while he thinks the idea of sparklings is something he may like in the future, he doesn't want to put any risk when he's still so low on the totem pole. if you bring it in passing he tries not to jump you. because while it's clear you two are intertwined, the idea of a part of him connecting with you and creating something new makes him dangerously possessive.

nsfw.

the first time wasn't full interfacing.

you explored the ridges of his empty cogcase, watching him twitch and grunt watching your smaller digits flirt along the sensitive surface.

he makes a sound, some cross between a sharp hiss and a moan that slows you down.

"did i do something wrong dee? you're. you're looking at me kinda intense."

"ffff... just be careful."

"i-i am being careful!"

"hng.. shut it."

even though he wants to flip you right off, pin and yank open your modesty paneling, he wants this to be slow. he wants to take all the time you can afford, because he has no clue when he'll get it again.

that's why even in your fidgeted affections, he keeps still. looks at you in the dark with haunting yellows, two beams of sunlight in his stare that make your plating hot.

he huffs out, slick with lubricants and glad he hit the refreshers before being undone. his servo finds your back, trailing up and down before hooking at your hip.

"e-enough. your turn."

when he slips underneath you, prevents even the slightest suggestion of a wriggle, you have to bite back a whine.

"are you sure? i. i haven't —"

"sit. this? is mine. you are mine. let me show how good you can feel."

that'll do it. he can be commanding but that appears moreso in the berth. it rubs a smug part of his ego that half the time you do what he asks anyways, without even thinking to snark.

"you're so wet.. that's it. open up for me."

quickly your panels open, valve quivering. and his intake is right there, dermas teasing against the pulsing throb of your need. because you don't only want him, you think as his glossa starts to lick — you need him or you might just offline.

maybe in another universe, your lover is a poet. he croons up to you, intimate, filthy, all the praise he never dares to say in public.

you can't see him. but there's a smile you feel pressed up when he finds your exterior node, takes it between his dentae. you relax, only for his glossa — which is thicker than you imagined — eagerly sinks further inside you.

who knew your dee was such a romantic.

remember when i said he wouldn't want to make sparklings? well, he certainly doesn't fuck like that's the case. he can be rough but in a slow, hard and relentless way. his strokes are deep, he never pulls until every drop of transfluid is mixing with your own. he likes when he can pick you up, still your strong and valiant dee, nestled inside when he thrusts up into you.

there's a liiiittle toxicity. just a smidgen. he has a lot to work on himself and some of that is his passiveness. so sometimes, his stress comes rearing its ugly head, or his silent jealousy is starting to flare, which ends with you having to recalibrate your stability and try not to go into stasis while he works that off.

robolvrr 2024.

[bumpkinspice0]

No One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 1/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You're an X-Man... well, you used to be. You left years ago, and in the aftermath of an attack on X-Mansion, Charles has asked you back to help repair the damage to the estate. An easy job for an earthmover like yourself. Still, after years away from your old home, you feel like a stranger again. So much has changed and you're not sure where you fit in anymore. The newest X-Men member isn't helping your mood either. You're not sure where they found Logan, and you're still trying to figure out what to think of him. The mans barely said anything to you. He's not the typical stray Charles would take in, but then again, neither were you when he brought you here.

AN: Like everyone else, my Wolverine obsession has also re-awoken. So I made a quick little 3 part fic to cope with it. Let's see if I can rest now This leans into the movie-verse of the x-men (He's tall because Hugh Jackman is tall lol) but I think I wrote it in such a way that you can imagine it in whatever version of the x-men you like best. Warnings: Emotional baggage, fluff, angst, self-doubt, anger issues?, alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Logan is drunk babysitter, this is a little corny but I don't care, eventual smut

Series Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Stepping on the soil of the Xavier estate felt odd in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like standing on hallowed ground you’re unworthy of being on. Funny, years ago you only knew it as home. Now you’re just a stranger to the rocks beneath your feet. Still, Charles asked you back. He asked for your help.

The grounds around X-Mansion were unrecognizable.

They were decimated in this latest attack. Storm assured you all the children got out safely, thank god. The estate took all the damage. The house had been rebuilt but the surrounding lands were… rough. Ripped-up roots and protruding rocks where gardens and trees once stood. The walls of the mansion were now bare of its usual sprawling ivy, freshly reconstructed for probably the dozenth time in its life— another failed attack from another ignorant enemy. 

You look at the destroyed earth around you, the real reason you were here. This is why he called you.

Soil, dirt, and rocks were where your powers lie. You could move the earth itself, sense the minerals beneath your feet, see the world around you through the touch of stone. Dozer your friends called you when you first came here— short for Bulldozer . You always hated it but it’s unfortunately the name that stuck. Now it’s just… part of you.

You weren’t the best student. You were angry when you came here at the ripe age of 13 after a rather unconventional childhood. Things were done to you you could never forgive. In a lot of ways, you were still angry. Used by the people you should have trusted most. Seen as less than human. A tool. A mutant. 

And that’s when Charles found you.

The Professor took you in when he had no obligation to— and you fought every step of the way. You realize now it was your fear acting out rather than anger. Still, you were an X-Man… for a while. You thought you found your place. It was a good few years but you wanted more. You wanted to prove the world wrong. Be more than just a mutant. People always say a life well lived is always the best revenge. That’s what you wanted, a good life you forged for yourself despite the world's hatred towards you— and you left the X-Men behind to do it.

Once an x-man, always an x-man, Charles told you the day you left. Maybe some part of that was true, but you didn’t feel like an X-man anymore. It was your own fault, really.

Months and years rolled on and picking up the phone just got harder and harder. Dropping by to say hello started feeling intrusive. And eventually, it just became easier to do nothing at all. 

You stopped trying, but so did they. 

No, that’s not true. Jean tried. Storm tried. A letter or two every year. Missed calls that never got returned. You don’t know why you did it… or didn’t do it. Maybe you thought it would hurt less if you just tried to close the book on that chapter of your life. Be a new person. Something without the X-Men. They didn’t need you anyway. 

Really, it was probably that same fear from your teen years rearing its ugly head. Still that afraid, angry little girl. 

But Charles called, and you answered, and now you’re here. You’re here to help them get back up. 

You became a landscaper when you went off to make a name for yourself. Dirt was all you understood, as sad as that sounds. Still, it was work that made you happy. Funny how you left because you didn’t want your mutation to define you.

Charles treated it professionally like any other client would. The man didn’t expect charity and agreed to your usual fee plus an extra 50% to redo the escape tunnels under the mansion. 

I can’t pick my home up and move it, but I do my best to keep people guessing about its secrets, was Charles's reasoning. 

It was a big job. It would take you 2 weeks at least. Hopefully finishing up just in time for the returning students. You’d already been here 3 days and the emotional exhaustion was getting to you more than anything.

There was no ‘bad blood’ here. You were welcomed back with a chorus of cheers and endless hugs. It was… nice. Really nice. You did miss it here, you missed your old friends. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of disassociation stirring in your stomach. Yes, this was your home— your friends— but you’d alienated yourself. They’ve been nothing but kind to you and you still feel like a stranger because you left. You left and stopped trying and you’re refusing to try even now.

 Why was this all so scary?

You're reshaping the east garden beds when you feel eyes on you for the dozenth time today. You turn to see him standing there on the 4th-floor balcony, overlooking the decimated gardens. 

Logan . 

You only met him a few days ago. The newest member of the X-Men. The Wolverine. You’d heard rumors about him before. Tales of the rage, someone more animal than man. You’re amazed Charles took in someone like him, but then again he took you in too. 

You’d said less than 3 words to each other since you returned. When Scott introduced you he only gave a curt nod and lurked back into whatever corner he was occupying. 

You noticed he liked to stay on the sidelines. Silently occupy space without participating. He was always there when you turned around— like a shadow. He liked watching you work, you think. You could sense him lingering outside of the tunnel entrance you started in the basement the other day. This is the 4th time you’ve caught him lingering today.

You give him a casual flip of the bird. He retreats back inside as soon as your eyes connect with his. 

Fucking creep. 

“Dozer!” Storm’s voice pulls you from your unplanned staring contest. 

She and Jean step down into the rocky pit that was slowly starting to resemble a 3 tiered garden. You’d been working on the tunnels below the house since you got here, this was your first day outside. Even an Earthmover needed sunlight every once in a while. You couldn’t punch out your slew of confusing feelings in a dark hole in the ground forever. 

Of course they’d ambush you as soon as you stepped outside. 

“We have a surprise for you,” Jean announces proudly. 

“What— Why?” is all you manage to say. 

Idiot. 

“What do you mean why?” Storm doesn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and march you out of your pit. “Come on, it’s up at the garage.”

You let them drag you there, reminding yourself that these are your friends. The ones that kept trying to let you in and you’ve been an elusive bitch to since you got here. 

Try. Just try a little. They want you here. They do. 

You’re guided, presumably to the garage, by Storm while Jean diligently holds her hands in front of your eyes. 

“Please tell me it’s a new car,” You joke trying to lighten the mood. “My truck’s getting old.”

“Pfft, we don’t have that much money,” Jean nudges you slightly before you all come to a halt. She removes her hands. 

It’s not a car. It’s flowers. 

They’re absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of them in nursery trays laid out in front of the garage doors. Young blossoms but still vibrant with rainbows of color. 

Despite your connection with the Earth you never had power over plants, but felt a kinship with them in a way. Both beings that thrived in the dirt was your best guess as to why. You could sense them, feel them in your own way. Your dorm was a practical jungle when you lived here. Hell, your apartment today still was. 

A closer glance at the small garden reveals something more.

“It’s all your favorites,” Storm confirms, reaching down between the rows, “The ones we could remember at least. You had so many.”

She pulls out a bouquet, a small collection of the surrounding flowers. They must have made it themselves. Ororo hands it to you, her smile warm but her eyes sad in a way.

“Guys, I…” you choke out, pushing back the stinging tears. 

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Jean strokes your shoulder, “The gardens are yours. A reflection of you… for the rest of us. This is your home, you get to leave your mark on it.”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Storm joins Jean in front of you, “We’re happy you're home.”

Wordlessly, you collapse into the two of them. You’d make an ass out of yourself if you tried to talk right now anyway. 

Of course Jean knew how you were feeling. Of course Storm probably had the idea for this corny grand gesture. Of course, they missed you. They’re your oldest friends. Your sisters. 

You’re home. This is okay. It’s all going to be okay. 

__________

The sun has nearly set when you hear the garage door open from a distance, a fight echoing from inside. 

“Logan, be reasonable!” You recognize Scott’s aggravated voice.

“You’re a goddamn coward,” the wolverine growls back. Jean informed you this is a regular occurrence between the two of them. You’re not surprised. Logan seemed difficult, to say the least. 

You’re halfway up to the garage before you realize what you’re doing. What are you doing? Are you really going to try to break up a flight or just get a better spot for eavesdropping? There’s the roar of a motorcycle engine before you have time to decide. 

“ Logan! ” Scott shouts one last time before Logan peels out of the garage— right through the rows of your flowers that rested there. 

“HEY!” you shout after him. It’s no use, of course. He doesn’t bother to stop, already past the front gate by the time you reach the driveway. 

Scotts stands there alone at the edge of the garage, his hand on his visor… contemplating. 

“You’d have one witness if you're thinking about murder,” you make your presence known as you crouch down amongst the now mangled corpses of your garden. 

Asshole.

“Shit,” Scott's posture drops, almost embarrassed. His demeanor had changed so much from that young man you knew. The leader of the X-Men, he took himself so seriously now. It was cute in a way only Scott Summers could pull off. 

“What an asshole,” you rescue a box of untouched daisies. At least some of it was salvageable. 

“You have no idea,” Scott joins you, finding what flowers could be saved, “I’m sorry. He’s… difficult.”

“What were you fighting about?” you dare to ask, more to distract yourself than anything. 

Scott hesitates before he answers. 

“We were attacked by an offshoot of the Trask Institute. Extremists we didn’t even know existed. They came out of nowhere, and they’re still out there,” You see him scowl, silently scolding himself for not knowing more as a leader. He’d do the same thing in training.

The person who always put the most pressure on Scott was never The Professor. It was just Scott.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We don’t have an exact location, but Logan wants to hunt them down. Take ‘em out at the source, ya know?”

“And you don’t wanna do that?”

“We’ve taken enough hits right now.” He adds a bushel of ivy to your pile, “Best to wait until we have our feet back under us… or if they provoke us again.”

“Wouldn’t be good to be caught with your pants down again, though.” It’s not your place to question him anymore, but you do it anyway. 

“We’re monitoring them. They’re not a treat right now,” he lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping, “But that’s not good enough for Logan. He doesn’t plan. Just wants to go in guns blazing.”

“Ah, wild-west style.”

 “Like I said… he’s difficult .”

“That seems like a nice way of saying an absolute dick .” you attempt to lighten the mood and simultaneously quell the anger stirring in your stomach. He’d ruined your gift, your welcome home present— and he probably didn’t even notice. 

“He is a dick. A big one,” Scott scoffs, gaze lingering over the vegetative carnage, “I’m sorry he did this because of me…”

“Acts of random dickishness are not your fault, Summers.” 

Scott actually smiles at that one. 

“Did you like it at least? The flowers? The girls were so excited about it. We all wanted you to… never mind. You– you get it.”

You look at the mismatched rescues you’ve already gathered in your hands. Thank god you still had the bouquet in your room at least. 

“Yeah, Scott. I loved them.”

He gives a reassuring nod. Scott wasn’t much for words. That’s okay, you didn’t expect him to be. Yes, he’s the leader but there’s still so much of that quiet boy you see in him. 

“Logan will probably be gone for the night. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’ll fix this, Doze.” Scott assures you, that leadership role dropping so easily into place. Charles made the right choice with him. 

“That’s okay, Scott. I’ll take care of it myself.”

__________

Scott was right, Logan doesn’t come back until the following afternoon. You’re on the mansion's north side with Charles, showing him your layout plans, when you hear the roar of that stupid bike again. 

“Sorry, Charles,” you quickly step away from your old mentor, “I have to handle something.” 

“I hope you won’t be ruining my grounds even further while you handle this,” Charles tuts disapprovingly, completely aware of Logan’s transgressions from the previous night. Being psychic, he was no doubt also completely aware of just how angry you were. Jean did say your thoughts are loud after all. Still, he lets you go without another word.

This guy had been nothing but a creep to you since you got here, stacking more anxiety on top of your already overflowing insecurities. Strutting around like he owned the place. Looking at you like a piece of meat. You’d seen too many men like him in your life. He needs to be knocked down a peg.

“Hey!” You have his attention as soon as he kills the engine. He rolls his eyes as he lazily tilts his head in your direction. 

“What, sweetheart?” his face is painted over with an arrogance that was just begging to be slapped off. 

You’ll happily oblige.

Kicking your heel into the dirt you send a wave through the ground. A small pillar of rock shoots up under the bike. It falls under the sudden jolt, and so does Logan along with it. The shock on his face was already worth it. 

“What the hell?!” He sneers as he crawls out from under the bike. 

“Why don’t you watch where you're driving next time, asshole,” You dare to take a step forward. He scrambles to his feet, a metallic ring following the movements. 

Ah, there they are— the infamous metal claws. Now these you’ve heard stories about.

“That is quite enough,” Charles rolls up behind you, “I will not have this boorish display of dominance on my property.” 

To his credit, Logan is the first one to drop his defenses. He sheaths his claws with an irritated shrug. 

“Don’t know what the hell I did for any of this crap,” He practically mumbles. You resist the urge to throw a pebble at his head. 

“You wrecked my garden!” You can practically feel the ground vibrating in your anger. 

Logan looks down at his feet, remnants of the flora he’d unknowingly destroyed still scattered across the dirt. 

“Hell of a place for a garden, toots,” he scoffs, kicking at the now withered flowers, “What you want an apology, then?”

You kick another small wave towards him. He catches himself on the shaking ground this time, only giving a scowl your way. 

“Enough!” Charles comes between you. “If you insist on behaving like children, then you will be treated like children.”

“He started it!” against your better judgment you mockingly point a finger at Logan. Charles only offers a disappointed shake of the head. 

Once a student, always a student. 

Charles addresses you first, “You have my permission to use school funds to purchase more garden supplies, and I apologize on behalf of my newest pupil since he seems to be incapable of doing it himself. They were a gift after all,” he turns to Logan, “And you will take her to get them.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Both you and Logan protest at the same time. 

“If you insist on protesting then I’d like to remind you I can always make you do it in different ways,” It’s an empty threat, of course. One of his favorite tactics to use. You remember him making the same kind to you when you were a student. He sighs before making his way back inside the mansion, “I will not have more petty rivalries in this house at a time like this. See it done… Today.”

You’re left alone together, both staring down at your feet like scolded children. Well into your adulthood you’re still finding ways to disappoint Charles Xavier. You’re ashamed you let your anger get the better of you again. You thought you were past this. Better than this.

Logan may have been an ass, but he was an X-man too. A friend of your friends. You didn’t even give him a chance to fix this before you came barreling in fists first. Still, you don’t really regret it either…

Fine.

With a deep sigh, you’re the first to concede.

“I have a truck.”

Logan hesitates for a moment before finally looking you in the eye. 

“I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

The drive to the Westchester Greenhouse was tense and completely silent. Now he’s following three paces behind you like a giant angry shadow. The sweet grandmas perusing the hydrangeas take one look at him looming behind you and change rows. It’s hilarious if you're being honest. You’d cooled down over the drive, you’re not entirely sure he has. Every step he takes is tense, you can feel it through the damp concrete floor.

You wonder if he’s aware of how intimidating he is. He has to be. That or he truly didn’t care. From what little you knew about this man it’s probably a bit of both.

“I don’t get why we’re here,” his gruff voice surprises you, “Can’t you just… grow more?”

“I can’t grow things,” you respond, placing a tray of tiger lilies in your cart, “Just move dirt.”

He hums and looks away in response. This was getting painful. If Charles insisted on sending you both out on this stupid little team-building exercise then you might as well try a little… for Charles.

“I can’t grow plants but I can… feel them.” You continue. 

To your surprise, he actually responds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maybe ‘ I can kinda talk to pants’ isn’t the best icebreaker topic but it’s a start. You look around rows of greenery, your attention landing on a crudely drawn sign that reads ‘ Man-Eating Plants. ’ Perfect. Most basic nurseries never knew how to take care of carnivorous plants properly. 

“Here I’ll show you,” you walk over to the small section of venus fly traps. Your suspicions were correct. Brown-tipped leaves and shriveled black heads could be spotted on nearly every plant. They’d repotted them in all-purpose soil without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me you can talk to them.” Logan comes to stand next to you. 

“No, nothing like that. But look,” you point at the crisping leaves of one plant. “They’re over-fertilized. They get their nutrients from bugs, not the soil. They’re roots don’t like what’s in the dirt and I can… feel that. So then I talk to the dirt.” 

Logan raises an amused brow. You’re not entirely sure if it’s mocking or genuinely curious. 

“So whaddya do ‘bout that?” he probes. 

Curious it is. You take a quick glance around, making sure no one is close enough to see. Thankfully the massive scary man at your side and some towering majesty palms are enough cover for you. 

“We take out what they don’t like in the soil. And what’s soil and fertilizer but some specific minerals.”

You’d first gotten the idea when you’d heard Magneto could rip iron directly out of people's blood. If his powers could be so precise, why not yours? It took years to master. You practiced by dumping table salt on the yard and trying to only summon the granules to your hands.

Same concept here.

You hold your hand over the small carnivorous beasts, feeling the small pellets of fertilizer mixed into their soil. You can feel the specific minerals and separate them out. Steadily, tiny pellets hovered out of each pot in neat rows and gathered above your hand. Once gathered you clench your open palm into a fist, the pellets gathering into one solid rock the size of a golf ball. 

“There,” the mineral-dense rock drops into your hand, “Come back in a month and I guarantee these guys will be doing better.”

“Oh, I’m never coming back here,” despite the bitterness of his words, Logan says them with a smile. He’s teasing you. 

“Well then,” you turn to him and place the rock in his jacket’s breast pocket, “There, a little souvenir to remember your forced trip to the greenhouse for being a jerk.” 

You’re walking back to the cart before he has a chance to respond. The air feels lighter between the two of you now. You don’t like that you had to be the bigger person when he’s clearly been the one in the wrong but… it’s something, you guess. 

Your little demonstration reminds you that you need better-treated soil if you’re going to make these gardens work. The ground around the mansion was fine but they needed something ritcher to give the plants a good head start. You could mix the soil yourself from around the area but it was infinitely easier to get already prepared bags of it here. Just a few for the topsoil should be fine. Charles said this was all on him, after all. 

You stop in front of the stacked bags of various soil mixes. You reach for the general outdoor plant mix. Logan’s hand beats yours to the fuschia pink labeled bag, pulling it off the stack and tossing it over his shoulder. 

“How many?” he asks, emotionless. 

“Uh… let’s start with five?”

He grabs two more and effortlessly stacks them on his shoulder. He holds the other two in his free hand. He stands there holding over a hundred pounds of dirt like it’s nothing. 

“Okay, what next?”

The sun is starting to set when you make your way back to the manor. The air between the two of you is decidedly less tense but it’s still painfully silent. There was… progress made. You didn’t hate him anymore and hopefully he would treat your property with more care from now on. He tried, in the only way stoic men like him can. Not with words, but with small actions. Carrying bags of dirt for hours, shooing you away from loading the truck and doing it all himself, opening the car door for you. For some reason actually saying ‘sorry’ was always so much harder than just showing you he was sorry. 

You got it. Your father and brothers were the same. You wonder if he was a military man too. 

That doesn’t change the fact that you hadn’t apologized either. Yes, he’d wrong you first, but you provoked him without warning. Actions instead of just talking like an adult. Yeah, actions were always easy for people like you. 

And in your own fucked up little way, you’d made him the subject of your anxieties. He was new here, you’d made yourself an outcast. They all clearly adored him despite his rugged nature. Charles so clearly wanted to help this man who was too skittish to be helped. It reminded you of someone else…

You could extend the metaphorical olive branch. Offer something that resembled friendship. That’s why Charles sent you out here, but you’re going to do it your own way. 

Somewhere that holds a lot of memories is coming up on the right, and you could use a drink. The sudden turn off the road jolts Logan from his empty gazing out the window. 

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He reaches for the center console, shooting you a glare. You hold back a smile, “This isn’t the way back to the school.”

“We’re not going back to the school,” You pull into an all too familiar parking lot, a red neon sign already lit up reading ‘Stevie’s Bar ‘n’ Grill’ illuminates the windshield. You’d snuck over here at least a dozen times when you were in school.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“What?” He smirks with a raise of the eyebrow. He does that a lot, you've noticed.

“Look, I—” You take a breath and shift the car into park. You can do this, it’s just words, “I wasn’t fair. You did a shitty thing, yeah, but you didn’t know. And I came at you with no explanation.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs jokingly, trying to lighten the mood you’ve suddenly soured. It works. You smile. 

“It’s… weird. Being back,” you’re grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s weird coming back to a place you called home and feeling like a stranger. Despite everything your friends are saying, you just feel wrong there. I tried to take my insecurities out on you Logan. I’m sorry.”

The bloated silence that settles between the two of you doesn’t help, but you can’t blame him. What was he supposed to say after you just bared part of your soul? You’re not expecting an apology but it hurts a little when he hops out of the truck. You’re about to yell after him when he rounds the front and comes to your door. He opens it and leans in closer than you’d like. 

“How about I buy you a drink then?” There’s that stupid smirk of his again, “You said it yourself, I did a shitty thing. You drug me out here to clean up my mess, wrecked your little welcome home present Jean wouldn’t shut up about. I owe you a drink, toots.”

He leans in a little closer. You can smell the cigar smoke on him, probably embedded into his clothes at this point. It’s not an apology. Not really.

It’s an olive branch. 

__________

It’s exactly the same. Old country on the jukebox, dirty floors, old tattooed lady bartenders that wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they tried something. Funny how little hole-in-the-wall places like this never change. You’re grateful for it. 

You and Logan huddled into the farthest booth in the corner away from the commotion. His beer’s already half gone by the time you’re on your second sip. Somehow you’re not surprised. 

“How the hell did Charles get stuck with you?” You laugh as he wipes away the suds from his stubble. 

“Funny, I could ask you the same.”

You playfully kick him under the table and he thankfully laughs it off. He had a nice smile… you suppose. 

“He drug me in kicking and screaming,” You take another sip, glancing at the kitchen door in hopes the fries you ordered were coming. Logan leans forward, waiting for you to continue. “I… ran away from my birth family. Was on the streets for probably six months before he found me. I was thirteen.”

“That’s the most boring way to tell a probably good story I’ve ever heard,” He says before taking another gulp. 

“Oh, please tell me your life story then, Mr. Wolverine.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, we’d be here a while, Darlin’.”

Well… if he was asking about you. 

“I was born in Guam… I think. We moved almost every year. Mom died before I even had memories. Was brought up by a Colonel in the army and two brothers.”

“Military brat. Should have guessed.” You kick him under the table again, “Explains the temper too I guess.”

“Well, a military upbringing with a bunch of boys’ll do that.” 

When was the last time you told someone about your life? And why was it so easy to tell him? He holds your gaze for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat. 

“Why’d you run away then?” He asks. 

“Oh, you’re gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, fella.” you skillfully evade the question. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell him everything . 

“That can be arranged,” waves at the waitress, signaling for another round. You look at his practically empty mug and you're still practically full one— and still no fries. God help you. 

“Your turn,” you prompt him, “Tell me something about you.”

His posture tenses. 

“Not much to tell, sweetheart.”

“Where were you born?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Okay, where’d you grow up?”

“Same answer.”

“Did you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening, “Like I said, it’s a long story… but I’m missing a lot of details. It’s not worth listening to, I promise.”

You suddenly feel bad for snooping so much. He had a boundary, and that was fine. Just because you were so keen on sharing doesn’t mean he has to be. 

The waitress delivers your next round along with a greasy basket of fries. Logan is the first to reach for one. 

“You said Chuck drug you in kicking and screaming?” His eyes soften again, “I guess he did with me too.”

He’s trying to be friendly. Trying to be a little gentler.

“Oh?” you gently prod him to continue. 

“I’m not…” he runs his hand through his pointed hair, “I wasn’t a good man… the parts I can remember. And Chuck gave me a chance. I don’t like it all the time… bein’ somewhere I don’t belong. I run. It’s what I do. But they keep havin’ me back. So… I get it.”

You suspect he hasn’t told anyone this, but he’s saying it to you. He chose you to trust for some reason. Your heart clenches. 

You thumb at the handle of your still mostly full beer next to another waiting one, unsure of how to continue. You both started with the heavy shit, so there was only one way to go now. You came here to clear the air… but you also came here to drink. You take the mug and raise it to Logan. 

“To the class fuck ups then.”

__________

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to buy you six drinks on a practically empty stomach. To be fair, you didn’t admit that you’d skipped lunch until drink four and by then the fries were gone and the kitchen was closed. Half a basket of fries wasn't a good substitute dinner, it turns out. Not so much a lightweight as just an idiot, but everyone’s a lightweight compared to Logan. Perk of a healing factor is he can sober up pretty damn quick when he needs to. Practically had to wrestle the keys out of your hands while you were stumbling your way back to the truck. 

Cute how you thought you could put up a fight. He carried you the rest of the way to the truck, you giggling the whole way. Funny how he didn’t really mind either. 

So used to drinking alone, he’d forgotten what it was like to do it with someone else. All the comradery that came with it and a few sloppy games of pool too. Kurt wasn’t much for booze, unfortunately. Hank, Jean, and Storm were always too damn busy to relax, and Scott… like hell he’d have a drink with Scott. 

But this was all your idea. You brought him to a shitty bar, shared a little bit yourself with him and now he was driving you home while you poorly slurred along with whatever was playing on the radio.

And he didn’t mind one bit. 

He didn’t know what to make of you when you first came. They all talked about you with such admiration whenever your name came up… which was all the damn time. You were quiet, skittish almost. Kept your nose down and got to work immediately. 

He recognized what you were doing right away. 

Logan understood what it was like to be part of something and feel like a stranger. Hell, that’s all he’d ever been. Just someone passing through until the X-Men. He’s still learning how to do it. Be part of something. He meant it when he said he wasn’t a good man, but he’s a better man than he was. He wouldn’t have that without Charles. 

And here you come, someone who had it all and left it behind just to try to be normal out in the world. The one thing people like you could never be. Yeah, he really got it.

You admitted you were an angry kid in your drunken ramblings. He has a hard time picturing you that way— a little rebel. You shied away from talking more about personal things. Your family and whatever the hell else that past life entailed. He didn’t pry, didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than he already had. Instead, the conversation drifted into one of those that’s about everything and nothing at all. Just sharing drinks with a friend kind of conversation. 

He liked it… having someone to talk to. 

You’re finishing up belting Bohemian Raposesty when he finally pulls into the driveway of the mansion. 

“Shows over, rockstar,” he announces as he kills the engine. 

“Boooo!” You weakly protest as soon as the radio dies, “Killjoy!”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, getting out and walking over to your door. You slump out of the seat as soon as he opens it, “Come on, princess.” 

You’re slumped over, curled up into the flannel he offered as a blanket. He pulls you into his arms, deciding it’d be easier to just carry you straight to bed rather than herd you up the steps. God he hopes everyone’s gone to bed by now, otherwise he’s probably going to get an earful for getting their precious darling drunk. 

“You’re like the firemen… in those calendars…” you slur as he pushes through the front door, “Or a lumberjack. With those chops, you have to be a lumberjack.”

He holds back a laugh at your girlish ramblings. To his relief, no one is in the foyer. He quickly hikes up the stairs, squirming drunk girl in hand. You were already dozing off by the time he reached the top of the stairs. 

Thank god. 

“Whoa, deja vu,” you rub your hands down your face, “I feel like 'm 16 again. We did this all the time back ‘n the day.” 

“Yeah? Who carried you to bed then?” your door is in sight. 

“The Professor.” you jokingly wheeze out without hesitation. “Guy loves his brandy.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Logan scoots past your door, careful of your head. He lays you down on the bed gently, you don’t protest. He carefully unlaces your shoes while you squirm into the covers. 

“Y’know, yer nicer than I thought you’d be.” You can’t even keep your eyes open now. 

“That right?” Logan smiles to himself as he pulls one sneaker off. 

“Mmhmm,” you nod, nuzzling your head into the pillow, “Funny, I thought the Wolverine would be so scary.”

He cringes a little at your words. He won’t hold them against you, not in this state. 

“I’m very scary.”

You blow a raspberry before continuing, “No yer not! You're just a guy. A hunky, lumberjack guy who hates flowers.”

“I don’t hate flowers.”

“Right… just my flowers.”

“Yeah, just your flowers,” he pulls off the other shoe. Your feet immediately shoot up into the covers. He smooths a comforting hand over your hip. It makes him happier than it should when you don’t flinch away. 

“You need anything else, darlin’?”

“Stop doin’ that,” You groan into the pillow.

“Stop what?”

“Makin’ me blush with your dumb pet names.” You admit, “Stop it.”

He smiles to himself, a familiar warm feeling rising in his stomach. He’ll leave you be for tonight. Best to wait until you're sober to ask what you mean by that anyway, if only to watch you blush a little more. 

“I’ll leave you be then,” he almost feels regret when he stands off of the bed. Almost. You were drunk. Tired. There was nothing more to be said tonight. 

He drags your empty trash can over to the side of the bed, just in case, and fills a glass of water for you too. 

“I had fun tonight,” He says before walking towards the door. Your voice makes him pause.

“Logan?” you call out like a scolded child.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually hate my flowers, do you?”

“No, darlin’. I don’t hate your flowers.” 

He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him. 

__________

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!!!!!😁

Today's poll features @mohammednabilanqar's campaign!!!

I've been thinking recently that GoFundMe screenshots may be easier to read than Tumblr's fonts, at least for me? (Love feedback on that btw!!) So I'll lead you through his own words on his GoFundMe, and add my own summaries and contextualization🩷

So far from the goal🥺 His campaign is going slowly. The prewar pictures show a comfortable, normal life that was violently ripped from them. Let's help them build it back, they deserve it.

He's 35, like me. He has a wife named Aya and three kids ages 11, 7, and 3. Imagine caring for such young children without adequate shelter from the elements nor everyday supplies.

The genocide stole their shelter, source of income, even extremely basic supplies (food, clean water, hygiene items, medical supplies, blankets, all the things that make life bearable, especially for a family with small children).

They are staying in Gaza and rebuilding their home rather than evacuating. They need our help surviving and hopefully with enough support, thriving.

Ameer especially, the 3-year-old, needs food and care -- his little brain (and all the children's) is still developing!!!!! Let's give those kids hope in the midst of the worst of "man's inhumanity to man."

Vetted!!!!!!! @gazavetters #11. (See this post for an explanation of how that is still a proper vetting source)

The family's donation-protected GoFundMe:

@mythiedew @operationladybug @acehimbo @butchfeygela @butchjeremyfragrance @ohjinyoung @rememberthelaughter2016 @parfaithaven @monotremesoup @ilikefoodandyourmom @agremlinthing @huzni @bagofbonesmp3 @hussyknee @thatsonehellofabird @innovatorbunny @neechees @maester-cressen @lampsbian @sundung @shinydreamtacoprune-blog @rob-os-17 @brokenbackmountain @unwinni3 @whateveroursoulsaremadeoff @cultreslut @halfbloodfanboy @pontaoski @fei-huli @elbiotipo @selkiebrides @streakoflavender @bloodandgutsyippee @wherethatoldtraingoes2

[multifandoms27-blog]

hello! Could I request cuddle hcs with Orion pax and d-16? Gn reader pls! Idk whether cybetronian or human so u can chose!

Hey anon! Your wish is my command. Went with Cybertronian S/O on this one

Content: Orion Pax x GN! Cyb! Reader, D-16 x GN! Cyb! Reader (separate)

Warnings: None!

Notes: Didn't know if you wanted like a poly thing or separate. So I just went with separate. If you want them together let me know!

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Orion Pax

He's such a cuddle bug when he's not constantly moving around and getting into trouble

He's very much a "no space between us" cuddler

Like his helm is under yours, his servos around your chassis

His optics are always closed too, he just likes relishing in the moment lol

He's also very kissy too

Loves to pepper kisses along your neck cords and shoulder platings

Sometimes will even sprinkle kisses on your arms, and travel lower...

But thats a story for a different time! Lol

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D-16

The miners don't get a whole lot of privacy in their sleeping quarters, but he doesn't care

He'd cuddle you all day if he could

He's a laid back cuddler

Will drape his arms across you lazily and either lay on his back or his side

Laying on his back makes him pull your helm in to lay on his chassis

Laying on his side means hes behind you, arm draped lazily over your side

He does a lot of pillow talk

He'll speak softly in your audial and watch as you slowly fall asleep

He'll smile and then fall asleep himself after he makes sure you're asleep

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Here's my Transformers masterlist in case you wanna request something!