#how long do I need to wait until I see him

[witherby]

Part 7 of mer!reader?🫣🫣🫣

Of course! I think it's time to get you and Damian back together.

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 7

Masterlist with all parts Here!

Content features upsetting Mer behavior and unsafe diving practices. Wear your protective gear, people!

It takes another month for your routine to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. The specialists Bruce told Damian about had spent three days observing your behaviors and drew up a detailed care plan to help you recover as best as you could, which the facility follows with great enthusiasm.

You wake up and swim to the entrance of the tank to receive breakfast from Jon. Afterwards, he and Clark gently roll you out of the tank to apply weird-smelling salves to the patches on your tail, encouraging it to heal correctly and for new scales to grow. You sit and wait for the salve to absorb, then you get back into the water to play a little, and then it's Attention Time.

You swim all the way to the bottom floor of your tank, where visitors come admire you through the tunnels under your tank for several hours. Sometimes you have the energy to do a trick or two.

Then, it's back up to the top of the tank for dinner, more playtime, and then you get to sleep until tomorrow where you do it all again.

But the lethargy remains. The stinging, empty space in your chest only seems to grow the more you see Damian dispassionately leading tours and refusing to look at you. Of all the people that come to admire you, the one person whose attention you actually want, you cannot get.

Jon, bless him, is trying so hard to keep you happy. He talks to you every day, he gives you tons of treats, he swims with you as long as you want him to, and he's given you so many new toys that they've overtaken your cute rock collection. His effort is why you're doing your best to hide how bad you still feel.

And his company does help! It does. You can comfortably call him a friend, and mean it. But you are so tired. You miss Damian so much. You feel drained, and the urge to remain inside your little hideout gets stronger every passing day.

Every night, in the comforting darkness of your castle spire, the old bricks pressing against your body and shielding you from the rest of the world, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the boy with beautiful, emerald eyes without fail.

You think of the first time you met him, and how he looked at you as just another dumb animal in the aquarium for him to care for. You think of the first time you made him realize you were so much more — how you'd done every trick he commanded with such attitude and even mocked him back that he actually cracked a smile. You think of the first time you pulled him into the water to show him your favorite parts of your habitat, and then how he reassured you it was fine that you almost drowned him by accident because he knew you hadn't meant to. You think of all the times he snuck in after hours to spend just a little more time with you, to play just one more game, to ensure you didn't feel like another part of his job he had to do but someone he genuinely looked forward to seeing.

You think of the pretty blush on his face when you mustered the courage to give him your scales.

You think of all the gifts you left him afterwards, and how you didn't get any back.

You think of his dispassionate expression as he leads another group of visitors into your enclosure, day after day after day.

Your chest burns. You weep into the water and succumb to fitful slumber.

--

"I need a dive team to the Mer tank please! Right now!"

Damian furrows his brow, momentarily pausing his work. He's in the dolphin exhibit currently hand-feeding them when the announcement comes over the speaker system. He wonders what you're doing to have freaked Jon out, but it's not his place to care anymore, so he tries to push the curiosity from his mind and refocus on his task.

One dolphin in particular is pretty bad about taking food from a handler. It's also just food aggressive in general, bullying its pod-mates out of the way to get to the food first. Damian can't help but compare how much smarter you are to these animals. He sighs.

"Doctor Kent to the Mer exhibit!"

Hmm. Did you breach your tank again? Or maybe you bumped your body against the spire you like to sleep inside. Damian tried to tell his father that the rough brick texture could hurt your more vulnerable top half if not careful, but Bruce was certain you'd be alright. He wonders what kind of fuss you're kicking up today, if it's a real issue or if Jon hasn't been around you long enough to realize that sometimes you fake a problem because it's funny.

"All divers to the Mer exhibit please!"

Tim rushes through the door into the dolphin exhibit, startling Damian into dropping the bucket. He quickly backs up with a gasp as the dolphins swarm to the food and start gobbling it up. He faces Tim with a glare.

"Does nobody know how to follow protocol anymore? You're supposed to knock before you —"

"You need to get upstairs," Tim says, holding up an access key to your enclosure, "like right now. Vitals on our mer are really bad, we can't extract them from the spire and —"

Damian doesn't stick around to hear him finish that sentence. He snatches the key and sprints through the aquarium like the devil's on his fucking heels. His heart is racing and not from the exertion. He forgoes the elevator and starts rushing up the stairs three at a time, climbing floor by floor by floor to get to you as fast as he can.

It was a real emergency, then? What had happened? Jon was supposed to be taking care of you now. You were supposed to be recovering. You were supposed to be happier without him, now.

What was wrong with you?

There's no time to head into the locker room and get a wetsuit on. He jams the key into the exhibit door and throws it open, rushing into the room with single-minded focus.

Jon is in a wetsuit and treading water, relaying information to his dad with a worried frown. Clark is kneeling next to the tank and giving him instructions on how to get you to the surface. Dick is sitting on the lip of the tank and wiggling into a suit of his own, very unfamiliar with the gear as he doesn't dive with Mers. Bruce is on the phone and standing by Clark, looking more and more concerned as the situation develops.

When Damian bursts in, Dick startles and looks up at him, fumbling with the clasp on his flipper.

"Dami, go ahead and get a suit on. We need you to — DAMIAN!"

He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to listen to whatever Clark's rambling on about. Doesn't wait for permission before he kicks his shoes off, takes a running start, and dives into the tank in his plainclothes. He pedals his arms and kicks his feet as hard as he can and goes down, down, down, deeper into your vast tank and towards your favorite resting place. The effort is tremendous without the slim, hydrodynamic suit to aid him and a rebreather to allow him to stay down here for long periods of time. He pushes past it all and keeps going. You are in trouble and he is going to help you.

When he makes it to the spire and swims around to the entrance, he immediately sees the issue. Your body is curled into the mer version of fetal position; your arms are locked around your waist in an embrace and your tail is coiled underneath you in a tight spiral, twisted around itself and wedging you deeply into the cramped space. The angle of your body, coupled with the tight spacing of the hideaway, make it nearly impossible to pull you out.

In the wild, a mer found in this position is an almost universal signifier that they are near death.

If there's no intervention, you are going to die today.

Damian climbs into the spire with you, squeezing his body inside with a low grunt. A burst of bubbles escape from his mouth. If he can't pull you out — a dangerous move which would damage your tail and break your fins if they tried — he has to unfold you.

His back scrapes against the bricks and pain rockets down his spine. Another bunch of bubbles fly out. He grits his teeth and starts carefully pushing at you, gingerly moving your upper half, then your lower half, around and around and around to create enough space to safely push you free.

His chest is heaving. Damian is exhausted and quickly running out of breath. He cannot stop. If he stops, you won't make it.

He jerks when something jabs his ankle, arms wrapping protectively around you as his head snaps down to see what happened.

Jon is hovering just by the spire opening, holding a rebreather in his hand and shaking it insistently at him.

Damian reaches around you and makes a few grabs at it, finally curling his fingers around the device and pushing it into his mouth. He clicks the button to turn it on and almost coughs when oxygen starts to flow into his lungs. He slumps against you briefly, taking in your closed eyes and face twisted into agony.

What happened, he thinks. How did this happen to you, Princess?

His ankle is jabbed again. Damian looks back at Jon, who has his hands out in an offer of help. Damian gently starts to maneuver you around again, slowly but steadily unfolding your body, and when Jon catches on, helps do the same thing from your opposite side.

It is painstaking work. Dick eventually gets into the water to join in, but there's no room for him, so he hovers to the side ready to help carry your body to the surface when you're finally free.

It feels like it takes hours, but can't be more than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long in Damian's opinion. Eventually, your body is unwound enough to ease you out of the spire without injury, and the three men rush you to the surface where Clark and four other vets are waiting to take you. It becomes a flurry of activity after that.

Damian spits out the rebreather when his feet are back on solid ground. He pants and doubles over, limbs shaking from exertion, and watches the medical team assess your condition and fret over you. You're loaded onto a special stretcher and whisked from the room, and he's about to follow suit when a hand clasps over his wrist.

"No," he rasps, already gearing up the breath to scream at his father, but Bruce just shakes his head and presses a towel into his hands.

"Here," he says, voice soft and knowing. "Here, Tadpole. I just want you to get dry before you follow them into the medical bay. You can't help anybody if you get sick."

Damian clutches it, staring at his father with no small amount of trepidation. Bruce just sighs.

"I'm sorry, Damian. I am. We'll talk about it later, but I won't separate you two again. You have my word." He jerks his head toward the doors. "Go dry off and change in the locker room. I'll call Medical and tell them to let you in when you're done."

Damian throws his arms around Bruce, uncaring about how he's soaking his dad. Evidently Bruce doesn't care either, if the fierceness in which he hugs him back is any indication.

"Thank you," Damian whispers, then pulls away to head to the lockers.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

everything abt ur work is so so soooo good!!! do u think if u have the time u could write smth abt chan making the reader squirt? hehe n ofc w the daddy kink too

anyways i love u have a great day!!

does it feel like a big one?

pairing: daddy!chan x princess!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2ss and ~1k words

warnings: daddy kink, pet names, squirting, fingering, toys, praise, edging

an: god i’m so fucking feral. idek if this is any good. i wrote it in a needy haze, i blacked out. idk what happened. anon, thanks for your request. loving you. ♡

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

and that’s how you ended up here.

it had started off slow, your gentle daddy rubbing his hands against your skin, his fingertips ghosting over every inch of your naked body. he teased a little. his fingers would glide over your mound but only for a second, before they were traveling back up your tummy. he would circle his fingers around your bare nipples, squeezing your breasts softly in his palms.

he kissed your lips, smiling against them, before kissing down to your chest. his kisses feather light as he moved farther down. you thought he may put his mouth on your most sensitive area. you hoped he would. but it was just more faint kisses. more teasing.

“why are you so squirmy, baby? huh?”

you couldn’t keep your legs still, couldn’t keep your hips still. your body was in search of him. in need of him. you whined.

“nuh uh. no whining, remember?” he gently scolded. “daddy is just getting started.”

he spread your legs and knelt on the mattress between them. you were fully open for him and you were wet. he could see it, and you could feel it. the air in the room feeling suddenly cold on your sensitive lips.

he ran his fingertips along your thighs, up between your legs, ghosting over your damp sex, until he finally touched you. a real touch. with his index finger, he rubbed soft circles against your clit. he watched as your body reacted, your legs trying to clamp shut around his arm, but he held them in place.

“so sensitive, princess.” he breathed. “that’s good. that’s what we want for this.”

his fingers traveled down and dipped ever so slightly in your pool of arousal, but he didn’t penetrate. the feeling still sent shivers over your whole body.

“you are so beautiful.” he said, leaning down to kiss your tummy. he couldn’t help himself. he wanted to kiss you all over. wanted to shove his tongue inside you. but he had to wait. he had to be patient.

he leaned over you and grabbed the toy off the nightstand. it was just a little vibrating wand. you hummed in anticipation. “mm your eyes got wide at this, baby.” he said, clicking the device on, a quiet buzzing filling your ears. “you want this?”

you nodded, frantically. but that wasn’t enough. “words baby.”

“please, daddy. i want it. please.”

your begging went straight to his cock. your high pitched, watery pleas for him to give you what you want made him ache.

he pressed the toy against you clit for a second before pulling it away. your body convulsed. he pressed it to you again, only for a second. he did this a few times before finally leaving it against you, letting it do its work. it didn’t take long for you to reach the edge.

“don’t you dare cum, baby.” he warned. “you tell daddy when you’re close.”

“i’m close! i’m close!” you immediately yelled. and he pulled his hand away. he gave you a moment to relax, running the vibrator up your tummy and around your nipples before eventually bringing it back to your puffy little clit.

he held it there again, and after a minute or two, you were warning him again of your impending orgasm. he brought you to the edge 3 or 4 times before he slowly slipped his fingers inside your drippy hole.

you babbled incoherently as he slid 2 fingers inside you, curling them up to touch your favorite spot. “i think you’re ready, princess.”

his fingers felt so good, you were finally getting some stimulation. your body was so on edge. you felt so.. full. but not in the way you were used to. you felt full in a way that needed release. he started to slide his fingers in and out, gradually getting faster. he brought the vibrator back to your clit as he continued to finger you.

“oh my god..” you whined. “fuck..”

“careful with your language baby.” he warned. “it just feels so good, huh?”

you nodded, your fists gripping the sheets, your eyes squeezed shut as your head turned back and forth. he could feel you clamping down on his fingers, making it hard for him to move them.

“are you gonna cum baby?” he asked. “does it feel like a big one?”

“mhm.” you said. “it.. it feels like i need to potty.”

“that’s okay, angel. you just relax and let it go, okay? can you do that for me?” his fingers pumped in and out of you, your clit was almost numb from the constant vibration, and wet squelching sounds filled the room. “you can do it baby. cum for daddy.”

as you started to moan louder and louder, your body shaking, liquid started to pool around his fingers. he pulled them out quickly, leaving the vibrator on your clit. your release squirted out, coating the bed and his chest and arms in creamy little droplets.

“fuck.” he panted. “there you go, baby. good girl.”

it came in waves as your orgasm crashed over you. as your body convulsed, more would squirt out until you were empty. your body went limp. he turned the vibrator off, gently leaning down to kiss your skin, anywhere he could reach. your tummy, your chest, your neck, your jaw.

“are you doin okay, little one?” he asked.

you nodded, trying to catch your breath.

“you did it.” he said, kissing your temple. “daddy’s so proud of you. i knew you could do it. and it was so hot, baby.”

your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to face him. “really?”

his plush lips met yours. “yes really. you’re so sexy, baby. so perfect.”

“mm” you hummed, rubbing your nose against his. “love you, daddy.”

“i love you, princess.” he rutted into you, his clothed cock rubbing against your thigh. “you gonna let daddy use you now?” he asked. “i’ll be quick. let me fill you up, baby.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

i’m obviously not a squirt expert lol this is just from my experience.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[revelboo]

I absolutely love the Jazz x Reader, I have a feeling part 19 is smut? Also, when are the other autobots gonna find out about Jazz's little human friend?

Have a nice day/night! Love your blog🩵

It is smut 😅 and they will find out eventually 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Over It Now Pt 19

Jazz x Reader

��� Absolutely not. Knows where that sentence was headed and he’s not going to let you second guess this. Deny him. Feels like he might just die if you do. But you toss your head back with a soft noise when his mouth brushes against you, teasing you with his glossa. Not giving you a chance to overthink this. And you whisper his name, voice shaky and almost pleading. Wanting him. Giving in.

• Hips bucking as his mouth moves against you, his hands catch you and pin you in place, holding you open so you can’t squirm away as his glossa slides against you and delves inside you. And he makes a low, rumbling growl that’s almost a purr as he strokes you with his lips and glossa until you’re trembling and breathing raggedly. “Jazz,” you whimper and his head lifts, leaving you teetering on the edge as he rests his chin on your stomach, visor bright.

• “What do you need, doll?” Cupping you with a hand as he rocks his hips against the floor to try and ease that ache, wanting to free his spike and claim you, but this is about you. Taking care of you. “Tell me.” Your hips lift slightly as he rubs a servo against you, he waits. Watches your face flush as you look down your body at him. “Say it.” Say you need him as much as needs you. Give him permission to claim you.

• “Your mouth, your hands. Anything,” you mumble in frustration and he chuckles. And drives a servo inside you. Eyes closing, you chase after your release, hips moving against his hand as he curls that servo inside you, stroking deep. “Jazz.” You groan when he stops again when you’re so close. Torturing you, dangling climax just out of your reach. When you lift your head and glare at him, he flashes you that crooked grin. Knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. But then he’s shifting over you and you catch a glimpse of his spike as he frees himself. Feel the head slide against you, then spear deep to stretch you.

• As much fun as teasing you is, this is so much better. “Primus, you’re tight, kitten.” Sinking into your wet heat, feeling how tight you are stretched around his spike. Taking all of him as he rocks his hips against you just to make you whimper. “Know how long I’ve wanted this?” He growls, shifting over you. How long you’ve haunted his recharge? Fantasizing about how you’d feel. The reality, though? You warm and soft under him, those little hands clinging to him as he moves against you? It blows the fantasies away. Knows he’s not going to last long as he thrusts against you, especially when you make those needy sounds for only him.

• Lips parting on a moan as his spike drives deep and he sets an urgent pace, you’re already so close from him mouth and servos, body wound tight as he ruts against you. His mouth brushes your temple, your cheek, his venting ragged as he makes a low growling moan. Shifts over you, hips pumping against you and you come apart with a cry. Thrusts growing more frantic, rougher as he drags it out, before he snarls and sheaths himself deep. And you feel him release inside you, servos tangling in your hair to force your head up and his mouth hungrily claims yours, devouring and almost overwhelming. When he finally breaks the kiss, his lips brush under your eye when he speaks. “You okay, doll?” And that uncertainty warms you as you press your own mouth to his jaw.

• Soft strokes of his lips against your closed eyelids, your temple, your cheek. Can’t get enough of you, the way you feel like you’re made to fit him, how you see right through him and don’t expect him to keep up the front. Like the real him under the lies even if he’s not really okay all the time. “More than okay,” you whisper with a little laugh and his mouth finds yours again. Entertaining the thought of just staying here. Disappearing and staying mass displaced with you. Forget the war and everyone who’s counting on him, so many needing him. Be happy. Heal. And knowing he can’t do that, that happiness isn’t meant for bots like him, but as long as you’ll allow him, he wants to steal as much of your time as he possibly can. Wants to imprint your smile so thoroughly in his spark that even if you leave him down the road, he can keep a part of you forever, because you’re going to ruin him. You already have.

Previous

[moonstruckme]

hi mae! can i request remus x reader? maybe where the reader is a dancer or works in something that makes her physically tired when she comes home, so when she gets home, Remus is very comforting and massages her legs or any part of her body that is sore. just some comfort and some warmth if you want!! Thanksss 💜💜

Thanks for requesting <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 368 words

“How’s that?” 

You sigh instead of answering, and then you can hear a smile in your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Good?” he guesses. 

You hum, dopey and blissful. Remus pushes his thumb harder into the fleshy part of your calf. He has both of your legs in his lap, one lifted just enough to massage the underside and the other stiff and achy as it waits its turn. 

Remus doesn’t necessarily know what he’s doing, but he’s attentive and a dedicated learner. His fingers will work down your leg until some small sound pries free from the back of your throat, and then focus in that place for a while. The areas he’s already finished with feel pleasantly funny, sore but soft and loose enough that you’re sure you’d stumble like a baby deer if you tried to walk. You let your eyes fall shut and surrender yourself happily to an evening on this sofa. Perhaps you’ll never move again. 

“Oh—sorry, lovely,” Remus murmurs when he discovers an especially tight spot. “Long day?” 

“Mm,” you confirm. 

“Mm.” He sounds amused. “Am I going to get any words out of you tonight?” 

You don’t reply. Remus huffs a laugh, working his way down to your foot. 

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

His thumb digs into your arch, and your mouth tips open on a sigh. “Yeah.” 

“There she is. Thought I’d lost you.” 

“Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” Remus quiets his voice as if you’re already sleeping. “You need a rest?” You hum. “Want to stay here, or go to bed?”

“Here.” You crack your eyes just enough to see, looking at him through the fuzz of your lashes. “Stay with me. No bed tonight.” 

You have the pleasure of feeling Remus’ chuckle against your lips as he bends to kiss you. “Maybe we revisit that discussion later. But we can sleep here for now, yeah. Want me to keep going?” 

“Oh, please.” You close your eyes again, zoning out to the feeling of his thumb working into the ball of your foot. “Love you.”

“Mm. Unconditionally, I’m sure,” he says, but he leans over to kiss you again, warming the corner of your lips with unfathomable sweetness. “Love you, too.”

[divinedelusional]

how rafe would treat his gf on her period

rafe cameron x fem reader

word count: 796

warnings: menstruation, mentions of toxic relationship and period sex

a/n: yeah this is how rafe treats his girl on her period but also how he would be like in a relationship throughout the seasons? i got carried away, sorry not sorry

s1 rafe: sooo i feel like fratboy!rafe genuinely doesn't give a fuck, i don't even know if he would be capable of being in a relationship. i see him being involved with a girl but only for sex and he would only know she's on her period bc she would just text him that they can't meet today bc of it and he'd be like "uh huh cool" and would go jerk off

s2 rafe: here i think situation would be slightly different. i think our psycho bby could acc develop feelings for a girl, it would mostly be just sex but he could start falling for someone. so i think he'd fight a battle in his mind if he should come over to the girl's house and be there for her on her period or to completely neglect her. it's just he doesn't have a clue what to do and tbh he's occupied with other shit, he uses sex with her to forget. i think it's very similar to s1 rafe but with guilt and feelings creeping in (and obvious denial for this emotions)

s3 rafe: so okay we all know the shift from curtain bangs psycho rafey to buzz cut man of the house rafe who looked like he's getting his shit together. of course that means he's different when it comes to relationships. he still deals with a lot, but he finds you. and he kinda sees you as this light. a small light who he has to be very careful with so it won't go out. he is attentive to you. treats you right, but with some sort of distance and you don't blame him. he doesn't spend every day with you, he didn't even ask you to be his girlfriend yet, didn't make it official but he will and somehow you know it. when you're on your period you become quiet. you don't text him, but he finds out as he had a feeling that he should drop by your house. he finds you on your couch with a heating bag and cookies. you told him you weren't feeling well and he ordered you hot soup and made a quick run to pharmacy for some medicine. he still was clueless and thought you caught a cold. "rafe im not sick im just on my period" "oh" it's not like he avoids you, no. he visits you everday for the next four days but doesn't stay for long, always excusing himself with some meeting or business. you know he means the best for you but wish that he's going to be able to let you in soon. you're really patient with him, but start having doubts.

s4 rafe: is now fully committed to you. you talked to him how you really felt about this relationship. that you really cared and wanted to give him as much time as he needed, but also you couldn't waste it anymore waiting for him. and rafe realized that nobody else would have such patience for him. he was thinking about you a lot and he admitted to himself that you were the one. he made your relationship official and two months later you were living together. he was spoiling you, really. taking you on dates, buying you gifts and most importantly giving you his time. getting to know you, observing your daily habits, remembering stuff you said. your likes and dislikes. no wonder he became pussy whipped. and started to feel like he knows you better than yourself.

that's why when it's that time of the month you don't have to say anything. rafe knows. just by the way you whine when you wake up, he knows if you'd be able to get out of bed and get on with your day or you'd want to stay in bed cuddling, because he's your personal heater, makes back pain go away. gives you massages. cuddles with you all morning untill your stomach start to signal that it's time for some food. oh and he doesn't care about his schedule. he could clear it off, cancel the meetings, but he doesn't bother. his girl is the most important, his business associates don't even deserve a phone call on a day his girl is in pain. also he's not opposed to period sex at. all. orgasm is a great way to reduce cramps, so if that works for you and you want him to help you, he is the happiest to do so. if you're not comfortable with having sex these days he totally understands. wouldn't even thought of forcing you to do something, on your period or not. when he discovered that he has so much love in him, his only interest is to give it to you♡

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

tagging: @sugaraanddiesel @cherrylipglossss hope they'll enjoy it and @cameronsprincess bc maybe it will put a smile on her face♡

[himbodruid]

Silent Poem

Zayne returns home to find you fast asleep in his bed. You help each other…relax. 😏

An expansion of Zayne’s Silent Poem Secret Times (some lines removed because try as i might, i couldnt make them fit)

Zayne x Reader

-:- massage leads to other things -:- clothed sex lol -:- body worship Zayne -:- sweet talkin mofo -:-

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be a night filled with laughter over dinner, but dusk gave way to twilight in what felt like a handful of seconds. Doctor Zayne had called with his apologies, stating that an emergency surgery had come up and he would be home late. Dinner was packed away to be saved for another time, and you curled up on his sofa with the silly games you thoroughly enjoyed on your phone. You understood how it was. After all, you had to do the same to him several times as well. It didn’t bother you one bit- you would just wait until he got home, embrace him, and usher him off to bed for much-needed rest.

It wasn’t long before you started to nod off and you checked the time, noting that it was nearing midnight. There was no telling when Zayne would be home, but the two of you had shared a bed for some time now. You knew he wouldn’t mind if you slipped between the sheets to take a quick nap before he got home.

You changed into your long night shirt and were lost to the waking world when Zayne snuck into the room. He took light steps until he was at the bedside, peering down at you with softness in his gaze. The glass of water he held was placed quietly on the bedside table and he sat at the edge of the bed. He marveled at your beauty, wondering how he could have ever been so lucky to have someone like you in his life. Lost to these thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed you. Just a gentle brush of his lips against yours while you slept.

You inhaled sharply, startled awake by the unexpected contact. When you opened your eyes, you saw Zayne’s smiling face in the dimmed lamp light and relaxed back into the pillows.

“My apologies. Did I wake you up?”

You smiled lazily at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Are you just getting in? It’s so late!”

“Yes. It’s been hectic at the hospital as of late. Every night I had to return home in the middle of the night…you were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.”

He leaned over to kiss you softly again, and you chased his lips until you were sitting up in the bed. Worry raced through you when he pulled away and slumped against your shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh. You observed his face more closely and noticed exhaustion and tension bracketing his mouth and eyes. His arm lazily circled your waist, and your own came around him to embrace him back.

“Zayne?” You asked softly.

“Let me hold you for a bit. This helps me chase away my exhaustion.”

“You should relax more,” you murmured to him.

“Me?” He called you out with that one simple word and you huffed a laugh.

“Alright, we should relax more.”

“But how exactly…will you help me relax?” He lifted his head from your shoulder and stared at you intently with those eyes that held the depth of a forest. You watched as his gaze drifted to your lips and then back up, and you felt a blush spread across your face. What a strange time for shyness to strike, especially since intimacy was not new between you.

You push him away from you a moment so you could escape the covers. Kneeling over him, you started pushing his jacket off his shoulders and began working at his shirt, all while completely ignoring the intense way he watched your chest waving in front of his face.

Once his shirt was loosened enough, you dug your fingers into the muscle that made up the slope of his neck. You remember him telling you it was called the trapezius at some point, and how it was where he carried all of his stress. The moment your fingers dug into that brick wall of a muscle, he let loose a heavy sigh that was nearing a moan.

“Mmmh…massage. I see…” he grumbled with a smile.

“Yes, what else were you thinking?” You raised your brow, continuing to work at his neck and shoulders.

He cleared his throat a little bit and you took note of the blush that stained his ears. He blinked rapidly and looked away in that endearing way he did when embarrassed.

“Ahem. Never mind.”

His muscles finally started to give way to your ministrations, but your own tensed the more you worked at him. The sounds he made had your heart thundering, and you were acutely aware of how close your body was to his and how you still knelt over his lap- not quite straddling him.

He looked up at you, golden-green eyes hooded by barely concealed desire. “My eyes aren’t as tired as they were before. And my neck and shoulders feel so much better.”

“Good, I’m glad,” you said, smiling down at him. You knew your face and neck were red, and it took all of your effort not to run and hide. Your only saving grace was the blush that dusted his cheeks.

“Just sit on me,” he said, noticing how your legs began to shake from the unsustainable position you were in. “It’ll be easier for you.”

You began to decline, but his hands found your hips and suddenly you were straddling him in full. And you became very well aware of the hard length of him pressing against your core.

He moaned at the contact, a breathy sound that shot to your core. “I feel much better already.”

“Y-yeah?” You stammered. His hips rose to grind against yours.

“It’s more effective than the strongest, most soothing medicine in the world.” He kissed you then, an unhurried kind of probing kiss that drew you in the longer your lips held contact.

But then he pulled away, and you could feel the embarrassment at how easily you got lost in him flush through you again. Still, his arms caged you, keeping you close.

“Your lips are dry. Do you want some water?” He reached over and grabbed the glass from the table, presenting it to you.

“How did you know?” You realized you actually were parched. It was always a point of contention- you always seemed to forget to take care of yourself. “I keep forgetting.”

“You haven’t learned to drink it on your own yet?” You chose to ignore his chuckle by carelessly chugging the glass.

“Don’t rush, it’s spilling out,” he said, right as your overeagerness sent a trail down your neck, chest, and into your shirt between your breasts.

“Oh,” you said dumbly. He took the glass from you and put it back on the table.

“Zayne, help me clean it up, do you have a cloth?”

“All right,” he chuckled, pulling away the hand you were using to dab at it. “I’ll help you clean up.”

And then his mouth found where the water trailed at the hollow of your throat, a searing kiss that sent shivers through you. His mouth and tongue followed the water in a blazing trail on your skin, even tugging down the neck of your shirt to get at as much as he could.

“Z-Zayne,” you breathed, unable- or unwilling- to push him away.

“Is this what you wanted?” His question was murmured against your chest between kisses. You watched as his tongue slipped between your breasts with a hissed inhale, your hips grinding against him. His hands trailed up the backs of your thighs, teasing the hem of your shirt. There was nothing else there to halt his touch, save for your underwear, and he inhaled sharply at the realization.

“I knew it,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone. “You want to do this to me again.”

And then his lips found yours again, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His breath mingled with the soft sounds that escaped you. His hands skirted over your curves to lift your shirt over your head in a swift motion you didn’t even have time to react to. This bared you to him almost fully, the only thing covering you now was the soft cotton of the underwear you wore.

“Now you’re just taking advantage,” you chuckled, capturing his lips again. He smiled against your lips.

“What do you mean-” he began, interrupting his sentence with a kiss to your neck.

“I’m taking-“ another kiss, this one to your collarbone.

“Advantage-“ his mouth found your breast now.

“Of the situation?” His teasing words ended with an open mouth kiss to your other breast.

“Aren’t we just helping each other relax,” he questioned softly against your breast. His eyes locked onto yours as he continued kissing, licking, sucking your breasts. With a groan, he lifted you off of him for the length of time it took for the pair of you to fumble with his belt and pants.

When his cock was finally freed, you palmed and stroked him lazily while he gasped and groaned against your chest. But the control he struggled to maintain came close to snapping when you straddled him again, tugged your underwear aside, and slipped the tip of him just inside of you. His hips jerked involuntarily, slamming upwards into you and a whimpered gasp escaped you.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, unable to put into words that it was quite the opposite. He filled you so well, that you damn near came apart on him with that single thrust. Still, he waited for your body to adjust to him, trembling with the effort.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” he whispered in your ear. “I missed you.”

Your body shuddered, involuntarily clenching your walls around him. He gasped out a moan, dropping his forehead to your chest while his hips began a slow roll. Your hands gripped at his biceps, fingers digging into him with the same amount of force you used to massage his neck.

“Does this also need to relax?” He said with a sly smile. You couldn’t even muster a response to his teasing. “Of course, I understand you only want to help me feel less fatigued.”

You ended his teasing by lifting from him and easing back down slowly. His breathing came in panting bursts while you rocked your hips against his. You watched his body reacting to yours with pleasured delight, trailing your fingers down his firm chest and into the hills and valleys that made up his abdomen.

“Are you enjoying your massage, Doctor Zayne,” you breathed to him, feeling uncharacteristically bold at the sight of him coming undone beneath you.

“Different muscle groups call for specific massage techniques,” he murmured. “Sometimes…being skillful is what really makes a difference.”

You smiled and resisted rolling your eyes. Still a clinical mind, even while you were impaled on his cock. You set out to make him lose that rational thinking by increasing your pace, taking him deeper and faster. Breathy moans escaped from him and his arms circled your waist to give added leverage as he helped to piston in and out of you.

“I think it’s getting more tense, now,” he murmured, kissing your chest as he nuzzled into you. You knew he was no longer talking about muscles. The lewd sounds of your bodies colliding rose to join the panting moans that permeated the otherwise still air.

“Perhaps…you could add a little more pressure,” he whispered to you before his mouth fell upon your nipples once more. Per his request, you clenched your walls around him as you rode him. With a whining moan, he halted your movements so that he could take over and slam into you from below.

All rational thought was driven from both of you, only this primal need left in its place. You could feel pressure building inside of you as his cock plundered you at an almost punishing speed. Hips collided in a frenzied urge to chase the high of release, breathless moans responding to the pleasure, bodies tensing until finally the pair of you spilled over the edge with cries of ecstasy.

He buried his face against your neck, nuzzling as his body continued to jerk and plunge his cock so impossibly deep inside you. Your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for everything he had to give you. His large hands gripped your hips in a bruising grasp, pushing you so that he remained buried in you to the hilt.

“I wonder,” he panted once his body stopped trembling underneath you. He laid back fully, an arm tucked under his head to prop it up so he could take in the full image of you straddling him, of you impaled on him. “How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me?”

You trailed your hands from his lower abdomen to his chest, leaning your hips forward only so slightly and dropping back down on him. He was still hard inside you, clearly not fully finished with you. “What can I say? I missed you.”

He clenched his eyes closed when you shifted on him, another short moan rising from his chest. “Yes, of course.

“I missed you too.” He punctuated his words by lifting his hips to meet yours.

“Mmmh, how much?” You followed the rocking of his hips, allowing him to pull out slightly before chasing the descent of him to sheath him inside you fully once he settled back against the bed.

He took your hands in his, pulling you so that you laid flat atop him. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, placing his forehead against yours when he pulled away. His hands smoothed up your back, holding you to him.

“Rest in my embrace, just like this,” he murmured to you. His hips lifted again, sinking his cock deep into you again.

“Now-” He kissed your jaw.

“Let me tell you-“ He kissed your neck

“How much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” He wrapped his arms around you and began to move.

“Relax,” he murmured to you when you tensed in anticipation. He moved slower now, rolling the two of you so that you were beneath him now. During the transition, he went too deep and you couldn’t help the hiss of pain that you released.

He froze, searching your face for any hint that you wanted to stop. You caressed his flushed cheek, drawing him back down to kiss him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said against your lips. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but I'm okay,” you tell him. You move your legs to wrap them around his hips, but he leaves you so that he can quickly shed the rest of his clothing. He rejoined you after removing your underwear, prodding at your entrance but not pushing in. Instead he leaned down to kiss you softly, in hopes to distract you from any pain or discomfort you might still be feeling.

“What about this? Do you feel better now?” His cock breached your slit, but he still wouldn’t fill you in the way you craved and you could feel your patience slipping.

“Or…do you want to change positions?” He stopped the forward tilt of his hips and pulled away to wait for your answer. You grumbled out a sigh, circling your legs around his waist so he couldn’t remove himself.

“Just do it and stop asking questions!”

With that, he settled over you fully, and you reveled in the way the size and weight of him pressed you into the mattress. His mouth captured yours once more and he rolled his hips forward.

The languid pace at which he pressed his hips into yours was almost too much to bear. You wanted to be taken fast, but the feel of him dragging against your walls was only accentuated by how slow he thrust into you. He was all but worshipping your body with his mouth and hands while his hips pressed into yours with every forward lunge.

“So much time has passed now. Don't you want me to say something?” What you wanted was him. To be drowned in him, swept away by the pleasure he elicited with every stroke of his cock. It was almost too much to bear, the sensations surrounding you as he clung to you as fervently as you clung to him. You closed your eyes, listing your chin when his kisses trailed down your throat.

“Tired already? You want to sleep?” His voice was light and teasing but held the hint of a threat in the undertone. You didn’t get a chance to answer before he slammed his hips forward. A pleasured cry escaped you, fingers digging into his flesh.

“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do. The night is still young, we have plenty of time to learn from each other,” he grunted, his hips colliding with yours at a brisk pace now. You whimpered beneath him, allowing him to hook his arms under your knees and practically fold you in half. He slammed his cock into you over and over and you tilted your hips to meet his at every thrust.

“Let me hear your voice,” he sighed, and you obeyed him. Once more, the sounds of pleasure mixed with the sounds of your frenzied coupling. His mouth latched onto the slope of your neck and by the time he was done sucking almost violently at that spot, you knew it was going to leave a gnarly mark. The thought of carrying his mark for weeks drove you even closer to the edge.

“Say my name,” he murmured against your skin, hips snapping forward with forceful thrusts as his climax started to build.

“Z-Zayne,” you whimpered. Your nails dug into his back at the guttural moan he released against your neck.

“Again,” he growled.

“Zayne-” His name came out more like a breath, barely recognizable as a word as his pace turned punishing. He was so impossibly deep inside that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“Again,” he groaned, his body trembling with the beginnings of his orgasm. One final, hard, thrust and he was spilling into you with a guttural cry.

“Zayne!” You all but screamed his name as the pulsing twitch of his cock flooding you sent you over the edge with him. You threw your head back into his pillows, body arching into his as your release shot through you.

His hips jerked and shuddered, his whole body trembling like he wasn’t in control. His eyes were clenched closed, his brows drawn down to crease at the center, while he struggled to regain some form of composure. But the intensity of the pleasure didn’t grant him a single reprieve as his body continued to convulse with moaning cries falling from his lips. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and lock him to you while he rode out the high with you.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck when his body finally relented control back to his mind. He collapsed on you and the pair of you tried to calm your erratic breathing. Soft kisses rained on your skin and you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you when his lips brushed sensitive spots.

When you came down from the pleasured high, he carried you bridal style to the bathroom. He started a shower for the both of you, willingly stepping into the blazing hot water you preferred. He cleaned you with a delicate touch, eliciting shivers as his hands glided over your body. And when he knelt before you to lather your legs with soap, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint in them before his mouth latched onto your cunt. He proceeded to turn you into a babbling mess, bringing you to the brink and driving you over the edge with his skilled tongue.

You wiped the self-satisfied smirk off his face when you knelt in front of him to give him the same kind of attention. He stared at you wide-eyed, blushing profusely, as you palmed him and ran your tongue along the underside of his length. Soft moans and curses escaped him as you worked him with your mouth, until he couldn’t take anymore and spilled against your tongue.

Dawn came and went by the time the pair of you tumbled into bed. You were spooned in his embrace, and the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into sleep. You were grateful that it was your weekend, because you didn’t have the will to leave his bed for even one minute.

Not that he would allow it.

[puckinghischier]

What do you think Quinn would do for a grand gesture when he was missing his girl?

seeing as he’s a sentimental sort, considering the gift he gave luke, i know he’d do something so over the top in the best way.

he’d already have bought you every long distance gadget in existence. the bracelets that vibrate when you touch them to let the other person know you’re thinking of them. the smart fridge he can leave notes from his phone on for you to wake up to in the morning. the lamp that glows a certain color when the other person misses you. the iphone widget he can draw pictures of flowers on before the real thing is delivered to your door.

he’d make sure he had every opportunity to make sure you knew he was thinking about you, even when he’s busy and on the road. sometimes a message or a vibration from a bracelet is all he had time for, but it was enough for you.

for him? nothing could ever replace being in your presence. he needed to see you, touch you, hear your voice. this past season had been rough. being away from you for so long, he was miserable. he found himself being distracted by thoughts of when he could get back home to you during practice or while warming up for a game. he was rushing post game media so he could call you before you fell asleep. he was skipping team bonding to facetime you and catch up on your day.

so, he started putting a plan into motion. he hoped it wouldn’t scare you off or freak you out, but he was too deep into it now to back out.

you had noticed he’d been spending a lot of time on the phone with his agent lately, assuming it was some negotiation for a brand or sponsorship. you knew it couldn’t have anything to do with his spot on the canucks, both the team and quinn loving the other too much to part ways.

but he started acting weird. he started being jumpy when you’d ask him about his conversations with his agent, curious as to what’s taking up so much of his time lately.

“just contract stuff. you know, i have to renew it soon and there’s all kinds of stuff that goes into that. brad’s just trying to get me the best bang for my buck,” he’d nervously chuckle, changing the subject quickly.

you were cleaning up the kitchen one day after making lunch, quinn having had to go to the rink for some kind of business meeting, he told you. you hear the door open and his keys fall into the bowl on the dining room table, a soft call of your name ringing through the space.

he walks into the kitchen to find you finishing up the last few dishes, making small talk until you’re finished and join him over at the end of the long island.

“whatcha got there, q?” you question curiously, noticing how he hasn’t let go of the paper once since walking through the door.

“oh, this? well, we need to talk about it, actually.” his nervous tone makes you nervous, worried about what’s on the piece of official looking paper.

“okay…” you trail off, not enjoying the nervous energy engulfing the room.

he clears his throat, running his fingers along the edges of the paper repeatedly, forcing himself to keep looking you in the eyes.

“so, you know how i bought you all those things to let you know i’m thinking of you when i’m not on the road? the bracelet, the lamp, the new fridge, the flowers and notes?” he lists off all the heartfelt things he’s given you over the course of your relationship, a smile taking over your face as you nod at him.

the smile on your face gives him a bit more confidence, more sure of his decision than he was just a few moments ago.

“okay, well, i can’t do that anymore. those bracelets? the lamp? the messages on the fridge? they’re not enough. they’re not cutting it anymore.”

your heart sinks. what does he mean it’s not enough? if it’s enough for you, why isn’t it enough for him? he’s the one that’s gone all the time. you’re the one who has to stay here and wait for him to come back. is this paper a new lease? is he kicking you out? breaking up with you?

you take a step back from him, your head filling with all kinds of negative thoughts as to what’s on that paper in his hand.

“quinn, i-i don’t understand. what do you mean-“

“please, just let me finish. i need to get this out and then you can ask me all the questions you want. and yell at me, if you feel the need,” he interrupts you, putting a hand up in between the two of you.

your mouth snaps shut, tears threatening to spill any second.

“like i said, the superficial stuff just isn’t enough anymore. if i can’t have you with me all the time, i don’t know if i can keep doing this. all of this. it’s killing me. i know it’s my fault i’m gone, but my god i miss you so much it hurts me,” he continues his speech, not picking up on the shake in your hands.

“quinn, you don’t have to do this. we can…figure something else out. i miss you too when you’re gone. so much,” your shaky voice tries to reason with him, not wanting to hear him say the words out loud.

he holds a hand up to silence you, effectively stopping your words.

“my mind’s already made up. already signed my name and everything, even if brad did think i was crazy,” quinn keeps going, confusing you even more.

what did his agent have to do with him breaking up with you and kicking you off of the lease you just signed together?

you don’t have time to ask him, because he lays the paper in front of you, sliding it towards you. “here, just read it for yourself.”

you pick up the thick paper, noting the canucks emblem stamped into the top of the document, your eyes falling to the long paragraphs taking up the majority of the page.

there’s one section that’s highlighted, marked to stand out specifically for your eyes.

“the canucks organization, in agreement with quintin j. hughes, hereby provides transportation, accommodations, and admission to 10 (ten) away games of his choice during regular season hockey, and every meeting of post-season playoffs if necessary, to one person of his choice, contingent of his reporting to canucks sponsored activities such as: games, practice, training camps….”

it takes your brain a few moments to catch up to what you’re reading.

he…rewrote his contract for you. he, somehow, convinced an entire organization to write into his contract a clause to be able to take you with him to games during the season. you look up at him, his nervous stare meeting your eyes.

you start laughing.

quinn was nervous for a lot of things. he was worried you’d freak out and say he was crazy for this. he was worried you’d be mad at him and tell him you didn’t want to go on road trips with him. he didn’t know if you’d cry or jump with joy or walk out on him.

but he never expected you to laugh at him.

you can’t control your laughter. you try, but it just keeps coming, every attempt at containing it only making you laugh harder.

“i don’t understand. what’s so funny here?” quinn manages the courage to ask, voice shaky and embarrassed.

you manage to calm your fit enough to gain a fraction of decorum back, taking a few deep breaths before responding.

“quinn, i thought you were breaking up with me.”

quinn’s eyes widen, not expecting the words out of your mouth at all.

“no, i- why would you think that?” he rushes out, walking towards you.

you wipe the tears from your eyes, trying to calm yourself even further.

“well, i don’t know. the way you worded it had me convinced you were bringing me a new lease you’d signed without my name on it or something. thought you were kicking me out,” you chuckle only slightly at the end of your explanation.

quinn grabs your face in his calloused hands, gently forcing you to look at him.

“i hope you know, i would never break up with you. not by kicking you out of the apartment, much less. if anything you’d be the one kicking me out.”

“well i sure hope not. according to your contract, we have eight more years of roadies in our future. think those accommodations would be real awkward if you kicked me out. wonder if petey would let me bunk with him?”

[callme-holly]

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠

𝐚/𝐧: am i writing this for myself bc i've been kinda low? yes. yes i am.

Darry Curtis:

Darry is a little caught off guard at first, but the second he sees the pleading look in your eyes, he drops what he’s doing and pulls you close. His arms are strong and secure around you, not letting you go until you move away. He’s incredibly grounding and comforting, making you feel entirely safe.

“I’ve got you, darlin’... You can have as many hugs as you need, alright?” He mumbles into your hair, pulling you tighter as you bury your face into his chest, nodding mutely. His hand runs up and down your back, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin, grounding you just the way you need.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda won't even let you finish your request before he’s pulling you close, his expression soft and his words light. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy, and if a simple hug is all you need, he’s happy to deliver. He’ll squeeze you tightly, swaying you side to side.

“You don’t have to ask for a hug, you know?” Soda glances down at you, his arms still laced around your waist. He brushes your hair back, and you shrug. “I know…” You mumble, tucking yourself close once more. “Just needed one.”

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony looks a little surprised but is very quick to comply, opening his arms for you and wrapping you up tightly. His hugs are gentle and soothing, and they always linger for a few moments longer than usual, just so that he can ensure you’re okay.

“You okay?” he asks, not pulling away from you. Your shrug tells him everything he needs to know, and he sighs softly, his hold tightening just a little. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?” 

Johnny Cade:

Johnny’s hugs are very soft and tentative, not wanting to crowd you unless you want to be held tightly. His presence is incredibly comforting, and sometimes his quiet nature is just what you need. He’ll stay with you, just holding you for as long as you need.

“Come here…” he sighs, his arms always stretched out for you, and you don’t hesitate before stepping towards him, letting him hold onto you. He doesn’t say anything; he just holds onto you tightly, giving you just the right amount of comfort you need.

Dallas Winston:

Dally’s first instinct when he hears your question is to poke fun at you, but the moment he sees the serious look in your eyes, he softens slightly and pulls you into his lap, his arms winding around your waist. He won't say anything when you tuck yourself into him, simply holding onto you tightly, as if shielding you from the world. “You’re lucky I like you, you know that?” Dallas’ tone is light, but there’s no malice behind his words as his fingers idly card through your hair. “I got you, doll. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you.”

Steve Randle:

When you ask, Steve makes a big show of opening his arms wide, acting as if he’s waiting for this moment forever. He doesn’t press as to why you’ve asked for one or about the randomness of the request; he just lets you cling onto him for as long as you need. “Who would’ve thought you’d want a hug from little old me, huh?” he chuckles, rocking you back and forth as you hold onto him “Hush…” you whisper, peering up at him, unable to resist the smile that tugs at your lips.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is surprisingly serious about your request, keeping his teasing at a minimum. He can see how much you need it and instantly wraps you up in a hug, sitting on the couch with you and peppering your face with gentle kisses.  “Don’t be getting all sentimental on me…” he chuckles, pulling back as he presses a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. You can only shake your head as you hide your face once more, sighing as he pulls you close.

[smallestapplin]

Hellooo! Good evening or um good morning so yea I was watching G1 transformers and canonically mirage is like loaded like he's from the upper class. So I um immediately thought that he's sugar daddy material. Like man only picks the finest/expensive cars even from G1. So I'm asking for like um sugar daddy mirage with a human female reader and since he doesn't know how to woo her, he practically buys her attention and time. Like he enjoys watching her spend his money. Casually suggesting that a top that he sees while she's scrolling on her phone and says that it would fit her and that she should buy it. Coincidentally, the color of the top matches his paint. Omg I've made this long huhu now I feel shy. 😿😿

Wait this is actually so cute and funny, I love it. I hope I did this right for you!💖

-

-

Mirage isn’t use to human ways of living and courtship, but he tries so hard to be friendly and welcoming, he wants you to know he’s safe to go to for anything! But falling for you wasn’t on that list, you’re such a tiny thing compared to him, he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

But how could he not? You’re so funny, so kind, always helping him learn more about your culture and Earth in general, even if that means he won’t ever live down calling a trees ‘organic speed stoppers’, but your laughter made it all the more worth it to embarass himself.

Mirage isn’t sure how to court you the human way, so why not his way? It’s not like he can ask anyone either, lest the tell you or make fun of him for falling for a human.

He shows off, racing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often, doing dangerous stunts, taking sharp turns, making sure he’s flashy enough for you in his alt mode. He lives for your cheers, lives on your priase. The twins know what he’s doing, it’s what ever racer does to gain the affection of someone.

Yet you don’t pick up on that, you gush over him sure, telling him how cool that was! How cool he is! But it doesn’t seem to click, not that Mirage can fault for you that, you’ve never had anyone court you like that.

So, why not gifts? Gifts are a universal love language that can’t go wrong!

“Mirage, you really didn’t have to get me anything, being with you is more than enough.”

How you have him wrapped around your tiny organic digit, making him swoon and spark pulse.

“It’s no problem, really! I wanna show you how much I care about you, so it wasn���t difficult to find a way to buy things for ya!”

He’s too kind, even bought everything himself after hacking (very easily) into your phone and used his own funds to spoil you. Until he got a com from you the day all the packages arrived.

“How many things did you buy me!?”

“Eh, it wasn’t costly so I don’t really remember.”

“Wasn’t costly? Mirage, this must’ve cost my life’s savings!”

You thank him over and over and over again, but he doesn’t mind, always smiling at you and simply asking if you liked what he bought you. It makes your cheeks burn when he does that, asking so sweetly, honestly you might think he’d have an ulterior motive.

The skirts, the dresses, the tops all ranging fm cozy to cute to flirty, pants much the same, he’s even bought you expensive consoles, games, and even things you complained about needing to replace or needing in general.

Each time you cry he doesn’t need to buy you anything, yet the large bot just looks at you with hearts in his optics telling you it’s fine.

Soon nearly sixty percent of your outfits are all things he’s bought you, like a silent claim over you, you can’t move in your home without being reminded of him.

But then that top came in, the one he had been waiting for, and once it did he didn’t bother trying to hide his want to see it. He sits in your drive way in his alt mode, awaiting to see how you look, and by the all spark he’s nt disapppointed.

“Does it look okay?”

You aren’t exactly a big fan of crop tops, but the high waisted jeans you are wearing cover you enough to feel comfortable. The crop top itself is loose and flowy, honestly you could see yourself wearing it around more in the house.

It’s mainly blue with tie dyed black, white, and red, matching his colors perfectly.

You look stunning.

You jump a little, hearing his engines rev loudly. You laugh softly at the display.

“I take it you like it?”

“Remind me to get you a sporty top in those colors.” He sounds near breathless.

“My, Mirage, if i didn’t know any better I’d say you just want us to match.” You tease, laughing at how his engine outright purrs at your words.

Oh, if only you knew how right you were.

Matching, like a couple, like the couple he desperately wants you two to be, loudly claiming you as his.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 8 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: We’re finally in little wolf. Also this is a long chapter

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Telemachus strode through the palace corridors, his thoughts heavy and his expression grim. He barely noticed where he was going until he was suddenly jolted back to reality by a hard shoulder slamming into his own. He staggered slightly, turning to see Antinous towering over him, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Watch yourself, boy,” Antinous said, his voice dripping with disdain. Then, as if the insult wasn’t enough, he added with a mocking drawl, “So, when’s your tramp of a mother going to pick a new husband? We’re all tired of waiting. Telemachus froze, his blood boiling at the insult. His fists clenched at his sides as his eyes burned with fury.

“Don’t you dare call my mother a tramp!” he snapped, his voice trembling with rage.

Antinous laughed, stepping closer to loom over him. “I just did,” he taunted, his grin widening. “What are you going to do about it, champ?”

Without thinking, Telemachus swung a fist at Antinous, the sheer force of his anger propelling him forward. The older man dodged easily, his laughter echoing through the hall. “That all you’ve got?” Antinous jeered, shoving Telemachus back. “No wonder your mother hasn’t remarried, you couldn’t protect her even if you tried.” Telemachus lunged again, his punches wild and untrained. This time, Antinous caught his wrist mid swing and yanked him forward, throwing him off balance. He delivered a sharp blow to Telemachus’s stomach, making the young prince double over in pain.

Antinous grabbed him by the tunic, lifting him slightly. “You’re pathetic,” he spat, shoving Telemachus to the ground. But as Telemachus hit the stone floor, something shifted. A whisper of thought brushed through his mind, subtle, yet potent, like a spark igniting in a dark room. Breathe. Focus.

Need some help?

What's going on here?

Is your plan to stand around?

'Cause I suggest you fight back

I don't know how

Uppercut him, now

Whoa, how did I do that?

Is time now moving slow?

No, I just made your thoughts quick

Woah, that is so sick!

Alright now, let's try this again

Antinous raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in the young man’s demeanor. “Oh? The wolf thinks he can bite now”Telemachus didn’t respond. Instead, he feinted to the left before aiming a calculated punch at Antinous’s ribs. This time, the blow connected, and the older man grunted in surprise. “Not bad,” Antinous admitted, his smirk faltering. But he quickly recovered, lunging forward with a swing of his own.

Telemachus dodged, barely, and countered with a jab that grazed Antinous’s jaw. The older man staggered slightly, his expression darkening. For a brief moment, it seemed like Telemachus might have the upper hand. The whispers in his mind guided his movements, urging him to stay calm, to anticipate Antinous’s next attack. He landed another hit, this time to Antinous’s side, earning a grunt of pain.

But Antinous was stronger, more experienced, and far more ruthless. He roared in frustration and charged at Telemachus, using his sheer strength to overpower the younger man. A hard punch to the shoulder sent Telemachus reeling, and before he could recover, Antinous grabbed him and threw him to the ground. This time, the impact left Telemachus gasping for air.

“You put up more of a fight than I expected,” Antinous said, his voice laced with mockery as he loomed over Telemachus. “But you’re still just a weak little boy, playing the role of a man.” Telemachus tried to push himself up, but Antinous shoved him back down with his foot. “Stay down, boy,” he sneered. “Know your place. Go back and cry in your corner. Make sure your mother hears. If she won’t choose a man to adorn her. We’ll bring blood and tears.”

As Antinous walked away, Telemachus lay on the ground, his body aching and his pride shattered. The whispers in his mind were gone now, leaving only a heavy silence. But somewhere deep inside, a spark remained. A quiet, determined flame. He might have lost today, but this fight was far from over.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Telemachus sat slumped against one of the stone walls of the courtyard, his body aching from the fight with Antinous. His knuckles were raw, his tunic torn, and bruises already forming on his arms and face. He stared at the ground, stewing in his humiliation and rage.

“Gods, you really are an idiot.”

Telemachus looked up sharply to see Y/N standing a few feet away, a roll of bandages and a damp cloth in her hands. Her usual smirk was replaced with a look of exasperated annoyance, though there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. “What do you want?” he muttered, turning his head away from her.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, kneeling beside him and unrolling the bandages. “You picked a fight with Antinous of all people. What did you think was going to happen? That you’d suddenly grow the strength of Heracles and knock him out?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Telemachus admitted bitterly, his face twisted with both pain and frustration. “He called my mother a tramp. What was I supposed to do? Just let him?”

“Reckless,” Y/N continued, shaking her head. “You’re lucky he didn’t do worse. Antinous may be my brother, but he doesn’t hold back in a fight—especially not against someone as irritating as you. He hunts wolves for fun.”

“I don’t need your help,” Telemachus snapped, flinching as she pressed the cloth harder than necessary against a particularly sore spot.

“Well, too bad,” she shot back, wrapping a bandage around his arm with more force than was strictly necessary. “You’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself. Honestly, what were you even trying to prove?” Telemachus glared at her, but her sharp gaze met his, daring him to argue.

“Antinous is insufferable,” he muttered finally, his voice low.

“You don’t say,” Y/N replied dryly, tying off the bandage. “He’s my brother, remember? I know exactly how insufferable he is.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as she studied him. “You’re trying to play the hero, just like your dear old dad. Always dreaming of glory, fighting battles you can’t win.” Telemachus stiffened at the mention of his father, his hands clenching into fists. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low.

“Don’t what?” Y/N asked, tilting her head in mock innocence. “Say the truth? Odysseus was reckless, too. That’s why he’s not here now, isn’t it?”

“That’s enough!” Telemachus barked, shoving her hand away and pushing himself to his feet. His voice rose with anger, echoing through the courtyard. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that!”

Y/n stood as well, her smirk fading as her eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone, little wolf.” But Telemachus was too far gone. “You don’t know anything about him! You don’t know what it’s like to grow up without a father because of selfish people like your brother who destroy everything they touch!”

He turned to storm off, but before he could take more than a few steps, Y/N grabbed his wrist and spun him around. In one swift motion, she shoved him back against the wall, her forearm pressing firmly across his chest, pinning him still. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” she hissed, her voice dangerously low. Her eyes burned with an intensity that made Telemachus freeze.

He tried to push her off, but she held him in place effortlessly. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, prince,” Y/N continued, her voice venomous. “I’m not one of your subjects. You think you’re the only one with problems? The only one who’s angry? Guess what? I’ve got my own shit to deal with. So don’t you dare take your frustrations out on me just because you’re too weak to stand up to my brother.”

Telemachus’s breath caught in his throat as he met her glare, equal parts anger and something else he couldn’t quite name. “You think you’re the only one with problems? The only one with a legacy to live up to?” she snapped. “Get over yourself, Telemachus. You’re not the only one.” For a moment, the two of them stood frozen, the tension between them thick and electric. Telemachus’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and Y/N grip on his wrist tightened slightly before she finally let him go, stepping back with a scowl.

“Clean yourself up,” she muttered, turning on her heel and walking away. “And next time you feel like picking a fight, try not to be an idiot. You’re soaring too close to the sun, and we both know how that ends.” Telemachus leaned back against the wall, his heart pounding. For once, he had no retort, no sharp words to throw back at her. All he could do was watch as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the echoes of her words.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Tell me Athena why you came to my aid?” Telemachus sat against the wall of his room, his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure how he knew she was standing there. He could just feel her presence. Everything was still so surreal to him.

“I had a friend before..he was a lot like you,” Athena’s voice was smooth and calm as she spoke to the prince, “I helped him through war, but he had his demons too.” Telemachus glanced up at the goddess. She wore a war helmet and a white chiton that gracefully draped down to her ankles. Her spear and shield were leaned against his nightstand.

She continues, “We grew apart..and his spark went out” It seemed as if the memory of this friend pained Athena.

“I always think that maybe if I had made a different call, we would be fine. And maybe now if I help another soul reach their goal, I can finally sleep at night” The goddess seemed to be glancing at a family portrait of Telemachus and his family. It was made when Telemachus had just been born. His mother is sitting on a step in a pink chiton, a smile gracing her pink lips. Odyssesus was standing behind her, wearing a white tunic. He was completely admiring the baby and his mother. Telemachus was wrapped in a white cloth, the only thing visible being his head. They looked so overwhelmingly happy. Telemachus still couldn’t seem to figure out why Athena was glancing at the portrait.

The prince stood up from the floor, ignoring the aching on his body.

“Athena, I don’t know who your friend is or what he was like. But all I know is that our time has been splendid.”

The goddess raised her eyebrows, an almost amused expression, “Is that so?”

“I got in a fight and I didn’t die!” Telemachus exclaimed. Athena lowly chuckled at the boys’ low expectations.

“I’ve never felt so strong before, and maybe with us as friends everything will be fine.” Telemachus smiled, but quickly winced from moving so much. He held his hand out to the goddess for a high five. She’s not sure why she extended her hand and reciprocated the boy’s high five.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

[faejilly]

regret

so. literally seven years ago, I started a 'series of firsts' style fluff-fic(let collection) for Malec/Shadowhunters... and I think part of why I got stuck on it in particular (even beyond the not writing much for the last couple years) is because it is in fact supposed to be in chronological order following the show and I had hit a point where I needed a... not!fluff chapter, and I kept trying to just... skip the sad and write more fluff for the fluff fic.

But I'm writing a vignette series for a melodrama. So. Melodrama has been written, of Alec Lightwood Overthinking Things but not being wrong, so how is he supposed to stop? (This takes place after s2e12, which is the disaster of a body swap episode, for anyone not so obsessed with the show as to know that off the top of their heads)

It is not the first time Alec has known that he’s not good enough for Magnus. He’s always known that, since the first time he laid eyes on him.

It is the first time that he thinks Magnus might agree with him.

Magnus said he wanted some space. Tonight (just tonight implied but not stated by the softness of his voice, the brush of his fingers against the seam of Alec’s sleeve) Magnus wanted some quiet.

So Alec left Magnus alone, and now he’s standing in his institute bathroom staring into the institute mirror gripping the white porcelain edges of an institute sink, trying to decide if that was right.

He doesn’t think it was, but he’s not sure if it’s the space that’s wrong, or the just for tonight.

He knows which he wants it to be, but that’s irrelevant.

Magnus likes to retreat when he’s hurt, but that doesn’t mean that’s good for him; Alec might not have known Magnus for long, but he recognizes a protective flinch when he sees it. And if that’s the case, then Alec should in fact head right back out and refuse to let Magnus hide and hold him tight until Magnus feels like he's himself again.

But Alec didn’t believe what Magnus said too many times already, he can’t…

He can’t go against Magnus’ request, not now that he finally made one. Always letting Alec set the pace, waiting for Alec to reach out, for Alec to act, to ask, and when he finally lets himself say what he wants?

It’s less of Alec, rather than more.

Smart of him, of course. Alec would never blame him for it, especially not after Azazel and Valentine and Alec failing him in every way it was possible to fail. There has always been a disparity between what Magnus deserves and what Alec is capable of offering; perhaps it is too large of one to ever be overcome.

Only he knows he wants to keep trying.

He also knows that staring at his mirror and overthinking things is his own protective flinch.

Magnus said he doesn’t know what he needs. Alec is mostly sure that’s true, that if Magnus knew that Alec caused more harm than could possibly be worth it he would say so — but only mostly. Magnus has been abandoned too many times to be the person leaving unless he’s sure.

Not even then, perhaps.

Alec has some idea of how many times Magnus forgave Camille, and she was cruel on purpose, unlike Alec who keeps twisting the knife entirely by accident.

If Magnus won’t do it, Alec will have to. He refuses to walk Magnus down a road to hell paved by his own so-called “good intentions”. He’ll stay away forever if that’s better for Magnus, regardless of how Alec feels about it, will feel about it, will always feel about Magnus. It’s only right, not letting Magnus suffer the consequences of trying to be involved with–

Alec stops himself there.

Anything he thinks to call himself, any self-assessment he can manage right now, will be more severe than anything Magnus would think, or say, or even accept if Alec tried to say it, so it won’t help him decide what to do.

He has to figure out how to help in a way that Magnus will accept, and if he leads with a list of all his failures, Magnus will be happy to try and make Alec feel better and aggressively avoid letting Alec try to help him.

Alec doesn’t need to feel better. Aldertree’s gone, Isabelle’s back, (Imogen’s difficult but familiar), and Jace is, while still fucked up, at least not trying to smother the parabatai bond so tightly that Alec feels like he’s being strangled in his sleep every night.

So.

Alec sighs, lets go of the sink, forces his shoulders to relax.

This is the first time that Magnus has said he needs space, but considering the politics of their lives, even now that Valentine’s in custody (especially now, considering everything Herondale did to Magnus in Valentine’s name), it probably won’t be the last.

Alec can’t override that, not just because he’s sad and guilty and young and stupid.

He just has to learn better.

He’s always had to be better than he is, he’s not sure why he thought things with Magnus might be different.

That’s not Magnus’ fault though, and he can’t let himself start to think about it in terms of hopes dashed or desires failed because then he will be upset at the only person who has never ever let him down, despite all Alec’s failures and stumbles.

He doesn’t deserve Magnus, of course he doesn’t, but that’s all right. It’s Magnus’ turn to make a choice, and he can have all the time and space he needs to do so.

Alec will wait.

He’ll wait forever, if he has to.

He’ll wait past forever, this life and the next; he’s already made his choice.

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[jenanigans1207]

1/7/25: Petty

“Dude,” Sam says to Dean one night when they’re sitting in the library pouring over some boring ass books that haven’t helped them even a little bit up until this point. “What the hell’d you do to Cas?”

“Who says I did anything to him?” Dean asks without glancing up. “Dude’s weird, it’s probably nothing.”

A hand appears on the page that Dean was pretending to read, and it takes him a second to even realize it’s happened, blinking his attention back to the moment and glaring at Sam as he reaches out to smack the offending hand. Sam snatches his hand back before Dean makes contact, but the effect was successful because Sam now has Dean’s full attention.

“He’s taking everything I say so literally.” Sam explains, pausing as if he’s waiting for Dean to add something. When Dean doesn’t, he presses on. “We’ve known the guy for twelve years and even when he was his most angelic, he didn’t do this.”

“Sure he did.” Dean argued, the phrase no, he’s not on any flatbread circling around in his head.

But Sam shakes his head, a few long pieces falling into his eyes. “That was different. He didn’t know then. He’s doing it on purpose now.”

Dean sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. “He’s doing it to be a petty bastard.” He says finally. “On our last hunt I yelled at him because he never fucking listens or does what I ask him to do, which is how he got hurt. So now—”

“He’s taking everything said to him literally and acting it out exactly as he’s told to.” Sam fills in the blank.

“Yeah.” Dean says. “I was trying to ignore him hoping that he’d stop, but he only seems to be doubling down on being an ass about the whole thing.”

To Dean’s surprise, the only response Sam has to the whole situation is to burst out in laughter. It’s the kind of head thrown back, belly laugh that Dean hasn’t heard Sam do in years. It was the kind of laugh he cherished, because he used to get it so infrequently that he had to commit every second of it to memory. And even though Sam laughs more easily now, he still rarely laughs with this kind of unbridled joy— for a moment it makes Dean entirely forget about Cas and his petty revenge. Despite himself and despite the situation, Dean finds himself grinning a little too, just happy to see his brother happy.

“You really met your match,” Sam finally manages to choke out, still smiling in a way that’s happy but definitely verging on shit-eating. “For every pain in the ass thing you do, he returns the favor.”

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbles, leaning back in his chair. He wants to take a swig of his beer but it’s empty and he doesn’t feel like getting up. “He needs to be more careful!”

Sam settles more comfortably in his own chair then and it’s the slant of his shoulders that tells Dean he should’ve gotten up to get the next beer because he’ll need it for whatever Sam is about to say. “Have you just tried telling him that you’re worried about him? And that it matters to you that he stays safe?”

There’s a lot of deflections and defenses that jump to the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he bites back on them. He’s been trying to be better to be at least a little more honest— with himself, Sam, and Cas. Nobody else was yet included in that honesty, but he figured he’d get there someday. So he swallows the immediate words he wants to say and glances down at the table.

“He should know.” He answers instead which isn’t much but it’s better and more vulnerable than anything else he would’ve said. At least it implies admission that Sam’s right about his true reason for being upset.

“I’m sure he does.” Sam agrees and there’s a sincerity in his voice that does actually comfort Dean a little. “But knowing it deep down and hearing it are different.” Sam explains, pausing before adding, “You know he loves you, but it’s still nice to hear, isn’t it?”

And goddamn it all, Sam has a point that Dean can’t even begin to deny. Because he does know that Cas loves him, knows it to the core of his very bones. But if Cas were to just stop saying it out loud, were to stop reminding him of just how much he’s loved, it would be hard for Dean. He wouldn’t doubt that love, but he would still struggle with it.

Dean groans and pushes back from the table, mumbling an affectionate and exasperated “bitch” under his breath as he leaves the room. He doesn’t have to travel far to find Cas, situated in the bathroom preparing to shave. Cas glances up when he walks in the door, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Cas’s hand stills where they were unrolling a towel over the sink in front of him.

“I’m so hard on you because I’m worried,” Dean blurts before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “I’m terrified of losing you and it scares the shit out of me when you get hurt on our hunts.” Cas’s eyes have gone impossibly wide in his reflection, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t mean to be an ass, I just— I can’t lose you, Cas. You mean too damn much to me.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, turning to face him properly.

“So there you go,” Dean scuffs the toe of his boot on the ground. “You can stop being a petty bitch now.”

Cas smiles as he steps up to Dean, reaching out to cup his elbow gently in a warm hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You knew, right?” Dean confirms.

“I knew,” Cas answers. “I couldn’t have been so petty if I had thought you were serious.”

“You’re such an ass.”

[sharkie06]

༄ Happy Birthday Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: some violence & risk of death (walker attack), mentions of weapons,

Background Info: Y/N had been traveling with Daryl and the group since Atlanta, and before that she lived in the same trailer park as Daryl and his brother. This work is taking place during the prison era, shortly after they took in people from Woodbury and before the outbreak happened.

A/N: aaaaaaaa Happy Birthday Norman Reedus!!! Wasn’t quite sure what to do to start up my works on this account but wanted to do something for his birthday so figured I’d do a little oneshot! I enjoyed writing this and hope people enjoy reading it :)

The day starts out like normal; rousing yourself from the cot in your cell. You get up and tug your faded green denim shorts on, pulling on a beige long-sleeved shirt with a v-shaped neckline over your white tank top. You run your fingers through your hair to try and detangle it a bit before you head out to see the others, then turn and pick up your knife and gun, sliding them both into their holsters on either of your hips before slipping on your boots and heading out.

To nobody’s surprise, Rick is already up and looks to be getting ready for a perimeter check with Glenn, the two of them waving slightly in greeting as you pass them on your way to the exit door. You find Beth on the stairs with baby Judith, going and stopping beside her. “How’s she doin’?” Your voice is soft and curious as you ask Beth, reaching over to gently play with one of the baby’s hands. “She’s alright, but Rick says she was fussin’ all night. She needs more formula too, we’re running out pretty quick.” Beth responds, bouncing the baby slightly in her arms, to which Judith lets out a small giggle. Both of you pause, as does Rick before he comes over in quick strides, a hesitant smile on his face. You reach over and gently tickle the baby until her giggles ring throughout the cell block, Maggie and Carl each coming to the doorways of their cells to look over.

You hear soft footsteps behind you and turn to look up the stairs, seeing Daryl there watching as well, having come out of the guard tower where he spends most nights. Carefully standing back up, you make your way up to him and the two of you discuss the run you planned on going on today. “Judith needs more formula, and I wanna try ‘nd see if I can find some new clothes for everyone. We got what’s on our backs and maybe a few other shirts or pants but most of it’s gettin’ pretty ripped up and stained.” You speak softly, keeping the conversation between you and Daryl as you both watch the others start their day as well. You hear him grunt softly from beside you, nodding in agreement with your words.

Hours later, when the sun is high in the sky, you and Daryl head out on his bike to find supplies. The two of you make your way to an old strip mall he had found a few days prior and he parks his bike, covering it with some shrubbery and hiding it once you both hop off of it. You wait patiently for him before the pair of you head into the first building, a pharmacy that you clear out pretty quickly and find some unused antibiotics and bandages behind the counter. The next building is empty and seems to have been an old small grocery store, so it doesn’t take too long before Daryl finds some containers of formula for Judith, shoving them into his pack carefully before you make your way to the following store.

The next one seems to have been an old ammunitions store, which of course has mostly been picked over. Daryl does manage to find some more arrows for his crossbow, and you find some comic books behind the counter, stuffing them into your pack for Carl. As you walk out of the store and up to the next one, you look to Daryl, “We can probably split up for these last two; haven’t run into anything yet and we’ll be within shoutin’ distance.” He looks uneasy but he hesitantly nods, heading over to the next, and the last, store in the row. Meanwhile you head into the one you had stopped in front of; an old clothing store.

You carefully make your way through the aisles, doing a quick sweep of the place before grabbing a plastic basket and heading over to the mens’ clothing section. It had been a while since you’d gone clothing shopping, even before the apocalypse sent the world into chaos. But you still remember what size clothes Daryl wears, so you make a beeline straight for it. He’d never been big on fashion, but you’d been counting the days and marking them in your handheld journal, and you were sure today was his birthday. Daryl had always been a difficult man to shop for, but you had found what was practically a jackpot the other day at a convenience store; a near-fully stocked shelf of his favorite cigarettes, and a lighter that miraculously still worked.

So, you figured you could also find him some fresh clothes, since nowadays he was getting pretty grimy, but trying to convince him to shower at the prison in the community showers was like pulling teeth, though he always ended up taking one with enough pestering from her. He always mentioned that he didn’t like the idea of being so vulnerable with his back turned to any possible danger. You’d mentioned time and time again that nobody there would pose a threat to him, but he was just as stubborn and determined as he had been when they were kids. Returning your attention to the clothing, you find a solid black tshirt and a dark grey, slightly textured long-sleeve shirt, both in his size and in good condition, so they both go in your basket.

Moving over to the pants, you’re able to find a pair of jeans for him that are in pretty good condition, which also go into your basket. You go around the store, picking up items of clothing here and there, first for Daryl but then also for yourself, even finding a new top for Beth and a sweater for Maggie. You make your way over to the coats and jackets section and set down your basket to go through the racks, when suddenly a walker comes out between the clothes, knocking over the rack on top of you and trying desperately to get at you. You can feel its fingers digging at your legs and your side, trying to break skin as you push at the metal rack, using it to try and push the walker back, unable to reach for your knife or your gun.

The blood is rushing in your ears, muffling all the sounds around you as the adrenaline pumps through your veins. Suddenly, you remember Daryl, starting to yell for him, kicking and screaming as the walker on top of the bar is suddenly joined by a second, it taking all of your strength to keep them pushed up and away from you. Then you hear running footsteps and seconds later one of the walkers is shot through the top of it’s skull with an arrow, the other being yanked off of you by Daryl as you quickly squirm out from beneath the bar, grabbing your basket of clothes and a coat you had been eyeing as he swiftly and easily takes down the walker.

More walkers burst through a closet doorway in the back of the store and you and Daryl waste no time leaving the store, clothes and both your packs in your possession as Daryl retrieves his bike and the two of you head back to the prison.

Later that night, you’re both back at the prison and Daryl has retired to the guard tower for the night. It takes longer than you’d like to admit to find something to wrap up the things you’d gotten him, but you eventually find some newspapers and old rope and wrap up the cigarettes and the new clothes. You make your way through the cell block, dropping off Judith’s formula in Rick’s cell and bringing a fresh bottle to Beth to feed her, then you head up the stairs to the guard tower.

When you get to the door, you see Daryl sitting on his cot. He’s cleaning his crossbow, looking freshly showered with his hair still slightly dripping water. You observe him for a moment, lit up slightly by the few candles on the windowsills in every wall of the tower. It’s moments like this where you’re reminded of your life before the world went to shit; when you and Daryl could go out in your dad’s truck and just escape for a few hours, be together away from your fathers and Daryl’s brother.

You knock lightly on the doorway, Daryl’s eyes flitting to you and wordlessly inviting you in with a soft grunt and a tilt of his head. You walk over and sit beside him on the cot, his attention caught momentarily by the newspaper-wrapped package now resting in your lap. “Wha’s tha’?” He questions quietly, still cleaning his crossbow. “It’s your birthday present, Dixon.” You speak softly, his eyebrows drawing together slightly in confusion and surprise as he sets down his weapon, accepting the package when you hand it over.

“Didn’t know ya were keepin’ track.” Daryl speaks softly as he unwraps the newspaper, chuckling softly at the packs of cigarettes before unfolding the clothing to look at it. “What’s wrong with ma’ clothes?” He questions, giving you a slightly offended glance. You smile a bit, patting his shoulder gently as you pull the lighter out of your pocket and hand it over to him as you speak, “Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong with your clothes, just figured it’s easier for the days I do the wash, for you to have something else to wear. Y’know, since we’re finally starting to… settle in here.”

Daryl turns to look at her, visibly fighting back his own smile as he stands up, tugging off his tshirt to try on the new long-sleeved shirt she had gotten him. He speaks softly again as she stands up to gently fix his hair, “Settlin’ in? I think I like the sound of that.”

[lovelizards]

Two men, taller than her by half, put her on her knees and held her there. Arms shaking, try as she might, she couldn't escape from their grip.

Lord Daniel stood in front of her, looking generally displeased to even be in such a shabby little shack as he adjusted his gloves; Mabel wasn't sure where in the town this was, but she assumed it was near the walls, far away from anyone who might stumble upon them.

"What kind of fools are you that it takes two able-bodied men to restrain a wisp like this? I've been waiting an hour," the man complained, brushing a lock of blond hair from his eyes.

But there was no response from the men holding her. She tried to jerk her hands free, but only managed to wrench her shoulder.

The men had snatched her quickly and quietly, pulling her bodily off of a side path and quieting her with a heavy hand over her mouth while they wrestled her away.

"You prick!" Mabel shouted, "Not even a Count's son can do this! I'll report you, for this, for everything -! "

Lord Daniel scowled at her. He took a few steps nearer, hesitated, and flicked his eyes to the men holding her. She wasn't sure what the look meant until she was struck with an open hand on the back of her head.

Her cry was more in surprise than in pain; her father also had a heavy hand, it's not like she wasn't used to being hit. But a cold sort of dread was crackling in her stomach.

"Do you always get your men to do your dirty work?" she asked, shoulders shaking from the strain of her forced kneel, "What's wrong? Don't want your lily-soft hands to callous?"

The man's jaw set in anger, and he looked away from her with something akin to furious disbelief as he slowly, carefully, removed his doeskin gloves.

Mabel's breathing quickened, she tried to let her neck and jaw relax, and watched him to anticipate it. He reeled back and slapped her hard in the face, catching the corner of her eye with his nails and making her tear up.

"You disrespectful little bitch," Lord Daniel sighed, looking at his reddening hand with an air of disinterest, "don't you know how meaningless your life is to me? Less than a dog, less than insect. For what you've said to me I could easily get you imprisoned, or worse..."

Mabel blinked the tears out of her eyes, her teeth clenched and brows furrowed - there was a fire licking at the inside of her chest, burning unbearably hot.

"Then you must be pretty bored," she shot back, "if you're putting this much effort into dealing with an insect."

"Oh, I agree," Lord Daniel said, grabbing her cheeks and tilting her head back to see her glaring green eyes through her fringe, "are you flattered?"

Mabel caught her breath, then jerked her head out of his grasp and sank her teeth into the side of his hand.

Lord Daniel squealed in pain, beating her head with a fist and shrieking for his men to get Mabel off him. She didn't let go until she started getting light-headed and dizzy from being hit, and spat blood - a mix of hers and his - onto the ground.

"Try sickened, you pig!" She finally answered, giving him a grin full of bloody teeth.

"Augh - ! Y - you little wretch! I will kill you - I will -!"

He danced around in pain for a long few moments, holding his injured hand like he'd never been hurt once in his life before. It was a rather pathetic sight, no wonder none of the common folk took him seriously.

His threats were serious enough though.

Once he was done with his tantrum, he spun back around to face her.

"Teach her a lesson," he growled, tears in his eyes, "I need her alive, but other than that...do as you like."

"You coward! Beat me yourself!" she screamed. How could she bring complaints against two anonymous men? It had to be him!

How she longed to tear that long tail of blond hair right out of his head! Next time she got a chance to bite him, she'd make sure to take something away with her!

"My Lord..." one of the men said, his tone hesitant.

Lord Daniel threw his hair back, a blind fury in his eyes.

"Oh, what now? Is stealing her away and striking her once the lengths of your loyalty?"

"It's just...she's a girl, and -"

"You - ! For gods sake, fine!"

Daniel stalked towards her, and in the space of a breath had ripped her bodice open. Almost involuntarily, the scream she let out was feral and piercing. But Daniel called for her to be silenced, and she was, as he stripped her outer layers away - a leering, manic grin pulling at his lips - until she was left trembling in nothing but her chemise.

"There!" Lord Daniel said, out of breath and admiring his own work, "You see? With short hair and that figure - might as well be a boy. Are you happy? Now do your duty!"

There was only another moment of hesitation, and then Mabel was thrown to the floor. A booted foot caught her in the ribs, another stomped on her ankle. One of the strong hands grabbed a fist-full of her hair and yanked her up, only to hit her again in the face - causing hot blood to pour from her nose and her lip to split.

She couldn't form a single thought. She couldn't even manage to form words. There was only pain, that rained down on her from all angles, as she was man-handled and beaten in that dingy, dark shed near the edge of town.

After a time, though Mabel didn't know how long, everything went still and quiet. Though her body screamed in pain with every breath she took, with every beat of her heart, the men stopped attacking her.

She lay battered on the floor, one eye mostly swollen shut, her dress ruined with dirt, and listened - barely conscious - to the shuffling of feet, and far away muttering voices. It was only two. Lord Daniel must have left at some point. Too much of a coward to see the deed done...

"Nnngh..." she tried to shift her body, but her right arm burst with a pain so intense it rendered her vision white for a few seconds.

Somewhere, a door opened, flooding the shack with late afternoon light, and then closed and left her in the dark again.

Tears fell unbidden from her eyes, and there was no stopping them, but it wasn't like she could stay laying there on the floor until she died.

She tested the other arm, and though it moved haltingly, it worked.

With a careful prodding, much like she did when examining her birds for injuries, she felt her injured arm for anything that might have badly broken. But the bones seemed to be intact despite the pain.

"Don't be a baby..." she tried to mumble, though her cheeks made the words a garbled mess at best, "don't be...a baby...get up..."

Groaning, flinching every second at another new wave of pain, her entire body trembling, Mabel slowly pulled herself up onto her knees, and then onto her feet.

They'd left her outer clothes and head kerchief in the dirt nearby. She had to get dressed. She couldn't be seen in public dressed like a prostitute - if anyone recognized her, she would shame Lady Iris.

And though re-dressing herself was excruciating, that thought far outweighed the pain.

The walk home was slow. She had no money for a carriage, and doubted greatly if anyone in their right mind would take her as a customer looking like the worst of disheveled beggars on the street.

The ankle that had been stomped on twinged with every step, she could feel the glancing eyes of passers-by, but that didn't matter to her. She walked slowly, painfully, step-by-step, until finally as the sun was setting she came to the servant's entrance of the Baron's manor.

A couple of young laundry girls who were taking down dry bed linens saw her approaching, screamed, and ran inside. Thankfully, they sent out the head maid, a stern but fair old woman called Anne.

"M - Mabel! Oh - oh Mabel, by the gods what happened to you?!"

"You can't let...Lady Iris know..." she mumbled, though she wasn't sure if Anne understood her, "she'll worry...she'll..."

"M...Mabel...?"

She turned around, and saw Lady Iris, in her outdoor clothes and walking with a couple of her maids. She must have been out for a walk.

Well, Mabel had never been lucky.

"Oh, L - " she cleared her throat, "My Lady!"

She put on a big grin, though she knew there was no fooling her friend, and shrugged her shoulders, "I got into a scrap with some other girls in town! Would you - believe it?"

Of course she wouldn't. But she had to at least make a show of being okay. At least then, maybe Iris wouldn't worry as much. She wouldn't feel as guilty.

"Mabel...oh, Mabel -" Iris rushed to her, reaching her arms out, and Mabel thought for just a moment that her friend, and her deepest love since childhood, might kiss her right there.

And then she thought: "oh, someone is tilting the ground under my feet," as her body pitched forward, and she lost consciousness.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Failing To Fluster Their S/O

Words: 592

Request: Hi! can you do omen, chamber, cypher, reyna in a situation where they were trying to be flirty and fluster their SO but get flustered instead? Requested by: @socks-drawer

“Sage, can you pass me the ribbon?” She pointed at the different colours until she found the one you wanted, handing over the spool. Luckily you had just finished your craft, a bouquet of flowers. And just at that time the door slid open, turning around to see it was Omen.

“Omen!” Only when he was standing right infront of you did you notice what he was carrying, a small bonsai tree. He silently handed it over, his hands brushing over your own as you took it. “Thank you! Wait–”

Gently placing it down on the table to grab your bouquet, “I made these for you.” Holding it out for him, only for him to just look at it. Fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab it but didn’t, you know him though.

His eyes brightened and widened just before taking it from you, a quiet “Thank you…” as he turned and left. Unaware of the care he uses for the fake flowers.

“Oh, hello there Mon cher!” Turning in his chair to face the door, watching you enter the room. Standing from his desk to pull you into a hug, “Are you here to see me or my newest project?” “I would say both.”

“Of course.” He picked up the gun, handing it over to you. “I just need to add the final touches, but it should be finished by today.” Watching you flip it over and get a closer look, eventually holding it up as if to shoot.

“Zis one is a little different, let me help you dear.” Standing right behind you, his hands covering your own. “Just like zat, perfect.” Feeling his warmth seep into you as he moves just a bit closer, pressing himself against you.

“Now’s not the time to talk about yourself.” “You know what I meant love~” His head leaned over your shoulder, “I don’t think I do, want to show me?” “Of course.”

Oh how he looked watching you flush and look away in a panic whenever he caught you staring. No matter how long you two have been together, some things never change. (Apparently that was a lie.)

This time was during a small meeting, you two seated next to each other. Out of the corner of his mask he could see you staring at him, eyes full of admiration and love just for him. Making sure Brimstone and the others were distracted, or rather actually focusing before making his move.

Leaning in a little closer towards you, “Focus, my star.” “Oh I’m focusing alright~” “Really, and what would that be?” Throughout the conversation he was slowly leaning closer, that was until his name was called. “Cypher,” The masked man shooting back up, now noticing the many pairs of eyes on him, “What was I just saying?” “Uh, it was…” Seeing your smug grin, you brat.

Even as Raze and Phoenix were chatting, pretty loudly, you could hear the familiar sound of heels hitting the floor. When the person came into view the others quietened down, “Mi amor,”

Making her way over to you, showing off a clear limp, now leaning over the couch while placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look what you did to me, I couldn’t work at my best today~ ” Slowly tilting your head towards her.

“Don’t complain now, you definitely weren’t last night.” “Oh Estimado, ¿preparado para más?” “Reyna!” Seeing Gekko turn away while shielding his eyes, “Get a room you two!” Your only response was to laugh, giving him some relief by leaving the room.