#loopy-the-third

[rainbowkittyblossomwings]

My fave variety of gravity falls ships is either ford or stan suffering. My top two ships are billford with Stan as the third wheel hating every moment of it, or fiddlestan with Ford as the third wheel hating every momeny of it.

The sibling suffering is eternal

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

sometimes when I think about how my roommates treated me when I had COVID I get so angry I lose speech

[stormvanari]

[lazysoulwriter]

cough syrup. - drew starkey.

---

You were not dying.

Despite what your dramatic text to Drew said—“bring soup, I’m seeing the light. tell my plants I love them”—you were not dying. You were, however, very sick. And, more importantly, very high on that super-strength purple cough syrup that the pharmacy guy definitely warned you about.

But that warning? You forgot it the second you took the second spoonful. Okay, third.

The room was spinning just a little, your brain was a cloud, and your limbs were made of jelly. Beautiful, floppy jelly. You were at peace. You were floating.

And then the door opened.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice called out, followed by the sound of a grocery bag thudding onto your kitchen counter. “You alive?”

You turned your head toward the doorway, blinking slowly like a cat. “Drew?” you whispered, as if unsure whether he was real. “You’re glowing. Are you God?”

He let out a laugh so loud it startled you. “Nah, babe. Just your local hot guy with soup.”

You tried to sit up on the couch, but it took you like seven minutes to manage it. “You’re… you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, clutching the blanket around your shoulders like a cape. “It’s really unfair. Can’t you be like… medium ugly for once? Just for the sick people?”

Drew came over with a water bottle in one hand and a plastic container of soup in the other. “You’re completely blitzed, aren’t you?”

You nodded solemnly. “I flew to Saturn and back. I spoke to a cloud. Her name is Patricia.”

He was already cracking up. Like fully doubled over, trying not to drop your soup. “Patricia the cloud??”

“She said I’m brave.” You blinked at him. “You smell like toast.”

“Okay, that’s a new one.” He set the soup on the coffee table, crouched in front of you, and pushed your hair back gently. “You're burning up a little. Did you take your temperature?”

You looked deeply into his eyes. “Drew. I’m a thermometer.”

He stifled a laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Baby, can I take a little of that cough syrup too?” he asked, a mischievous grin creeping in. “So we can meet in the clouds together?”

Your eyes flew wide. “NO!” you gasped, scandalized. “That’s so Rafe Cameron of you!”

He dropped his forehead to your shoulder, laughing so hard his whole body shook. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

You clutched the blanket dramatically around your chest. “That’s what he would do. Peer pressure. Chaos. Violence. You’re not him, Drew. You’re better. Be strong.”

He was wheezing now, tears in his eyes. “You’re comparing me to my own character while high on cold medicine. This is peak delulu.”

“Delulu is the solulu,” you mumbled, nodding sagely. “Patricia said that.”

“…Patricia the cloud?”

“She’s wise.”

He laughed so hard he had to sit down next to you, wiping his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I should be recording this.”

“Nooo,” you groaned, burying your face in his hoodie. “Don’t put me on the internet. They’ll say I’m on drugs.”

“You are on drugs. You took too much cough syrup!”

“It was an accident,” you pouted, your voice muffled by his chest. “It tasted like candy and sadness.”

Drew wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Well, candy and sadness are kind of your brand.”

“That’s so rude,” you gasped, fake-offended. “I’m an influencer. I’m whimsical.”

“You’re loopy,” he corrected. “And you’re drooling on me.”

You blinked, then slowly wiped your mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “My bad.”

He tilted your chin up and kissed your nose. “You’re lucky I love you, even when you’re a feral little cough syrup goblin.”

You sniffled, leaning into his shoulder like a koala. “Do you think Patricia would want to hang out sometime?”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Only if you share your cough syrup.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “No way. That’s my gateway to the cloud realm.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” He grinned, then picked up the soup. “Wanna try eating something that’s not pharmaceutical-grade grape syrup?”

“I want... chicken noodle soup and your undivided attention.”

“You got it.” He fed you the first spoonful, like you were a princess and he was your soup knight. “How’s that?”

You chewed dramatically. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Tell Gordon Ramsay he can go home.”

“I’ll pass it along,” he said, trying not to laugh with soup in his hand. “Anything else, Your Highness?”

You smiled, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. “Just stay. Please?”

Drew tucked you in tighter, kissed your forehead, and pulled you into his arms like you were made of glass. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, baby. Cloud realm or not.”

---

I was feeling like that actually..

[brokenmenswhore]

Hiiii!! I love your writing and I have a request for Best Friend x Reader where Reader has had a crush on James for years and thought he never noticed because he was way to focused on Lily. But in reality he had been in love with her from the second they met on the train but every time je was almost caught he’d look to the closest person by you, which was usually Lily. Maybe smut too if possible. Thank you!!!!

i love this request!! james is just so 🥺🫶🏻❤️‍🩹

the closest thing | james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You were eleven. The boys in the train compartment all turned their heads toward you. One boy in particular, with brown curly hair and glasses, stood and approached the door.

“Hi, I’m James,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake and giving you a warm smile.

You told him your name and sat down across from him.

That’s when the crush started.

Through your first few years at Hogwarts, you and James grew extremely close, and became borderline inseparable. He was your best friend in the world, and you were his. Your infatuation grew with time, watching as he grew up and came into his own, his features morphing and sharpening with age.

When you were thirteen, you met Lily. She had been sorted into Gryffindor the same year as you and James, but you never spoke until your third year. She was charming, pretty, and loved a good laugh. You and her became fast friends, and you introduced her to James.

Whenever you sat in a group for breakfast, you would steal glances at James, who would be looking at Lily next to you. During classes, when you sat between them, you could feel James’s head turn toward you, but if you looked back at him, he was staring straight across you, fixated on Lily as she tucked a piece of fiery red hair behind her ear.

For years, you watched him gawk at her, and it caused you to hold your tongue about your developing feelings for him. Your friendship was so pure, it wasn’t worth ruining with a confession, especially if it would lead nowhere. Why tell him you liked him, just for him to tell you he liked Lily?

By the time you were sixteen, James was on top of the world as captain and seeker of Gryffindor Quidditch. He, along with Sirius and Remus, knew everyone and everything happening at Hogwarts. James in particular was the top of the class, and often had to help you with assignments. He still maintained your friendship, working to make time for you, but his popularity meant one thing you hated: attention from girls.

Girls often threw themselves at him, as they did Sirius, but he mostly turned them away. Waiting on Lily, you thought.

You and James had fun, and you made a habit of jumping on his back and making him carry you around. You weren’t much different in size, but he liked showing off how strong he was, and you liked wrapping your body around him.

Girls would often approach him, and when he entertained their attention, you would complain, “James, I’m getting loopy.”

James would bend over slightly, continuing to talk to the girl in front of him as you jumped on his back. He would hook his arms underneath your legs, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Gotta go,” James would say, dismissing himself as he stood tall, walking completely unobstructed with your weight on his back.

“You’re a child,” he laughed.

“Can’t help when I’m tired,” you would say, resting your head on his shoulder.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk on the grounds to find a quiet place in nature to study, and you saw James and Lily alone together. It would seem innocent to anyone else; they were side by side and just talking and laughing, but to you, it was so much more. James looked enamored, like he was the happiest he’d ever been, as they strolled along the path together. You desperately wanted to know what they were talking about, but you didn’t want to expose yourself for liking James, so you simply turned around and retreated back to the castle.

You were upset, but you knew you had no right to be. James wasn’t yours, and you had never told Lily of your feelings. If they liked each other, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, except, of course, pushing it down and asking Remus out.

“You’re kidding,” Remus said, shocked by your request.

“It’s just a trip to Hogsmeade, Remus, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m saying yes.”

“Well that’s pretty rude,” you scoffed.

“No! Not like that, I just mean-“ Remus’s voice trailed off as you listened intently, “you’re James’s best friend.”

“Technically so are you,” you responded.

“But he, like— whatever. Not a date?”

“Not a date, sure,” you clarified, honestly just happy to accept the company, “just two friends hanging out. That’s a thing girls and boys can do, right?”

Remus looked at you strangely. “Yeah?”

You smiled at him, telling him you’d see him later that night before walking away. Sirius slapped his arm. “James is gonna kill you, you know,” he said.

Remus just shrugged. Of course he knew that James liked you, and always had, but this wasn’t a date, so what did it matter? He was also allowed to be friends with you.

You and Remus enjoyed the evening walking through the streets of Hogsmeade and sharing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and you fought with every cell in your being to avoid bringing up James. Every time Remus tried to, you shut him down and changed the subject. You wanted to vent about him, but admitting your feelings to someone else made them all the more real, and you weren’t ready to face true rejection quite yet.

When you returned, you entered the common room together, and saw James and Sirius draped over the couch.

“Hey,” James said, sitting up as you both approached the couch, “where were you guys?”

“Just hanging out,” you shrugged nonchalantly, dropping down onto the couch next to him.

“I didn’t know you guys hung out, like, alone,” he said, forcing a small laugh on the last words to make them seem lighthearted.

“I didn’t know you and Lily hung out alone either,” you responded, catching his gaze for a full thirty seconds before you joked, “you just upset I finally have a friend that isn’t you or her?”

James forced a chuckle in response, but there was a slight bit of tension in the air between you both.

Things stayed the same as always as time passed. You hoped your time with Remus would spark some jealousy within James, but he didn’t seem to care. Every time you looked at him, his eyes were next to you and on Lily.

The one thing that did change, however, is James started throwing around a pet name for you.

You were excused from Potions one day to grieve the loss of your grandfather, who was an extremely important part of your life. You adored him, and you had a close relationship.

James found you alone in the west tower, crying at the bottom of the curved staircase.

“I figured something was up when you didn’t show,” he spoke, sitting down next to you, “what’s wrong?”

“My grandfather passed away this morning,” you explained, “I received word from my mother just before Potions. I just couldn’t bring myself to go.”

You wiped your nose with the back of your robe sleeve, taking a deep breath to calm your crying.

“Oh, angel, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart skipped a beat. James had never called you angel before. It felt so intimate, so endearing, and so personal. He threw around terms like “doll” and “baby” to other girls, but never angel.

You rested your head against his chest and calmed your breathing.

The next day, James missed you in the common room in the morning, first seeing you for the day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “You doing okay, angel?” he asked.

You blushed at his words, and he caught it, but assumed it was because you were upset and fighting back tears. “I’m okay,” you smiled.

A few weeks later, James was shitfaced drunk at a Ravenclaw party, sat in a large group with you and your friends. You stood to get another bottle, and James called out to you, “Hey, angel, can you get me one too?”

That was the first time he ever used the term in front of Lily, or in front of anyone, and it slightly confused you, but also thrilled you. You handed him the bottle, and he watched you sink back down to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to Lily. When you met his gaze again, he diverted his attention to Lily, and you sighed.

He then started casually calling you angel.

It was nearing the end of your term, and therefore your time at Hogwarts, and your patience was gone. You had nothing to lose. If James was weird about it, or rejected you, you could just ice him out, and without Hogwarts, you could avoid ever seeing him again. That’s not what you wanted, but it was a possible worst case scenario.

After finals were over, you asked to speak to James alone.

You pulled him into a now-empty classroom, shutting the door behind you for privacy and taking a deep breath.

“Everything ok?” he asked, leaning back against one of the desks.

“I need to talk to you,” you replied.

“Yeah, I get that,” James giggled, “what’s up?”

Both of your hearts were pounding, and both of you assumed the feeling was solitary.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice small and shaky.

“Okay, you’re kinda starting to scare me, angel.”

You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as you tried to steady yourself. “You genuinely have no idea what I’m gonna say?”

James was slightly taken aback by your question. “I don’t remember doing anything bad.”

“No, James-“ you rubbed your hands over your eyes, desperate for him to understand you without you having to be clear or coherent at all. You didn’t want to say it out loud, you just wanted him to know already.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” he said.

You sighed. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping you would be able to speak the words while simultaneously pretending he wasn’t there. “I like you.”

“Aweh, thanks, I like you too,” he said.

“No, oh my god-“ you spun around and paced for a moment, sighing loudly before stopping in front of him again. “No, like, I like you.”

“Oh.”

You looked up at him. That’s it? That’s all he had to say? Oh?

“Yeah.”

“I thought you liked Remus?” James spoke, confused by your confession.

“What would make you think I like Remus?”

“I don’t know, probably the dates you keep going on with him?” James threw his hands up, as if it was obvious.

“We’re just friends, I haven’t been-“ your voice trailed off for a moment. “James?”

He looked down at you expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I know we’ve been friends forever,” you started, “and I really don’t want you to hate me or this to be ruined, but term is ending, and you should probably know that I’ve had feelings for you since we first met.”

You exhaled, letting out a heavy breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“I-“

You cut him off before he could respond, “and I know you like Lily, so I’m sorry I’m telling you this, I’m just kinda tired of holding it in.”

James furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?”

“I don’t want to fuck up whatever it is you two have going on,” you said, and it was genuine, “I know you really like her.”

James tilted his head to the side. “Based on what?”

You returned his confused gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Why would you think I’m into Lily?”

“Be-because you are?”

“No I’m not,” he defended.

“James, it’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me, every single time we’re with her I can see you staring at her.”

James instantly knew what you were talking about.

“No, no, that’s not it,” he stopped you, “she’s just always the closest thing to shift my attention to when you catch me.”

You paused for a moment. “Catch you what?” you asked.

“Staring at you.”

You were so taken aback that you physically stepped backwards. “What?”

“Mhm,” he said, confident.

“But- but I’ve seen you alone with her, walking the grounds-“

“Lily is the only person on this planet I talk to about you.”

“About me?”

James reached a hand out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and sighed of relief. “Angel, I’ve been in love with you since you first asked to sit with me on the train.”

You opened your mouth to speak several times, but only small noises came out. You were speechless as James wrapped an arm your waist and pulled you flush against him.

“But-“

“Get out of your own head and listen to me,” James said.

“But I-“

“Shut up,” James sighed, pressing his lips onto yours to keep you from refusing to believe him any longer. Your muscles relaxed as you melted into his touch, your hand caressing the side of his face as you kissed him back. Your lips moved in sync with his. Molded with him, you were home.

James’s hand moved down from your waist to grab the flesh of your ass, pushing your hips harder against his, causing you to whine into the kiss. James moved his hands lower and lower until they were behind your thighs, prompting you to jump. He caught your legs as they wrapped around his waist, and he spun you around, seating you on the desk, his lips never breaking from yours.

Once you were seated, his hands held the sides of your face, desperate to deepen the kiss even more. You had both waited forever for this moment, and you both wanted to savor it as much as you possibly could.

You whimpered when he pulled your hips against his again, grinding his clothed cock against your clothed core.

He pulled away and smiled at you.

“What?” you blushed.

James nearly growled, “you sound even prettier than I dreamed you would.”

You looked deep into his eyes, and could tell he was being genuine. “You’ve been dreaming about me?”

“Feels like every night,” he said, his voice low as he slowly pulled your shirt above your head, and then ran a hand up and down your side, sending shivers down your body, “I’ve dreamed about simple little things, like holding your hand, kissing you, holding you…”

A hand moved to your skirt, pushing it up to your waist and beginning to move your underwear to the side as he continued, “and I’ve dreamed about fucking you, and watching you come around my cock.”

His words sent chills down your spine, his lips connecting to your neck as you sighed in pleasure.

He ran a finger between your folds, sucking the side of your neck as you shuddered. He collected your wetness before slowly inserting a finger into you.

You threw your head back, holding onto James’s shoulders to keep yourself upright.

“This all for me?” James asked.

“Mhm,” you moaned, unable to speak.

He slowly pulled out and pushed in his finger, watching your mouth fall open.

Your fingers ran through the curls on the back of his head, holding him against you.

“J-James,” you moaned, his palm applying pressure to your clit and doubling the stimulation.

James dipped his head for a moment and released a low, guttural moan from his throat.

“You okay?” you breathed out.

James giggled, his hand never stopping. “Did you just ask me if I’m okay?”

You nodded your head yes.

“I’m literally fingering you right now,” James said.

The reality of the situation dawned on you, and you realized what you asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. James laughed with you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers as he swallowed your noises with a kiss. You were so, so happy.

The joy and laughter of the situation brought you close to the edge, your walls squeezing around James’s finger. He felt it, and immediately pulled his finger out of you.

You gasped at the loss of contact, the cool air hitting your wet core. You looked up at James, your eyes confused and desperate.

James smirked at you. “I wanna fuck you, angel, it’s no fun if you come already.”

“Yeah, but, but I-“

“There’s more where that came from,” James said, placing a kiss onto your forehead, assuring you this was not a solitary event. “For right now, though, please just let me fuck you.”

You nodded your head up and down rapidly, as eager as ever to feel James inside of you.

James pushed his pants down and freed himself, giving his cock a few strokes as he looked down at your body. He lined himself up with your entrance, looking to you for permission.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, James, please,” you spoke.

James immediately pushed his tip inside of you, and you inhaled a sharp breath. James slowly pushed the rest of his length into you, stopping once he was fully inside of you, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Shit, you’re big,” you moaned.

James moaned back in response, your words making him harder as he slowly pulled partially out of you.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Please, James, move,” you answered.

James pushed back into you, your wetness lubricating his cock as you laid your back down onto the desk, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up anymore.

James took the opportunity to grab your breast, watching as your body moved up and down in sync with his thrusts. Your head was almost entirely off the desk, your neck tilting slightly backward, causing each moan to come out strangled.

Laying down meant James could see your entire body as he fucked you, and he was losing control at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each hit of his hips.

He picked up his pace, harshly grabbing both of your hips in order to push you into him with each thrust.

“Fuck,” you cried out, the entire classroom echoing as the legs of the desk shifted slightly across the floor.

“You feel so fucking good,” James praised.

You whined and whimpered and moaned beneath him, unbearably turned on by the feeling of his cock finally inside of you.

James moved one of his hands to your core, rubbing circles against your clit as he fucked you.

Your body jolted upward and you grabbed at James’s shoulders, pulling yourself up and hanging off of his neck. You were eager to come around him, and you kissed him hard.

“Please, James, make me come,” you begged, hoping your pleas would help him reach his climax as well. Though the sex wasn’t too long, you were so aroused by finally having him, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer.

James began to piston his hips into you even harder, determined to bring you to your climax. He wanted to savor the sex, but it would be so fucking hot to see you come in a matter of minutes. It stroked his ego, knowing that you were so hot for him that you were going to come from just a few minutes of stimulation.

“James, I-“

“Come for me, angel.”

The use of the pet name in your current position was enough to push you over the edge. You squeezed James’s cock, your legs shaking around James’s waist as you came.

“Shit, where can I come?” James asked through shaky breaths, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own high after feeling you squeeze him.

“In me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m- yes, I w-want your come in me, please, Jamie, please-“

The nickname and the pleading had James coming inside of you with a final few sharp thrusts of his hips. He groaned as he came, settling inside of you for a few moments while he caught his breath.

He slowly pulled out of you, watching his seed spill out of your hole when he was out. He couldn’t help but lean down and lick the juices up, savoring the taste. You shuddered when his tongue touched you, you were so overstimulated.

James helped you stand, your body aching from the uncomfortableness of the wood beneath you.

“You alright?” James checked in.

“I’m alright,” you confirmed, leaning upward to place a kiss on his lips.

“You able to walk back out there?”

Your legs were shaky. You tried to take a few steps, but you nearly collapsed, and James caught a hold of you.

He smiled at you, turning his back to you and bending down.

“You serious?” you asked.

“‘F course.”

“James, I’m still wet. Won’t it get-“

“You jumping up or not?” James asked.

You hopped onto his back, holding onto him for dear life as he stood tall and swung the classroom door open.

At that very moment, of course, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily walked past the room.

“Oh hey you two,” Sirius said, noticing how unkempt your hair was and how flushed James looked, “had some fun, did we?”

You reached a hand out to hit his arm as James stepped in front of him, joining the group with you wrapped around him.

“Child,” he whispered to you, referencing you being carried on his back.

“At least this time I have valid reasoning for not being able to walk.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams)

Summary: Being woken up with kisses by you might have been Daryl’s favourite thing ever. Getting a gift that particular morning was unexpected, but not unappreciated. It might have been the best birthday he has ever had.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 817.

A/N: Wrote a little something in honour of Norman’s birthday! Happy birthday to one of the best people on this planet!

Daryl slowly opened his eyes at the feeling of soft prodding against his skin. He blinked to rid himself of the loopy, sleepy feeling, his gaze landing on the ceiling above. However, he looked down when the soft prodding persisted, and when he did, a small smile spread across his face.

You easily returned the gesture. You pressed your lips against his chest, being extra gentle whenever you were met with a scar. You slowly trailed up his collarbone, his neck, his cheek, before finally letting your lips meet his for a tender kiss.

Daryl pulled away after a few seconds, his signature half smile on his face. “Well, g’mornin’.”

You grinned and brought a hand up to cup his cheek, lightly scratching his stubble. “Good morning, handsome,” you greeted him, your eyes sparkling with excitement—something that made the archer confused.

Your partner raised his eyebrows at you, instantly reading you like the back of his hand. “Alright, spill. What’s up?”

You gave him a faux innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, completely unconvinced. “Sure. S’jus’ my imagination, huh? You wake me up with kisses, lookin’ all excited and s’for no reason at all?”

“Can’t I just be happy to be with you?”

“Sure you can, but s’more than that. I can tell.”

You finally gave up on your attempt at keeping a straight face. You laughed and removed yourself from his embrace, reaching over to grab something from your nightstand. It took a couple of tries to get the drawer open, but you finally succeeded after the third try.

Daryl watched you move in silence, his eyebrows furrowing together when you grabbed a little box that was wrapped in pink, glittery wrapping paper and placed it in his hands. “What’s this?” he questioned, fiddling with the object but making no move to open it just yet.

“If I wanted to tell you, I would have done so instead of making sure to keep it a secret,” you retorted, chuckling when he sent you a look that said ‘really?’ “Just open it, okay?”

The archer hesitated for a few seconds longer, before sighing and slowly beginning to peel the paper away. Underneath, it revealed a tiny wooden box. “A box?” he asked, looking back up at you.

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Look inside the box.”

Daryl chuckled. He opened it up, and his heart started galloping in his chest. He gingerly took the object from the box, his ocean-coloured eyes widening in awe. “I—what? Why?”

You smiled at him reaction. “Because I wanted to. I had to pull some strings with people to let me take their places on runs, but I got something for you. I hope you like it.”

In his palm, there laid a chain necklace with a little silver arrow hanging from it. It may have been something simple in the eyes of others, but to Daryl, it was absolutely perfect. It was beautiful, and he was going to wear it with pride because his woman got it for him.

“Thanks. S’amazin’,” he whispered, letting the chain hang from his fingers. “But seriously. Why? What’s the occasion?”

“You really don’t know what today is?” When Daryl shook his head, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. “It’s your birthday, Dar. Happy birthday.”

Realization dawned on him. Ever since coming to Alexandria, where the people had somehow managed to keep track of the dates, you had insisted on keeping an out-of-date calendar in your shared room. You might not have known whether it was Friday or Tuesday, but you knew what the date was. And that day, it was his birthday.

“Shit. That’s today?” he asked, continuing when you nodded. “You didn’t have to do nothin’ for me. I would’a been happy with a simple “happy birthday”. You didn’t have to go through all’a that trouble to find me a gift.”

“It wasn’t any trouble.” You cut Daryl off before he could protest. “It wasn’t. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to get you something for it. That’s not any trouble for me. It’s a way for me to show you how much I love you, okay?”

Daryl’s heart leaped in his chest. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wished he could say to express his gratitude. However, words fell short in that moment. All he could manage was a simple “thanks.”

You smiled softly and nodded. “Of course.” Despite the simplicity of that answer to your heartfelt confession, you knew how grateful he was. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up, in the way his hand found your’s and squeezed it three times, and in the way he looked at you. You didn’t need any words to know how much he loved you.

Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

[huntingcupid]

YOU RIGHT WITH LARA RAJ AND MERET MANON

you'd be thinkin' 'bout it every day don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies and it's me and you, no she tryna be all through your sheets have you all on top of me acting like it's not that deep boy, you can take it out on me

⌗ MARZ — fem!reader, SMUT, this is nasty smut, swearing, fingering (r receiving), porn actress, recording while doing it, teasing, kissing, oral ( lara receiving ), thigh riding,mentions of bondage, drinking, everything is consensual! etc..

⌗ SYPNOSIS — how did you find yourself in between the two most beautiful women ever, and how did you agree to be part of their porn video

⌗ CUPID — THIS IS REQUESTED, WARNING THIS IS PURE NASTY SMUTT, anon u hv a genius mind

you partied a lot maybe more than a regular person should, every saturday night it practically became a routine, get dressed in your most sluttiest dress and maybe just maybe attract a woman — you do your makeup extra and make sure you'd smell good, yet with no luck you hadn't met a woman who was down to be with you

well atleast tonight was an exception right? — you wore a red backless dress, gold jewelry accentuating your neck and fingers, vanilla perfume masked all over your body with body shimmer on, you were determined tonight, the minute you enter the club you took three shots of straight alcohol at least it tasted like so, you stumble your way to the middle dancing to the music, the alcohol slowly making you tipsy

you danced slow and seductively, your hands roaming over your waist and torso, smiling at other women, fuck it's not working, not giving up right? though you needed to take a shot real quick, the alcohol needs more power it to make you more confident

you walk to the bartender asking for shots who just looked at you and sighed, ava was her name she knew you by now, she knew your plan and still hasn't understood why, “y/n this is like your third time this month here” ava sighs, you murmur back “so what?, at least im paying”, ava just rolls her eyes handing you two shots, you took it the burn trailing down your throat, you groan as it hit

two women approach your side, one had long black hair wavy and a nose piercing — the other had curly black hair and a few tattoos, you didn't know if it was the alcohol or actually them but you felt the others hands trail to your waist

“hey pretty, what are you doing alone hmh?” the taller one asks, “no one wants me” you giggle — “manon by the way, that's lara” she introduces, “its y/n” you replied, lara smiles taking your hand and leading you to the floor as she swayed to the song, god she looked ethereal, manon was behind you swaying along, you were sandwiched between them two and you couldn't complain, they smelled like cherries and cinnamon — manon's fingers trace your back muttering something about how smooth it was, lara got dangerously close to your face, her lips were glossed and so tempting to kiss

the night stretched, as the two women made you drink more, all three of you were drunk, well except lara she had less than the two of you and was more sober — she offered to take you home, at least to their home, you didn't care you wanted them so bad

the drive felt like 2 minutes from how loopy you were, manon carries you inside laying you in their bed, they both disappear, for a while they came back with a camera and some rope, lara sits beside you her hands slowly removing your dress like you were a gift under the christmas tree — “fuck your beautiful” she murmurs as she finally fully removed it leaving you in your lacy matching undergarments

“lace and red too?, you slut” manon muses, her eyes trailing over your body her hands massaging your thighs, lara sits just above you, assisting your head so your resting it on her thighs — “we can record this right?” lara asks before she turned on the camera you nod shyly

the two women share a look, smirking at each other, manon kisses the desi girl her hands still in between your thighs lara's moans were muffled but it was enough to make you go feral, after so lara points the camera to your thighs with manons hands in the frame — slowly manon peeled of your undergarments a line of slick connecting it to your cunt

“nasty” lara mutters making you clench around nothing, laras fingers come into contact with your lips, tracing over them before pushing in her thumb to shush you since you were obviously shy to make any noise — manon pushes in one finger then two, making you moan, your eyes watering as her fingers disappear into your entrance her finger tattoo getting wet every thrust

“your swallowing my fingers” manon murmurs, lara removes her top which made you finally see her breasts, woah, literally woah — manon's lips flew to her nipples sucking slowly as her digits never stopped inside of you, the camera was surprisingly still steady in laras hands despite her moaning and squirming

“remove your finger lara, let the camera hear how loud she is” manon says to the younger woman, who obeyed her immediately, you bit your lip trying to stop yourself from making noise, “why are you shy hmh?” manon asks tilting her head as she disconnected from laras nipples, “sorry” you whisper back your voice coming out a bit shaky — “bet you are” lara tsks

“can i?” lara asks, she lifts your head putting it on a pillow, as she closes the distance between her and manon sitting on the older womans thighs — thats when you realized lara didn't wear any undergarments, she rode manons thighs as the ghanaian fingered you with no stopping

you felt your stomach slowly feel full and sensitive as manon kept hitting that one spot, the camera long forgotten on the side — lara's moans didn't help neither, she was whiny and her head was buried in manons neck, shaking slightly

without any warning you convulse around manons digit moaning louder than you had expected, your legs shook as you bit your lip — lara follows after, manon then lays both of you on the bed, kissing you two softly on the forehead

“how about you?” you ask tiredly — manon looks at you smirking, “who said we are done anyways?” she smugly replied earning a chuckle from lara

wc: 1k words

[mamawasatesttube]

im sick (again :/) so we're on silly time lockdown. please enjoy tim experiencing the consequences of pissing off a drunk wizard (get psychic blasted idiot)

“Kon, I could really use you here, if you’re”—Cassie grunts with some kind of effort—”not busy.”

The wind whistles past Kon’s ears as he picks up speed, leaving the golden fields of wheat behind. Cassie’s voice reaches him the slightest instant faster as he gets closer to Titans’ Tower:

“It’s nothing, like, life-threatening, but I promised my mom I’d—Tim, stop wiggling!—I promised my mom I’d help her out with this big thing at the museum tonight, and—”

Kon barely alights on the rooftop and zooms down into the common room, not bothering to actually let his feet touch the ground until he’s there. And then he blinks.

“What’s… er, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Cassie, holding a squirming bundle of black fabric, breathes a sigh of relief. She shoves the blob at Kon, who belatedly realizes that it’s Tim, wrapped up in his own cape like a delinquent cat in a towel at the vet. “This is your problem now.”

“Kon!” Tim sounds overjoyed, albeit muffled by cloth. “You’re here!”

“Uh… yes. Hi?” Kon turns the cape bundle in his arms to locate Tim’s face, flushed from struggling hopelessly against Cassie. The moment Tim’s eyes fall on Kon’s face, he lights up with a brilliant smile.

“Hi,” Tim says, and wiggles in Kon’s arms. “Hi, Kon!”

Okay, something is definitely wrong with him. “That’s me,” Kon agrees, and looks back over at Cassie. “Why is he in the punishment burrito?”

Cassie gives Tim a long-suffering look and rakes her hand through her hair. “Because,” she says, “after the third time he forgot his grapple line is broken and tried to climb out the window anyway, I got sick of his shit.”

“Kon,” Tim says, wriggling some more. He hasn’t stopped beaming. “Hi. You’re Kon.”

“I sure am,” Kon agrees, raising an eyebrow. Since he has the showstopping, awesomely handy-dandy power of TTK, he lets Tim get his arms free of his cape, just to see what he’ll do; to his surprise, all Tim does is grab two handfuls of the back of Kon’s jacket, then buries his face in his shoulder and hums in contentment.

“Kon,” Tim says again, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “You’re nice.”

“I do my best to be, yeah.” Kon pats Tim’s head, bewildered and a little amused. “Cass, what happened to him?”

Cassie buries her face in her hands. “We may have kiiiind of pissed off a wizard? And then there was, um… well, it turns out he specialized in psychic blasts, and he may have announced that by zapping the shit out of Tim?”

Zapping—

Alarmed, Kon looks down at Tim, sweeping him over with X-ray vision. No broken bones or any immediate damage sticks out; he doesn’t even have a bump on his head to show. But he’s sure acting weird! He’s still nuzzling Kon’s shoulder like a cat, not even trying to get out of his grasp. 

What does that even mean? Kon doesn’t know anything about how to help with psychic injuries! What if the damage is permanent? What’s gonna—

“Okay, okay, chill, whoa!” Cassie holds up her hands quickly. “That’s your doom and gloom freakout face, whoa, I promise it’s not all that bad! I already got him checked out, Raven said he’s gonna be fine, it’s just—he’s just gonna be a little loopy for a bit until it wears off, that’s all.”

Loopy, huh? That sure is an apt descriptor. Kon shifts Tim in his arms, absently rubbing his back; Tim hums in contentment, boneless against his chest. Honestly, Kon’s amazed that Cassie needed to punishment burrito him.

“Okay, so…” Kon glances down at Tim again, then back to Cassie. “I just gotta watch him for a bit, make sure he doesn’t try to climb out any windows?”

“Yeah! Pretty much.” Cassie shifts her weight, rakes her hand through her hair, and glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m super sorry to dump this—Tim—on you and run, but I promised my mom I’d help out with the museum charity gala thing tonight and I gotta be there to help the setup crews in, like, twenty minutes, and…”

Kon waves her off. “Hey, it’s no big! S’not like Tim and I don’t like to hang out. Right, buddy?”

Tim lifts his head, looks at Cassie, and puffs up his chest importantly. He jerks a thumb at himself and announces, “I’m Kon’s buddy.”

Cassie stares at him, unimpressed, and raises her eyes to the high heavens. “Yeah, Tim, you sure are.”

[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Helloooo can you do a fic in the jaehyun tiktok series with the trend that’s going around of gfs giving their bfs a note that says “ if you don’t smile I’ll give you head “ hahahaha

honestly anon go ahead and give your brain a kiss for me bc I saw this trend and it didn't cross my mind to write about it ily

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ don't smile... ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: MDNI, f!reader, dirty talk, tiktok trend, literally a prank revolving around giving head)

What better way was there to cure your boredom than scrolling through TikTok? It just happened to be rather unfortunate for your boyfriend that your time on TikTok usually went hand in hand with his torment. Hmmm, sucked for him but not for you!

While fratboy!Jaehyun was busy watching some basketball game on the screen you duh around his bedside table for a stack of sticky notes you were sure you'd left here. You pulled one from the stack, grabbing a pen and giggling madly while you wrote out the note. An extra pretty note in your finest, curliest cursive and decorated with hearts and stars.

You stood from his bed, shuffling over to your boyfriend and extending the note. His eyes had been locked on the screen watching as the team he had money on scored yet another point from the free throw line. "You good, sweetheart?" He asks, not having caught sight of the note quite yet. Well, he hasn't even taken his eyes off the screen.

Jaehyun groaned as the third quarter came to an end, finally turning his attention to you. He missed the sneaky smirk on your face and your camera pointed right at him, but his attention was on the light yellow square of paper you were holding out to him.

His brows scrunched as he read your loopy scrawl on the paper, 'don't smile and I'll give you sloppy toppy later :)'.

He can hear you giggling, see the smile on your face in his peripheral vision, but right now he's focused on the dresser that holds his TV. His brows are furrowed, cheeks taut, and lips puckered as he tries not to smile. But come on, can you blame a guy? Your beautiful girlfriend comes with a note offering a blowjob and he's expected to not be excited? Give him a break.

Your giggles bubbled into laughter while you watched him try to suppress a smile. His eyes were focused, rolling his lips into a frown in the hopes that it would help keep a smile from popping out. His dimples were on full display and you couldn't help but cup his cheek at the sight.

You cooed through your laughter, "so what do you think, baby?"

Jaehyun moved away from your touch, turned his head away from you, hoping that not looking at you would make this easier. You laughed harder as he spoke, his words completely contradicting the upset look on his face, "I think it sounds like a great idea."

You pinched his cheek and let out what sounded a lot like a cackle when you saw the corners of his lips turn up for just a single second, it was paired with a loud, "fuck! No!"

You stopped recording there, leaning in to kiss his cheek with a soft laugh, "I'm feeling generous. I'll still give you head later, baby."

He stood up with the brightest smile, tugging you into his arms, whooping and cheering, "let's go!"

You could vaguely hear one of the guys yelling down the hall, "Bro, your team just fucking lost and you owe me 100 bucks, why are you cheering?" Little did they know...

[katyawriteswhump]

scent of a (soul)mate 💖🍌💖

Rating: M; WC: 2722; CW: none; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, fluff, scentmates, scenting, rejection sickness, mild hurt/comfort, snuggling and cuddling, matchmaking. For @stmarchmm day 10 prompt, ‘rejection sickness’ and day 11 prompt, ‘scenting,’ and @steddiebingo fill, ‘fruit.’ Summary: O!Steve has been dumped by Tommy and Carol, and is suffering from major rejection sickness. A!Eddie reluctantly rocks up to provide ‘platonic’ healing snuggles… Read on Ao3

🍌💖🍌💖🍌💖🍌💖🍌💖🍌

“Let me get this straight.” Eddie discarded his notes and glared across the trailer at Gareth. “You want me to pause creating the most metal campaign in the history of D and D… and go snuggle the third most obnoxious student who ever doomed the halls of Hawkins High? Because he’s been dumped by the only two dickwads who were more obnoxious?”

“He’s not so bad,” mumbled Gareth, hilariously squirmy. “We’re friends now. Henderson adores him. It’s not like Steve was ever around when Tommy and Carol were slamming me up against the lockers.”

Eddie grinded his teeth at the memory. “No shit. Protecting you was my job.”

“That’s my point! You’re the best at looking out for Omegas. Without being threatening or trying to get in their panties.”

“You calling me unthreatening?” Eddie poked his tongue and clawed the air, grizzly-style.

“You’re terrifying, Eddie. Just… hear me out, okay?”

Eddie indulged his friend, as ever, and most of Steve’s history, he knew. Steve had been joined at the hips with Tommy and Carole since Middle School. When Steve presented Omega, and the other two presented Alpha, nothing changed.

Apart from that Eddie avoided Steve like a plague of frat-boy zombies, and not only because the Omega was a total brat.

Eddie got within ten yards of Harrington he was pretty much drooling. The Omega’s scent—not to mention that dumb preppy hair and those pretty eyes—drove him loopy, and there was no way he was making a fool of himself with Tommy and Carol’s bitch.

What Eddie didn’t know was that, since they’d graduated, Steve’s Alphas had been treating him like a toy they’d grown bored of.

A month ago, they’d cut him completely.

When his parents refused to cut short a business trip to care for him, isolation sickness had aggravated rejection sickness. In the end, Steve had been too poorly to come to the door. Robin Buckley got Chief Hopper around to break into the Harrington’s house and take Steve to the hospital.

Yeah, it was all deeply tragic.

As were Gareth’s huge, woeful eyes and his melodramatic telling of the tale, which rivalled Eddie’s best Dungeon Master act. Boo-hoo, poor little rich kid, cue the wailing violins.

Half an hour later, Eddie was at the store trying to figure out what gift to take to visit a sick and admittedly cute Omega who he didn’t actually like.

Oh, and getting weird looks from other shoppers for wandering around muttering to himself.

“No chocolates, no candy-ass flowers. Wroooong message, Munson. I mean, what are you doing getting a gift?” Truth was, some crazy Alpha instinct forced him to it, and fortunately inspiration struck. “Okay. Fruit. That’s what you take for sick Omegas when you have zero intention of jumping their bones… courting… whatever.”

He opted for a bunch of bananas and headed straight to Hopper’s place. The Chief took in waifs and strays of all designations, of which Steve was the latest. Eddie puffed out his cheeks, rolled on extra blockers, and got out of the van.

Instantly, he got a whiff of that insanely glorious… ahem, no, cloying caramelised-peaches-with-watermelon-and-vodka scent that used to drive him nuts at High School.  That’d had him trying to recreate it in a punch bowl for the past year and totally failing.

He should’ve run for the hills while he still had hope. Instead, finding the front door unlocked, he followed his nose and peeped in.

Steve was lying on the sofa bouncing a softball off the ceiling.

Okay, should Eddie knock? Cough? Say hi?

Too late.

Steve startled and tumbled off the couch, landing with a thud and a squeak.

“Shit!” Eddie rushed inside to help.

…

Steve slowly sat up then flopped his back against the side of the couch, head spinning.

What was Eddie Munson doing here? Why was he carrying a bunch of bananas—Steve’s favorite food—which smelled super-crazy levels of deliciousness?

“You okay?” Eddie dumped the fruit and crouched at Steve’s side, looking almost as spooked as Steve.

“Yeah,” panted Steve, hand over his still-racing heart. “Thought you were Hop. Figured he’d be mad I was playing ball inside.” To be fair, Steve’s jumpiness came from years of anticipating his father’s reactions. Hop would’ve forgiven him. Probably. “There’s nothing on TV and I’m bored out of my skull.”

“You always did love your ball-in-laundry-basket games,” said Eddie, with an only-slightly-derisive smirk.

Steve gave him a look, revving up to tell him he’d waaaaay rather have been playing his guitar. If he could’ve staggered far enough to fetch it from his room. Eddie got in first:

“I’m sorry. You’re cool. You happy on the floor, Sweetie, or you want a hand?”

Sweetie? Steve giggled and instantly forgave Eddie. That giant crush he’d had on the Alpha in senior year rushed back like it’d never left. “What d’ya reckon, shit-for-brains?”

A large Alpha hand hooked under his arm. Another found his hip, and he was carefully guided back onto the couch.

“What the heck are you doing here?” asked Steve, once nested back among his cushions and blankets. And still getting over the loss of that warm touch, which had sent shockingly pleasant shivers across his skin. “You looking for the Chief?”

“Nope.”

Eddie hovered a foot off and stared at him. Scarily intense. Steve faintly wondered why he wasn’t more scared about being alone, pretty much helpless, with a bad-boy Alpha, then dabbed his lips. Shit, maybe Eddie was staring because he had something gross on his face.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you, Harrington—”

“Steve,” squeaked Steve.

A smile twitched on the corner of Eddie’s lush lips, and… Wow, Steve hadn’t had much appetite for weeks and suddenly he was soooo hungry. Must be those bananas Eddie had brought with him, which Steve slid his attention to.

The aroma was incredible. There was a ton of muted scents drifting around this house, but right now… Nope, Steve only smelled banana, and it was the deepest, richest, creamiest banana he’d ever experienced, with dark salty undertones.

Wow.

“Gareth said you’d been struggling,” Eddie said, “and that the doctors pretty much prescribed platonic bodily contact with Alphas. So, yeah, not gonna push this or anything, but—

“I’m gonna kill him,” muttered Steve, facepalming. “Look, I appreciate it, um… Can I call you Eddie?”

“Sure.”

“Eddie, I’m on the mend. I’m past the so-sick-I-wanna-die stage—” and the humiliating can’t-stop-crying stage—“and to be ‘platonic’ I think you have to be friends. I know you hated my guts in High School. You don’t have to do this.”

“I never hated you,” said Eddie. “I hated your ex-Alphas. Gareth and Dustin say you’re a good dude. I trust them, and that makes us friends of friends, so… you want snuggles or not? It’s totally up to you.”

Steve peeped at Eddie from between his fingers, and somehow, he couldn’t lie: “I’d like snuggles.”

Eddie relaxed into yet another grin, this one deliciously wolfish: “Okay, Steve. You call the shots. How do you wanna do this?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

It was true. His parents didn’t believe in hugs, let alone snuggles. Carol and Tommy had only ever petted him after sex. He’d snuggled with Hop’s younger foster pups lately in the family nest, which had helped him start to heal.

He’d never had one-on-one snuggles with an Alpha before. Even platonic ones.

And now he was trembling like an idiot.

Eddie perched on the edge of the couch. “Nothing to worry about, Sweetie. We can take this slow, or I can leave, or—"

“No.” Steve grabbed Eddie’s wrist, and the strength of his grip shocked him. “I said I want snuggles. Please, Alpha.”

The awkwardness and furtive glances lasted only a few seconds. Then Eddie scooped Steve against his hip and enfolded both arms around him. Steve nestled his cheek on Eddie’s chest, and one of his own hands crept across to clasp Eddie’s shoulder. One of his knees notched itself up into Eddie’s lap, and he melted into Eddie as if they were born to fit together this way.

A caressing warmth literally seeped from the Alpha. Damn. He’d wasted nineteen years… without this?

“You okay, Steve?”

“Mmmmmm,” sighed Steve, as a wave of pure contentment washed over him. He wanted to sink into those hints of herby Alpha musk—into Eddie—like a hot bath. Okay, Eddie’s scent wasn’t quite as distracting as the bananas, which was a shame, but he wasn’t gonna complain. He was losing himself in a happy doze, when Eddie’s fingers started up gentle brushes on his hair, smoothing it behind his ear, then drifting to toy at his nape.

Steve no longer wanted to sleep. Eddie’s hand on his back was like warm oozing honey and Steve didn’t want to miss a thing. He burrowed so deep his nose was in danger of disappearing into Eddie’s armpit. It was clear Eddie was wearing blockers, which was a bummer. Eddie’s natural scent was complex, and Steve wanted to inhale as much as he could, as if to map it on his senses for a lonelier day. After all, the banana smell was out of this world, but it was Eddie he fancied.

Ooops! No, this is platonic. Keep those thoughts platonic, Harrington!

Eddie, meanwhile, was pretty chill. He chattered a bit, about D and D, and music, and all of it was actually pretty interesting. And he was so nice. Even though, one time Steve peeped up, Eddie was grimacing.

Spying Steve, he winked and grinned, and Steve decided not to ruin things by getting too anxious. Maybe Eddie was constipated or something.

That helpful thought didn’t dampen his attraction to Eddie for long. After a few more minutes snuggling, Steve wanted to purr his heart out. He managed to rein it in and then he was having thoughts that were so un-platonic that he bit his lip to the point of pain. Shit, if he got slick, or started to perfume, would Eddie get mad?

Think of something else, Harrington. Not about how hot he is, or how you used to fantasize about him fucking your brains out, when you were still with your exes. Oh my God, I’m gonna get slick! I’m gonna leak everywhere!

He tuned into the one thing that distracted him. The crazily potent scent of those bananas.

He imagined that firm stick of yumminess sliding between his lips, rolling his tongue around it. His stomach growled for it. Steve almost purred for it. And, fast-as-fucking-lightning, some primal need shoved aside all his skittishness and, apparently, his common-sense.

He sat bolt upright and fixed pleadingly on Eddie’s eyes. “I’m soooo hungry. Please, Alpha, can I have a banana?”

Eddie hooted. “Almost forgot I brought them.”

He reached to snap one from the bunch. As they sat side-by-side, he handed it to Steve. Steve pouted. If Eddie had chosen to feed it to him, who would he have been to argue?

With unsteady hands, Steve unpeeled the banana, then slid his lips over its rounded head. It tasted… okay. Kind of bland. Not as earthshattering as he’d expected. Maybe he needed more?

He shoved half the banana into his mouth, bit it off. And choked.

“Hey, take it easy,” said Eddie, rubbing between Steve’s shoulder blades.

Having gulped the thing down, Steve was not in the mood to ‘take it easy.’ He was so damn confused, and cranky that he’d not gotten what he craved, and if what he craved wasn’t that dumb banana, then it had to be…

His nose was at Eddie’s neck before he could stop himself, scenting then licking, and… Ooookay, the blockers and being unwell had thrown him. No banana could send him loopy like this. If his spinning head was sure of one thing, it was that irresistible smell was definitely Eddie. Who now cupped the rear of Steve’s neck—no real pressure, simply holding him in place with a devastating, featherlight touch.

“Sweetie, you okay there?”

No… or maybe, yes. Slick trickled in Steve’s panties, and he jerked his chin up: “Will you kiss me?”

Eddie blinked. Then he licked his lips. That grin Steve was growing obsessed with spread slowly, bunching his cheeks into delicious dimples.

“Hop’s gonna kill me,” murmured Eddie, then, narrowing his eyes, “Look, gonna level with you. Again. Snuggling you has given me one helluva boner. I tried to think about other things, keep it cool today, but… Don’t think my feelings for you are ever gonna be platonic.”

Steve’s pheromone-drenched Omega brain took a moment to process this, and he was incapable of being anything but blunt. “Do you believe in scent-mates, Eddie?”

“Okay, comin’ clean.” Eddie’s hands moved up to cup Steve’s face. “Been obsessed with your teasing lil’ perfume, since you presented in junior year. Let’s find out, huh?”

Steve scrambled into Eddie’s lap for real, flung his arms around his neck, and all-but crushed the Alpha to him. Nope, he couldn’t have done that half an hour ago, while he was lying here feeling exhausted and generally like shit.

Eddie kissed Steve like he’d never been kissed—thoroughly and possessively, and dammit, adoringly. That bland banana taste was gone in an flash. No blockers worked for kissing, and Eddie’s true taste flooded him. It was herby with bitter notes, all doused in that multithreaded sweetness Steve had been going wild for. That rich, creamy banana was a major, major strand of Eddie’s musk, in a heady, kicky Alpha kinda way.

No wonder Steve always liked that damn fruit. He only loved the taste of Eddie, which he literally got high on. He scrubbed his tongue against Eddie’s and did his best to give as good a kiss as he got.

Eddie was for sure Steve’s scent-mate, and he was Eddie’s. After a few more minutes of kissing, and a little more snuggling and scenting, Eddie confirmed that he one-billion percent agreed.

…

A month later, Gareth finally showed his face around Eddie again.

After a whirlwind courtship, he and Steve were moving into a cosy log cabin in the woods. Eddie was wheeling out Steve’s basketball hoop, and Steve was fetching their guitars from the van. Turned out, for the one hobby they didn’t share, there was plenty they did. Steve had even had to fill in for Gareth at D and D, after the other Omega mysteriously vanished to stay with an aunt, without even finding out if Eddie was mad or not.

Eddie growled, glancing between the two Omegas. “You wanna kill him, Steve, or am I gonna do it?”

“Don’t be a dick, Eddie,” said Steve. “He brought us together. He fixed my rejection sickness.”

He fixed us both, and I didn’t know I needed to be fixed. He sure helped make me a very happy Alpha.

“Look, I know it was a bit of a gamble,” said Gareth, twisting his hands. “I’ve had my suspicions, right from when you used to lay into Carol and Tommy for me. You said more than once that you always wanted to hit ’em harder. Something always pulled you back, some faint scent, even though those two repelled you. And then, I got to know Steve too, and Chrissy did a tarot reading that said you were fated. Even Robin said she had a hunch, and what with Steve being sick for so long… We played tic-tac-toe. I lost so I had to be matchmaker. I mean, it has worked out, and… You’re not gonna kill me, right?”

“No promises, Gareth,” said Eddie. “I mean, what took you? Why didn’t you bash our heads together months ago? And how could you run out halfway through my most totally metal campaign?”

“So, we’re good or not?”

“Jesus, Gareth, how many times?” bitched Steve, as Eddie beamed toothily between them both. “He’s being a dick! Hey, you wanna be my flower-Omega at our wedding next month?”

Gareth hung around for a beer and to help them finish moving in. When he hung around after that, Eddie gave him his very best platonic hug.

The type he could never give Steve Harrington.

“Now scram,” he growled, once he let Gareth go. “Thanks to you, I totally need to carry my future bride over the threshold.”

🍌💖🍌💖🍌💖🍌💖

Thank you for reading 💖 You can find my other steddie omegaverse fic on Ao3 here 💖

[loulou-land]

Love, Everywhere

Day 7 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Love Notes/Letters | 1,388 | ao3

Tommy finds the first note by accident—tucked into his jacket’s pocket as he’s getting ready to head out for work. He frowns, fingers brushing the crinkled edge of the pink sticky note and pulls it free. It’s scrawled in Evan’s messy, loopy handwriting: 

You look really hot in this jacket. Like, stupidly hot. Honestly, it’s a bit unfair ;p 

Tommy snorts, shaking his head, wondering what had made his boyfriend leave the note. But then again, Evan has always kept him on his toes. He folds the note up and tucks it into his wallet. 

The second note is waiting in his packed lunch, which Evan had made and wrapped with care, handing it to him this morning with a kiss and a be safe. 

A yummy and nutritious meal for my favorite guy <3 Because you deserve nice things and to be taken care of.   Ps. Do not eat the desert first! >:\ I’ll know if you do.

Tommy chuckles, rolling his eyes. But then he picks up the other container, curiosity getting the best of him, and he sees it's a slice of his favorite cheesecake. It takes all his self-control not to eat it before his lunch. 

He wouldn't put it past Evan to have spies at Harbor.  

“What’s so funny?” Lucy asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Tommy shakes his head and folds the note into his flight suit pocket. He feels warmth creep onto his cheeks, but his heart feels full.

 “Nothing,” he says, but his smile gives him away. 

—————————————————————

After that he finds them everywhere. 

He never knows what he’s going to come across. Some notes are flirty and absurd, some sweet and romantic, others just pure on brand Evan chaos. 

There’s one in his gym bag: 

Get those gains, baby! So you can fuck me up against the wall ;) 

Tommy groans, slapping a hand over his face. Jesus Christ, Evan. 

Suffice it to say, he doesn’t get much of a workout that day. Instead, he drives straight home to ‘punish’ his bratty boyfriend. 

He does go extra hard in his next gym session, though. Evan does have a point. 

*

One stuck to his bathroom mirror: 

Oh look! It's the most handsome and sexiest man I know. Thank you, my life has been better with you. Has been better since you :) 

Tommy sees his own reflection staring back at him, the soft, surprised tilt of his smile. The wonder sparkling in his eyes. 

He presses a hand to the note, fingers ghosting over the words. 

No, Evan. You're the one who's made everything better.  

*

The orange sticky note blinks brightly at him from atop his pillow: 

Are you my pillow? Cause I wanna give you head ;) 

Tommy groans, burying his face in his hands. That one might be the worst pickup line he's ever heard. 

However, when Evan joins him in bed that night, Tommy kisses him all over before laying on his back and letting Evan take him apart with that sweet, dorky and sinful mouth of his.  

*

At this point, he shouldn't be surprised by the placement of some notes. Still, he finds himself bewildered by the one in his medicine cabinet: 

Are you aspirin? Because I’d like to take you every 4-6 hours… 

Tommy shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Where do you keep finding these pickup lines?

*

There’s one on the inside of Evan’s blue hoodie, which Tommy has stolen for the third time this week: 

If you’re reading this, you’re probably stealing my hoodie again. Which is fine. Looks better on you anyways! Ps. Fair play, I have your favorite shirt :p 

Tommy laughs. Today, the hoodie feels even softer and warmer than usual. 

*

One day, he walks into the garage and feels something flutter to the ground when he flips the light switch. 

He bends down, picking up a blue sticky note that had been stuck to the switch: 

Hey baby, you must be a light switch, cuz every time I see you, you turn me on! 

“Evan,” he says exasperated. Menace, Tommy thinks fondly.

—————————————————————

After a while the notes start changing. 

There’s one waiting on his front door as he's leaving for work:  

I’ve never met anyone like you. You're one in a million Tommy. Sometimes, ‘I love you’ is not enough. Not when I love you so much more than that. More than words could ever express.  Be Safe. Yours, E.

Tommy pauses. 

His fingers brush over the sticky note, over the careful way Evan had written this one, as though making sure Tommy took each of the words in and understood them. 

His throat goes tight, something warm and aching curling up inside him. He takes the note gently, folds it, and places it in a wooden box on his bookshelf with all the others. 

He has to take a deep breath before he can step outside. 

*

Then, Tommy finds one stuck to his truck’s steering wheel: 

I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, but you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. I love you exactly as you are.

Tommy stares at it. 

The words settle deep, heavy in his chest, wrapping around that raw and vulnerable part inside of him.

He swallows, rereading the note through glassy eyes before carefully tucking it into his glove compartment—where he knows he’ll reach for it again. 

* 

Tommy has picked up the book he's been reading for the past week when a note flutters onto his lap. His heart races wondering what this one will say. 

I choose you and I’ll choose you over and over. Without hesitation, without a single doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you.

Tommy exhales sharply. His fingers shake as he holds the note. He thinks how every note so far has broken him apart only to mend him back together. He thinks, An entire life loving this man will not be enough. 

In that moment, Tommy wishes for an eternity with Evan. 

*

There’s one hidden in the cockpit of the helicopter. 

He has no idea how Evan managed that one. 

But there it is, waiting for him when he climbs in for a routine check, stuck to the panel like it belongs there.  

I’m so proud of you, you know that. You amaze me every single day. I love you. 

He blinks rapidly, looking away for a second before glancing back at the note. Tommy doesn't remember the last time someone told him they were proud of him. 

For a second, he doesn't know what to do with all of this—with Evan’s love, constant and unrelenting. But the more he sits there, staring unblinkingly at the note, the more it settles within him. 

Tommy thinks he’s learning. How to let himself be loved. 

—————————————————————

Then, one night, Evan finds something waiting for him  

A folded letter, carefully placed on his pillow with a single sunflower beneath it, written in Tommy’s neat, precise handwriting:

For my sunshine,  Thank you, for seeing the parts of me I’ve never liked—the ugly and the shameful—and loving them anyway. For seeing me completely as I am and still wanting to keep me. For teaching me how to let myself be loved.  You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.  Evan, sweet, selfless, ridiculous Evan. I love you entirely and wholeheartedly.  Completely yours,  Tommy

Tommy is on the couch when suddenly there's a 200-pound man climbing onto his lap. It takes him a second to realize Evan is crying. His stomach drops.

“Baby, what's wrong?" He asks worriedly, running his hands up and down Evan’s back. 

Evan just shakes his head, clutching the letter like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “You love me.” His voice cracks, thick with emotion. 

Tommy’s confused. Because of course he loves Evan. He thinks he's been pretty clear on that. 

Then he realizes Evan is holding in his hands the letter he'd left him and softens. 

“Of course I love you sweetheart.” 

He gently wipes away the tears clinging to Evan’s lashes, tilts his head down for a forehead kiss, and pulls him close. Evan sighs, burying his face into Tommy’s neck, arms tightening around him. 

They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. 

Tommy doesn't need to say anything else. 

Evan already knows.

[dear-ao3]

ok so considering im decently sure a good chunk of the f1 drivers dont actually like driving road cars on roads (fair) i propose a new grand prix to determine the real Best Driver.

behold. the rush hour grand prix.

1 lap. at rush hour on a friday night. all the usual normal commuters and terrible drivers are still on the road along with all the drivers. in the rain. everyone drives a car of their choice. they have to count out all their tolls using change, no one gets ez pass. and you get disqualified if you veer from the instructions (no wrong turns!)

and where does this take place?

thats right.

new jersey. (and new york city) (but mostly new jersey)

here is the proposed track:

we start and end on route 22 right outside the staples. a terrible awful road that would cause harm to any driver, especially european ones. route 22 is so terrible because there is a long stretch that has a center median with shops in it, so theres shops on the right the left and in the center with u turns every 500 feet.

they go east on 22 towards us route 1 and 9 and, thats right, newark liberty international airport. here they have to do a loop around all of the departure terminals before exiting and heading towards jersey city on route 78.

they take route 78 through the holland tunnel, which is a hilarious tunnel to go through as you can literally blink and miss the signs because theyre so small.

upon arriving in new york city they will head towards the canal street station, doing an awful little loopy loop to take hudson street to 8th avenue. new york will prove a challenge for many of them because every other street and avenue there is pretty much a one way in the opposite way.

theyre going to turn right on 23rd street and take it three blocks towards the flatiron building on fifth avenue before doing another turn around and heading back up sixth avenue

here theyre going to turn left on 40th street, then right on 7th avenue then immediately right again on 41st street and then back to 6th avenue which they'll take all the way to the bottom of central park. here they'll turn left onto 59th street then go around columbus circle, exiting on broadway and then going right onto 57th street, which they'll then take down to 11th avenue, then after. few blocks cut over to the west side highway (12 avenue) and then they'll get off at 40th street and enter, you guessed it, the lincoln tunnel.

they'll exit the lincoln and get onto route 3 which they'll take down to route 120 and then they'll do a single doughnut in the parking lot at the american dream mall (a terrible place) before getting onto, you guessed it! 95!! they'll take 95 (devil highway) to 78 to the garden state parkway before getting back on route 22, doing a quick hairpin turn at one the first u turn and then end up straight back where they started. outside the staples.

i think maybe 3 people would finish the whole thing. logan sargeant, being the only american, would come in first. fernando alonso takes second and valtteri bottas takes third.

[radioactiverats]

i love your writing style!! what're your thoughts on sleepy starscream?

Mentor Starscream x Seeker!reader (28/?)

*Blows dust off inbox* Thank you so much! Apologies for the wait but I loved this prompt :,)

———

You sprawl out on the berth, glancing over at where Starscream was hunched over datapads and contributing new lexicon to the standard Cybertronian dictionary under the category of swears.

Starscream was busy.

Well, Starscream was always busy. Except this recent period had hit him really, really hard, and the reason for it was obvious.

The groundbridge was broken.

“Slagging - bot fragging son of a Cessna - the Celestial Spires have never seen witnessed anything as moronic as - when I get my servos on those pistol-lickers-!”

You wince.

Firstly, the frustration was evident in his glitchy vocaliser.

Secondly, what he’d said made barely any sense.

Your optics narrow. Now that was cause for concern.

He’d been running on fumes for the better part of two weeks. You’d barely seen him in the daytime, let alone at night after curfew. Curling up on your own, shivering on a berth that felt far too big, had become your new normal. You drifted in and out of recharge until Starscream would, if you were lucky, come back at what you estimated to be close to sunrise to chide you for not switching the lights off.

“I left them on in case you came back,” You’d mumbled, after the third time. Starscream didn’t have the spark to tell you off after that.

Still, he never stayed long. The longest he’d stayed in those two weeks was when you, emotional centre thrown off balance from your fitful recharge, stubbornly clung onto his servo and refused to let go. Starscream stayed until you’d fallen asleep again, long enough to stop your crying. When you woke up again, he was gone, but you discovered that someone had cancelled your shift that day.

Anyway. You shake yourself out of memories to focus on the present. Chronic sleep deprivation was no good for any mech, but it seemed Starscream had taken that as a personal challenge. Had it been a competition, he’d surely have blown the opposition out of the water in terms of who-could-stay-awake-the-longest. The prize, however, was becoming kind of… loopy.

Just as you’re pondering the best way to approach him without risking an instinctive null ray to the faceplate, a comm comes from Knock Out.

Is he asleep yet?

You scowl, displeasure mounting.

So I’m guessing he was released from duty out of necessity.

A pause.

Ding ding ding.

Another pause.

He’s not asleep, is he? Think you can get him to drink some spiked energon?

Why do you have spiked energon?

Sweetspark, spiked energon is the least of your worries on this ship.

You snort. All the same, you’re actually not too keen on the idea, even if Knock Out means well. NightByte had said something about it before - fliers didn’t mesh well with drugs used by grounder frame types. Something about it overstimulating the fight-or-flight response in flight frames - whose coding tended to be on edge as is. You sneak another glance at Starscream, who’s now adding new lexicon to the Vosian dialect. All the same, something had to be done.

Let me try to get him to berth. I’ll comm you if I need help.

Sure. Good luck.

Lol

Your scowl deepens.

“Sir.”

Starscream appears not to hear you, and the vocabulary grows increasingly inventive.

You slide off the berth and stomp over to him. Enough is enough.

“Sir!”

He whirls around, and you duck on instinct to avoid a null ray - but nothing comes.

You glance up, and Starscream’s staring almost confusedly at you, clearly too exhausted to even have instincts, let alone respond to them.

“Cadet. I’m working. What is it? Shouldn’t you be recharging?”

“You should be the one recharging. Come on, let’s go to berth…”

“I’m fine. I have things to do. Don’t you have an early shift tomorrow?”

Your spark warms. Despite his slightly loopy state, he’d still somehow remembered your weekly schedule.

“Sir, you need recharge. You’ve already finished most of your work tonight.”

You reach for his servo, hanging limply by his side. “Come on.”

“Cadet-“

“You needed recharge, like, ten days ago.”

“I have to finish this-“

“What could be more important than having a functioning frame?”

You abruptly give up on tugging at his servo and start trying to push his chair towards the berth.

Yes, you were fully aware that he was a full size class above you - perhaps even two - but it didn’t stop you from trying. The chair budges half an inch.

Starscream watches you, a bit to bewildered to respond.

“Cadet, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You grunt. “Getting you to berth.”

Primus.

“Why are you so heavy?” You mutter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You activate your heel thrusters.

“Cadet-! For Primus’ sake-!”

Much better. The chair scoots a whole foot closer to your goal.

“Stop that!” Starscream roars, when it’s clear you’re not giving up. You tell yourself it’s because he’s so sleep-deprived that he hasn’t actually responded aside from gripping his chair for dear life - and not because it’s the first time one of his students has tried to rocket-propel him into berth.

Suddenly, two servos descend on your shoulders, and your thrusters sputter.

For a moment, your harsh ex-vents are all that fill the habsuite.

“Stubborn brat,” Starscream finally says, optics flickering as he stares at you. “Does it matter so much to you whether I recharge or not?”

You allow a bit of the offence you feel to slip onto your faceplate.

“Of course it does.”

Starscream studies you a klik longer, but you can see the exhaustion catching up to him now that you’d disrupted his momentum with work.

Good.

“Fine,” He groans, and finally, finally, gets up from his desk.

You watch as he practically collapses onto the berth. It’s a few kliks of watching him attempt to arrange his limbs into something resembling a comfortable position before you realize he’s literally too tired to even move properly.

Wow, you think. That was quick.

“Here,” You mutter, guiding his wings into a more relaxed position. His wings relax promptly under your touch, and he lets out a noise that sounds more like a crackle than any cohesive word.

You drag his chair next to the berth and climb up on it, pulling your knees to your chassis and shivering. Primus, did it have to get so cold at night?

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

It takes a moment. You watch as Starscream scrunches his faceplate in confusion, struggling to comprehend your words before he struggles to blink his optics open.

“You’re not recharging?”

“I thought you’d feel better with me keeping watch.”

Starscream makes an admirable effort to keep his optics open before surrendering. Still, even with his optics shuttered, he has no trouble frowning at you.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come here.”

“Are you sure…?”

“I won’t ask again.”

Well. Your chilled frame won’t say no to warmth, especially when Starscream’s so generously offering. Especially when he’s offering what’s probably going to be the best recharge you’ve had in two weeks. Especially when -

“…I missed you.”

“Hm?” Starscream mutters, as he wraps his arms around you. “What was that?”

You tuck your wings closer to your frame so you can press your back right against his chassis. Mm. Warm.

“Nevermind.”

Starscream just grunts - mildly irritated at not knowing yet too tired to really care - and ex-vents long and low. His engines purr, a low vibration against your back.

“Don’t wake me up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sir.”

He noses the back of your neck.

“And don’t think about sneaking off, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“…Don’t go.”

You pause. You could pass that off as mindless exhaustion, slurred incoherently against your neck cabling. But it felt strangely genuine, and you feel bad not responding to something that feels almost uncomfortably close to a confession.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly.

You wait, but he doesn’t respond, instead just tightening his arms around your middle.

You tentatively settle your servos atop his own, but it’s too soon for you to relax. Air leaves your vents in a hard whoosh as the weight of his leg comes down to pin yours, effectively sealing your fate as the Air Commander’s glorified teddy bear.

Internally, you sigh. Of course, even incredibly sleep-deprived, he could only rest easy when he’d done something about it.

Oh, well. You might as well take a nap.

———

Your internal chronometer pings you a few hours later, rudely jolting you from what had been the best recharge you could remember in a long time. Your emotional centre tries to get it together as you try to convince yourself that a few more minutes of recharge would not be worth the consequences for being late - luckily, your logic centre comes online first, and you reluctantly push yourself up.

And freeze, when you feel a pair of arms tighten around you.

Starscream.

Right.

How had you forgotten? You look down, and see Starscream’s helm more or less in your lap, his arms circled stubbornly around your waist. Unfortunately, while Starscream could recharge as long as he wanted (Doctor’s orders), the same couldn’t be said for you.

“Sir, I have morning shift,” you whisper.

He responds with a noise that quite clearly translates to immense dissatisfaction. Rubbing his cheek against your thigh, his faceplate scrunches before he squints sleepily up at you. “With who?”

At the mech’s designation, his noise of disgust makes itself known against the soft mesh of your stomach.

“Useless son of a glitch. He could do with being left on his own for once. Then maybe he’ll learn something.”

His arms tighten possessively around you, like a petulant sparkling unwilling to relinquish his favourite toy to the servos of another.

“Are you saying that mech is more important than staying here with me?”

“N-no,” You stutter. “But-“

Starscream lazily lifts a servo to his comm. You watch, intake agape as he promptly and thoroughly, gleefully, smugly, even, abuses his powers as Second-in-Command to excuse you from your shift. All so he could have more cuddles.

You blink, still taking in what had just happened as Starscream stretches lazily beside you.

He insistently tugs you closer until you’re lying back down, frame curling securely around yours again with a self-satisfied ex-vent.

Oh, well.

You shuffle even closer to him, allowing yourself to relish the way his arms tighten around you.

Might as well take another nap about it.

Previous / Next

NightByte belongs to @quasarwake and will be a future flock member !!

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

Meowwww

Synopsis: Y/N didn’t expect a claw machine prize to spark anything more than frustration, but when he gives Karina—a quiet beauty with a secret soft spot—a lone cat keychain, it becomes the start of something more. As whispers swirl and matching keychains dangle from backpacks, their playful banter and stolen moments begin to blur into something deeper. But it’s Karina’s note—and the smile that follows—that finally gives Y/N the answer he’s been chasing all along.

Word Count: 943

Karina X Male Reader

You were just messing around in the arcade one lazy afternoon. Nothing planned, nowhere to be, just burning time. You wandered from game to game until you found yourself standing in front of a claw machine filled with tiny plush keychains. Cats, mostly—white ones, orange ones, some paired up like soulmates.

You didn’t really know why you tried.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight hit the glass, or maybe you just had a few coins to spare. On the third try, you managed to snag a small orange cat, the stitching a little crooked but still oddly cute. There was a matching white cat inside the machine, just a little to the side. You tried for that one, too, but no luck.

You left with only the orange one, not even sure why you kept it. It followed you home, sat on your desk, found its way into your pencil case, your pocket, and back again. You didn’t really think about it too much—until one random morning at school, Karina passed by you in the hallway.

Karina. The quiet beauty from class. Always with her nose in a book or scribbling notes. The one who made your chest tighten for no reason other than the way she said your name sometimes.

That’s when it hit you.

You waited until break and approached her outside the library, hand in your pocket, gripping the tiny plush.

“Hey, weirdo,” you said, tossing the keychain toward her.

She caught it. “What’s this? A cat keychain?” She turned it over in her hand, eyes lighting up a little. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Won it at the arcade. It had a pair, but I didn’t get the other one.”

Karina smiled, soft and sincere. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You shrugged, trying to act casual, though your heart was doing flips.

A few days later, you spotted her by her locker, chatting with her friends—and there it was. The orange cat keychain, dangling from the zipper of her backpack. Bright. Visible. Yours.

Well, hers now.

Your brain short-circuited a bit, and for reasons you didn’t want to admit yet, you made it your new mission to win the white cat. You went back to that arcade almost every day after school, determined to get it. You burned through your coins. You cursed the machine. You even asked the staff if they could just sell it to you (they said no, naturally).

After three weeks of trial and error, the machine was suddenly empty. The white cat was gone.

You sighed, a little disappointed. Not just because you failed—but because it meant you didn’t have a reason to keep trying.

But the next morning at school, something unexpected happened.

You slid into your seat, still half-asleep, and spotted something on your desk. Your breath caught.

It was the white cat keychain.

Right in the center of your desk.

Beside it, a small folded note written in soft, loopy handwriting.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Y/N.

You could’ve just told me, yk?”

You laughed under your breath, cheeks warming.

From that day forward, you and Karina wore the matching keychains—hers on her backpack, yours clipped to your lanyard. It didn’t take long for gossip to start circling. Whispers in the halls, side glances, friends teasing you both.

But no one could deny it.

You and Karina just… looked right together.

It was a week after the keychains became official.

The rumors had settled into quiet buzz, but you could feel it every time you walked down the hallway together. Every time someone glanced at the little white and orange cats swaying in sync—one on her bag, the other on your lanyard.

You didn’t mind. Not when Karina was the one beside you.

The two of you were sitting under the shade behind the school, her usual study spot. She was scribbling in her notebook, and you were chewing on the straw of a juice box you’d brought for her. It had a tiny strawberry on it—her favorite.

“You know,” she said without looking up, “you really spent three weeks trying to win that keychain?”

You cleared your throat. “Tch. Who told you that?”

“Your friend. The loud one. He basically sold you out.”

You groaned. “Traitor.”

She finally glanced up, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You’re kind of dramatic. You could’ve just asked me to hang out.”

“I wasn’t trying to hang out,” you lied.

“Oh?” she tilted her head. “So all that effort was for… what? Cat keychain pride?”

You looked at her for a second before grumbling, “Maybe I just thought matching with you would be kinda… cute or whatever.”

“Hmm,” she said, pretending to think. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re a closet romantic.”

Your face turned red instantly. “I’m not!”

“Right,” she said, not even trying to hide her smirk. “Just the guy who gave me his hoodie, remembers what drinks I like, and fights claw machines in my honor.”

“I’m suing for defamation.”

She giggled and reached for her backpack, unclipping the orange cat.

She held it up next to yours, the two plushies bumping together gently. “Well… I guess I don’t mind it,” she said, softer now. “It’s kind of nice. Having something that matches with you.”

Your heart skipped. She didn’t even look embarrassed saying it—just honest.

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the two cats for a second before quietly saying, “Yeah. Me too.”

Karina leaned her head on your shoulder, still holding the keychains.

“You’re not so bad, Y/N,” she murmured.

And just like that, your whole chest felt warmer than the sun overhead.

[valentine-cafe]

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 :  red velvet cheesecake !! . . . mad scientist ⊹ male reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔​​​​​​​﹕verse 209 ꮽ  rishen herrera

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀﹕a spider-moth-mantis hybrid mad scientist, harming and cunning ceo

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... everyone thinks that you're the one who takes it from the ceo, little do they know ⊹ cw ٬٬ rough sex. 

As Rishen's favourite assistant, it wasn't too shocking when rumours started spreading around like wildfire. About how heated you'd both get behind closed doors, about how you were his perfect boy when locked away in his office, and most recently — the tale spun by a coworker that they'd walked in on you surely under Mister Herrera's desk.

He never paid any mind to them. You did. Not because they were wrong on your rendezvous. But because they wholeheartedly thought that you were the one taking it.

You huffed at the thought. If only they could see him now. Lab coat strewn out behind him. Curls messy and hung over his heated face. Maroon eyes all loopy, slitted — are those hearts? Oh how his body curled for you, opened up for you. How his thighs fitted so perfectly in your hands. And his tight little hole? He swallowed you so greedily.

"Can't believe they think this pretty slut does anything but take it." Your laugh bordered cruel as you shallowed your thrusts into a harsh hump. He squirmed back on his desk and his whine sounded through the room.

"Can't believe," his nipple fell victim to your harsh twists. "That they think he's anything but a good little boy for me."

Wet smacking brimmed the air as you purposefully hardened your thrusts. So that your balls slapped against his ass at a tempo that had him reeling. Nails clawed through the wood while another fisted on your lab coat.

"Please - fuck," he croaked.

"Please?" His knees crooked over your shoulders as you leaned down, folding him in half. Jerking his body so that he was reminded how well he took it. "Please fuck you harder? Fuck you harder so they know who's the whore here?"

You complied with his wordless beg. Ramming your hips against his until his dick twitched with bubbles of his cum. Third time and it's only been fifteen minutes. . . Seems you're breaking a record. His head tossed back. Maw hung in endless moans and drool alike. Every thrust was a testament to your truth. That he was the pretty little slut who took it so well.

"I — 'm - fuck - gonna cum -"

"Already cummin' you dumb slut," you hissed and snapped your grip to his throbbing cock. Thumb swirled in cruel circles that arched his back further. He mewled.

"Fuck," you groaned. "Can't believe they think otherwise. Moan a lil' louder. Need them to know better.”

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