#spot and reader are trans in this fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writing-mlm · 14 days

Note

I was wondering if you could do a Zuko x male reader fic? I’ve been scouring everywhere for male reader fics sob😭

I told you so (It was always about you)

Summary: You're worried about life after the war, really you're worried about life without Zuko. Too bad you're as love blind as Toph is blind. Pairing: Zuko x waterbender!male!reader WC: 7.4k TW: its hinted about reader being trans, readers mother asking about grandkids a/n: this was gonna be sm longer but I haven't posted in agesssss

“Katara,” You softly call in front of her tent. It’s the dead of night, four days before Aang is supposed to be fighting Ozai and you’re in front of Katara’s tent, nervously picking at your hair ribbon. “Katara!” You call again, leaning close to the fabric.

“Huh?” She opens the flap to the tent, only able to see with the dying campfire behind you.

“Can I come in?” You whisper and she tiredly nods, rolling back over to her spot so you can enter. Settling on your knees on top of a hide blanket, you close the tent and watch as she lights a lantern.

Patting your fingers against your bare knees, you look around her tent. It’s mostly the same as the others Zuko has bought, but she has her clothes neatly folded next to her pillow with her necklace set securely under the pillow.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” She asks through a yawn and you nod, even though it wasn’t a yes or no question.

“I uh… I need to ask you something…” You trail and she nods, propping herself on her arm. “Do you think… do you think Zuko will stay with us after Aang defeats Ozai?” She raises an eyebrow, it's well into the night and you kept yourself up for hours, mulling over that question. “It’s just… he’ll become Fire Lord and he’ll be busy. What if he forgets m- us?” Ah, she blinks, that’s why you’re worried.

“He won’t forget you,” She reassures, putting a hand on top of your hand and your eyes widen before you move your hand from under hers.

“I wasn’t talking about—“ Lowering your voice, you clear your throat. “I wasn’t talking about me, I meant the whole group.” You shake your head, looking off towards the tent's entrance to see if you had woken anyone up. “We’re all his friends, not just me.” Awkwardly chuckling, you rise and wave your hand. “Forget I even said anything, I’m just tired. Pre-battle nerves and everything…” Without protesting, Katara watches as you stand up and open the door of sorts to the tent, nearly tripping on your way up.

“He won’t leave you.” She says as you leave her tent.

Regretting not bringing a blanket with you, you look at the moon and run your hands along your arms for warmth before going back to finding your tent in the near pitch-black area Aang has decided to stop at for the night. It doesn’t take long to find your tent, though since standing in front of your tent, you see Zuko standing with a small flame in the palm of his hand.

“You okay?” You ask and he turns around, the flame flickering with the sudden movement. His shoulders settle as he sees you and the flame dies down just a bit, just enough that you can fully see him when you’re close enough.

“I heard you yelling,” He admits, keeping his voice down in case he woke anyone up. If only you’d been as good. “Why were you in Katata’s tent?” He takes notice of your fundoshi and sarashi and you shake your head, gesturing back to her tent.

“I was asking her a question…about… water bending.” He slowly nods, not believing your very obvious lie but doesn’t press on. “So…” Looking away from him, you chew the inside of your cheek and sigh, trying to find something to say.

“So…?” He repeats.

“Future Fire Lord, amirite?” Lightly punching his arm, you immediately curse yourself. “I mean— like, with Aang and your dad and stuff…?” He blinks, once and then twice. “I’m just… y'know?” Looking at the moon, you squint. “Look at the moon! It’s late! I better go to sleep now, goodnight!” Darting into your tent, you push yourself to the furthest corner and watch as Zuko stands there for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat.

“Yes, goodnight.” He says before walking away. Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and allow yourself to sit in pure embarrassment until you eventually fall asleep.

—

Katara had come around fully to the idea of Zuko, something about being next to your sorta enemy while deciding not to kill your mother's killer brought them closer together. It was nice.

Everyone had been sort of relaxed during their stay at his father's empty beach house but you were still on edge. Staying in Ozai’s own beach house was risky, he could decide he finally wanted a dip in the ocean and show up. Especially with Sokka and Suki exploring into town, word could spread. Even if Zuko didn’t share the same sentiment.

“Calm down,” Toph grunts as she shoves your calf. Stumbling onto a pillar, you glare at her. “I’d feel if anyone was around.” That was true, you supposed. Sighing, you decide to give it a rest looking around the surrounding area of the house, and settle next to Toph. She and Katara were watching Aang and Zuko practice their Fire Bending, you tried not to watch. It only reminded you that you could possibly die in a horrible fire, feeling the water leave your body until you become a crisp husk of yourself.

Toph, clearly feeling your worry huffs and grabs your shirt before pulling you down. Forcing you to lay on your back, she hums and closes her eyes. Doing the same, you instead think about nearly anything else. Even try to clear your mind, although you only think airbenders can truly do that.

“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?” Katara asks sometime later, once the two finish up their training.

“I told you, my father hadn’t come here since our family was actually happy,” Zuko explains, his seventh time explaining that exact point. Sitting up, you catch him wiping the sweat from his head. “And that was a long time ago. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for us,” He adds, staring at you.

“You guys are not gonna believe this!” Sokka exclaims as he rushes into the courtyard with Suki behind him, a rolled-up paper in his grip. “There’s a play about us!”

“We were just in town and we found this poster.” Looking at the picture on the poster, you cover your mouth and listen as Sokka and Suki read the poster. It sounds horrid. Zuko knows it’ll be horrible. Katara doesn’t want to go.

As such, everyone goes.

“Why don’t the girls sit up there and the boys sit down there?” Katara grins, already shoving Sokka from the bench next to Suki. She grins at you, motioning with her eyes to Zuko.

“Why?” Aang frowns, clearly trying to set you up was affecting Aang trying to set him and Katara up.

“She clearly wants the better view!” Sokka almost shouts. Everyone shushes him and looks around.

“Why don’t we just sit where we want?” Toph groans, plopping down on the outside of the lower bench. “My feet can’t even see from up here!” Katara shares Aang’s frown and slumps down next to Toph.

“I’ll tell your feet what’s happening,” She promises, barely registering that Zuko sat next to her. There was more space on the top bench but you were sure you didn’t want to sit next to the couple and took the spot next to Zuko. Aang sighs and takes the seat next to Sokka.

The play starts, opening with the actors that played Katara and Sokka on their canoe. Katara’s actress is… something. From the first word, you check out.

“I told them,” Zuko whispered when the two started to complain. Only Toph seems to be enjoying the play.

“We could leave,” You grin, catching the actor freeing the girl playing Aang. He thinks about it, genuinely thinks about it but he’s enjoying Aang complaining about his own character until ‘Zuko’ and ‘Iroh’ show up.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” He complains. As much as you don’t want to say it, it’s the most accurate portrayal of the group so far.

“Actually, I think that actors are spot on,” Katara muses.

“How could you say that?” He gasps at the same time his actor says the same thing.

“We should leave,” He agrees and goes to stand up but Sokka pushes him down. Eventually, the scene where they meet your actor appears. The actor playing you is… something. He’s a quiet actor, hunching himself over and running away from any source of fire. Then, there’s only one scene with Yue, her death. Immediately after it’s the scene where you found out about her death. Your actor, for the first and only time in the play, blows up and yells at Sokka. Nearly killing him by accidentally freezing him.

The play wasn’t wasn’t completely wrong in that sense.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, no matter how much Sokka swore it was water under the bridge.

“Do you want to leave?” Zuko whispers, grabbing your hand. Probably to make it quicker if the two of you decided to leave. Nothing else.

“Do you?” You ask, looking over at him. Yes, yes, you fucking wanted to leave the play. This whole thing was a stupid idea.

“I never wanted to stay,” He blinks, and yeah, that’s true.

As quietly as possible, as Katara is busy explaining to Toph, as Aang is trying to strike up a conversation with Katara, and Suki and Sokka are lightly arguing about his portrayal, the two of you leave the theater.

The intermission would be soon, anyway.

“I didn’t know you did that,” Zuko says but judging by his face, he immediately regrets his words.

“I thought he killed my sister,” You humorlessly laugh, leaning against the banister. “What was I supposed to do? Not kill him,”

“That’s reasonable,” He agrees, his thumb running across the flesh of your hand. He feels the curves of your knuckles, the dips of the scar left there from a fight with an earthbender. He still thinks punching the rock was stupid. You watch, looking at your intertwined fingers.

Ever since that night in the tent, Zuko has been acting strange. He’s been more touchy, he actively seeks you out in the group, and he's a bit more awkward with you. Toph, whenever they’re alone, always teases him about it.

A stupid part of you, so you’ve dubbed it, thinks he could feel the same way. The rational part of you thinks he’s committing you to memory, so when he leaves for good he won’t forget you.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asks, long after the two of you stood in the silence that took over the balcony, the both of you staring at your hands.

“No,” You shake your head a little. “I’m good here. You?”

“I’m good here, too.”

—

In truth, you were surprised that Zuko had picked you over Katara to join him in fighting Azula. You don’t think you were as good as her, close, but not to her level. She was better on her feet while your biggest issue was second-guessing yourself.

“The sky’s lovely,” You admit, holding Appa’s reins tightly.

“It is.” Zuko says without ever looking up. His eyes are cast towards Appa’s fur, he refuses to look at anything else. Not until Appa starts to descend towards the palace.

Azula is on her knees, about to be crowned in front of no one. There’s no crowd other than the officials around her.

“Sorry, but you’re not gonna become Firelord today.” Zuko says before leaping off of Appa. “I am.” She laughs and you stare at her hair. It’s a mess, the worst you’ve ever seen them. They’re cut unevenly, but not on purpose. Her top knot is sloppy done and everything else is a mess.

“You’re hilarious,”

“You want to be Firelord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be—“ She grins, baring her teeth down at Zuko. “Agni Kai!”

“You’re on.” Zuko agrees. While you don’t agree to let Zuko fight her alone; the both of you know Azula wouldn’t be able to fight the two of you straight on, her only chance would be a one-on-one. But if Zuko agrees, you’ll let him. If push comes to shove, you won’t be far.

As they prepare for the Agni Kai, you fly Appa away. Far enough that he’s away from any attacks that might come his way. When you return, you return to a wall of blue and yellow fire splitting down the middle. It’s pushing Zuko back but it doesn’t seem to care. The sounds of the fire are damn near horrifying, you hear it from all around you, and feel the warmth of their fires as they fly around, setting everything around it ablaze.

Eventually, Azula is knocked back and Zuko yells about her lightning. Taunting her for being scared but she swears she isn’t and prepares her strike. It’s a last-second decision, as she fires her shot and you notice it isn’t heading for Zuko but for you. He notices and jumps in front, clutching the strike to his chest before he falls. Sparks fizzle around him as you rush over but Azula fires at you.

Her attention is no longer on her brother, he’s as good as dead in her eyes.

Thankfully, though, the area is surrounded by water. It’s not a lot, though. Most of it evaporates by the second stream of fire she sends your way and you dive behind a pillar. There are stripes of fire all around you, and you don’t know what to do. You could grab Zuko and leave or you could fight. You could try and heal Zuko and the two of you fight but you don’t know if that’ll work.

“Running away?” She cackles, flying down using her fire. Grabbing some of the water that was on the other side of the area, you use it to put distance between the two of you. Eventually, you run out of water and are forced into a new area as Azula throws a burst of fire at you. It nicks at your skin and you bite your tongue, holding back the yell of pain. Tripping, you notice that the floors have metal gates. Peering inside, you thank the spirits. Running water.

Grabbing chains used to keep the doors closed, you wait for Azula.

“There you are, Water Prince.” Azula sneers, standing in front of you. She takes two steps forward, waiting for you to do something. But you just need her to get closer. Sending a spray of water to her left, she dives right and straight to you, readying herself to lightning strike you.

Her fingers nearly touch you, but you raise your arms, pulling the water below the two of you high and wide enough that she couldn’t possibly get out of it. It freezes around her almost instantly and you quickly wrap her arms in the chains before locking it to the grate.

Giving them a tug, they don’t budge and you drop the water back into the grate. She struggles, gasping for air but you go back to Zuko.

He’s still in pain, writhing on the ground as you flip him onto his back. Pulling some water from the pouch Katara had gifted you, you try your best to heal his wound. You had only learned the basics of healing, before your father eventually ‘came to his senses’ and put you in training with the boys.

But it’s good enough, as the water glows and he seems to be in less pain.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He mutters, his eyes barely open. “But you should heal yourself.” His hand raises, ghosting over the burnt skin of your neck.

“I’ll be fine,” You croak, pulling his hand down to his side. “Worry about Azula.” Helping him up, the two of you watch as she yells out, spitting fire before collapsing to the floor and sobbing.

“What will you—“

“She’s still my sister,” He says, watching as she falls asleep, still crying. He nods to one of the advisors and leans on you for support, letting you guide him back to Appa. “And she needs help. My father, should Aang spare his life, will go to prison.”

—

For his coronation, Zuko had requested that everyone come dressed in their best traditional wear. And not Fire Nation traditional. He had specifically asked for everyone to wear their traditional clothes and accessories, asking everyone to spare no detail. And with a month to prepare, you think you did quite well with your outfit.

Sliding your norigae through your left ear, you admire the crescent moon pendant and untangle the soft blue string hanging below it. It brushes against your ivory choker, one that’s similar to Sokka’s but his choker is thicker with one row while yours is five thinner rows of bone.

“You look good,” Looking behind you in the mirror, you thank Suki and see she’s wearing her Kyoshi Warriors uniform.

“I’m feeling a bit overdressed if I’m being honest.” You chuckle, staring at your many, many layers. The most noticeable of a long piece of fabric going down between your legs, resting just above your ankles with careful pattern stitching that matches your putter shirt. It’s connected to your outer jacket, but you can’t tell with your whale hide belt and tiger seal fleece sort of skirt. It doesn’t connect in the front, but that’s what your mothers always called it.

“It’s nice,” She shakes her head. “You should see what Toph is wearing.” She adds and you turn around to face her. “She’s waiting in the main room with Katara.” Crap, you knew you shouldn’t have taken so long.

“Oh, am I the last one?” At that, Suki laughs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Sokka isn’t even out of the bath yet,” Of course he isn’t. While you might be the most overdressed, at least you weren’t the last person dressed. You shake your head and thank her again, leaving for the main room.

Once you’re there, you see Toph is sitting on the sofa, sitting as comfortably as she can when she’s wearing something so far from her comfort zone.

Her typical headband is replaced with a golden kuitou with several pom-poms and gems. Her hair is mostly the same, but she’s swept the middle part of her bands to either side. You’ve never seen that much of her forehead before. She’s also wearing a heziqun, a tube top of sorts, worn over her quin, which is a long silky skirt— wait, those are just really loose pants. Smart. She’s also got on a zhai xu, the sleeves part of her dress. Her pibo, the long thin scarf that’s typically draped over her arms, is sitting on the couch next to her.

“Don’t say a word,” She says, her eyes snapping to you.

“Wasn’t going to,” You hum, taking a seat next to her.

Katara is across from you, wearing an outfit similar to your own but hers is distinctly from the Southern Water Tribe.

“Don’t be nervous,” Toph grins over at you and you curse under your breath, she’s not wearing shoes. “You’ll see your boyfriend soon enough.” She pats your shoulder, faking a pout.

“Not my boyfriend,” You purse your lips, there’s no way you’re going to go back and forth on this with a child.

“If you say so,” She loudly sighs and stretches. “But when you get married I want to be your best man.”

“I don’t think so,” Okay, fine, maybe you were going to give in a little. Just a smidge. She frowns and punches your arm. “Ow! Toph, there are no groomsmen in Water Tribe weddings! But I would totally go to you for the ring,”

“Good,” She nods. “I know you have horrible taste in gems. You’d probably want something basic like a diamond.” She makes a face as she says it and Katara rolls her eyes.

“I was thinking something like agate or azurite,” You’re not entirely sure where to find those, but once you do, it’s over for them.

“Yeah, Zuko would like that.” She nods wistfully.

“This isn’t about Zuko,”

“Isn’t it?”

—

The coronation had ended and it was nearly time to begin the festivities, but first, you had to see Zuko. He’d sent for Ty Lee to bring everyone to him in what is now his throne room. It seemed more welcoming, despite nothing changing but the person who sat on the throne.

Zuko pauses his pacing as he hears the footsteps drawing closer and visibly relaxes at the sight of everyone. As he descends down the stairs he dismisses the court and Ty Lee, although she was already leaving at that point. She was more excited about the after-party and hanging out with her new friends, anyway.

“Thank you for coming,” He smiles at you before remembering the others are also in the room. “There’s a small feast waiting for us, please, join me.” He doesn’t say this, but you know from records that those feasts are between the Fire Lord and his family, and as of last week, he didn’t have any remaining family that was able to join him. Well, he had his Uncle Iroh, but he was busy setting up for later that night.

“Free food, I’m in! Lead the way, Oh Great Fire Lord!” Sokka grins, placing his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and literally pushing him out of the room. You laugh, walking alongside Aang towards the room, watching as Suki and Toph take the time to loudly complain about Sokka.

“See,” Katara whispers, falling into step with the two of you. “He isn’t going to leave.” Covering her mouth, you stop walking until you’re sure the distance is too great that Zuko wouldn’t hear.

“I never…” Taking a deep breath, you glance at Aang. “I don’t know what she's talking about,” You tell him with a small shrug, he just stares at Katara, waiting for her to explain.

“He’s lying,” Toph shouts and you grumble. Wiping your mouth, you stand up straight and continue walking.

Waiting at the doors of the room for everyone to catch up, Zuko has a small smile on his face when you stand next to him.

“You guys go in, I want to talk to (Y/n),” He nods and two guards open the doors. Sokka and Toph don’t need to be told twice and rush inside, much to everyone’s amusement. Katara squeezes your arm as she passes by and Aang gives you a thumbs up you pretend to not notice.

Zuko waits until the doors close and the two of you walk in silence until you’re both in the palace courtyard, in front of the turtle duck pond.

“Really,” He nods once the two of you are alone. “Thank you for coming. And-and you look amazing, by the way.” He gestures to your outfit. “You’re not too hot, right? I have a lot of spare clothes you could wear if you’d like…” He looks off to the balcony of his room.

“I’m fine,” You smile, holding your hands in front of you. “I actually toned down the layers, I usually wear four more for ceremonies,” Looking around the courtyard, you wonder what the palace would look like had it been made of ice.

“That’s good,” He nods, fiddling with the fabric of his sleeve before he clears his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “Not that you toned it down, just that you’re not uncomfortable.” He hastily adds before a silence falls over the two of you.

“That night, at the tents…” He starts and you slowly nod. That memory was almost completely forgotten but you remember the most basic gist of the night. “I won’t leave the team— you behind.” He forcefully corrects himself and you have to force yourself to still look at him. “I don’t plan on leaving you behind.” He reiterates.

“Oh,” You hum, biting the corners of your mouth to stop your smile from growing.

“I don’t know who to say this,” He trails off and reaches to grab your hand. He grips it tightly and your heart hammers, there’s a million different things he could possibly want to say but you know. Hopefully. “But my uncle advised me to speak freely about this. I have… I would like— no,” His face contorts and you nod, promising to let him take his time. He thinks for a moment, his eyes dipping to stare at your hands. “Would you like to co-rule the Fire Nation with me?” He asks, his good eye squinting at his own words. Yeah, that sounded right to him.

“Like as an advisor?” You tilt your head. “I mean, I do have a military background, my father is—“

“As my consort.” He corrects and your eyes widen.

“Oh,” You blink and open your mouth to speak before closing it again.

“I understand if you say no, but I need you to know my feelings before things become… distant between us. I know you’re going back to help your father and I’m staying here,” He says when the gap of silence becomes too much for him to bear.

“No!” You vigorously shake your head and he deflates a little more. “No, I mean, yes to the question. No to the whole ‘if you say no’ part. I would very much enjoy being your consort.” You rush out.

“Really?” He asks, his eye widening and eyebrow-raising. “I know it’s a lot all at once, we could start small—“

“I’m okay with starting big,” You grin. “Skip the courting and go straight to dating, not marriage tomorrow big, you know.” You add, your eyes trailing off to the flowers of the garden.

“I’m too young for marriage,” He agrees. “But I could see an engagement soon.” His eyes flicker to your hair and then down to your face while yours dips down to his neck.

“Good.” Dropping one of his hands, you jerk your head back the way you came. “Let’s go eat! Before Sokka and Toph leave us to starve,”

Joining the others, you settle yourself between Katara and the end of the table while Zuko takes the head of the table, with Aang and Toph on either side of him.

“So,” Katara’s eyes flicker between you and Zuko. “What did you two talk about?” She asks, doing her absolute worst to hide the grin plastered on her face.

“Things,” You shrug, filling your plate.

“Mundane things,” Zuko agrees.

“Like?” Suki presses.

“He thought I would want a change of clothes. Can you pass the dumplings, please?” Aang nods and grabs the plate.

“Yes, he looks very hot—“ Zuko pauses and you stare at him, the mostly empty plate of dumplings in your clutch. “Temperature wise… in his clothes.” His eyes catch Toph’s and he nearly leaps; he’ll never get over the fact that she knows where his eyes are. She just snickers and continues to eat.

“Makes sense, let’s eat!” Sokka raises his cup in the air, nearly spilling his tea on Suki’s lap. “To Zuko! The best Fire Lord ever!” Everyone follows suit, raising their cups.

Midway through the meal, you catch Zuko grazing his chest with a slightly contorted expression. The spot Azula’s lightning had struck him.

“Does it still hurt?” You ask, wiping some sauce from the corner of your mouth. “I know my healing isn’t the best, so…”

“No,” He shakes his head, his hand settling back to his lap. “You’re perfect— it’s perfect,” He quickly corrects and you notice how the table goes quiet. He cringes and you stare down at your plate, grabbing a spring roll to avoid smiling. “I just drank too fast.” He explains, now much more careful with his words.

“Oh, that makes sense,” You glance at him and briefly make eye contact.

“Mhmm,” He says, still watching you.

“Is it just me or are you two acting weird?” Sokka asks, looking between the two of you.

“He’s an idiot,” Suki mutters.

“Speaking of weird,” Clearing your throat, you point your half-eaten spring roll at Sokka. “Do you guys remember when Sokka set up a literal love tent?”

“He what?” Katara shouts, choking on her food.

—

With the ceremony and feast over, it’s time to get changed and prepare for the rest of the night’s festivities. Everyone heads into their temporary rooms in the palace and you immediately drop most of your layers.

In truth, you were sweating in your outfit, normally you wouldn’t wear so many layers for over four hours, especially in the Fire Nation, but it’s been around eight and you’re sticky and sweaty. Thankfully, there’s an attached bathroom and you’re able to soak for a bit before you need to start getting ready.

You’d packed some clothes for the night, but when you entered the bedroom again there was a pile of red clothes folded neatly on the bed, and below the bed was a pair of red boots.

Grabbing the top layer, you fold it and stare at the boran lakron— namely the deep v-neck it has and then down to your sarashi. You don’t mind all that much, it’s not as if your garments are a secret. But when you pick up the next item, you see he’s provided a second option; a tangzhuang.

The longer you stare at the sleeveless, button-down shirt the longer you’re convinced it’s his. You’re sure you’ve seen him wear the same dark red and golden shirt before. Putting that on, you leave it unbuttoned for the time being and grab the next layer.

It’s a pair of fisherman's pants, you own a pair yourself and had packed it along, but you don’t mind wearing the new one. Pulling them up, you wrap the extra fabric over itself before tying the string to keep it from falling. Slipping your huwan’s back onto your forearms, you lace them up before sitting on the bed. The shoes he’d provided were slip-on shoes that surprisingly fit.

“Knock-knock!” Aang says as he’s knocking on your door.

“Come in!” You call, briefly looking at the door as you’re doing your hair. Ceremony hair was a pain and a half to undo. Mainly since the most you’d do to your hair is tie it up with a ribbon.

“I didn’t know you owned Fire Nation clothes,” Aang comments as he throws himself onto your temporary bed. He’s back to his typical clothes and you stare at him through the mirror.

“I don’t… these were on my bed.” Sitting up, Aang raises an eyebrow before his face gets that look when he makes a connection.

“So,” He looks away, pretending to think about something to say. “Are you going back home after this?” He asks. You don’t think anything of the question, after all, it was Aang asking you.

“Not for long,” You shake your head. “I don’t see myself settling down there again.” Checking over your hair, your fingers ghost over your neck. There’s still a scar there from the fight, but it doesn’t bother you. Not anymore. Just sometimes you forget about it.

“Oh?” He grins but hides it. “Where do you see yourself settling down?” Dropping your hand, you spin around to face Aang.

“Somewhere,” You shrug, looking him up and down, it’s weird that you were provided with clothes but he wasn’t. “How about you?”

“Me and Katara are planning on traveling, continuing to spread peace and all the Avatar stuff,” He shrugs, standing up. “You should join us… if you don’t have plans already!” It’s as though he’s trying to guide you into an answer— he is! Katara must’ve put him up to this because she knew you wouldn’t answer her.

“Maybe,” Patting his shoulder, you check the sun. You have another hour before you’re supposed to head out and you really want to get to work on sending a letter to your parents about your relationship. They’d left after the ceremony, missing the coldness of the Southern Water Tribe. “I’ll definitely let you know, though!”

—

The ride to Iroh’s tea shop was nice, everyone had flown on Appa, overlooking Ba Sing Se. You and Zuko were in the back, honestly just staring at each other until the other noticed before looking away.

Iroh greeted everyone but he’d taken a second to look at your clothing. Instead of saying anything, he only smiled and let everyone into the shop. It was closed for the day, so Iroh could see his nephew and friends.

Having changed into the shop's uniform, Zuko handed out tea to everyone until Sokka interrupted him, talking about trying to capture the moment.

“I wanted to do a painting. So we always remember the good times together,” He admits and everyone goes over to see the drawing. It was definitely a drawing, taking a lot of artistic liberties. But it was nice, and you appreciate the sentiment, even as Zuko’s hand found yours.

“Young love,” Iroh sighs and the two of you jump, separating to opposite ends of the table. He laughs, holding his stomach, and guides you back to Zuko. “Fire and ice, opposites at war but they aren’t too dissimilar, no?” His eyes flicker between the two of you and you hold back your wide grin. He’d basically said he was more than fine with your relationship.

“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko relaxes.

“For what?” He asks, raising his cup to his mouth. “I am not going to get in the way of love.”

—

To say that the Fire Lord's appearance in the Northern Water Tribe was met with open arms would be a big fat lie. Had it not been for the Chief's son at his side Zuko would’ve been turned away without a second glance.

While it wasn’t unexpected, you can tell it still deeply hurt Zuko. He wasn’t his father but he was his father's son and he guesses that’s worse. He’s paying for sins he had committed when he was lost as well as the sins of his family. But, he didn’t let it deter him. Instead, he walked side by side as you guided him through your homeland.

The path to the palace was straight, so it wasn’t too long. But long enough that people had begun to exit their homes to see the Fire Lord and Prince walking in stride towards the palace. Surely the elders talk and theorize, and there would be gossip that you’d never hear the end of.

By the time the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw your parents standing side by side at the top. Zuko had seen them before, during his coronation, but he had never actually met them before.

“Chief Arnook, Kayuula; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Zuko bows his head to your parents.

“Mother, father.” You greet, waiting for the invitation for a hug.

“Welcome back,” Your father smiles, pulling you into a hug. Your mother joins, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “With a….” He looks at Zuko, an eyebrow raised. “Suitable partner.” He settles on saying.

“Come in,” Your mother extends her hand to Zuko and he looks at you, unsure of what to do. When you nod, he shakes as he takes her hand, letting her guide him inside.

“Before you ask,” You rush as the door shuts. “We do have a timeline of our engagement.” Most Water Tribe relationships don’t start with dating, jumping straight to wedding preparations once both parties are of age. But for the Fire Nation, they date. Like, actually date.

“That’s good,” Your father nods his hand on your shoulder. “Does he treat you nice?” He whispers, watching as your mother shows Zuko paintings from your youth.

“He does,” You nod.

“Does he know?” He adds, gesturing to your chest.

“He does,” Once again, you nod. “He’s more than okay with it, father.” He inhales and nods but stops walking. Putting more of a distance between the two groups.

“You’ll always be home here. If he’s pressuring you—“

“Father,” Stopping him, you move to hold his hands. “Zuko wouldn’t. I trust him— fully. Wholeheartedly.” He exhales, checking your eyes before he gives in.

“I simply cannot lose another child,” He admits as the two of you start walking again. “Our wounds are only beginning to heal.” He continues, looking at a painting of Yue.

“I understand, I miss her dearly.”

“(Y/n), Darling; hurry!” Your mother sings and your father smiles, picking up the pace into the living room. She sat across from Zuko who couldn’t be more uncomfortable.

“Mother,” You tease, settling next to Zuko. “She didn’t tell you about the process of skinning, did she?” You ask and he shakes his head and slowly relaxes.

“I was asking if you two have consummated the relationship yet.” She says as if it was a normal conversation. Your father hums, his gaze settling on Zuko.

“Mother,” You choke. “We haven’t… er… we haven’t kissed yet.” Her eyebrows raise but she doesn’t speak on it. “We wanted to tell

you in person before anything further.”

“I want grandkids!” She complains.

“Preferably one boy and one girl,” Your father adds. “I think five grandkids would suffice.” He hums and your jaw drops.

“Father, we haven’t discussed children.” You meekly admit, glancing at Zuko. “We aren’t even sure if I can have children.”

“Visit the elders today,” Your father nods as if it was settled. “Ask them for advice and guidance.”

“So, I’m assuming you approve of us?” You ask anything to move the conversation. They look at each other, having a silent conversation before they both nod.

“I see no issues,” Your mother smiles, resting her head on your father's shoulder. “Besides, if he mistreats you, you have all the water benders in the world and the Avatar to stop him.” She shrugs.

“Oh,” You gulp. “That’s nice.”

—

One year and seven months of dating had come and gone and it was time. You felt it was time and so did Zuko. War makes life seem short, which you suppose it is. And it brings clarity. You were sure in your relationship.

The two of you met each other when you were literally at your worst, you’d seen the ugly sides of each other and made way past it. And now the two of you were working on repairing the Fire Nation, restoring the damage inflicted upon the other nations to the best of your ability.

“When we’re married,” Zuko says as the two of you walk out of the carriage that had taken you to Iroh’s tea shop. “What will your title be?” Pursing your lips, you admit you haven’t given it much thought before now.

“Consort (Y/n)?” You toss up.

“That’s demeaning,” He shakes his head. “You’re much more. Chief (Y/n) of the Fire Nation?”

“Wordy, but I like it.”

Entering the tea shop, you see your parents and Iroh sitting at a table, talking and sipping their teas. They seem to be having fun and you’re glad. But not surprised, Iroh is amazing. In the back, you saw your friends mingling about.

“(Y/n), Zuko!” Sokka waves wildly when he sees the two of you.

“About time,” Toph scoffs. Although everyone knows it’s fake.

“Sorry we’re late,” You apologize, hugging your parents. “We got caught up…”

“They were smooching.” Sokka tries to whisper to Suki but everyone hears it.

“Shut up.” Katara punches his arm. “It’s good to see you two again,” She smiles at you.

“You’ve grown,” You huff, hugging her. “I’ve seen so much red I forgot what blue was!” The two of you laugh as Zuko walks up behind you, settling his hands around you. He’s been touchy ever since the two of you set a date for the engagement.

“That fortune-teller did say she saw a lot of red in your future,” Zuko muses, his head leaning towards yours as he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

“Hopefully we can get more blue,” You laugh, pushing his head away just enough that his hair isn’t tickling your neck.

“Should we get started?” Your father asks and Zuko immediately removes himself from you. He’s still a little nervous around your parents.

“Yes!” You nod and take your seat at one end of the table. Zuko takes the other and your friends fill the seats on either side of your parents and Iroh.

Settled on your knees, you watch as your parents place down a blue wooden box in the middle of the table and then Iroh places a red metal box. The red box is a long rectangle with a lot of small details but the blue box is a little more simple, carved to mimic ice sculptures back home.

“I am Prince (Y/n), of the Northern Water Tribe. Son of Chief Arnook and Kayuula.” You speak, staring at Zuko.

“I am Fire Lord Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai.” Zuko says, staring back at you.

“Do you both agree to this engagement?” Iroh asks.

“Yes.” The two of you nod.

“Is this engagement true?” Your father asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you both love each other?” Your mother asks.

“Yes.” Zuko smiles without a hint of embarrassment.

“May the spirits bless your engagement,” Everyone speaks and you’re sure they practiced that because even Sokka got it right.

“Exchange your gifts,” Your mother says and you stand up, grabbing the box before bowing away from the table. Zuko follows suit and everyone turns to watch as the two of you stand in front of each other.

“Do you want to go first?” He asks, messing with the red box. The rule for a traditional engagement was that the male gifts the woman something to signify their engagement but… yeah.

“Sure,” Fumbling with the blue box, you turn it away from you and open it.

Inside the box was a light blue gemstone with a dark blue ribbon going through it. The gemstone was carved to look like a flame in the same design as the water symbol. You’d spent three months trying to get it right, which was difficult considering you were hardly ever away from Zuko.

Nervously, you look between the necklace and Zuko.

“It’s beautiful,” He smiles and takes the necklace with one hand. Holding the red box for him, he holds the necklace up to his throat before he locks the clasp together. There was something about Zuko wearing something from your tribe that made your heart skip a beat, the way he wore it did much more. You were nearly sure you’d pass out.

Taking his box back, you watch as he opens the red box, revealing a silver version of his royal crown. But instead of flames, there was a crescent moon.

“I’m not crowned yet,” You remind him as you grab it.

“It’s the consort crown.” He shakes his head. “The chief crown will be more elaborate, I promise.” With a look of approval, he walks behind you and undoes your hair. It falls from the ribbon and settles at the base of your neck. Carefully, his fingers scoop your hair up, combining it with his other hand until he’s gathered it into a top knot. His hand juts out from your left and you hand him the crown. It slips into your hair and he secures it with your ribbon before checking over his work.

“I’m gonna cry,” Sokka admits as he blows his nose into Katara’s shoulder. She gags and bends the snot off of her and onto his shirt without much fuss.

Taking your seat at the head of the table, Zuko takes his seat next to you and the two of you overlook the guests.

“You two look amazing!” Aang is the first to say something.

“Time to plan the wedding!” Iroh cheers and you smile down at your lap.

“A wedding,” Zuko whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it.

“It’s gonna be blue,” You whisper back.

“And then grandkids!” Your mother claps her hands.

Later that night, as you’re watching Zuko and Iroh talk over a cup of tea, Katara walks up to you.

“I told you,” She softly says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He would never leave you.” Zuko looks over at you and smiles before nodding at Iroh.

“I still meant the group,” You grin and she rolls her eyes.

#zuko x reader #x male reader #x reader #zuko x male reader #avatar the last airbender #alta x reader #alta x male reader #fire lord zuko

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sinkdownbeneath · 8 months

Text

“Fine By Me.”

Pairing - Daryl Dixon x Trans Masc Reader

Warnings - Talk of drug use, illness, needles, identity, possible transphobia.

Setting - S4 Prison

Summary - Daryl thinks you’re doing drugs, but ends up learning something new about you.

Type - Fluff

A/N: this is my first published fic!! i have briefly proofread, and i’m pretty happy with it. hope you enjoy :)

You sat on the edge of the bed in your cell, positioning the needle over your thigh, gripping at your flesh trying to gauge where to inject yourself. your palms were sweaty and you couldn’t get a good grip on the syringe, with Hershel in Block A, treating the prison flu, you had nobody to do this for you. Hershel had told you the week prior that he would be going to take care of the sick, and he took extra steps in showing you how to inject your medication, but this was the first time you had tried on your own, it was proving difficult.

You took a breath and widened your eyes, grabbing your skin and moving your face closer, trying to get the needle in the perfect spot before you pushed it in, ‘just do it, idiot’ you thought to yourself.

You heard a scoff and jumped, looking up with a surprised expression, Daryl stood at your door, holding the curtain you had put up against the frame.

“Didn’t take you for a fuckin’ junkie.” He said, a scowl across his face.

“What? No! I-“ you began,

“I don’ wanna hear it.” Daryl said, starting to turn away and leave.

“Daryl!” you jump towards him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around, he looked taken aback, offended, you weren’t sure, but before he could do or say anything, you grabbed his arm and yanked him into your cell, peering your head around the curtain to check nobody else was witness.

You held the syringe in front of his face, waving it as you annunciated “This is not heroin,” in a whisper-shout.

He looked puzzled and almost like he was challenging you, as if he was asking ‘oh yeah? what is it then?’.

“I am not a junkie, this is my medication! Now if you would give me a hand with sticking it in my thigh I would be grateful.”

You spoke to him in such a way he stood speechless for a moment, like he was a child who just got an angry finger waved in his face for his attitude.

“Well?” You ask, impatiently.

He flushed red for a moment and sheepishly nodded, taking the syringe from your hand, you sat back down and rolled your trouser leg back up, exposing the piercing site, jab marks from the previous weeks lingering.

Daryl sat beside you, needle in hand, inspecting it, and just as you thought he was about to stick you with it, he hesitated.

“Just lemme see whatever you put in here, I don’t wanna be responsible for nothin’.”

It was your turn to hesitate, you scoffed and looked at him, gauging whether he meant it or not, whether he really needed to see why you were secretly medicating yourself every week, when his expression didn’t falter, you reached into the box under your bed, and pulled out the small vial containing your lifeline.

You placed it into his hand, avoiding all eye contact, this man was the one you worried about telling, he wasn’t as loud as Merle was about his opinions, but they were brothers, they were hicks, surely they had their opinion in common?

He rolled the vial in his palm, exposed the small text written on the label, and brought it up to his eye. The bottle read ‘TESTOSTERONE’ in a bold font. Daryl studied it before peering over the bottle and into your eyes, he looked at you almost knowingly, his eyes told you that it was okay, you were okay.

This was the softest look Daryl had ever given you, he had just said so much more with his eyes than you had ever heard from his mouth, it meant a lot.

He gave the bottle back to you, and took the syringe between his teeth, using one hand to move your trouser leg up, and the other to grip a chunk of your flesh, rolling it between the tips of his fingers until the chunk felt right, he took his hand from your trousers and retrieved the needle from his mouth, poking it into you, and pressing down on the plunger at a slow pace.

You watched him, how he nibbled on his lip and furrowed his brow in concentration, how gently he treated you, you watched as he handled you with such care, you looked so deeply into him that you didn’t even realise he had removed the needle. The sudden sound it made when he tossed it onto the table next to your bed startled you awake from your trance, and you found yourself staring at the side of Daryl’s face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darting to all places other than your eyes.

“Sorry.” You said, he nodded.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“S’alright.”

The silence was so loud.

“How did you learn to do that?” You asked, breaking the silence so suddenly you caught yourself off guard.

“Do wha’?” he questioned, raising a brow and looking at you through his fringe,

“Inject, it seemed like you knew what to do.”

He nibbled on his lower lip again, looking around the room, as if he was trying to find the words.

“My Mama,” he replied, “before the fire, before everythin’, she was sick, I had to give her her medicine sometimes, she was in a lot of pain, kept her in bed all day, smokin’, readin’ her magazines, Merle took care of her when he wasn’t at Dad’s, but sometimes I had ta.”

He kept his eyes on the ground before timidly looking toward you, you looked at eachother for a moment, before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, you were telling him it was okay, you were thanking him for not freaking out over you being trans. You were very private about your identity before the world fell, and you thought you would have to be the same now, you had told Hershel very reluctantly, but he told you that God loved you, and that he accepted you, and now Daryl knew, and he treated you with more care and understanding than before. You thought maybe your family, your new, found family, would be okay with it too.

Daryl wrapped his arms around you, and squeezed before pulling away from the hug and standing up by the door.

“Gotta go, Rick needs help with the fence.” he told you, punctuating his sentence with a half smile.

“Okay.”

He turned away and lifted the curtain.

“Daryl?”

“Mm?” He hummed.

“Thank you, I thought-“ You began,

“I know what it’s like. Feelin’ like you don’t belong. What you’re doin’, who you are, is fine by me.”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x trans reader #daryl dixon x trans masc reader #twd daryl #twd fic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfiction #i love daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead fic #transmasc #daryl dixon fluff

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saintship · 4 months

Note

Can i have a prompt #17 with Graves and a tm reader with a lik spice on the side?

Prompt #17 - “Don’t doubt yourself.”

My fics have been a little LAZY recently so this is my attempt at regaining my former glory, I haven’t written for Graves in a hot minute so I had to resurface some feelings lol

Also, I’ve never written mlm before, so if there’s anything that’s particularly off-putting, irritating, inconsiderate, etc, please drop a comment, also I didn’t really mention the fact they’re trans except for one part if you squint, I didn’t know if it was necessary to outright mention it, ALSO the spice is very mild I hope that’s okay :,)

Thank you!

Phillip Graves x tm!Reader - Snowed in

Warnings: description of injury, Gaz possibly being Graves’ gay awakening, internalized homophobia, suggestions of Graves’ racist actions, mild spice, some angst

To be a part of Price’s task force—to be an operator—was to be a team player. No matter what, no matter how genius your idea may be, no matter how good you are at whatever risky bullshit you’re into, you are never on your own until someone says so. This was articulated to Phillip Graves. But there was a reason he ran his own company instead working for one. There was something bold inside him; something demanding and mean. He used it to build Shadow Company, but that didn’t change the fact that his nature was what stranded him by himself in the first place.

You knew from the day you met him that he had walls up that may never come down for the rest of his life. Those traces of insecurity and fear that shot from him in the form of sharp words and trickling bigotry. He was good at ordering. Good at explosives.

Bad at people.

It was warm in the safehouse that the 141, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves, and one of his Shadows were laying low after your ammunition ran thin, and Gaz was grazed badly through the gaps of his vest. You sat at his side while the others gathered themselves, inspecting the wound. Gaz stripped to his bare torso, revealing a sizable chunk missing from just above his hip. The flesh was torn irregularly, and you struggled to find a solution that would avoid infection.

You heard Graves murmur to one of the Shadows,

“Go on.”

He spoke to his men like they were still in training, his tone a smooth blend of authoritative and encouraging. Sometimes you wondered if it was a bad thing that they’d follow his word without a second thought.

The Shadow gently replaced your spot beside him and began working on the wound, his medic badge partially torn from the rock face they had scaled to reach the cabin.

“You look surprised.” Graves’ low voice caught your attention. Your eyes met before he returned his gaze to the Shadow medic, his arms crossed.

“Maybe a little.” You muttered.

“I’m not that cruel, Sergeant.” The smile that he flashed was a dangerous one. His teeth a crystal white, his incisors pointed like a malinois’.

“So you are cruel—a little.” You reply.

“This is war, Sergeant.” He answered evenly, but he could never hide that underlying bite of defensiveness. ‘I’m right, you’re wrong.’

You tilted your head in resignation.

“This is war.”

Graves’ ego was effortless to satiate. He walked away without another smart comment.

“Getting friendly, hermano?”

Alejandro fidgeted with a combat knife where he sat on the tattered couch, his free arm laying on the backrest.

“Not everyone will hate the men that you do.” Rudy chided from beside him.

Your quiet laugh made Alejandro bristle.

“Oye, cuándo dije eso?”

“You’re practically fantasizing with that thing.” Rudy pointed out Alejandro’s knife.

“I..don’t trust him.”

“We know.” You commented. “But he helped Farah, why not Las Almas?”

“Urzikstan does not have a history with America the way Mexico does..” Rudy pointed out. “Graves was born in Texas, he was probably taught all kinds of shit that made him like that.”

It was true; Graves’ file revealed he had never left his hometown until he joined the military. He grew up in the kind of place where the horses and cows outnumbered the people.

“Maybe he’s just the kind of guy that can’t come home from work.”

Your words surprised you.

“What do you get defending him?” Alejandro retorted. “He’s not a good guy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think I do.”

As Alejandro stood from his previous position, you heard your name, turning to see Graves leaning in the doorway with one arm on the wooden frame and the other hand having a thumb hooked in his vest. He always stood like that; his hands just had to be grasping something. It made your mouth feel dry.

“One of you, come help me get our truck out of the ditch.” He called.

You heard Alejandro’s scoff and muttering as you crossed the room.

“Thanks.” Graves muttered as he turned to lead you through the snow to the ditch.

“How’d it get in the ditch, exactly?” You spoke, your breath a mist of air in front of your lips.

“Whatever dipshit that was in the driver’s seat left it in neutral.”

“That—might have been me.”

Graves glanced at you, his steps faltering.

“I’m fucking with you.” You murmur.

He just shook his head, that glowing smile flashing again.

You both came upon the trucks, the back two tires settled in the ditch while the front two stayed on the flat ground.

“Who’s pushing?”

“Where I’m from, it’s whoever asks that.” You didn’t miss his grin as he opened the driver’s side door.

“I’m sure you’re not making that up.”

“I’m not..” He laughed a bit through his words, and it made you dizzy. “It’s true..”

“You got a lot of experience doing dumb shit with trucks?”

“You could say that..” Graves’ smile hadn’t dropped. You wanted to keep going, to savor his expression, but your boots carried you behind the truck, and you waited for the wheels to turn before pushing up.

“Don’t let up!”

You heard his shout over the roar of the engine, and tried to steady yourself. But the ice was slick with mud, the soles of your boots providing little traction as you clung to the back bumper.

“Is it moving?” You call to him.

“It’s-"

His words were cut short by a sickening sputter of the engine.

“Get out! Get out of there, the battery’s dead!” His shout was more desperate than you’d ever heard him.

“I can’t-" You muttered helplessly before the weight of the heavy truck pressed you to the frozen mud, the angle of the underside up against the ditch pinning you to the cold earth. The parts that stuck out had raked down your back, cutting into the vulnerable flesh.

You heard him yell your name, your first name. You heard him curse as he dropped down beside where you were trapped.

“Please tell me you’re alive.. come on, talk to me..”

“My legs.. I can’t move my..” You rasped. From the knee down, the crushing metal pinned your legs enough to render you immobile.

“Breathe. You’re gonna be fine, come here.. come on..”

His gloved hand fit into your own securely, and you had to shake off the rush in your head.

When he tried to ease you out, you couldn’t stop the groan of pain that escaped you, devolving into quick, panicked breaths. “I can’t..”

“Easy.. easy.” He had enough room to hold your upper arm steady. “It’s gonna hurt, alright? But you gotta get out from under there..”

You nod, your breath short. “Yeah.. okay..”

“I’ve got you. You hear me?”

“I hear..”

“Alright.”

This time, one his arms worked around your middle, and the warmth blooming in your ribs nearly offset the white-hot tendrils shooting up your legs and back.

Graves pulled slowly, your legs slowly inching free as you gasped and groaned in pain.

“Breathe..” Graves murmured like he was speaking to a small animal, his breath warm on your temple. “Come on.. come on, now..”

Finally, he yanked you free, the both of you partially collapsing in the filthy ditch. You try to stand, but were quickly guided to sit down.

“Hey, don’t be a hero, sit still..” Graves knelt, inspecting your back with a low whistle.

“You didn’t break anything..” You murmured. You couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Told you.. I got you..”

You sit side by side, exhausted from the day, the adrenaline, the pain.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

Graves brought up a knee to rest his elbow on, his other hand waving you off.

“Not an issue, baby.”

When the words left his mouth, any softness in his face hardened into something else. Like he’d made himself angry.

“I-" He looked away.

“What’d you call me?” Your voice was a soft murmur.

“Nothing. I didn’t call you anything, come on..” He straightened to stand.

His expression matched yours now; flushed and confused.

“Graves.”

“I said come on!” He barked, but couldn’t get to his feet before you pulled him to sit back down.

“Sergeant..” His tone was warning. His hand covered yours where you held onto his vest. “That didn’t happen.”

“It did.”

“No.” His words were firm, but his eyes were desperate.

You slid a hand up to his shoulder. “It’s okay..”

“No! I cant-"

“But you want to.” Your eyes bore into his with an unwavering steadiness while your voice quieted to a whisper. “You want to..”

His face conveyed so many emotions, conflicting and fighting one another. He looked at your lips, and exhaled shakily.

“God dammit..”

“I know it’s hard to let go of what other people see you as. It’s okay.”

“You mean cause’ you..”

You nod.

“I—don’t know how.” He managed.

“Don’t doubt yourself like that.”

You were closer now. Close enough for the puffs of your breath to mingle with his.

“No one knows. No one..” He shakes his head, still partially in the headspace that wouldn’t let him feel anything other than bitterness.

“It’s up to you who does.” You murmur.

“Graves?”

Soap’s voice called from a few meters away, sending Graves scrambling to his feet.

“The truck pinned them, they’re hurt. Help me out.” In his fashion, he wasted no time showing his embarrassment, reverting to his wavering authority.

Soap only shook his head, but dropped down beside you. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, he got me out..” You muttered as Soap hauled you to your feet, not missing the way Graves looked away at the mention of his rescuing you.

The rest of the night was tense—your back was ripped up, your legs were sore and tender, but it was ensured that nothing was broken. For the three days left before an exfil helicopter arrived, you spent most of your time with your legs propped on the couch. It felt wrong to take up one of the only spaces to rest, to not be able to follow Graves when he walked outside to scan the surrounding hills. You felt chained in place, your only glimpses of him being his fleeting glances in your direction before he walked away again.

You almost forgot he wasn’t coming back to the base with you. He’d be going back to his own site, onto the next mission, onto the next project. It was supposed to be a short interaction between the 141 and him, but you just had to volunteer to help him move that truck. You just had to press him about it.

The sound of helicopter blades woke you up on the fourth morning, and most everyone else was moving equipment outside. You heard muffled voices.

“Graves, go help him into the heli.” Price’s gruff order sounded from outside.

“You don’t need help movin’ all that?” Graves’ tone was wavering; grasping at any excuse to keep avoiding you. You were starting to get irritated.

“You got a problem with my Sergeant?” Price retorted.

A sigh. “No, sir.”

“Right, then.”

His snow-covered boots tracked in the mud from outside, and you glanced at them before you looked at his face.

“Hey.” He didn’t meet your eyes, offering a hand to help you upright. You didn’t move.

“You’re avoiding me.” You mutter. The frustration crept up your throat.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to his side.

“We don’t have time for this.. we might never see each other again, can you focus on that?” His eyes caught your frustration and reflected it right back in your face.

“You can’t brush this off, Graves.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” He snapped, walking to the door. “You act like you know me because I fucked up back there, but you don’t. This conversation-"

You hauled yourself to your feet, the pain making you wince. You straightened anyway, walking over until you were in his face again.

“What if you didn’t fuck up? You ever think about that?” You muttered.

His chest rose and fell with angry breath.

“Why’re you doin’ this to me?”

His soft tone caught you off guard, and your shoulders that had been tensed relaxed downward again.

“Because you don’t deserve to live like this. No one does.”

Your hand had found its way to his upper arm unintentionally, but he hadn’t pulled away. You weren’t wearing your gloves, the warmth of your palm radiating through his sleeve and thawing the sparse snowflakes that had caught on the fabric.

“How can you be so sure?” His brow was still furrowed with stress, his body somehow lax and tensed all at once.

“I can’t.” you admit. “But I won’t let you walk away without hearing that there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Who you love is not up to the rest of the world, and that’s one of the few things you still have to yourself. So keep it close.”

His eyes searched your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. His breath quickened.

Your hand drew upward to hold his jaw in your palm. He smelled like warm linen and smoke. One of his hands crept up your back while the other settled on your cheek, all in an impossibly fast motion before he pressed a kiss to your parted lips.

You felt the anxiety and shame melt from him for a moment, your lips working in tandem. Once he had a taste for you, he couldn’t stop. He deepened the kiss with a groan, your own hands hooking into his vest and pressing your bodies together. His hand was just working under your shirt and up your stomach before the door handle turned. With his hand still under your clothes, he shut the door firmly, keeping whoever it was outside. You heard a vague, confused voice, but most of your brain was clouded by his hand moving over your front, up your waist and ribs that were still wrapped in gauze.

You reluctantly pulled your lips from his, breathing heavily.

“Graves..”

“Oi! What the fuck is goin’ on, I’m breaking the door down in three!”

Ghost’s voice caused you to gently move Graves’ hand from under your shirt, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling the door open and putting on your best limp. Ghost’s eyes told you he didn’t buy it for a second, but he stayed quiet as Graves trailed after you with flushed cheeks.

You were the last to board the helicopter, turned around by your shoulder before stepping up to see Graves. He seemed almost shaken; but placed his hands around one of yours before setting off back to the safe house. Looking in your hand, you saw the scrawled digits of a phone number on a scrap of a report sheet. You held it the entire flight back.

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #phillip graves #cod philip graves #phillip graves x male reader #phillip graves x reader #graves mw2 #commander graves

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lostamongthestarz · 11 months

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Both seeing and absolutely LOVING how you write for Miguel, I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader is a single parent and due to whatever unknown reasons can't hire an actual babysitter, has to bring their kid to work at times or leave them in HQ. Knowing and being highly aware of Miguel's past trauma, the reader tries their damned hardest to keep their toddler away from him, but it ends up being futile as the kid loves Miguel more than life itself. It gets to the point where the sounds of a crying child were practically engraved in the reader's mind. One day, however, the reader is sent on a very hard-core mission and asks Peter B if he'd think a play date between Mayday and their child would be alright up until Miguel offers to watch them. At first, the reader would be a bit hesitant, but wanting to trust Miguel, they handed their kid to him and said goodbye before going into another dimension. The rest is up to you, such as making it an actual fic or just headcannons. I was just desperate for something like this because why the hell not

Miguel o'hara x single-parent trans!male reader

Miguel being soft has a spot in my heart 💞💞

Tws//none all fluff 💞

❗❗Female readers are on thin ice but don't fetishize my writing, I write these headcanons for my fellow trans men ❗❗

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Anon your brain is huge

Your a single dad trying to balance being apart of the spider society while also making sure your toddler has a decent life

you do your best to keep your child out of spider business when your at HQ and definitely make sure to steer clear of miguel knowing his past

So this entails you having to keep a distance from miguel, its not that you don't like miguel it's just that every time you two are chatting your child holds their arms out towards him, miguel cocks a eyebrow and you have to apologize while trying to calm your child

So imagine the shock when your sent out on a high stakes mission- before you have to leave you stop by and talk to Peter B- asking him if a playdate with mayday and your child would be alright only for miguel to pop up and say he'll watch them like so

"I'm sorry- can you repeat that?"

Your eyes were wide- you didnt know if you had heard miguel correctly the first time he spoke

"I'll watch them for you while your gone, they'll be protected and safe I promise"

You were hesitant at first, you held your child in your arms, whispering a goodbye before you handed them to miguel- who held them with such care.

When you did leave miguel practically kept your child in his arms at all times, no one else was allowed to hold them. Peter B was allowed but only because of mayday-

When your toddler did start crying, the others were worried but they were surprised when miguel manged to calm them down with soft humming and him rocking them in his arms. Peter definitely has a picture of that he showed you when you got back

Miguel actually cracks a smile when he sees how peacefully your toddler is sleeping in his arms, would glare at anyone being too loud around them

When you return from the mission miguel gives your toddler back as if nothing happened, Hes not opposed to babysitting them for you again thought

Plus you also get to see the videos and pictures peter b took of miguel being a softie

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Soft dad miguel is so much cheaper then therapy

My requests are open <3

My inbox is open 💌

#x male reader #x trans male reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x trans!male reader #miguel being a softie

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

Note

Hey gator, can you make a fic of Homelander dating a trans reader?

(Also you’re doing amazing, I’m so proud of you, and you’re flipping cool :D)

John Gillman/Homelander x ftm reader

Headcanons

Im gonna ignore the fact that Homelander would definitely be transphobic in canon, and write this in my canon where I make the rules.

John probably wouldn’t get it in the beginning, as he was definitely raised not being told about the LGBTQ community by vought, outside of the fact that it didn’t meet Americas standards. So, imagine his surprise when he starts having feelings for you, a man.

You weren’t even another hero, you were just a member of the marketing team who worked closer to The Seven than the rest. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t fawn over them or fear them, or how you didn’t seem to put up with their shit when they made impossible demands.

The only one you seemed to get along with in the beginning was Black Noir and Starlight, as they were both polite in their own ways.

John couldn’t figure out what it was about you, and it would take some time before he realized you were trans, which he’s able to figure out pretty quickly with his x-ray vision. Whether you wear a binder, have top and bottom surgery, or a third thing, he can spot it, since you would look different than cis guys.

He doesn’t know what to do with that information, especially since he’s already attracted to you and has tried to woo you in his own, showboaty way. Its kinda like watching a peacock strutting around trying to attract a mate.

Homelander is very bad at it though, and is kinda obvious about it too, maybe only to you though. Hes cute in his own way though, as he reminds you of a puppy at times, a very dangerous puppy with laser eyes, so in the end you make take the step and ask him out.

John would sputter and blush, but agree to go on a date. Hes never been one for privacy, so expect a lot of questions about being trans, even very intimate ones that you wouldn’t normally ask a stranger.

I can’t say hed be a great boyfriend, but that’s not because you are trans or anything. It’s mainly because he’s just not a good person in general, and he’s very busy as the leader of The Seven and keeping up his ratings.

But if your fine with both of you having busy schedules, him breaking into your apartment at any time of the day, and him not being public about your relationship as it would ruin his ratings, then I say go for it.

I don’t think he would go out of his way to research the trans experience, as he has you to answer all his questions if he has any. John doesn’t end up caring much about gender as a whole, but he will finance any surgeries or treatment if you want any, because he loves you and shows it through pampering you any chance he gets.

If you have breasts though, he would mourn if you got top surgery, since hed want them in his mouth all the time. But just give him something else to fixate on, and he will be fine. Be it your fingers or your next chest, or something third.

If you just wear a binder, expect him to keep a very close eye on your ribcage with his x-ray vision, and expect to be scolded if you wear it for too long, or if he can see it damaging your ribs. He would probably go out of his way to rip it right off you If you have worn it too long, he will just buy you a new one anyways.

All in all, he’s supportive in his own ways, even though those ways can be… questionable at times. He never actually questions if you are a man or not, and never misgenders you, and lashes out as anyone who does, but he does lack behind in certain areas. John does his best with what he’s got though.

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ohbo-ohno · 5 months

Note

Being Trans Soap’s gynecologist and he cums on your fingers when you have your fingers inside him looking for the strings of his iud (Ghost will have to punish him for that later). Just a random thot.

i only ever see trans soap in the context of soap getting his pussy DESTROYED by ghost but my god these trans!soap x reader fics y'all send me.... im in shambles

anyways this could go 2 ways in my mind

1 - you're a doctor. when soap is waiting in your waiting room, you think he's waiting for a gf or wife or something, but you're not that surprised when you call his name to come back for an appointment. you're a doctor, a professional, and he's not the first trans man you've treated and he won't be the last

what does shock you is just... his confidence. he's not confident like most people come into a gynecologist are - confidence that comes from experience, a sort of "i've done this 10 times and i'll do it 10 more and yeah it's uncomfortable but whatever". he's confident in a "i fucking love having my pussy touched kind of way"

not normal for the gynecologist!!!

he makes it clear he's interested in you as soon as he spots you - damn near lights up like a lightbulb when you call his name, leans real close into your space and purrs "oh, please tell me you're my doctor, lass". (you're a professional so you tell yourself it's the accent that makes you blush and nothing esle)

and he bares himself so confidently. doesn't seem uncomfortable at all in the stirrups and spreads his knees literally as wide as physically impossible (he's remarkably flexible for such a muscular guy, but you can't think of that for long). he rests his hands low on his stomach, fingertips resting on the meat of his cunt, and stares at you with this absolutely insufferable (hot) smirk

(when you get to the "this may hurt a bit" portion of the appointment, he moans)

2 - you're a student working under a full-doctor, and this is probably one of your first appointments ever. and then here comes johnny, tall and broad and the exact opposite of what you expected to see (but you're determined to be a good student, so you don't say anything even if it takes a couple seconds for you to remember trans people exist lol)

and oh you just know johnny is instantly honed in on you - the nervous doctor in the corner of the room who looks up at him with those big wide eyes, little blush on your cheeks.... yeah, he's a goner

he's cocky as hell - shoulders rolled back, head held high, sharp smirk when you meet his eyes, not even pretending to listen to the doctor (until he gets himself situated without breaking eye contact with you)

and isn't it just his lucky day that the doctor has you do the exam?

(your face is hot when you ask the doctor if behavior like that is normal, and soap gets in the car where ghost is waiting and gushes for hours about the cute little doctor he wants to take home)

#asks and answers #soap mactavish x reader #bo writes #kinda?

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lillylvjy · 1 year

Text

Here comes (the sun)

A/n/// hello! So I just kind of conjured this up from a silly thought I had! Very fluffy for once! So yeah! Enjoy and look forward to more fics soon!

Warnings// kissing, Wilbur and reader being lovesick for each other, mentions of food, cuddling??, reader being called pretty, a small stim mention, please tell me if there’s anything I missed lovelies!

Not edited :)

“I love you, but please stop whatever it is your doing.” You groaned out sleepily as Wilbur pawed and shook your shoulders. The sunrise peering into the shared bedroom, slowly making its yellow and orange presence made. The window open, letting the cool late winter air into the apartment, sending shivers up your arms, making you snuggle deeper into the blankets.

“No. Get up! Come on! The sun is rising and the birds are chirping and the clouds are pink and it almost looks prettier than yo- OW!” Wilbur yelps as you smack his arm before he could finish his sentence. “I was only joking, nothings could ever be prettier than you my love.” Wilbur smiled down at you as you groaned and rolled your face over into the pillow, hiding your red face so Wilbur didn’t tease you.

“You know what else is pretty? Sleep. So let me look at that.” You mumbled into the pillow as your slowly started drifting back into slumber.

Wilbur whined and wrapped his arms around your waist as he rested his chin against your shoulder. You pulled your face from the pillow and turn it to look at the pouting boy looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

You groaned and stuffed your face back in the pillow. “Fine.” You mumbled as Wilbur quickly got up and sat on the window ledge that showed an amazing view of the ocean from your bedroom.

You slowly got up and drug yourself over to an overexcited Wilbur, holding his arms out for you to slump into. Which you gratefully did. Your back was against his chest as you laid in between his legs. Wil wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his head against the window as he continued to look out at the view.

As you got settled, a blanket covering you and Wilbur, you finally looked out. You swear your heart stopped beating as you looked at the array of colors the sky held. How the pink blended with the yellow and orange. How the clouds looked like a light purple mixed with a burnt orange. The sun slowly peaking over the deep blue ocean, kissing your skin as it continued to rise from its hiding spot, lighting up the whole sky and accompanying the cold crisp morning with its radiating warmth.

You snuggled further into the baggy sweatshirt you stole from Wilbur’s wardrobe the night before, getting a chill up your spine and pulling the blankets closer as you continued to admire the sun and the colors it brought. It felt like you found something the government didn’t want you to see. Like it was so amazing and beautiful, no one should be allowed to see it. You thought this should be a crime, seeing something so sublime.

Wilbur felt you move closer into his chest, finding comfort in the warmth he was giving you. Wilbur smiled down at you tightening his hold on you as he caught a glimpse of your expression. Wilbur always loved how awestruck you got at the simplest things. It could be a simple rock with a smiley face on it, and bam. That whole grumpy demeanor is gone. So he tried to show you and take you places he knew you would be completely in love with. Yes, he loved your little grumpy face whenever you didn’t get what you wanted. Or the pout on your face whenever he stole your food. But he also loved the complete relaxed and peaceful look on your face. The way your pupils widened from excitement and admiration at things, and the love and appreciation that swarmed in your eyes.

Wilbur loved you. So much.

Wilbur was lost in his thoughts, looking down at you with a love sick grin as you looked up at him. As you made eye contact with him and touched his forearm that was around your neck, Wilbur snapped out of his trans and quickly focused on your face and noted the small smile on your face as you looked in each others eyes for a while.

You fell into a deep state of admiration as you looked into Wilbur’s eyes. Finding warmth, comfort, compassion, happiness, and love. Wilbur was easily the only person that could make you feel like you were the only person that mattered in the world. Always making sure you knew you were loved and worth everything and more to him. That he was proud of you and that he loved you, even at your lowest. And you love him. More than any mankind could ever know or even be able to comprehend. He was your world.

Your anchor.

And you were his.

“Thank you for waking me up.” You whispered into the quiet bedroom. The noise filling the quiet space was the chirping of the birds and the gentle whips of wind that went by. Wilbur leant down further, kissing your forehead as he snuggled closer to you, if that was even possible, resting his head on yours as you both looked back out to see that the sun was practically fully rose by now.

“Any time darling. Did you enjoy it?” Wilbur whispered in your ear as you smiled at the tickle his breathe brought to your ear.

“Yes. Very much so.” You giggled out. “How about you. Or were you too busy looking at me?” You lightly teased Wilbur as you poked his chest and looked at him with a knowing look.

“Hey. I did say nothing is more pretty than you my love. And I stand by that.” Wilbur brought his forehead against yours.

You smile up at him and gently reach up and peck his lips. And then again. And then one more time before you heard a rumbling sound coming from your stomach.

You both pulled away from each other as you broke out into a fit of giggles and smiles.

“Ok maybe I should go eat something.” You said as you begrudgingly got up from Wilbur’s hold, and held your arms out for him. “Come help?”

Wilbur smiled up at you as he got up from the window ledge and lifted you up bridal style, and started walking to the kitchen.

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Pancakes obviously. Oh! Do we have bacon and eggs??” You asked excitedly as Wilbur set you back down on the floor and went over to the fridge.

“Yes, yes, and yes!” Wilbur held up a package of eggs and bacon.

“Yay! I’m so excited!” You jumped up and down as you shook your hands.

Wilbur smiled at you and lifted you up on the counter. “I love you.” He said as he grabbed your hands in his.

“And I love you.” You brought his hands to your lips and kissed them. “So much.”

Wilbur blushes and hide his face in your neck.

“No no. No time for this lovey dovey crap. I’m hungry. And you’re the chef today, so chop chop!” You giggle the last part out as you clapped your hands.

Wilbur smiled at you, pecked your lips and started to grab everything he needed.

“On it.”

taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann @art3m1s-adelia @gaytoadwithapopsicle @maarriiii @mcr-pr-fob @romancingdaffodils @sixofshadowandbone @bird-shack @swevenne @ezzylikesdabee @ella-fella-bo-bella (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask lovelies <3)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #wilburfromlvjy #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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hollowtakami · 2 months

Text

HEARTS OF THE SEA

Keigo Takami x GN/autistic!reader

CONTENT: aquarium date w/ keigo, reader is autistic + has special interest in sea life/sharks, reader stims by flapping their hands + bouncing, pure fluff and keigo being the best bf we know he is

WORD COUNT: 407

AUTHOR NOTE: this is soooo self indulgent but I’ve been wanting to write this all week, but i had to prioritise uni work ;-; as an autistic person, finding rep in fanfics can be really difficult, especially with a character like keigo that has a mainly female demographic (trans male reader fics r so scarce</3) so! i hope i can add to the representation in x reader fics that are hardly written about<33

Keigo taking his autistic partner to an aquarium. He made sure to rent the place out; no crowded places, no noise that could potentially trigger a meltdown. Keigo wanted this to be the best experience for you; anything he could do for you he would.

You’re holding his hand through the tunnels as you gaze up in awe at the colourful array of marine life.

He knows your love for sea life - especially sharks - is something you hold very close to your heart. He loved that about you, your passion for the things that you loved.

The blue hues from the water refract from the curved glass, beaming down on you like a spotlight. Your eyes shine as you watch the sharks cut through the water, schools of fish weaving in and out of forests of healthy coral, the colours vibrant.

Keigo looks over at you, his heart bursts at the sight of you. You look so peaceful in your shared silence, surrounded by the beauty of the world.

His pupils slitted, tracing the life around you, arched just over your head. Panes of glass is all that separates the two of you from the hearts of the sea.

You flap your free hand, bouncing a little on the spot. Keigo notices how you’re smiling ear to ear. Genuine joy is riddled all over your face, seeing your special interest right in front of you.

He squeezes your hand in his gently as you stim, silently affirming that he’s never going to judge you for being yourself.

You walk together through jellyfish exhibits, dying of cuteness when you reach the penguin exhibits. You tease Keigo playfully when he points at a clownfish and confidently calls it “a nemo!”, a big smile lighting up his face.

When you get to the gift shop, you spend what feels like hours in there. Fawning over all the cute plushies and deciding that you’d buy an adopt-a-shark pack and excitedly wait for updates together when they arrived in the mail.

Keigo buys you a plush of your favourite shark, the biggest one he could find too. He buys himself a shell necklace after you reassure him that it’s not a real necklace - it looks gorgeous on him.

You leave the aquarium with the biggest smile on your face, and you ramble about your visit together all the way home. You cuddle both Keigo and your shark plush to sleep that night.

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astralnymphh · 2 months

Note

I just got on and saw what’s been happening and bro…I’m glad people are talking about it. Mostly about the smut, inclusivity, Palestine, and the fetishization of trans people.

Reading smut is so underwhelming like it seems like that’s all what people write these days. Like I need ANGST! I need to CRY! I need SLOW BURN AND PLOT….

And to be honest, I personally feel like some writers purposely list the reader’s physical descriptions as being white… like damn you know multiple people are going to come across your shit. I would get annoyed asf when I see something like “she touched your soft pale flushed skin” BITCH- 💀 don’t piss me off 😒🦶🏽

I won’t speak too in depth about the fetishization of trans people in fanfics because I’m not trans and I don’t want to say anything inaccurate BUT I will say it’s so disturbing and off putting seeing shit like that and seeing how people are sexualizing trans people more than treating them like regular humans…I also came across that ‘femcel’ series and🧍🏽‍♀️erm… no.

I appreciate the account who made the post discussing how the word trans and the f word are completely different. I didn’t even know that word was derogatory and it shocked me... I hope that account takes it down and they educate themselves or something cause 🙁👎🏽

yes pook YES smut can be underwhelming and so overdone. we definitely need more angst/fluff.. or just PLOT in general. no, i'm not saying don't write it at all (incase anons twist my words, cause.. they're good at that.) i'm just saying that it would be nice to see some fully fleshed out pieces with emotion and storytelling. i have something in the works though, that encompasses all genres (fluff/smut/angst) so, there's that!

people will so clearly write the whole petite pale white girl bs like "ur delicate small hand" or the fuckass "doey eyed and blushing cherub red" like NEVER portray reader so specifically unless you're going to specify it in the cw!!!! do whatever for ellie's white ass but for the love of gods and goddess BE AWARE OF READER AS A SPOT TO FILL, NOT AN OC!!!! idk how else to describe what i just said. but. it is said. so it. yeah. that whole delicate small petite thing kinda trickles into writing childlike readers too but. thats a whole nother discussion. no clue if i ever used that phrasing in the past tho i have no bold memories of my writings in detail.

i think people will listen to anybody but trans people who are actively calling it fetishization, like. all the mfs arguing with them say "trans and f💀ta aren't the same!" yeah. they aren't. cause one is like, a genuine, flesh and bone person.. with a whole story.. and feelings.. and experiences.. and one is.. fetishization. how many times do trans people have to repeat that? bet most of the people trying to argue against it aren't even trans.

the whole thing about authors "flooding" the tlou tag with palestine posts is also dumb as fuck. is scrolling a bit too taxing on your poor smut-guzzling thumbs?? ur scrolling over big booty fics, i think you can scroll a little further past those posts if you're really that much of a basement dwelling fuck that's sitting comfortably in their homes while a genocide is happening. out here sobbing cause people are spreading awareness. eat my bum bum booty. ++ also add-on cause we're holding writers accountable for ignoring a strike (different than not knowing at first) but there's also the artists!! they're there too.

anons r gonna come into my inbox abt all this but i'm not even gonna answer like, don't waste your time. im not reading all that. especially coming from an ANON 💀

me when

#⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfiction #tlou #fanfiction

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kylesgarrick · 4 months

Text

user kylesgarrick actually posts a fic?! (or drabble idk)

smut below the cut, ftm!gaz x top!sub!male reader. please remember this is my first ever fic, so it's not going to be perfect. writing tips appreciated, but please don't be rude. very rushed, and did not proof read.

trans!gaz who basically fell in love with you the second he saw you at the local bar, sipping on a beer while talking to one of his friends. soap instantly realised gaz wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying, so when he follows gaz's gaze to see who he was looking at, he was surprised when he saw you.

but although soap was surprised, that didn't stop him from trying to set you and gaz up together. he pushes gaz over to you, before chuckling and running off into the crowd. gaz was pissed, looking around for soap, until he looks up at spots you looking down on him.

neither of you know how it happened, all you remember is having a few drinks together, dancing, and now you were here, in the public bathrooms, making out in a stall. you felt his hands push you down onto the toilet so he could sit in your lap, which you didn't mind at all. the second you sat back down, his lips were on you again.

when he finally unzipped your pants and took your hard cock out, he started at it with wide eyes, stroking it slowly. at first, his strokes were heavenly, but after a while you couldn't stand the teasing pace. you bucking your hips up to try get more pleasure from his slow strokes. you hear his soft, low chuckle as he stops your hips by straddling you with his legs and making you whine.

when he hears your whine, he covers your mouth, whispering in your ear. "don't be too loud, wouldn't want anyone else to hear us, right pretty boy?" you look up at him and softly nod. he finally decides you've suffered enough taking his hand off your cock, at first you whine at the loss, until you see him sliding off his boxers and jeans.

he pulls his jeans and boxers fully down to his feet, revealing his bare pussy. you lean back and admire the sight. gaz’s unbuttoned shirt, revealing his perky nipples and a happy trail leading to his bush and dripping heat. when you feel his tight cunt wrap around your length you groan, instantly closing your eyes and throwing your head back from the pleasure.

he doesn’t waste any time as he instantly starts bouncing on your cock, setting a fast and rough pace while almost forcefully grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into his chest. you instantly get the hint and start licking/sucking on his nipple, using your hand to play with the other one.

you hear his grunts and heavy breathing while he continues riding you, he was so tight it was almost painful. almost. you looked down, seeing your cock covered with gaz’s juices. you can feel yourself start to get close, and gaz can tell by the sounds you’re making and the way your cock twitches inside of him.

“i-im close..” you pant, he just smirks, leaning towards your neck and marking hickies into it. biting down, before kissing the spot he bit and massaging it with his tongue. that was it for you, it was too much. the sound of skin slapping, gaz’s grunting, and him marking you, made you cum. filling him up to the brim.

but gaz doesnt stop, kissing his way from your neck up to your ear before whispering : “cmon, you’ll be a good boy and wait till im finished, hm?” you nod rapidly, and he chuckles. your dick was starting to sting as the pleasure started slowly turning into pain, cock stinging. you start to rub gaz’s clit as he rides you, causing his hips to buck, almost ruining his pace. when he finally finishes, he flops onto you.

you both put your clothes back on and walk out of the bathroom, trying to act casual but failing miserably when soap walks up to gaz and winks, “nice one.” soap smirks. you walk out of the bar, taking a cab home, but you couldn’t stop thinking of gaz. how pretty he looked when riding you, the marks he left that’d probably stay a while, and just everything about him. when you got back home to your lonely apartment, you were feeling a mix of happiness and loneliness, hoping to meet gaz again.

you put your coat on the coathanger and a note falls out of the pocket, it reads : ‘call me, pretty boy’ with gaz’s number at the bottom.

writing tips appreciated!!!

@gazmialmagemela

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drewmorg4n · 9 months

Note

Perhaps a soft and somewhat smutty transmasc insert x negan fic where he’s heavily focused on the readers surgery scars, just tracing them with his fingers and kissing them cause I just know that man has a scar kink

(Also this is just a fully self indulgent req)

Glass Scars

pairing: negan smith x trans male reader

wc: 4,621

tags: smut, fluff but it’s negan so you know, scar kink, oral (reader receiving), only masculine terms used

an: (this is such a basic fic title but my mind blanked out and i couldn’t come up with anything else) i know this literally took forever for me to finish but i think it’s worth it? maybe? idk but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading :)

dni: cis/fem people…it’s self explanatory

(i tried to add in a really sexy gif here but i’m stupid and it didn’t work so </3)

“Jesus christ, that was a fucking shit show.” Negan exhales heavily. He’s currently hunched over, hands on his knees, completely out of breath.

After running into a small horde of walkers, you and Negan had to basically fight your way through them. There was nowhere to simply stay put and wait it out as they came at you from all directions and quickly boxed you in. Honestly, you were sure you were about to kick the bucket right then and there, but luckily Negan kept an eye on you and stepped in to help you as needed. You truly don’t know what you would do without that man. Die, probably.

“Yeah.” You agree softly, panting. Your pants and tee are basically drenched in blood and some small bits of guts, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You have to stop yourself from gagging a few times as the smell of it all finally hits you. “We’re going back, right? I really need a shower.” You mention tersely, grimacing at your current state.

Negan sighs. “Fuck, babe. C’mon, you look so hot covered in blood.” He exasperates, slowly striding over to you and enveloping you by your waist, gently pulling you close.

You roll your eyes, though the small smirk attempting to cross your lips eventually betrays you. “Negan, please. This shit smells awful and feels disgusting.” You whine softly, starting to pull out of Negan’s grip even though you really don’t want to.

Negan kisses your cheek before you get too far away from him, his lips tinted red after. “Well, I think we’ve gathered enough supplies.” He mentions, glancing at the few duffel bags that you’d both dropped when the horde approached. “Yeah, let’s go back. This shit does feel fuckin’ disgusting.” He agrees, his form suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

You nod in response, feeling relieved about Negan’s decision. After tucking away your knife and checking yourself over - making sure you didn’t drop anything - you make your way over to the bags and haul one up, resting heavily on your shoulder. As you move to grab another, Negan moves in the corner of your eye, catching your attention. You glance over and watch him for a moment; he slowly peels off his leather jacket, seemingly in a bit of pain. His white tee underneath is damp with blood, the fabric clinging to his skin. He may be in pain but he also looks extremely attractive like this. You can’t help the way your eyes skim up and down his upper body, taking notice of his hard nipples protruding his tee.

Just as he turns his head to look at you, you also turn, attention back on the bags. You repeat your previous movement with another bag, though luckily this one is a bit lighter. Still, the strain of them on each of your shoulders is definitely gonna hit you later.

As you try to make the weight as bearable as you can, Negan comes over and gathers the rest of the bags; three in total. Negan then leads the way, walking a short distance back to the truck. It was honestly a stupid idea to leave it, but the spot you guys were trying to get to wasn’t accessible by the road as it had been blocked off, which really left no other choice but to walk. You definitely wouldn’t be coming this way again without a few more men.

Just a few minutes later you’re piling the bags into the bed of the truck and soon after making yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. The drive back to the sanctuary shouldn’t take too long, but things aren’t always set in stone out here. You guys could stumble upon another horde or maybe even some people. All you can do is just sit back and wait.

You drift in and out of sleep throughout the whole ride, Negan’s hand a comforting warmth on your thigh. He laughs at you every time your head bobs forward, on the brink of sleep. You only have enough energy to groan softly, exhausted from your previous exertion.

Eventually you’re home, parked in the small parking lot beside the sanctuary. Negan squeezes your thigh a few times, getting your attention. “C’mon.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the building. “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” He offers softly, though his voice is deep and husky.

“Mhm.” You hum slowly, still half asleep and feeling very groggy. You manage to get out and step onto the gravel, hearing it crunch beneath your boots. The sound brings a wave of comfort over you, knowing that just an hour ago you were on the verge of death. The slam of Negan’s door rattles you from your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You take a moment to gather your bearings and close your door, then you slowly make your way to the back of the truck towards Negan.

“I told the guys to get the shit in the back. I’m dying for a shower.” He sighs dramatically, waiting until you’re close enough so he can take your hand in his. He then leads the way, entering through one of the side doors and ascending a few flights of stairs before stopping at the third floor.

He trails down the long hallway, stopping at the door to his room. He lets go of your hand and enters his room, immediately chucking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He’s absolutely ridiculous but you love it.

Following him inside, you close the door behind you and lock it as usual. When you turn back around the only piece of clothing left on Negan is his boxers, which happen to also have a few spots of blood on them, probably from the thick liquid seeping through his pants. Lastly, he removes his boxers, sighing in relief.

You’ve seen Negan naked hundreds of times now but each time always feels like the first, sending a shock up your spine and a shiver throughout your entire body. He’s just so alluring and gorgeous, no matter how many times you’ve seen his body; he’s perfect.

You eventually begin to follow Negan’s lead, undressing. You move extremely slow as you’re still very exhausted, but Negan seems to notice this and is quick to step in and help. He unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants, undoing the button and letting your jeans fall down your legs. You hold onto his shoulder as you step out of them and kick them aside. The same movement is done when removing your boxers.

Negan’s hands are on your waist in an instant, skimming them up and down your sides, lightly scratching his nails against your skin. You have to bite back a moan, though it’s not from arousal; Negan’s hands just feel incredibly good and cause you to become even more tired.

“C’mon. I’m gonna fall asleep if we don’t shower soon.” You warn slowly, smiling softly as your eyes begin to close unwillingly.

Negan chuckles deeply, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Alright, alright.” He concedes, his hands coming to a halt. “I just love touching you.” He whispers, lips gracing the shell of your ear. He then plants a few gentle kisses along your neck, ending with a quick nip.

“Yeah, well, you can do that in the shower, y’know.” You point out teasingly, earning another chuckle from Negan.

“You fuckin’ bet I will.” He growls lowly, leaning in for one last nip to your neck.

From there, he finally obeys and leads you to the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower. You both idle for a minute or two as the water begins to warm up, eventually shivering a bit from the cool air touching your skin.

Negan steps in the shower a moment later, pulling you along. The warm water rains down on your head, running down your body and effectively warming you. Before you know it Negan’s massaging shampoo into your hair, the sudden touch startling you a bit. You quickly relax into it, though, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

A good minute of massaging and Negan’s maneuvering you around the shower, letting the spray of water hit you directly. He gently rinses out the shampoo, placing a kiss to your temple afterwards.

“Thank you.” You say softly, warming even more at Negan’s lips against you. “Let me do you, too.” You offer, moving to reach for the bottle of shampoo and pouring some out onto your hand. After lathering up your hands you reach up and run your fingers through Negan’s hair. He smiles at the feeling, dipping his head down a bit so it’s less of a reach for you.

Once his hair has been thoroughly washed, you help him rinse out the shampoo, wiping away any suds that get too close to his eyes. You give him a quick, chaste kiss after, amused when he furrows his brows and pleads with his eyes for more.

“Later.” You counter, though you’re not even sure if you’ll be awake later. With the way you feel currently, you assume you won’t be, but who knows.

“Why do you always play hard to get?” He chides lowly, swooping in close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You roll your eyes, offering a soft smile. “Negan, we’re both covered in blood and I’m fucking exhausted. I just wanna shower in peace.” You explain a bit firmly, though the smile covering your lips has yet to drop.

“Well, I can surely be of service.” He assures with a wink, immediately moving to grab your washcloth. After rinsing it out he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up the cloth. He then starts cleaning you up, rubbing the cloth against your skin to get rid of the dry bits of blood. Continuing on, he does the rest of your upper body and then your lower, humming pleasantly once he’s done and sees that you’re clean.

After he rinses out the washcloth and hangs it back up, he again grabs the bar of soap and lathers his hands this time. While you watch him, you immediately know what he’s about to do.

Negan settles himself behind you and slips a hand around your waist, resting gently against your lower stomach. His other hand follows but rests on your groin, soon moving down and slipping your cock between his fingers. The motion makes you gasp, feeling arousal start to build in your gut. When his fingers move down just a bit then back up, you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips.

You honestly thought you were way too tired to get worked up, but clearly you were very wrong about that. You know Negan is still just cleaning you up, but of course his movements are painfully slow - most likely on purpose - which isn’t helping your increasing arousal.

Eventually his movement concludes, removing his hand. You sigh at the lack of touch, somewhat wishing Negan would put his hand back even though you’re still exhausted.

You take a moment to gather yourself before you copy Negan’s actions, offering to wash him off. He lets you do as you please, ridding his body of sticky blood. When your eyes manage to drift down, you’re sort of surprised he’s not hard. With the way he was touching you, you fully expected him to be.

As you finish up, Negan’s hands rest on your chest, trailing down and stopping right above your diaphragm. “Couldn’t see your scars when you were covered in blood.” He comments softly, eyeing your chest. His thumbs glide along them, from edge to edge.

You’re quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to even say to such a comment. His thumbs continue to trace your scars, side to side. “That feels good.” You say, lifting your head to look up at him. He looks totally entranced, eyes following the movement of one of his thumbs.

“Do you know how much I truly adore your scars?” He asks gently, eyes unmoving from your chest.

“Well, I could guess.” You chuckle softly. A smirk creeps onto Negan’s face in return, eyes finally looking up to meet your own. He dips his head down and places kiss after kiss along your neck, trailing them down to your collarbone; each kiss elicits a warm flush throughout your entire body.

Eventually, you completely lose track of time, though; the water runs colder and colder and soon you’re almost shivering.

“Negan, c’mon. We used all the hot water.” You note, slowly pulling yourself out of his grasp. He practically whines at the movement, hands moving quickly to pull you back into him, though you refuse and step back, turning off the water. “I’m freezing.” You grunt softly, looking up at him with annoyance.

“You know I’m a fuckin’ human furnace, babe.” He winks, his usual sly smirk covering his lips. He moves to push aside the shower curtain, stepping out after. He grabs one of the towels set on the counter and unfolds it, holding it up in front of him. “C’mere, let me warm you up.” He offers, softer than before.

You reluctantly step out, quickly wrapped up in the towel with firm, warm arms surrounding you. Negan first dries off your hair, ruffling it with the towel until it’s just damp, then moves onto your body. He’s quick but gentle, working up then down, making sure you’re all dry. Now, without cold droplets of water covering your skin, you’re much warmer but you still feel a deep need for actual heat.

Right as you’re about to head out of the bathroom, aiming to find something warm to wear, Negan stops you with a gentle grip on your forearm.

“Wait. Don’t get dressed.” He requests quickly, loosening his grip on your arm.

You furrow your brows. “Why?” You question curiously, confused.

Negan doesn’t respond for a moment which just manages to confuse you even more, but the light pink blush tinting his cheeks distracts you until he does. “I just like seeing you; your scars, the rest of your body. I love it.” He admits softly, his voice trailing off into a whisper. His cheeks are now red rather than pink, which tells you he was probably nervous to confess such a thing.

Negan’s statement has you at a loss for words, though. Of course he’s not necessarily the softest person, he’s always sarcastic and vulgar, causing him to usually say all the wrong things, but throughout the time you’ve been together, his soft side peeks out more and more each day.

“Oh.” You sigh, trying to muster up the right words to say. “Thank you. I-I-“ You stutter, quickly stopping yourself from continuing. You can’t believe the second you’re vulnerable you immediately start stuttering. Although it’s somewhat expected, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Negan smiles, holding back a soft chuckle. “It’s alright, baby.” He assures, noticing the nervous expression etched onto your face and wanting to bring you some comfort. “I’m gonna dry off. Just go wait for me.” He nods, quickly kissing your cheek.

You give him a soft smile and then you’re turning around, heading out of the bathroom once again. You end up following through with Negan’s request, ditching your clothes completely. You’re not even that cold anymore, the embarrassment and slightest bit of adrenaline warming you. Once you slide onto the bed, making yourself comfortable on top of the silk sheets, you finally relax. After today, you definitely need a break from beyond the walls. Knowing Negan, he’ll probably be hesitant to let you out again unless he’s by your side, but you’ll worry about that when it happens. For now, you let your limbs go limp and sink into the soft mattress as you wait for Negan.

A few short minutes later the bathroom door squeaks open, revealing a naked Negan. He wastes no time getting into bed; he pushes apart your legs and settles himself between them, his chest against your stomach. He really is a human furnace.

Soon enough you feel his lips against you, kissing up and down your chest, your nipples, your scars. He hums contentedly as he kisses along each scar, from one edge to the other; he doesn’t miss a single spot.

You work your hands into his hair, combing it back as he continues his relentless kissing. After a few minutes, you realize you could definitely fall asleep like this; Negan’s lips grazing your chest. You’re already exhausted, so why not? You let yourself slowly drift off, eyes feeling heavier and heavier as each second passes.

“You’re so perfect, baby. So handsome.” Negan mumbles deeply, his throat and lips vibrating against you.

His soft words cause your eyes to pop open, feeling overwhelmed with affection and love. You somehow still haven’t gotten used to Negan’s praises; each time he says something even remotely good about you, your stomach flips and twists with the strongest feeling of appreciation. You’ve never felt so loved in your entire life.

“Kiss me.” You plead softly, almost whispering. He makes a noise similar to a hum but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. You pull on his hair gently but he resists, ignoring it and continuing his kisses along your chest. “Negan, please.” You groan, tugging on his hair again, though a bit harder this time.

He releases a throaty moan at the harsh pull of his hair, finally relenting and moving up your body, coming face to face with you. His usual sly grin is smeared across his lips, cockiness clearly flowing through him as he idles in front of your face, not making any attempts at moving closer and kissing you.

Feeling annoyed, you hurriedly grab the nape of his neck and pull him close, crashing your lips together. He chuckles at your gesture and struggles to kiss you back for a moment, but rather quickly he settles down and starts moving his lips against your own.

The movement of your lips started off fast but is beginning to slow and match Negan’s pace, which you really don’t mind. As long as you’re kissing him you have nothing to complain about.

Negan’s tongue dips into your mouth slowly, licking past your lips and grazing your teeth with his tongue. The moan that slips out of you is purely accidental but Negan certainly finds the noise pleasurable as his lips curl up into a small smirk.

His hands then skim up your body, stopping below your pecs. Once again he begins to smooth over your scars, each of his thumbs moving back and forth. You have no clue why he seems to be so obsessed with them, but it’s honestly a very relieving feeling knowing that your scars don’t bother him.

Suddenly Negan bites your lip, not hard but the gesture somewhat surprises you. As you relax into it, it feels good, almost intoxicating. Again you moan, wishing he would bite just a little bit harder. As if Negan is capable of reading your mind, he bites down harder a short moment later, eliciting yet another moan from you.

Fuck, his teeth feel so good latched onto your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. The sensation of it is almost overwhelming. An immeasurable amount of pressure and heat builds within your groin, quickly becoming unbearable. You grind your hips up, coming into contact with Negan’s cock, his warmth pressed against you lightly.

“Please.” You ground out after pulling out of the kiss, panting. Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point, you just want to be pleasured, touched. Anything.

Negan hums lowly, smirking as usual. “What do you want? Hm?” He inquires deep but soft. He begins placing kisses to your neck and slowly trails them down to your nipples, kissing each one wetly as his thumbs continue to caress your scars. “What does my pretty boy want?” He murmurs into your skin, his lips vibrating against you softly.

Unwillingly, your hips buck, connecting with Negan’s lower chest. He chuckles against you, lips around one of your nipples. You open your mouth to speak but find that you simply can’t. Instead of words coming out of your mouth, a loud moan slips past your lips. Without even thinking you grab Negan's hair, both hands twined into bundles of strands. You pull up, even though that’s not the direction you want him to go in, you just desperately need to tug on something.

Negan groans softly at the pull of his hair, humming lowly after. Before he kisses down the rest of your torso, his tongue darts out and ever so slowly licks across each of your scars, making you shiver.

“Jesus.” You gasp softly, a bit shocked. Negan must really have a thing for scars. Either way, his tongue feels good on you, tracing side to side.

Once he seems to have his fill of your scars, he kisses down your stomach all the way to your groin. You whine as you feel his lips getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area, resisting the urge to roll your hips. He places feather light kisses to the inside of your thigh, trailing them up and down. He’s kissing everywhere you don’t want him to; not that it doesn’t feel good but you’re so pent up with arousal that it’s starting to hurt.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you quickly tug, his head now hovering right above your cock. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing, his usual sly smirk covering his lips.

“Are you gonna tell me what you want now?” Negan asks lowly, feigning curiosity. “Cause I’ve got no fuckin’ clue.” He chuckles soft and deep, resuming his kisses; he’s so full of shit it’s painful.

Negan’s lips are now incredibly close to your dick and you want nothing more than for him to finally put his mouth to work on you. When his kissing doesn’t stop, you finally obey and voice your needs.

“Suck me off.” You whine softly, voice barely reaching a whisper. Your hips roll involuntarily, crotch brushing against Negan’s scruffy chin. Even that slightest bit of friction has you moaning again, just hoping Negan will put a stop to his teasing and finally give you what you want.

Negan laughs darkly, eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. His tongue darts out and skims across his lips, biting it softly as he slowly puts it back in his mouth. “I can’t decide if I should make you beg for it or not.” He teases, smirk never faltering. His fingers rub along your hip, digging in just slightly.

You tighten your hand in Negan’s hair, pulling on it. “Please.” You whimper softly, desperation filling your voice.

Your begging causes Negan’s smirk to grow even wider, his teeth gleaming at you. He’s clearly enjoying this but you’re not sure how much more you can take. You’re so pent up with sexual desire it’s unfathomable.

Negan then begins to plant kiss after kiss to your groin, leading down to your sensitive cock. The second his lips come into contact with your dick you can’t help but buck your hips. Negan’s fingers are quick to dig into your hips and hold you down, though his kissing never stops.

The slight sting coming from Negan’s nails digging into you isn’t unpleasant, it’s actually extremely endearing and only turns you on even more. You’re quickly pulled from the sensation by Negan’s tongue gliding along your cock. You almost scream at how good it feels, though it’s more of a choked moan which is honestly a little embarrassing.

Your embarrassment is very quickly disregarded once Negan’s lips close around you, gently sucking what he can into his mouth. Your grip on Negan’s hair tightens immensely, fearing you may rip out chunks of it, though you know he really wouldn’t mind which would definitely be comical in another situation.

Negan continues his gentle sucking, slightly bobbing his head. You’re still rolling your hips though there’s not a lot of movement since Negan is keeping you in a steady hold.

After about a minute or so, Negan begins to suck harder along with digging his nails deeper into your hip. Both sensations mixed together have you going crazy, heading towards the edge. Whimpers begin to flood your mouth, dripping out like liquid. You simply can’t stop yourself, nor do you want to. Your own moans almost accentuate your pleasure, which is odd but you’ll gladly take it.

Negan then hums while he continues his incessant sucking - almost as if he’s also moaning - sending ripples of vibration through your groin, intensifying your pleasure even more.

“Jesus christ, Negan.” You pant, arching your back off the bed completely. You can feel the way your legs are trembling, indicating your climax is approaching. Practically your entire body is covered in a layer of sweat, droplets running down your face and chest. You’re about to burst at any moment.

You can’t even control the movement of your hips, it simply has a mind of its own, bucking hard and fast into Negan’s mouth, though he’s still holding you down as best as he can. Eventually, though, he relents and let’s go, giving you free range. Holding onto the back of his head, you fuck into his mouth repeatedly.

He’s happy to let you use him until you finally come, hips stuttering and shaking as you continue to roll them. It’s such an intense, overstimulating feeling, but at the same time it feels like pure heaven.

Your whimpering only gets louder and louder as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling with pleasure. “Fuck.” You whine, voice hoarse and wavering.

Negan chuckles, which sends another vibration through you. It’s too much, though. You’re officially overstimulated. You yank Negan’s head off of you by his hair, freeing yourself from his mouth.

“Shit.” You pant, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm roll through you. Negan looks up at you with half lidded eyes, smiling softly. There’s a single string of saliva leading from his lips to your dick, which elicits a small chuckle from your throat. Using your thumb, you gently wipe it away.

“Thanks.” Negan chuckles, resting his head on your lower stomach.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, smiling. “C’mere, let me return the favor.” You decide, smoothing your hands along his upper back.

Negan yawns. “I already came.” He states, looking back up at you. “You’re just so fuckin’ sexy when your cock is in my mouth, making all those pretty noises. Only had to grind against the bed for like, two fuckin’ seconds before I came.” He explains easily, feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about the noises you were making.

“Oh.” You mumble softly, extremely flustered from Negan’s admission. “So, you ruined the sheets?” You question, yanking his chain.

Negan huffs a laugh. “Probably.” He agrees, chuckling. He slowly crawls up your body and places a gentle kiss to your lips before laying down beside you. He’s quick to pull you into his side, arms wrapped around you.

You sigh and relax into his hold, resting your head atop his chest; the hair there manages to tickle your nose every now and then, but you really don’t mind - you wouldn’t change it.

As you listen to the sound of Negan’s heartbeat, you quickly find yourself drifting off into sleep, body and mind completely exhausted. You refuse to fight it and eventually you slip into a deep sleep, cradled by the only man you’ve ever wanted.

#negan smith #negan #negan twd #negan smith fic #negan fic #negan smith x reader #negan smith x male reader #negan smith x trans male reader #negan x reader #negan x male reader #negan x trans male reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fic #twd fic #my fic

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pearlsinmyhair · 10 months

Text

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: violence in this chapter (capture of an anomaly, star girl gets injured), mentions of getting stitches without anesthetic. The Fight ™. Miguel loses himself in anger twice (tread lightly). lots of cursing. use of spanish.

so…it does get worse after this chapter. hobie is a g (yes he’s here). as always, this is a platonic!miguel x reader fic, not a romantic one.

part i | part ii

word count: 2.7k

part iii: i’m not her

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

“let’s go over the process one more time.” miguel was saying as you both exited the trans-universe portal.

“no, please god, no.” you groaned, pressing your hand to the mask of you spider suit. “we must have gone over this a million times, miguel. this isn’t my first anomaly.”

the eye patterns of his suit narrowed. you had gotten to know his facial expressions well over the past nine months, even when he was wearing his mask.

“yes, but this one’s big. you’ve never tackled a big one before.” he claimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“telling me about it isn’t going to be the same as me actually experiencing it. just let me do my thing.” you responded, shooting a web to a nearby building and jumping up to swing.

miguel’s tight grip on the back of your suit held you still like a puppy, and you wriggled for a moment before giving in and letting him set you on the ground.

“we’re waiting for the other spider, remember? slow down.” miguel said firmly, hand resting at the base of your neck for a moment in a ‘stay’ gesture. you shrugged his hand off.

“who is it?” you asked. you had yet to work with someone other than miguel on missions. he preferred to work with you hands on, using the anomalies as a lesson.

yet another thing that was unusual: miguel didn’t do ‘partners’. jess was the closest to that before you.

miguel’s posture stiffened, and your spidey-senses tingled as you put the pieces together.

“don’t tell me.” you said in a giddy voice to him, and miguel pressed his fingers to his temples as if trying to relieve a headache.

before you could press him more, the sound of an all-too familiar guitar riff burst across the roof top you both stood on.

“hey, star girl.” came the sound of a familiar voice, slurred with a cockney accent.

you turned and ran straight to hobie, pounding your fist with his as you pulled you close by his arm around your shoulders.

“you two…know each other?” came miguel’s stern voice, glaring at you and hobie.

“yeah, we’ve met a few times around the base.” you explained as hobie shoved your shoulder playfully.

“y/n’s pretty hard to miss, boss. kinda surprised you assumed we hadn’t.” hobie said, and you didn’t miss the mocking tone in his voice as he looked at miguel.

you poked him in the ribs, willing him to behave.

he pinched your side in response, causing you to squeal and pull away from the spider punk beside you.

“enough play, let’s secure this anomaly.” miguel said, murmuring a curse in spanish as he turned from you and slung a web.

hobie looked down at you. “does he get jealous this of’en?” he asked, shooting a web of his own as he shifted his guitar up his shoulder.

you shrugged. “he’s not jealous, hobie. you just piss each other off.” you both jumped from the building, quickly locating the thing you were to capture.

“sure, i piss him off. but that was different. he’s got a soft spot, y/n”

you shrugged again as you pulled yourself up into a flip, locating the anomalies weak points.

it took a moment for you to realize just why miguel was so concerned.

the anomaly was a green goblin, and a quick one at that.

nine months ago you would have been useless in this fight. but now? miguel’s training has honed your skills, and you moved through the motions with the ease of a dancer in a well-rehearsed routine.

that was, until the goblin threw one of his smoke bombs right into your face.

the momentary blindness caused you to miss your webbing. you slammed through a window of a skyscraper into an office building, rolling across the floor and into a desk.

“fuck.” you murmured as you tried to stand, only for your legs to buckle. your ears rang from the bomb, and your eyes watered.

you removed your mask, taking a breath of fresh air as you tried to get your barings. you looked down at your body in an attempt to take stock of your injuries.

there was a laceration across your calf from the glass, and your shoulder throbbed. it took a second for you to realize that it was dislocated.

you took a few moments to rest your head back, fighting the urge to just sit and rest. you were needed. you had to get back.

you shifted up against the desk, manouveing your arm so that it sat in place before you shoved your body to the side.

you let out a strangled cry when your arm popped back into place, the pain bright but brief. your hearing was coming back, and you could hear the distant cackles of the green goblin as you stood.

you stepped to the broken window, taking a breath before you jumped back into the fight.

“hey star girl! you still with us?” shouted hobie from a distance, and you gave him a thumbs up.

he couldn’t afford the time to ask you more, simply nodding as he slammed his guitar against the goblin’s glider, causing the anomaly to fall.

orange silk stuck to the goblin’s chest, tugging him forward before a blue figure slammed into his chest, causing the two to fly into another building, disappearing from view.

you took a moment to just hang, catching your breath as you waited for miguel to give you and hobie the go ahead.

when nothing came, you scowled, swinging through the opening.

the sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

you knew miguel could get mad. you had heard the whispers, heard the stories, listened to the tales of blood and broken bones that followed in his wake.

but nothing could compare to actually seeing his brutality.

miguel laid into the goblin, his fist colliding with his jaw over and over again, each impact sounding wetter than the last.

the anomaly’s mask was long sense shattered, and you could see the eyes of norman osborn just barely clinging to life.

“miguel stop.” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you fought down the bile rising in your throat.

but miguel didn’t hear you, slamming his fist against the goblin’s face again.

you should have known not to get too close. you were trained to stay away from close fist fights. but in that moment, nothing mattered.

you took a step closer and placed your hand against miguel’s back, trying to calm him. “mig, you need to st-“

his elbow collided with you nose with a sickening crunch. blood burst from it like a supernova, and your vision swam as you stumbled back a few steps.

hobie caught you under the armpits, hauling you back so you could both lean against a desk for support.

“miguel, what the fuck.” he was saying, voice low and angry as he pressed a ripped off part of his shirt to your nose. you winced in pain, and hobie’s eyes hardened even more.

when you finally got the courage to look up at your mentor, your mouth went dry.

because he was already looking at you, with the same mixture of guilt and regret that he had when he first took you as an apprentice.

he was on you in a second, hovering over you and cupping your face with clawed hands. looking wild while beating a man was one thing, but the devastated look he gave you now as he held you was much much worse.

hobie was still pissed, watching miguel from behind you, making sure that he was gentle.

miguel brushed the blood from your nose with a claw, looking tortured. all the while he was murmuring soft sentences in spanish, things that you didn’t quite have the mental capacity to translate, what with the broken nose and bleeding leg.

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho.”

you watched as hobie tapped at his watch in your peripheral, and an orange portal opened to your left. it seemed to snap miguel out of whatever trance he had fallen into, and he straightened.

he nodded to hobie, and the punk picked you up easily as miguel did the same for the now-unconscious green goblin.

“ready?” asked the spider holding you, though you knew him enough by now to understand that the question was mostly rhetorical.

you nodded as you pressed the back of your hand to your nose, preparing for the lecture that surely awaited you.

the four of you jumped into the portal, back to base.

₊ ⊹

the worst possible thing miguel can do is be quiet.

he did it often. once you had called him a ‘stewer’, because he would wait until whatever speech he was preparing was the perfect amount of cruel.

you sat in your designated chair with one leg up as the spider-doctor of the base bandaged it. it had needed stitches, and you had forced yourself to go through it without any kind of anesthesia. you had stitched up worse on your own before.

“two weeks rest, and then you’re able to go back in the field. just take it easy for now.” the doctor was saying, and you nodded. you were only truly half listening. the other half of your attention was placed upon miguel, who stood with his back turned to you not twenty feet away.

the doctor dismissed themselves, and you pulled your leg up to sit criss-cross in the chair.

it was a design by miguel himself, added when you needed a place to sit on days where your mentor was busy in his office.

you could still vaguely hear the echos of him explaining complex microbiology and gene-splicing as you did your research papers beside him.

miguel was silent for a few more beats, and you continued watching him, knowing that he felt you staring.

you had been his apprentice for nine months. you knew each others mannerisms well by now.

he let out the characteristic “you’re about to get an earful” sigh that typically haunted your nightmares.

“you almost died.”

oh.

you expected something a bit more barbed, but you could work with this.

“yes. i almost did. but i’m here, and i’m ok.”

“it doesn’t matter.” he said as he finally turned to you, with a solemn resignation in his eyes that made your heart stop.

“you. almost. died. y/n. and i can’t allow that while i’m your mentor. you’re benched.”

your confusion sharpened to irritation.

“you can’t bench me, miguel. i’m not a child.” you responded, rising from your seat. when you put weight against your freshly stitched leg you tripped slightly. miguel gave you a hard look as if it justified his decision.

“i’m your superior. if i say you’re done, you’re done. understood?” he said, with a note of finality that meant he didn’t want a response other than confirmation.

you shook your head, unwilling to back down. “no, i don’t understand.” you replied, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to look bigger next to his tall form.

“i don’t understand why you give me special treatment over others. i don’t understand why you feel the need to be so fucking protective over me. miguel, i don’t…” you sighed, gathering your words as he watched you with a carefully controlled expression.

“i know you feel a certain…responsibility over me because i’m your apprentice. and i understand your concern. but i’m also a person. i’m eighteen, soon to be nineteen. i can handle scrapes and bruises. it’s what we do-“

“y/n, it wasn’t just scrapes and bruises this time. you flew through a fucking window. jesus christ, kid, i thought you were dead.” his tone leaned to desperation, and it made any words you had prepared die in your throat.

sweet clarity.

miguel laying into the green goblin like it was personal, like it was vengeance. how the moments that you took to rest were probably actually minutes, making it look like you went AWOL. how when miguel accidentally elbowed your nose, he probably expected to find you bleeding amongst glass rather than clutching your face.

but the sympathy that normally accompanied your conversations with miguel was gone. instead, words sharpened like blades on your tongue.

“this isn’t fucking fair, miguel. i didn’t ask for this.” you said lowly.

his eyes narrowed at you. “and what exactly is this.”

the words on the tip of your tongue, ready to fire like bullets at the weakest part of miguel. the must vulnerable.

there was always an unspoken fifth rule of your partnership.

never, under any circumstances, talk about his daughter.

“being treated like i’m gabriella. like i’m some second chance for you to make things right. as if i’m just another option to make your life happier-“

you didn’t get to finish.

miguel’s hands clenched the collar of your suit, lifting you so that your toes barely brushed the ground. it wasn’t strangling, but the way he glared down at you promised violence.

your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you, rage palpable as his claws created puncture holes in your suit.

but you trudged on. you had repressed these thoughts for too long.

“miguel, you can’t lock me in a tower and call it love.”

all at once, the rage faded, and the grip on your collar ceased.

you dropped to the floor, wheezing. but a web hit your chest, easing you down. you followed its trail back to the owner.

hobie brown stood in the entrance way to miguel’s office, looking livid. but he said nothing.

that was always the wonderful thing about hobie. he knew when to wait for your signal.

“listen to me very carefully, kid. you will go home, now. you will get the fuck out of this demension as soon as this conversation is over, and you will stay out of it until further notice.” miguel growled, looking down at you.

“you will not be called on any missions, and you will not respond to any invitations to help.” he looked pointedly at hobie. “if you do, i will take your watch and drag you back to your dimension myself. am i understood?”

you looked at him from the ground, frustrated tears in your eyes. there was no way out.

“yes sir.”

you got up and walked out of the office.

₊ ⊹

hobie followed you, keeping pace with your limping step.

“are you really gonna listen to that prick?” he asked, glaring at some nosy spiders that stared. “he’s a fucking idiot if he thinks your gonna stop-“

“i am going to, hobie. i’m going home.” you told him, and the spider-punk paused.

“you saw how he looked at me. do you think he’s going to be kind when he finds me swinging with you or pav with anomalies? you think he won’t drag me back?” you knew miguel well. and you knew his resolve.

he wouldn’t hesitate to take your watch. he wouldn’t hesitate to confine you to your own reality, never to see him or your friends again.

all for the sake of protecting you.

‘you could have died.’

“you said your parents are gone, right?” hobie asked, and you stopped walking at the audacity of that question. when you turned to him, he raised his hands up to show you he meant no harm.

“i just don’t think you should be alone right now. come crash in my flat. we’ll find something to do other than wallow in our own misery, ay?”

you deflated, wanting nothing more than to sink into hobie’s embrace. and you did, allowing him to pull you close as the tears you were holding back finally escaped your eyes, leaking onto hobie’s blue shirt, mixing with the blood that stained it from your nose.

he tapped his watch to open another portal, and you spared one last glance towards the direction of miguel’s office before you stepped through it.

masterlists | part iv

so…like i said…it does get worse in the next chapter. i hope that you all liked this one ♡. stay tuned…

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho. - i’m sorry, little one. i didn’t mean to do it, it’s going to be ok. shit kid, i’m so sorry.

taglist:

@pearlssdiary @zeyzeys-stuff @alexisabirdie @ifuckyourmom @hagdgishbr @migueloharaslxt @ladynecromancer @ladyfairenvale

#the price of the name #miguel x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #platonic!miguel ohara x reader #dad!miguel o’hara #daughter!reader #star girl #star girl hasn’t paid in full yet #miguel x reader #miguel ohara atsv #miguel atsv

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