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#I still have a bunch of stuff to do but I wanna save them for another day

doqt33th · 10 months

Text

SINGULARITY

MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed.

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn.

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.”

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun.

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight.

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside.

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said, holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now.

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?” He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta.

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest.

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft.

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face.

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.

#mirage rotb #mirage x reader #transformers rotb #transformers x reader #mirage x you #valveplug #tf mirage #maccadam #nsfw////#transformers #rise of the beasts #i wrote this entire thing on my phone in like 4 days so excuse any spelling mistakes LMFAO #doq.fic

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repressed-n-depressed · 6 months

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suuuuuuuuper disappointed with Fashion Dreamer, but I'm still having fun with it and don't regret buying it. it's such a step back from Style Savvy in every single category. literally does everything worse.

there's zero narrative or storyline

customization of clothing is literally just changing the colors, there's no textures or emblems or anything to add

sorting through your clothes is an utter nightmare. the old games let you filter by like… aesthetic type, category (not just "is a leg item" but getting as specific as "leggings" or "tube socks"); in this, all you can do is filter by the broadest category and since you have tons of stuff it's a nightmare

the gender binary, booooo

tons of categories of items are missing from old style savvy games, no handheld items whatever and it doesn't seem like necklaces, gloves, bracelets or any hand accessories whatsoever are there either

you can't save outfits. wtf!!! in ALL of the old games you can save a bunch of outfits you made, in this one you simply cannot. good luck remembering all the items you used when you have 7000 of them and no way to sort.

can't zoom in while dressing up, so good luck guessing what color a lot of those really thin eyeglasses and the like are. thought they were pink? nope sorry they were brass actually

there's no layering whatsoever. you used to have an outer layer and an inner layer, and you could wear all kinds of dresses, shirts etc over the inner layer to make nice looking combinations of things like corsets and stuff like that. and you could wear skirts over pants. now, nope, just one layer for tops (not counting jackets) and bottoms, and anything that looks "layered" came pre-made that way

the coolest items are locked behind a fricken GACHA

it is absolutely still a fun game to play if literally all you want to do is dress up a character to make numbers go up. i'm enjoying myself despite literally all of this. the Photo Egg is fun, the drone to take photos around the areas is a good feature. most of the clothing is very cute, and i'm glad to be able to customize them so that they aren't gratingly different shades of grey or whatever and make a coordinated outfit.

but whoof, without the store aspect and the little character storylines from dressing your various customers, the whole thing feels just as empty and hollow as i expected.

i will still be playing way too much of it though. anyone wanna be Fashion Dreamer friends? lol

#fashion dreamer #style savvy #game reviews #rambling #nintendo switch

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comicwritesstuff · 6 months

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Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem!Reader

This is an angsty make you feel like shit story, like I was physically and mentally in pain writing this. I'll make a fluff and cute one after this SORRY NOT SORRY 😭

Working nights at Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria isn't really anyone's dream job. I have been working here for a week or two, it could be worse just staring at a screen until 6am then leaving the creepy atmosphere. I look at the monitors, zoning off. I just got here so my shift just started, Yay, so exciting…Luckily the sheriff makes it better. Vanessa Shelly is probably the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid my eyes on, ever since she showed up at night, with her raincoat on I couldn't help getting a tiny crush on her...and that's all it was. Tiny.

Well, at least I had thought that was what it would be…I can’t help it, I didn’t mean to fall for her she just tripped me. Her doe eyes, her smile, her stern voice when I try and do something stupid or dangerous, her laugh and her voice…fuck. I need to focus… I'm working. I stop dozing off, finally paying attention to the monitors in front of me, mostly just staring at the outside camera, wondering if Vanessa would come in today. And look at that. Her cop car pulls up, my heart flutters as I see her walk up and buzz the buzzer, it's raining. Hard. So I speed walk and open the door, grinning. “Hey Nessie!” She smiles even wider at me, my heart flutters again. “Hey y/n, can you let me in now, it's a little rainy.” I laugh and step to the side, letting her in as I close the door, locking it again I can feel her staring at me. Turning around we walk to the showtime area. (forgot what its called don’t come at me, but y'know what i mean)

“We should let the animatronics play some music” She suggests as I nod as I stand up quickly and press the showtime button, they all start singing and playing songs. I sit back down where Vanessa is, making conversation. “So how's your shift been today?” She looks over at me making my stomach twist into knots, I try not to blush but it just makes it worse…thinking about not blushing with her staring at me. “Oh just the normal stuff, beating up bad guys, solving crime and saving a bunch of people. All in a day's work.” She jokes, shrugging and smiling. I laugh at her sarcasm, looking back over at the animatronics, who (perfect timing) just started playing “Just the Two of Us: By Grover Washington, Jr.” I feel Vanessa’s eyes on me, I look down, my heart racing. Fuck I should ask her to dance. “Wanna dance?” She said it first, to be honest I probably turned bright red, but that didn’t matter, I got to dance with my crush, I'm obviously gonna blush. I nod eagerly and stand up with her, she grabs ahold of my hand, her simple touch sending chills down my spine, she glides her hand across my back resting it there as we dance together, smiling and laughing.

The perfect moment, that I never want to end. God looking at her, being so close to her, I have to tell her…I have to shoot my shot but I just can’t bring myself to do it. We dance for a while, for at least a few songs, before something changes. A look in her eye that I ever slightly noticed but I still saw it with how intently I was looking into them. Her once happy and joyful eyes changed, to a melancholic, sad and maybe even confused look. I was just about to ask her if everything was alright until she stopped, the music kept playing but she just stopped, staring at me, not moving. “Ness, is everything okay?” I say worried, did I fuck something up? Did I do something wrong? “Just…stop y/n we can’t.” She says and pulls her hands away, turning her head not looking at me any longer. My heart tugs at me, it feels like my body is shutting down. “What, what do you mean?” I reach out, grabbing her wrist. “Nessie..?” She whips around, shoving my hand away she seems angry but she's crying, and so that makes me start to cry.

“I wish you were a boy.” No. No. No. No please no, this has to be fake, please let what she just said, not be true… please. I stare at her in disbelief, tears falling down my cheeks faster than ever. It feels like time is paused, it feels like everything is broken inside me, like all my organs, my bones my heart specifically turned to glass, and she just fucking broke it all with a hammer. I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball, to just stop, to just be done, but I love her…I have to try. “Why..? Why does that matter I- I can be just as good as a guy.” She looks at me, her eyes searching my heartbroken face, I can’t even hear the music anymore, I’ve drowned it out with her. “No, I can't…my father wouldn’t accept it and I just…I just can't. Why are you making this so difficult?” “So it's my fault? It's my fault you can’t just accept the fact that you like women?! Who cares if your father doesn’t like it, aren’t I worth it?” I say, loud enough that the animatronics have now noticed, the music stopped, they are watching. “I-...I don't know.” “You don't?! You don't know? That…fuck Vanessa… please… just..give me a chance?” She steps closer to me, cupping my cheek with her hand. I try not to accept the comfort but it's all I need right now, so I unwillingly do. “Y/N, I love you…but I don’t think…that I can, you just…I can't”

“I’m sorry I really am-” “No. Don’t do that, I don’t want your apologies, I don’t want this job anymore either, tell whoever owns this shit that I quit…I can’t see you anymore Ness, it’ll hurt me more.” I look at her once more, before turning my back and walking to the exit. Vanessa stares at me, tears still running down her cheek. “Y/N, can’t we be friends, please I can’t lose you.” I turn around, shaking my head. “No, no don’t try to do that, I can’t just be friends with you, and you know that.” I keep walking, she's following me, I unlock the door walking out into the cold, rainy night. Before I get to my car I feel Vanessa grab my wrist, spinning me around. Her lips connect with mine, a passionate kiss that lasts far too short, even then I wrap my hands around her neck, trying to deepen the kiss, forgetting all that just happened, she runs one hand through my soaked hair, and the other around my back.

I didn’t want anything else in the world, it was the best thing I'd experienced. Until we pulled away, and I saw the same look in her eyes, the same look that said, that I just wasn't worth it. I wasn’t worth the risk, nor the love or the fear. It turned from my favorite memory of my life, to the one that makes my heart shatter at the thought of it. “Y/N..” I turn around walking the last few steps to my car. “Vanessa, however long it takes you to think I'm worth it, I’ll be waiting, I don’t know if you ever will, it could be 20 years till you realize it. I will always be waiting for you, even though right now. I’m just not worth it.”

#fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa afton x reader #vanessa afton angst

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raibebe · 6 months

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Genre: fluff Words: 1.367 Prompt: Samoyed hybrid Jeno x fem. reader

Warnings: brief mention of injury

A/N: I had this 80% done in my drafts for SO FREAKING LONG. So here finally is a new Jenpup and his baby pups fic. 🥺 I love them a lot.

Hybridverse masterlist

Jeno had been holed up in his gaming room for a couple of hours now, working on cutting down the mess that the last stream with Donghyuck and Chenle had been so he could make it fit into a video for Youtube. Which was a task in itself. Between their audio overlapping, Chenle’s laugh clipping his mic, and them getting absolutely sidetracked and not getting anything done, he was questioning his abilities as an editor to make this video worth watching. And honestly, he should just suggest starting the stream earlier next time because at one point way past midnight, they had just started to bark, jodel and meow at each other for two minutes straight.

Taking a sip from his trustworthy redbull, he stretched out his back, which made a bunch of satisfying popping noises. He really wasn’t getting any younger. Groaning, the Samoyed hybrid got up from his chair to stretch his legs and tail. With another sigh, he looked at the time: He had already been holed up in his room for way too long. Saving his progress on the video, he decided to give his ears and eyes a break from editing.

Coming out of his room, he was already greeted with the sweet giggles of his baby girl, the sound music to his ears. With a big smile plastered on his face, Jeno carefully made his way to the living room where the sound came from. And there, on the living room sofa, you were playing with Aerum, tickling her belly until she was screeching with laughter. “Enough, Mommy,” she yelped, the sound high and puppy-like, and you finally yielded, instead pressing a kiss to her tummy. Still smiling brightly, Jeno caught your eyes, bringing a finger to his lips. Nodding discreetly, you turned your attention back to Aerum to gently sort out the mess that had become of her hair during your little playfight. Like she was a teething puppy, Aerum only snapped at your fingers, catching them between her teeth before she started laughing loudly when you let out an over-exaggerated sound of pain.

With a loud gasp, Jeno picked up Aerum to throw her up into the air, securely catching the screeching toddler to bury his face in her tummy, inhaling her clean puppy scent. “Daddy!” She screeched, the sound loud in Jeno’s sensitive ears, but he was used to it after having two children with little to no volume control. “You’re not supposed to bite, little one,” he playfully scolded her, acting like he was taking a big bite from her belly. “No, Daddy!” She giggled, wiggling in his grip. “Be nice to your Mommy,” Jeno chuckled, throwing his daughter into the air again before securing her on his hip. “Understood?” He added, gently flicking her fluffy ear. “Always nice,” Aerum argued and stuck out her tongue. “Sticking out your tongue at your Daddy isn’t nice, young lady.”

Ignoring her dad’s comment, Aerum only stuck her tongue out further. “Oh, you’re going to regret this, young lady,” Jeno playfully threatened her, “I’ll give you five seconds to put that away. One- Two- Three~ Four~ Five! That’s it!” With a loud scream from his daughter, Jeno secured her against his chest before dropping down on the sofa, roughly scenting her until her loud laugh turned into sweet giggles, and she gently copied Jeno’s movements, rubbing their noses together. “Missed you, Daddy,” Aerum whispered, throwing her chubby arms around Jeno’s neck. “I’m sorry, princess,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her too. “Daddy sometimes gets lost in his work,” you explained, sorting out Jeno’s hair before you started scratching his ears. “That’s boring,” Aerum pouted. “That’s what adults do, princess,” Jeno smiled lopsidedly, “We sometimes have to do boring stuff.” “Don’t wanna be an adult.” “You don’t have to be for a long time, princess,” you giggled, kissing the side of her head. “Come here,” Jeno smiled, “Cuddle time.” Mirroring his smile, you squeezed yourself next to your boyfriend onto the narrow sofa, letting Aerum nuzzle into your neck like she was scenting you.

“You know what?” Jeno asked after a while. “Hmm?” “It’s awfully quiet.” Staying silent, you listened for noises in your apartment, and Jeno was right. It was awfully quiet for a home with two young children. “This isn’t good,” you concluded, getting up from the sofa. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Aerum asked shyly, her big eyes wide. “Nothing, princess,” Jeno reassured her, his hand finding its way into her hair to scratch at her ears, a safe method for any of the puppies in the household to melt.

“Haneul?” You called out but to no avail. Your son stayed quiet. Honestly, you should give him credit since that was one of the hardest things for him to do. “He’s in my room,” Jeno answered in place of his son, his ears twitching as he picked up sounds way too quiet for you to hear. Groaning, you rolled your eyes. “He knows he’s not supposed to be in there without either of us. I’ll go get him.”

“Is he in trouble?” Aerum whispered, pulling Jeno’s attention away from eavesdropping. “No, princess,” Jeno sighed, hugging her against his chest, “But-” He interrupted himself to kiss her forehead, “You know you’re not allowed in Daddy’s room without Mom or me.” “I know,” the little pup pouted, “Because there’s boring adult stuff.” “That’s right, princess,” he chuckled, pinching her chubby cheeks in an onslaught of cute aggression.

“Jeno?” You called out. “Huh?” He called back, sitting up with Aerum on his lap. “Get your fucking son.” Before Jeno could even react to you cursing in front of your children, he heard Haneul barreling towards the living room. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” Haneul repeated the curse word, jumping on the sofa before he went off to run around the kitchen island, which luckily featured rounded corners and Haneul had been wearing grippy socks since an incident he had when he was three that included a trip to the hospital and a concussion. “What happened?” “Remember that redbull on your desk?” You groaned, tiredly rubbing your face, simply stepping out of the doorframe to let your son run down the hallway. “No.” “Yes.” You responded with a tight-lipped smile. “Fuck.” “Ehehehehehhe, fuuuck,” Haneul all but howled, jumping onto the sofa again to grab his sister, who only giggled and started jumping up and down with him. “You’re dealing with this,” you concluded.

“Pups,” Jeno tried to get their attention, “You’re going to hurt yourselves.” But it was to no avail. His pups weren’t listening and because Haneul had yet to understand that he was much bigger and stronger than his sister, he roughly tackled her onto the cushions. But before Jeno’s heart could stop, Aerum’s loud laughter cut through the living room and she was fighting back dirty; gripping onto her brother’s heavily wagging tail to get him to stop roughing her up.

“Pups,” Jeno tried again, gripping Haneul at the back of his shirt to pull him off of his sister. Instead of going limp like he always did when he was younger, Haneul wound himself out of Jeno’s grip and slapped his little hand onto his bicep. “Tag, you’re it!” Before Jeno could process anything, Haneul was up on his feet, dragging Aerum up and out through the screen door and into the garden.

When Jeno sat there frozen and with his eyes wide, you could just giggle: “You wanted another one.” “I did,” he sighed. “Daaaaaaad!” Haneul called from the outside, “You can’t catch us!” “Go play with them. I’ll get started on dinner,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “They’re going to sleep well tonight,” he promised, softly kissing you again.

“Stop being gross!” Aerum interrupted this time, her face and hands pressed against the big and formerly clean windows. “Go run, little Lady,” Jeno growled playfully and in turn, Aerum let out an excited little yip as she ran further into the big garden. With a smile on his lips and his tail wagging with barely concealed excitement, Jeno pulled on his shoes, delighted to hear his pups squeal when he closed the screen door behind himself.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

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violetscanfly · 1 year

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I doodled a bunch of a little mermaid au stuff last night with no intention to post it but now I'm posting it anyway and making it your problem

This is not even all of it, gonna post the rest later

Gonna ramble about this under the cut cause even tho it started as I wanna draw wwx as merfolk it somehow developed somewhat of a plot??

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

So the beginning is pretty self explanatory but some background stuff would be the Jiang and Wen are merfolk but the Wen were discovered by humans and hunted down to just the remnants that wwx protects in canon, and the Jiang (and presumably other underwater clans I haven't thought about) also shun the Wen remnants and blame them for being discovered. Wwx disagreed with the others about the Wen being responsible of their own demise and left the Jiang to live with them. They aren't in danger anymore though, otherwise wwx wouldn't just fuck off to the surface even if he would come back.

The Lan, Jin and Nie clans are human and the characters hold similar social statuses as in canon. (Also I was just drawing with no idea about the world and just wanting to forward the story and the clothes definitely reflect that being western but the hairstyles being from canon and the Lans still having their ribbons and such.)

Wwx meets and saves lwj similar to the mousehouse version, but him turning human doesn't involve a third party or a time limit because his goal isn't to be human full time. He does a ritual that turns him human but it requires a sacrifice in exchange and he gives his voice. He can turn back at will but if he does he'll have to do the ritual all over again to change into a human again. His voice also returns when he's in his original form.

Wwx has seen lwj before saving him and has a little crush and after saving him he finds lwj's ribbon floating around in the ocean and not knowing the importance of it takes it as a lil memento of him. (Hence lwj in the sketches not having it.)

Also the merfolk are a lot more fishy than the average fairytale mermaids, with having gills, webbed hands etc, and due to gills wwx can't stay above the surface for long unless he's neck deep in water, same with speaking, he can speak above the surface for a bit until he runs out of air.

So after lwj finds human!wwx on the beach thinking he's been washed up from a shipwreck he brings wwx home and they find ways to communicate, he teaches wwx to write and they both learn sign language together and go on cute dates and have a good time and fall in love. Lxc is happy for his little brother but also worried because their uncle had been planning on an engagement for lwj and mm and is not happy about wwx suddenly popping up.

That's about it around these drawings, there'll be more to come later. This turned out way longer than I thought but if you read the whole thing I hope you had fun.

#mdzs #mdzs fanart #mdzs mermaid au #fanfic #comic #tho not fully either lmao #wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #mo dao zu shi fanart #mo dao zu shi #mxtx fanart #mxtx #artists on tumblr #violetscanfly

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

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lovearthur · 2 months

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‘Ello~ :D hope you are well and I want to say that I like reading your stuff, it’s very nice and entertaining when I’m bored at school

Anyway, um, I do have a request (I offer a side quest :3) and you can write it or not, I won’t mind it at all

Something along the lines of “Reader somehow gets lost and is stranded out in the wilderness, scared of a lot of things and nearly dies when Arthur shows up and take them back to camp”

Again, can write it, or not ._. I won’t mind it at all and respect your decision :3

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒈𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! gn!reader . arthur is taller than reader, reader is a crybaby . age gap(?) . maybe ooc arthur . gunshot mention . not proofread

vazey was an 1800s term for stupid im sure,, correct if im wrong too!!

u wouldn't go back home, not back to emerald ranch, anyway. you hated that little town with every fibre of ur being. it had no opportunity for u or that u liked, really. ur mother passed away when u were young, leaving only u and ur father. yet, he did well raising u, turning out to be quite the goody-two shoes. until he passed away a few months ago. it was always the good folk that died young. and oh, how u missed them dearly every day.

now in ur early 20s, u were keen to help out with Seamus's farm, u also knew he had some... business going on there too but you barely had any more inclination of anything more. but the other people that helped out? they were mean to u. so, so mean. they had more experience, calling u vazey every chance they got, even if u did majority of the work. every mean comment would have ur eyes glossed with tears, and u? u were a sensitive soul. a crybaby.

only now that u realised u were lost in the wilderness. and u were terrified, already spent the last savings for food but that was gone by now. u were even more terrified to ur core knowing that u were on the run from a small gang of outlaws who were known as the o'driscoll boys. they were a mean bunch. an evil bunch, even. terrorising anyone that crossed their path and this time, it was u. and u were helpless. they were no match for u.

"n-no, please! i don't want any trouble, jus' please- let me go!" u said with a shaky breath, tears running down ur cheeks as u met their gaze before u were harshly pushed to the ground. but of course, the o'driscolls were the type of men to take what they want, when they want.

"nah, yer quite the fine thing we got ahold of.. lucky fer us, 'course." he purred, his friens laughing as they stood behind him. oh, u felt powerless, the tears continuously dripping down ur face from fear and panic, ur heart was even pounding a lot more than before. u had no idea how u were getting out of this, if u were getting out of this. as u squeezed ur eyes shut preparing urself for the worst to come... but it didn't. but u immediately covered ur eyes after hearing gunshots fright in front of u. there was alot of grunting, gunshots and knives being thrown.

u finally opened ur eyes, immediately backing up till u hit a tree as u met the gaze of a burly-looking man. he had fre cts and bruises and yet, he was kind to u, even if u were still panic-striken. poor soul. u looked rough, ur eyes were sensitive from those streaming tears, ur cheeks were all red and ur hair was a mess with ur clothes being all tattered. "hey now, it's alrigh'... i ain't gonna hurt ya." he said softly, despite the roughness in his tone. he held his hand out to help u up and u hesitantly took his hand - calloused from years of hard work.

"do ya have a place where ya could go? it ain't safe bein' out in alone." he asked, he was concerned for ur safety. especially after seeing how those men treated u. "not.. really, i ran away 'cause i didn't like it there- 'nd i don't wanna go back there either." u said with ur voice laced with fear. u began to fidget with ur hands as he stood there, thinking for a moment. he was so tall, he had to be 6 foot u thought. u have never seen him before so he might be a hunter? or a traveller of sorts? and then he spoke.. "how 'bout ya come with me to a camp, jus' fer a little bit 'nd ye can decide what ye wanna do?" he asked, looking down at u with a decided look on his face. then u thought for a moment, thinking. what could possibly go wrong? u looked up to him with a nod.

next thing u know he guided u to his horse, Broody. he made sure u were okay with him touching u before he lifted u off the ground, placing u on his horse to take u back to the camp he was talking about. "what's yer name?" *he asked as he got on his horse. "y/n." u gave a quick response, feeling ur guard coming down bit by bit. "y/n... 'm arthur. arthur morgan." he replied, giving a little bow of his head before turning around to face where he was going.

"nice to meet ya, mr morgan." u say, almost like a whisper.

hi anon!! hope ur doing well nd that u liked this! this was exciting for me to do nd it was in the drafts for a long while,, u gotta love arthur morgan<3

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #i love arthur morgan #hes such a sweetheart #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic

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l0serloki · 1 year

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bro i’m not even gonna anon idc, can i ask nicely, kindly (only if you want to ofc) for cassidy being jealous?

tysm <3

Jealous OW Character HCs

(Cassidy, Moira, Kiriko, Hanzo)

CW : GN!Reader, mentions of anxiety (Kiriko), Hanzo with some control issues (not overbearing though, dw)...

A/N : SAY LESS!!! I got you ;^)

Cassidy :

I feel like he won’t outright admit it but you can definitely tell

“I ain’t even jealous. Don’t got a single jealous bone in my body.” (He proceeds to glare at the man who just talked to you)

He gets pretty handsy when he’s jealous and will butt into the conversation you’re having

“Yeah.. Well I need Y/N! Do ya mind?” (They better not mind if they don’t want a fight)

He drags you off and just talks about random stuff to fill the awkward silence. He does NOT wanna talk about it.

“You were jealous.” “Nah. You can kiss me to make up for it though.” “I swear to god Cass-”

Just kiss him and make him feel special LMAO

The new recruit kept going on and on with praises and thank yous for saving his life. You waved them off, saying it was just all part of the job. You could tell he was a little awestruck, still being new to the job. You had been kind enough but he was getting a little annoying. Thankfully your hero in shining cowboy boots was here for the rescue.

“Do ya’ mind? I need to take Y/N. Mission talk and all that.” Cassidy raises an eyebrow at the guy, waiting for a response. The kid puts his hands up in defeat and murmurs a no. Cass just hummed in acceptance, hand gripping at your wrist. You could only grin when you saw the red flush of his face, pulling you out of the room.

As soon as you were out of hearing distance, you began teasing the man.

“Is someone embarrassed and jealous? Think some recruit is gonna beat my love for you?” You rubbed circles in his hand as he scoffed in denial.

“Nah, I’m always better. And I am not embarrassed! Or jealous for that matter! Now.. Give me a kiss. I love ya’ too!”

Moira :

My gal’s a MENACE

“Oh.. Is this your.. Friend?” She looks them up and down and gives them the most disgusted look.

You have to smack her in the side to behave and she just rolls her eyes

“I was just trying to make conversation, dear.”

The person walks away and Moira just continues to ask questions about them, moreso concerned as to why you would talk to them.

“Baby, I’m not some god-” “You could be though.” “For the last time I’m not doing that experiment!”

One of Moira’s lab assistants had brought her younger sister in for the day. You had done whatever you could to appease her curiosity and keep her entertained while the other two were off doing lord knows what.

“So then you-”

“Who.. is this? A friend of some sort?” Moira’s voice boomed from behind you, making you jump.

“Moi! You about scared me to death. This is your assistant's sister. She was just visiting the lab.” You explained and the woman nodded.

“Yes, well, dear girl, your sister is already on her way to the car. You best be off.” Her demanding presence made the other girl quake, practically booking it.

Your girlfriend turned to go brew herself a coffee, letting out an awkward cough.

“You are worth more than just being a measly tour guide, you know. You should’ve told me that little mouse was on the premises.”

You could only roll your eyes at her protectiveness, sighing.

“Moira, there’s no need for that. She was kind! I am not THAT special.”

“Then you do not perceive what I do, dear.” Her genuine smile lit up your heart, leaning in to give her a kiss.

Kiriko :

She’s not THAT jealous but you can tell she’s a little put off

She acts normal and nice but the second they walk away she’s gonna be all over you

“Kir, not here.” “Oh please, they need to know their place.” (Sly bastard)

She definitely won’t let the two of you move until she gets a bunch of kisses ;^)

“See, it was that simple babe!”

The festival was packed and you shuffled between the people in search of your girlfriend. You felt the anxiety wavering at your body, pulling off to the side.

“Oh dear, are you alright? Can I get you a drink?” A younger woman at the stall next to you questioned, her eyes softening. You nodded at the generosity, thanking her as she passed you some water.

“Y/N! Oh, Y/N! I thought I lost you there. Are you alright?” Kiriko had pushed the woman out of the way, checking to see if you were okay. You nodded and sent an apologetic glance to the other woman. She just shrugged and smiled, continuing to selling her vendor foods.

Kiriko’s eyes gazed between the two of you and shook her head, hands rubbing up and down your arms. You could tell she was a little offput by the woman, hands gripping at you a bit tighter than usual.

“Iko, why don’t we go home?” You whispered and she nodded, lips melting to your cheek.

“Anything my little troublemaker wants.”

Hanzo :

“I do not get jealous, you belong to me.”

He tells himself that and then five minutes later you find the other guy with a black eye

“I know you beat him up.” “You are losing it.”

I feel like Hanzo has a lot of control issues, not in an obsessive way, he just really doesn’t want to lose you. He will do whatever it takes to keep you safe!

Just have a conversation with him in bed, he’ll admit to it while he’s tired. Otherwise, good luck getting it out of him!

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hanzo’s gruff voice lilted in denial, face scrunched in anger. You could only snort, hand rubbing against his bicep. The whole night he had refused to admit that he was jealous. You were having a casual conversation with Cassidy when he had gotten back from his mission, waiting in the corner for you to be finished. Truth be told, it was more like pouting in the corner from lack of attention. Usually when he had got off the jet you were waiting like a puppy to pounce on him - but not this time!

“You just wanted attention and were jealous of Cass!” You teased at him again and he rolled over, back facing you in the bed. Running your hand across his torso, you snuggled into the taut muscles.

“I don't need attention. I was not jealous.. Just.. Waiting for you to be done.” He murmured, voice tired with defeat. You only hummed, smirk getting wider.

“Whatever you say, Hanzo.”

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crabonfire · 2 years

Text

Mercs + Pauling when they develop a crush on you :)

warnings: none

characters: all mercs + ms pauling

note: you are the 10th class, any class u wanna be but yea!

♡Scout♡

• hopeless romantic.

• he wants every single mission with you, he just wants to be around you at all times. he's a nervous wreck though! needs help a ton.

• "Hey hey hey-let me carry that for ya toots! Let big strong Scout here handle this ;)"

• he LOVES making you laugh, you make him dumber, way dumber.

• it would be obvious he likes you!

• hes much more gentle around you? let me explain. with everybody else, he loves to pull pranks on them, maybe mess with them a bit and be a bit loud and aggressive. that's just how he is right? But with you, he's much more quiet much more careful and gentle. He loves to just sit with you sometimes after a tough match, handing you a drink as you both just be in each others presence, he treats you like you both are the only person on earth.

♡Soldier♡

• obviously in love typa romantic.

• he compliments you on your work frequently! Whether it's saving him from a sniper or getting a headshot, he commends you for anything you do! One time, you scored all points all match and he was so happy that he carried you on your shoulder while the others cheered for you. "EVERYBODY, THIS IS HOW A TRUE AMERICAN FIGHTS!" it doesn't even matter where your from he just says he's proud of you for your contribution to America lmao its funny but also endearing.

• "WOAH THERE PRIVATE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET ME CARRY THAT FOR YOU."

• he loves to just be with you in battle, showing off how many people he can kill with his rocket launcher and DEFINITELY insists on rocket jumping with you.

• he's very aggressive with his love to you, and whenever you speak to him he gets quiet for once and just listens to you ramble. he loves your voice.

• Demoman is a great wingman for him, telling you all sorts of cool things about him and how stupid he can be, just to get a laugh out of you and make you like him more even if by a tiny bit. Soldier is very appreciative of this.

♡Pyro♡

• giddy and obviously likes you romantic.

• OH MAN he's so clingy.

• the moment he realises he likes you, blatantly just rambles on about how much he loves you and how he wants to be your boyfriend.

• "Hhuda!! hujddha mmhfh hhdhhdhf hhuda!!! mmfh hhhda hudda mmhh??" (Y/N!! I LOVE YOU Y/N!! CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND??")

"woah woah pyro, I can't understand you if your speaking so fast! Slow down buddy!"

• he will be practically like a parasite, clinging onto your arm when he can and drawing sweet drawings of you when he misses you, honestly super duper cute. engineer is the only one who can understand him, and is the only one who listens to his rambles about you.

• "gee pyro, ya really like this person don't cha?" Engineer says, as pyro aggressively nods.

• he loves doing stuff for you, and probably messes up a lot but HE STILL MAKES UP FOR IT! by hugging you a ton for no reason.

• with him, you are sure to smile everyday. he does silly little gestures and anything to make you content.

♡Demoman♡

• smooth romantic.

• he's much less drunk around you. you don't know why, but he does it so that he can remember the sweet moments you two have together.

• does a bunch of sweet romantic stuff for you sober, like flirts a TON even on battle.

• loves swinging over to wherever you are just to see you and talk to you, like you could be writing documents and he'd walk in with a cup of tea and a cup full of vodka and go, "Still workin' eh? Here, got ya some tea."

• when he's drunk, he purposely goes to you do you take care of him and make sure he doesn't do something dumb. he just loves how caring you can be :) expect him to lean into you a lot, whether it's be leaning on your shoulder, on your back and accidentally falling asleep on you, he'd lean on you when he can.

• Soldier practically doesn't understand why he doesn't just flat out confess, but he's an absolute unit of a wingman. "HEY Y/N, DID YOU KNOW THAT TAV IS LOADED? YES, HES RICH!" He's a bit embarrassed, but he loves his support.

♡Heavy♡

• you can't even tell he likes you, but will be very subtle type of romantic.

• he doesn't show it by words,no no he shows it by his actions.

• he insists on doing work for you, ranging from tiny chores to "Ah, is little Y/N okay..? Man bother Y/N...I see. No worry Y/N, I will deal with man. Is no problem."

• he gives you his food, even if your not in battle. he always makes sure your in tip top shape!

• even though he's a very secluded and intelligent man, unlike others may think he is not ashamed of his feelings. He knows it is normal to have a crush, even if it may be a bit unprofessional I think out-of all of them he'd know that his feelings are pretty common. I mean cmon, you? Of course he'd fall for you. It's...it's you were talking about.

• is by your side when he can, like demo he will visit you at random times to make sure your okay. likes to eat with you, just being with you is nice.

♡Engineer♡

• not so obvious he likes you, but is a mess internally when your around.

• he casually compliments you at first, but the more you are used to it, he flirts with you. Even using petnames for you.

• "Hey sugar, noticed ya were feelin' down...ya wanna talk about it?"

• he's so sweet it gives you cavities. he will lessen his time in his workshop just so he can talk to you more, and he loves showing you his blue prints because he knows you'd pay attention. Your the person he fell in love with after all, and the Engineer doesn't just fall in love with anybody.

• gives you tons of little trinkets. sometimes not even robot related, once you were feeling super sad he made you a ring out of left over metal he found that had a heart engraved into it. "I made this for ya sugar, just somethin' I whipped up a couple days ago. I hope ya like it :)"

• on the outside, he's a sweet and charming feller. on the inside? partner he is NERVOUS!

• he's thinking about you a lot to the point it distracts him in work, and yet for once he's happy with a distraction knowing that it's you who won't get out of his mind. do you look both ways when you cross his mind? he wonders.

• smiles a lot randomly, Pyro will notice and nag him about it ALLL day until he finally tells him. When he finds out Engie has a crush on you? HES SO HAPPY FOR HIM!! clapping his hands as he runs to tell you that engineer likes you.

• he thanks the stars above that you can't understand him, because he's so embarrassed when Pyro told you "HHUDA HHUDA! HHHHUDFDA JHHHAD MMHS!!" (Y/N Y/N!! ENGINEER LOVES YOU!!"

"Pahro! Stop yer naggin'! Sorry Y/N, he's a bit excited today." His blush is engraved in his face rn, don't look please he's embarrassed.

• overall just a sweet guy, he likes to hold your hand sometimes by accident and he'll apologise profusely. But when you tell him it's okay, he does it all the damn time.

♡Medic♡

• god save us all type of romantic.

• MAKES UP EXCUSES FOR YOU TO BE IN MEDBAY, RAMBLES ABOUT YOU TO HIS DOVES, HAS A FOLDER DEDICATED TO YOU AND WRITES ABOUT HOW CUTE YOU ARE WHEN HE DOES CHECKUPS ON YOU, WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY?

• god he's always in his medbay but sometimes instead of taking breaks he goes to you and talks to you about something he figured out.

• loves rambling to you and listening to your rambles, so so excited.

• "Oh Y/N! Jou have just come at zhe right time! Come come, I have much to show jou!"

• he NEVER even considers doing any of his experiments on you, even if your willing he is scared he might hurt you. though he does appreciate the fact your willing to, unlike his past patients.

• archimedes will coo to you, you won't understand anything but from the blush on Medic's cheeks it's obvious he's saying something sweet. "Archimedes jou shut jour beak! I am very sorry, he is very annoying today."

• he is accidentally very touchy without realising! Sometimes holding your hands by accident due to excitement, or patting your head when you say goodbye to leave for a bit, it's not until you point it out is when he gets embarrassed and apologises.

• just down horrendous for you.

♡Sniper♡

• "Oh shit...I like them." Type of romantic.

• IS IN SUCHHH DENIAL. but eventually deals with it because he ain't 10 no more.

• spends much more time with you, more talkative than he is with anyone.

• invites you to his camper? he doesn't really know anything romantic other than having time with you at his camper.

• "Hey Sheila, ya ok? ya look a bit down in the dumps. Somethin' happen to ya love?" expect anybody who bothered you pronounced dead the next day, closed casket and everything 💀💀

• will rant to you and hear rants from you, he's much more open with you, even if by a tiny bit.

• will get you weird and exotic gifts. a bracelet made out of crystallised flowers?? how is that even a thing?? but also woah thank you.

• cooks for you, he usually does a simple breakfast for himself but when your around for lunch he makes one for you as well :)

• "Here ya go love! made by yours truly, heh."

• not obvious he likes you but with his sweet gestures you get it soon enough.

♡Spy♡

• all the types of romantic. every single one of them.

• casually flirts with you, then bringing you gifts that cost more than your salary.

• hes a tease. makes fun of you for stuff but always means it in a sweet way.

• he's such a romantic guy honestly I don't have much to say about him crushing because he probably will just outright tell you when the time is right.

• spends time with you as much as he can, and shows off sooo much in battle just like his son.

• he will do subtle touches like placing an arm around your waist or placing a hand on your shoulder, he's a touchy guy for sure.

• "Mon chou, let me get that for you."

♡Ms Pauling♡

• "Oh god I have a crush on them oh no." Type of romantic.

• she was never one to focus on her love life at all, so she is dumbfounded when she realises how much she enjoys you.

• after the realisation, she's more nervous around you, try as she might it's hard for her to be professional.

• she loves giving you easy contracts, just so she knows you wouldn't be hurt in the process.

• when she's over, she talks to you a lot going over stuff asking how you've you've feeling.

• "Hey Y/N! How has your stay been here? Good? That's great to hear! Look um..if you have anything that's not to your liking I am one phone call away, I wanna make sure your always comfortable at the base."

• her love language is definitely acts of service.

• she stammers on her words, she sweats sometimes around you, oh boy she is shy around you. but in the end, it probably won't take a while for her to tell you she likes you because she just wants to hear your answer.

• your always distracting her, it's crazy! get out of her head, Y/N!

Yayyyyy I'm done 😈😈

Sorry if some were shorter than others, but don't worry I'm making a follow up where they confess to you so yeah! I hope u enjoyed xx ♡

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ashdash2417 · 4 months

Text

K, y’all. Can we talk about the abandonment issues Uzi may have?

(The info I’m about to share is just my thoughts on all this. I could be right on some parts, and I could be wrong. Again, I’m just sharing what I think based on stuff we’ve seen from the series. Anyways.)

What inspired me to make this was this very moment right here.

“Are you like, gonna leave me?”

You can tell by her voice that she was scared. Scared that the only friend she’s ever had, the only friend that she’s made her whole life was going to leave her, and it certainly didn’t help that N and V got along well with the other students. Doing some activities together, having fun, playing around and stuff.

I think seeing this, this was the starting point of that fear in this episode. (I’m a little certain that in general, this may go back as early as the first episode, but I’ll talk about that in a bit.)

Here’s that fear she shows after investigating a little bit in the cabin, watching her closest friend get along and interacting with her classmates, despite having been a literal killing machine. And to add salt to the wound, he did so in such a short time. Something that she herself has never really accomplished the whole time she’s been in school.

Some jealousy may also be shown because of this, as she was talking to V, who was also doing well interacting with her classmates.

“Just.. so glad you guys fit right in. Suuuper cool.”

As we all know, Uzi certainly isn’t the most popular girl in school (which btw… relatable imo). In fact, Rebecca had said that she was “super unpopular” when she (well, the top half of her anyways, hehe) reunited with a few drones, whom I’m assuming are her friends.

Uzi doesn’t fit in. She’s like an outcast to her classmates. The “freak” of the bunch. She stands out from the rest of them.

“… You freak us out.”

“But mostly bite me!”

(I’m sorry, I wanted to include that second part here, whether it was relevant or not pfbt. Anyways.)

And it’s not just her classmates that practically outcasted her. Hell, her own father left her to be murdered by the same kind of drone that took away his wife (well, technically, the same kind of drone that struck her with nanite acid, leading to him putting her out of her misery, according to himself from the pilot, but anyways). Now, he may have been too terrified to take action and save his own daughter, possibly reliving the trauma of what happened to Nori. He probably couldn’t fathom having to do the same thing he did to his wife to Uzi. But it still does not justify leaving her, his own daughter, for dead. That is a really shitty dad move there, Khan.

(Or I could be overthinking on that part, and Khan could just be a really shitty father, but anyways)

The way Uzi may have taken it, was that he prioritized his precious doors over her. Having put up more doors to keep himself, and everyone else in the bunker, safe from drones like N. She wasn’t important enough to be saved at the moment she needed him most. Her father- the one who’s supposed to have her back, no matter what happened, the one who’s supposed to protect her whenever things go from bad to worse- had left her to be killed by a murder drone. (Possibly, I’m just spitballin here)

Once this happened, Uzi now has no one she can really trust to stick with her, no one she can rely on for support. She has no friends, barely has family; her father isn’t much like a father to her at all, let’s be honest.

(I would say Thad is the only one she kinda had, but if I remember correctly, they barely knew each other to be considered close friends in the pilot. The only reason Thad knew Uzi (or knew of Uzi) was because she’s Khan’s daughter. That was it.)

(Another thing I wanna add is how neglectful as a father Khan has been, even before the pilot. Hell, the posters that we see can speak volumes of how their relationship is. Not to mention he’s never really spent much (if any) quality time with her, too busy focusing on his obsession with doors.)

(One more thing to add: remember when Uzi told Thad one of the reasons she made her sick as hell railgun was to earn her father’s respect? …That’s just another point I wanna make about the infamous Doorman and how well he’s raised his daughter.) :)

So yeah, Uzi never really had anyone close to her in her life, meaning that she didn’t have anyone to trust, either.

Until this goober shows up.

(Or more like, he was about to kill her until she blew his head off, but that’s not the point.)

Of course, we all know they didn’t become best friends right away. Because he’s a disassembly drone, and she’s a worker drone, and… yeah.

If it wasn’t for Khan backing away from the fight and closing the door on Uzi, Uzi probably would’ve been dead right then and there. N probably would’ve killed her and everyone else without much of a second thought. However!

Considering how he told Uzi about V and J, he didn’t have the best relationship with either of them. (his crush on V seemed one-sided, at least in that flashback where V’s character was introduced? And J just straight up insulting him while stepping on him, and talking about how she’d kill him if she were allowed to.) He didn’t seem to have anyone to consider a friend either, at least mutually. For the longest time, it was just N, V, and J, doing their jobs, working together on killing the worker drones and such.

Then, what Uzi said to him about how the company treats the drones had created some doubts. N never questioned JCJenson and their motives until Uzi came along. And because of that, he almost died via a virus put in by J.

Then, after Uzi saves him from dying, and after they both stop V and J from killing the worker drones, N still stood by her side. N has never given her a reason not to trust him after that. He’s been with her the whole time after Uzi banished herself, and he’s never left her like the other drones have.

I’m thinking, after Uzi had banished herself from the colony, N could have left her on her own, he could’ve refused to let her go with him and V back to the landing pod, but he didn’t. (Not only because Uzi had encouraged him to look at the bigger picture, so to speak, but it also would’ve been out of character for N of all people (or robots in this case lol) to just deny her of joining the squad. He’s such a goddamn softy, let’s be real here.)

(Also, I wanna point out that from N’s perspective, she was the one who encouraged him to become an “angsty, rebellious disassembly drone” in the first place. If it wasn’t for her, he would never even question why they’re killing worker drones to begin with (other than to consume the oil for survival, of course). If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be out murdering. She was the one who respected him more than V or J ever did combined. (Well, in V’s case, this would be after her memories became messed up anyways. She did seem to like him when they were worker drones themselves.))

So yeah, this whole time, N has been the only one Uzi had ever really had throughout the series. N has been the only one that didn’t treat her like a freak, nor had insulted or threatened her in any way (lookin at you, V!). And most importantly, he was the only one that never left her at all. He stood by her side, he had her back, and she had his, and they stuck together, especially through the scary stuff.

So going back to episode 4, that was the first time since they’ve met that they were really separated. And the one time they weren’t with each other, Uzi had taken her solver form for the first time, and had killed her own classmates as a result.

Had N been with her while she was investigating stuff, chances of Uzi taking her solver form happening probably would’ve been really low.

Hell, this whole thing probably happened because she was alone, because nobody was with her, and she didn’t want to be left alone again, and she was scared that she was going to be left alone again after seeing N interact with the other students!

TLDR: Uzi probably has abandonment issues, and was scared the only friend she has was going to leave her like everyone else had in her life.

I wanted to make a long rant about this because it’s been on my mind off and on for a while, especially after hearing Uzi’s voice when she asks N if he’s going to leave her (god that really hurts!), and as sucky as I am with words, I wanted to try anyways. Hope y’all enjoyed. 😁😅 (and now to end this on a lil lighter note, here’s an image of a robot huggy)

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lovelymessybubbly · 6 months

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helloooo my amazing tamadachi !!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆ it has been a while hasn’t it ??? i hope everyone is doing well. i am refreshed and eager to get back to sharing my art with you all as well as creating content for you !!! ˚‧*♡ॢ˃̶̤̀◡˂̶̤́♡ॢ*‧˚

there are a couple changes that i would like to make apparent to everyone; some of these are just for while i am getting back into things, and others are for the foreseeable future.

first off… i know i have always labelled my blog as a sfw place. i am revoking that title but i am NOT planning to release any nsfw content. i just do not want anyone getting the wrong ideas (ෆ ͒•∘̬• ͒)◞ i like tickling in a variety of ways and i kind of want to steer away from policing what i create. obviously some of my art is quite intimately-driven so i do not want to have to water down any of that stuff, since, well, it is what i like lol (∗ᵕ̴᷄◡ᵕ̴᷅∗)՞ not to mention, i am an adult. i curse, talk about sex and drugs sometimes. so i do not want anyone getting surprised by that thinking “sfw” meant it would be completely clean. but i also frequently get in the mood for light and fluffy tickling too, so… i just do not want to put any walls around my blog. if you enjoy tickling in any way shape or form, i want to welcome you here (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

i have a pretty strong grasp on my ability to maintain parasocial relationships with a good level of distance, so i am not adding any interaction limits or dni. if i am uncomfortable speaking with you i will let you know ┐(´∇｀)┌ otherwise, if you wanna chat and you are under 18, that is fine. just please be aware of the underlying circumstances and exercise caution. like i said before, i am an adult. i have no qualms interacting with the younger ones here because i have no interest in engaging with inappropriate topics or activities with them, so i know i am not gonna be a danger. but if my age makes YOU uncomfortable, then you are gonna have to make that call.

tags are also already pretty well divided and filtered at this point but i may make a couple changes and update them on my pinned post.

basically, tags are going to be your way of safely interaction with my blog. if you want to keep the more sensual or intense stuff out of your feed, please make sure you have reviewed my list of tags and have applicable ones blocked ♫꒰･‿･๑꒱

secondly !!

i will be a little less interactive as i ease back into it; so prob answering less asks, dms may be responded to at a slow rate (๑ˊȫॢˋ)॰∘☼ as well, content will not be pumped out like maybe it was before lol. but just give me some time to get back into the swing of things, kay ???

i have a bunch of drafts saved and i cannot wait to start reblogging all the amazing art and fics you all have been makingヽ(o^―^o)ﾉ requests and commissions are still closed for now but please feel free to drop in and say hi.

to the ticklish times ahead !!! ｀;:゛;｀;･(゜ε゜ )

#tamabijutsu #tamakucha shaberu #egg talk

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Call of Duty Bio Headcanons✦

(I know they have canon ages and heights and stuff, but listen. It's fiction, and I think I know better(/j). You can disagree, but these are my opinions. Also, obviously, not all of the info has changed.)

✧John Price✧

Age: 42 y.o Height: 6'2" Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: "Sexy-Is-Sexy" (Or Pansexual) Middle Name: Samuel Likes: Whiskey, vintage radios, old westerns, horses, & mint ice cream. Dislikes: Streaming services, cigarettes(ironic), spicy food, dust, & cottage cheese. Birthday: January 1st Zodiac: Capricorn -Trivia- -Allergic to cats and didn't know until he moved out because his mother had like, four. Grew up around them his entire childhood and was honestly devastated when he realized they make him sick cause he loves'em. -He was definitely a fuck boy in high school/college. Not an asshole one, he made his intentions up front and he was overall sweet, but he didn't wanna be tied down. Ironic given how he ended up wanting the exact opposite later on. -Wishes he took better care of his teeth as a kid. They look great now but he has five fillings in his molars and one (now replaced), silver tooth all the way in the back. Phobia: Amenisphobia; The fear of amnesia Neuro...: Neurotypical

✧Kyle "Gaz" Garrick✧

Age: 26 y.o Height: 6'0" Pronouns: He/Him (I heavily support the trans!Gaz HC) Sexuality: Bisexual w/ a male preference Middle Name: Dylin Likes: Hot chocolate, the smell of lavender, coconut, licorice toffee, & nostalgic music. Dislikes: Milk, politics(irony again), Winter, grocery shopping, & spiders. Birthday: September 5th Zodiac: Virgo -Trivia- -Second oldest of four children, the only boy. He's a family man when it comes to his siblings, but not so much when it comes to his parents. Barely present father and a stressed out mother create for a shaky relationship with them. -Cannot cook to save his life. Man lives off of delivery, MREs, and cup noodles. He knows like...four dishes, and most of them are really simple. -Struggles decorating and making outfits cause he likes tons of different aesthetics. Everything from Scene Kid(for his inner teen) to streetwear. His version of housed decor are a bunch of plants. (Fake so they don't die when he's on deployment) Phobia: Arachnophobia; fear of arachnids/spiders. Neuro...: Neurodivergent (Dyslexia)

✧Johnny "Soap" MacTavish✧

Age: 29 y.o Height: 5'8" Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Omnisexual Middle Name: Neil (heh) Likes: Knickknacks, loud music, punk aesthetic, chickens, & football(aka Soccer for us pathetic Americans). Dislikes: Silence, sitting still, vague answers, being told what to do, & big dogs. Birthday: August 12th Zodiac: Leo -Trivia- -Constantly on & off with a caffeine addiction. He'll do really good about just drinking water, then he'll have one energy drink and he's fucked it all up again. -The scar on his chin is from a dog, the scar in his eyebrow is from a fight he got in as a teenager. He got in a lot of trouble as a teen. -Borderline pyromaniac, honestly. Hyperfixated on fire as a kid and now he's really happy to be a bombtech. Bro loves blowing shit up. Phobia: Cynophobia; fear of dogs. Neuro...: Neurodivergent (ADHD, hyperlexia)

✧Simon "Ghost" Riley✧

Age: 36 y.o Height: 6'4" Pronouns: He/It (Using "it" makes him seem more ominous, which he thinks is fun) Sexuality: Gay or Homoflexible, demisexual/demiromantic probably Middle Name: Achilles Likes: Birds, alternative indie music, dark chocolate, Victorian architecture, & murder mystery books. Dislikes: Snakes, graveyards, the dark(when it's completely pitch black), 99% of physical touch, & fluorescent lights. Birthday: December 30th Zodiac: Capricorn -Trivia- -He'll never admit it but he loves babies. They're super tiny and super cute, and Simon's heart always melts when one's around. Alas, he's also terrified of scaring them or getting attached, so he avoids babies as best he can. Can't have people thinking he's soft. -Makes the best steak in Manchester. Sometimes his seasoning is bland but the meat itself is perfection, you won't find any better. Melts in your mouth every time. It's a steak equivalent of 6 orgasms. It IS an orgasm. He makes great fucking steak. -Isn't fond of pure silence like Soap, but he doesn't often wanna fill it with loud sounds. He has a playlist of softer, more instrumental songs for this. Or he'll listen to nature sounds. He likes quiet, just not silent. Phobia: Taphephobia; the fear of being buried alive. Neuro...: Neurodivergent (Autistic, dyscalculia)

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Age: 38 y.o Height: 5'11" Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual (Maybe Poly? He's not sure) Middle Name: N/A Likes: Hot drinks, the smell of roses, his nieces/nephews, physical affection, & cowboy hats. Dislikes: Sweaty palms, tourist-y Americans, caramel sauce, white-lies, & the feeling of glue. Birthday: March 25th Zodiac: Aries -Trivia- -Was with Valeria for awhile, but differences, stress, and Valeria discovering she was pretty gay broke them up. They had some tension, but he wasn't bitter towards her. Until she betrayed them, of course. -Was actually the last of his friend group to lose his virginity. He's a passionate, flirty man, but he's not throwing that kind of trust out willy-nilly. He had a few relationships but didn't reach that point until he was like, 19, about to turn 20. He asked a friend to share the moment with him. ...a close friend. -Cannot function in the cold at all. And his definition of cold is 21 degrees Celsius. (70 Fahrenheit for us Americans) He layers and complains all day, he's got a fuckin' heated blanket. A heated blanket owner in fucking MEXICO. Phobia: Coulrophobia; the fear of clowns Neuro...: Neurotypical

✧Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra✧

Age: 38 y.o Height: 5'9" Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual (Also maybe poly but he's very hesitant about it) Middle Name: N/A Likes: Ice baths, windchimes, baked sweets(mostly pie), clean handwriting, & naps on the couch. Dislikes: Cutting onions, heavy blankets, confrontation(with like, loved ones. Not on duty, obviously), slow walkers, & reptiles. Birthday: June 20th Zodiac: Gemini -Trivia- -Super good at singing, but he never does, because he's embarrassed. His mother would often encourage him to sing when he was younger at family gatherings, and now he cringes when someone hears him sing and comments on it. -His house is full of fans. Some rooms have more than one. They're running basically all the time, as well as the AC. Sometimes he has to get a family member to go home and turn them off when he's on a long mission. -He knew Alejandro before Alejandro knew him. When they were kids, Rudy was shy and had some problems with his health(exercise induced asthma mostly), so he didn't go out of his way to befriend other kids much. But he was a people watcher, and Alejandro was the most fun to watch. They actually met because one of Alejandro's friends pointed it out and called him creepy, only for Alejandro to defend him. Then they became super close friends! Phobia: Bufonophobia; the fear of toads Neuro...: Neurodivergent (Autistic, echolalia)

✧Valeria Garza✧

Age: 39 y.o Height: 5'7" Pronouns: She/It Sexuality: Sapphic Demiromantic Middle Name: N/A Likes: Expensive paintings, perfect nail-polish, sandalwood incense, lemon water, & flowers. Dislikes: Shaving, back-talk, tiny text on documents or books, chunky rings, & pineapple. Birthday: January 23rd Zodiac: Aquarius -Trivia- -Has a pull to religious imagery in a darker light because of religious trauma. Roman Catholicism is quite common in Mexico, but her parents were really heavy about it. To the point it makes Valeria bitter over it. She has a rocky relationship with God, but finds Mary comforting. Because when she was brought to church, but wanted to hide, she'd hide beside a Mary statue in a corner. -She has an odd sleep schedule. She often only gets four hours of sleep, but she doesn't seem to be tired at any point. In fact, the more sleep she gets, the more lethargic she is that day. -Her first girlfriend was when she was still in the military. A traveling medic from Italy. Unfortunately, the flame came and went thanks to the medic having to leave. Valeria has moved on, but she does mourn their lost time sometimes and has a little dream of meeting her again one day. Though she knows that's not practical. Phobia: Ecclesiophobia; the fear of church Neuro...: Neurotypical

✧Alex Keller✧

Age: 36 y.o Height: 6'1" Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Heteroflexible Middle Name: Sebastian (he's embarrassed about this) Likes: Golden retrievers, bad jokes, most seafood, provolone cheese, & hummus. Dislikes: Thanksgiving, the sound of rubbing styrofoam, being told to "do what he wants"(makes him feel aimless), tobacco smell, & overzealousness. (He likes simplicity...excluding his tattoos) Birthday: December 2nd Zodiac: Sagittarius -Trivia- -He doesn't really talk to his family excluding holidays. BUT, he will always keep in contact with his older sister, and his niece by proxy. They're the only two that made him feel wanted in his family. He wasn't abused in his mind, but he wasn't paid attention to much either. He always seemed overshadowed by something/someone, and as he got older, he got tired of feeling like an outcast in his own family. So he slowly drifted away and he goes on the guidance of orders he receives. -Probably born in a small town in a place like Utah. He's got small-town-mid-south manners. But I like to imagine he spent a lot of his time in California too, he seems like he'd enjoy the sun and the ocean. -Picks up languages really quick, somehow. At least, when he's around people that speak it. If he had to learn purely from books, he'd have choppy speech at best. He's fluent in English, Spanish, and Arabic. Also, knows a bit of ASL, but he's still working on that one. Phobia: Lilapsophobia; the fear of hurricanes/tornadoes Neuro...: Neurodivergent (Hyperlexia, SPD)

✧Farah Ahmed Karim✧

Age: 30 y.o Height: 5'5" Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Aliquaromantic Demi-Bisexual Middle Name: N/A Likes: Poppies, motorcycles, pretty much any food with chickpeas, super spicy stuff, and the sky at dusk. Dislikes: Overly salty things, riddles, genuine cockiness, the feeling of rust(that includes on spoons...), & long winded responses. Birthday: July 1st Zodiac: Cancer -Trivia- -Keeps her hair long despite the fact it's annoying to deal with sometimes. Purely for sentimental reasons. To her, it represents the growth she's had as a person. A far cry from the buzz-cut she was forced into when under someone else's control. So she refuses to cut it. -She will never use it, and she despises it, but she's semi-fluent in Russian. Being around it for so long made her pick it up. It works well if she needs to translate, but she'll be caught dead before she speaks Russian. -Honestly can't cook for shit. She doesn't know what the hell she's doing in the kitchen and basically relies on MREs or the skills of others. She's not a picky eater though, and she'll always finish what's put in front of her, even if she's not fond of it. Phobia: Agniophobia; fear of choking Neuro...: Neurotypical

✧Konig✧

Age: 28 y.o Height: 6'10" Pronouns: He/They Sexuality: Bisexual Middle Name: Obercht (Bonus)Last Name: Badubrecht Likes: Making bracelets, boxing(watching or doing), soda, heavy metal, & fresh bread. Dislikes: Certain kinds of wool, small cars, low doorframes, having to go to the medic, & the smell of hay. Birthday: March 9th Zodiac: Pisces -Trivia- -Was bullied all through high school for various things. His demeanor, his size, his hair(which was long), his cleft lip scar, etc. It took until he hit the largest growth spurt he ever had in secondary school when people began to stop poking fun, but instead avoid him. He maybe had 2-3 actual friends in his entire life before the military. And even now he mostly has acquaintances, not friends. -Doesn't talk to his mother, she was overbearing and cruel, mostly because Konig looks a lot like his father. He doesn't really talk to his father much because the man is hard to talk to. He's not completely cut off, but they are estranged. Konig's grandma hears from him almost every day, sometimes twice a day. She's a badass in her 90s who has never done him wrong, and he would blow up the entire world if anything happened to her. -Sometimes Konig gets comments that say he's got multiple personalities. (By uneducated people, clearly) Because he seems to switch dramatically between modes depending on time, place, and circumstance. Sometimes he's childish and giggly, cute even. Sometimes he's silent, unreadable, and withdrawn. And on the battlefield he's...inhuman, terrifying, and nothing short of bloodthirsty. Phobia: Equinophobia; the fear of horses. Neuro...: Neurodivergent (autistic)

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #modern warfare #captain john price #john price #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #konig call of duty #farah karim #alex keller #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #valeria el sin nombre garza #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #soap x gaz #headcanons #call of duty headcanons

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deadprompts · 6 months

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𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝟽 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

content warning applies. change any pronouns / wording if necessary.

you're either with us or you ain't.

you do the same damn stink eye as your dad

i'm not saving you anymore.

you should be dead.

i love a gal that takes me to dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out.

you're sitting over there talking outside both sides of your mouth.

i know i had to make a pretty strong first impression.

you’re lucky. don’t forget.

i just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable i am.

it's gonna be dark soon.

did you just threaten me?

you see, now i just think you're lying.

kid. i ain't gonna lie. you scare the shit out of me.

are you kiddin' me?

do soy sauce packets count as food?

i'm dealing in certainties, and i'm doing my part to give them what they want.

what'd he have? a knife?

i get why you did it.

i would not have messed with that guy!

hot diggity dog! this place is magnificent!

i don’t give a shit if you think you’ve found the secret to life.

if you keep thinking everyone's an enemy, then enemies are all you're gonna find.

let me give you some advice.

you should go before you find out how dangerous we really are.

that takes guts... and then there's you.

people want someone to follow.

same goes for you too right?

little pig, little pig, let me in!

i want you to think about what could've happened, think about what happened, and think about what can still happen.

don’t pretend you don’t know the score.

anyone wanna finish the game? come on! i was winning!

it ain’t just about getting by here. it’s about getting it all.

people can try and you set you in the right direction, but they can’t show you the way.

listen, i like you, so i don't want to go hard proving a point here.

we'll win. but we need to wait for the right moment.

i hear your concern. i'm not insensitive to it.

people say i have an expressive face.

i always found it hard getting close to anyone.

that remind you of anyone you know?

if you knew us, if you knew anything, you would kill us.

well pardon me.

look, just put it down...

we need to talk.

hope you're not trying to hide stuff from us 'cause that generally doesn't go over very well.

i feel like i ought to give you a signing bonus.

you bunch of pussies!

nobody's evil. they just decide to forget who they are.

i think i've made my position very clear.

i'm serious. do you want me to prove how serious?

bet you thought you were all gonna grow old together.

whatever you had going for you... that is over now.

what's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch.

if you're having problems of that nature, come to see me.

some people are evil. i've seen it.

i was gifted these pickles.

how about a "thank you?"

i can't be the only one to notice that you got a fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations, can i?

he's an idiot.

you'll get yourself killed.

you should know, there is no door number four. this is it. this is the only way.

speak when you're spoken too.

in case you haven't caught on, i just slipped my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it.

i can see this is hard on you guys.

we provide security for others. we bring civilization back to this world.

you guys have a barbecue or something and not invite us?

i'll find you.

you were thinking about someone else.

my apologies for leaving the place a bit of a mess, but we got a litany of other shit to attend to!

you like ice cream? we have ice cream.

me? i ain't doing shit.

you got your friend killed.

not making a decision is a big decision.

drink from the well, replenish the well.

suck my nuts.

he's a coward. they're more dangerous.

don't be rude.

this must be hard for you right?

no matter how things go down, i got your back.

we'll crack open some tequila, we'll talk, we'll work it out.

you don't have to do this.

your people are making me lose my voice doing all this yelling.

i'd like to take it back to awkward silence now.

i mean, you have been king shit for so long.

we made it. we can make it. we can.

you're not me.

it’s because you got no guts.

was the joke that bad?

is that you? underneath all that man bush?

thanks for saving my life before. and other time. oh, and the other time.

get on your knees.

you really want to see all these people die? you will.

i am indeed a smarty pants.

what the hell, man?

we're the ones who live.

don't wander around here on your own.

#prompts #twd #rp prompts #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #the walking dead rp meme #twd rp meme #apocalypse rp meme #apocalypse sentence starters #apocalypse rp #tlou rp meme #inbox prompts #deadprompts prompt

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graysnetwork · 1 year

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I watched dashie finish re4 remake so I wanted to make a little imagine

Leon jumped off the broken bridge looking around to make sure there were no other plagas around “everything good down there Leon?” You asked from the bridge next to Ashley, looking around to make sure everything was good and nothing was coming your guy’s way.

“Yeah, come down it’s fine” he said, you turned back to Ashley nodding to her, “a big drop don’t you think?” Ashley whispered to you “you’ll be alright Leon will catch you” you assured her, she dropped down into Leon’s arms “thanks” she told him getting on her feet, you dropped down on your feet, closing your eyes shut feeling the pain in your feet.

“Definitely gonna get some blisters after this” you said, mostly to yourself, Ashley giggled at your statement, Leon stared at you, gawking really, “y’know I could’ve just caught you” Leon told you, you turned back to him patting his chest “I can do it by myself, plus you’ll need that energy for more important things” you smiled at him and started walking again.

Ashley watched Leon as he took a deep breath, “what’s that all about?” She asked him, “what’s what all about?” He said snapping back to reality “you and her? I mean you two seem.. close” Ashley said Leon chuckled “we are not close, we just met” he told her, “really because seems like you have a crush on her” Ashley muttered as she raised her brows.

“We’re not doing this right now Ashley” he said “really? Cause that gave me all the answers I needed” she said and hurried over to you chuckling, Leon shook his head as he walked behind the two of you reloading his gun.

You continued to walk with Ashley to your side, before you guys came across a wrecking ball “I’ve got this” Ashley said getting into the seat, “Ashley you better be careful with that thing!” You shouted before turning around only to be met with a bunch plagas.

You and Leon shot them down while Ashley worked on the wall, once everything was dead with one last smash Ashley tour the wall down and got out, “so this is what drivers ed teaches you?” You jokingly asked, Ashley chuckled stepping back onto the ground, you all started walking again when Leon heard a noise coming from behind “you guys keep walking I’m gonna make sure everything’s alright” he said you looked back at him “I’ll catch up with you guys” he nodded to you assuring you he’d be quick, you nodded your head back to him, “c’mon” you told Ashley and you two began to walk again.

Ashley started the same conversation with you, “soo” “so?” You repeated confused “what’s up with you and Leon” she asked you, “what do you mean, there’s nothing going on?” You said confused, “well you two seemed close to me but I wanna know what you think of him” she said, “what do I think of him? He’s cool I guess?” You said still confused, you were a bit oblivious when it came to people hinting at relationship stuff.

“Just cool?” She asked again, “yeah, I mean he’s also nice? Wait what are you hinting at?!” You said before turning around realizing what she was talking about. “Your a little slow when it comes to these things aren’t you?” She said, “fist of all.. yes, second of all I could leave you to die so shut up!” You said, and she laughed, “okay, alright I’m sorry, your smart I didn’t expect you to be oblivious to these types of things”

You sighed “well, yeah your not wrong I am slow” “but why’d you ask anyway?” You asked her, “well it seems like Leon’s got a little bit of a crush on you” she said, you’re eyes widened a bit and your throat went dry, “uhm, what makes you say that?” You asked “well he got flustered when you patted him on the chest and got close to him” Ashley told you.

Did he really get flustered? You didn’t mean anything when you patted him, you were just telling him to save up his energy. “And from what I’m seeing, it looks like you have a little crush on him too” she smirked.

Leon paused for a moment and took in what he was hearing from the other side of the wall, he looked past it and went back to you two, “finally! We were starting to get worried” Ashley said nonchalantly, you looked at Leon and decided to keep walking and lead the way since you couldn’t even look at Leon anymore, at least not with a straight face.

And Leon definitely noticed how you were avoiding eye contact with him after that.

(After the whole island blowing up cuz I’m not writing allat)

(Once you and Leon returned Ashley to the President)

You sighed “I’m so ready to take off these clothes” you said and Leon chuckled “yeah same” you smiled. “Um, I wanted to ask you” Leon said and you turned to face him “do you, wanna go get dinner some time?” He asked nervously, “I’d love to” you said smiling, and looked back at the ground, he smiled (he was scared af to ask u)

And he took his opportunity and grabbed your hand and held it as you two walked.

—

I’m sorry this was so cute to me 🥹🤭

#leon kennedy headcanons #imagines #x reader stories #fluff #oneshot #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 months

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02/26/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&Crew;WeeJohnWondays; New Calendar; Watch Party Reminders; Uk Billboard; Trends; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; DailyDarby/Tonight'sTaika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Wee John Wonday! =

No guests today! Just the wonderful Kristian Nairn himself! So I didn't get time to write up a synopsis, so I'll give you a few highlights I thought you might like!

Next Wee John Wonday will feature: Ruibo Qian and Anapela Polataivao!

Calypso's Birthday Airing Episode, the guests will be: Con O'Neill and Gypsy Taylor!

Tattoos!

GOT questions!

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A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

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== New Calendar ==

Weekly Calendar! Tomorrow is #TomatoTuesday!

#TomatoTuesday is a day to rave about OFMD's rave ratings on Rotten Tomatoes to different streamers! Please add your own review if you haven't already! Rotten Tomatoes Review Tutorial.

== WATCH PARTY REMINDERS! ==

= People of Earth S2 =

People of Earth S2 continues tomorrow Feb 27 at 9 pm GMT / 4pm EST / 3pm CST / 1pm PST. Need access? Reach out to @iamadequate1!

#PiratesOfEarth

= Uncle Season 2 Watch Party! =

Wed 28th + Thurs 29th GMT - 8pm / ET - 3pm / PST - 12 pm Streaming on I-player! Outside the UK? Follow this VPN tutorial to learn more.

#ForTheNewUncle

= Joe Lycett Watch Party =

According to the new weekly calendar you can join @lcwebsxoxo for Joe Lycett Watch Party at 10 pm GMT on twitter! #YoureATreasure

== UK Billboard ==

As many of you have heard, the Save OFMD Crew has been working on getting a billboard going in the UK.

"Our goal is to help achieve pick-up for Our Flag Means Death. To do it, we need the show (and the campaign) to continue garnering attention through sustained interest, viewership and fandom growth, and we need to prove to other streamers that picking up the show is a good financial investment."

Since there's so much information, I'm just going to give you some links that you can peruse at your leisure:

Save OFMD Crewmates Billboard Post on Tumblr

Transparency Policy

London Billboard FAQ

SaveOFMD Crew Contact Info

If you'd like to donate to the billboard/truck/subway effort (it's not required) please visit: Save OFMD Ko-Fi

I mentioned in another post-- if you don't feel comfortable reaching out to SaveOFMD Crew directly, and want to chat/forward feedback anonymously, I'm more than happy to do that on your behalf, just shoot me an anon ask. However, I will probably not get to them tonight because it's already very late, sorry! I'll forward them on first thing in the morning for me.

== Trends ==

Sure looks like #OurFlagBBC is still going pretty strong! Great job friends!

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Collages =

Almost at the end of the month of February -- and the Feburary LOVE #OurFlagMeansDeath Collage Fest! from our fabulous crew-mate @WanderingNomad on Twitter! So close to being caught up on the rest of the month!

Day 26: Season 2 Costumes!

Day 10: Ewan Bremner!

Day 11: Joel Fry

Day 12: Ruibo Qian

Wanna be featured in the fan spotlight? Send me a message! We're trying to make sure our creative crewmates are getting a chance to strut their stuff! I've been reaching out to several folks so hopefully we'll have lots more soon!

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies. Tonight, I was gonna write a bunch of stuff but then I found this video of Rhys sending some love and encouragement, and I felt like it was needed more than anything else. I haven't gotten permission to share the full video on here yet, so if I do I'll get it posted. For now, @lividturkeys posted an uplifting section that I think we all need to hear tonight.

"Keep the laughter coming...We stick together and keep bringing love and joy to this planet, it needs it more than ever...Keep laughing, Love you"

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Okay so I'm running out of time, so tonight will be pics not gifs, sorry all. One of these days I'll finish catching up earlier in the day (ha!)

PS: I have no idea why but my 5 year old finds Taika and Rhys HILARIOUS. Like, laugh his ass off roll on the floor laughing when he sees Taika talking and Rhys making silly movements.

#daily ofmd recaps #daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #save ofmd #kristian nairn #wee john wondays #taika waititi #rhys darby #ofmd #our flag means death #calendars #our flag bbc #Instagram

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