#finally got my spark for reading back at least!!

[bombuni]

i wish i could quit my full time job and spend 24/7 devoted to jongho and ateez

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; slight injury and blood; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[forzarma]

makeup disaster

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?

warnings:haven’t proofread 😞

You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.

Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.

“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.

“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

He started tapping your face aggressively.

“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.

“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.

“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.

He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.

“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.

And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????

Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.

He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.

Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.

Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.

He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”

He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.

“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.

“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.

“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.

“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.

After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!" 

You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork." 

"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away. 

Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting. 

When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.

[shybluebirdninja]

The Great Outdoors

Summary: Logan takes you on a camping trip, but his survival skills are hilariously outdated.

Pairing             : Logan Howlett x Fem!Human-reader

Genre              : Fluff

The sun was already dipping low behind the trees when Logan parked the truck. He got out like he was about to conquer the wild, while you stood there, looking at the woods and trying not to laugh at the seriousness on his face. Logan wasn’t the camping type—or at least, not the “modern” kind. He was more like the “rough it with nothing but your fists and claws” type.

This was going to be interesting.

“So, what’s the plan, Bear Grylls?” you teased, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Logan grunted, pulling out a rolled-up tent from the back of the truck. “Survive. That’s the plan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, so detailed. I feel so prepared.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve done this a hundred times. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be fine.”

Oh, boy.

You made your way into the clearing Logan had apparently scoped out beforehand. It wasn’t bad, actually—nice little spot near a river, surrounded by trees that rustled softly in the evening breeze. As soon as you set your stuff down, Logan got to work... sort of.

He started with the tent. You watched him as he unfolded it, frowning like the damn thing had personally offended him. “These damn things get more complicated every year,” he muttered, trying to shove a pole into one of the sleeves.

“Need some help?” you asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing as he wrestled with it.

“Nah, I got it,” he grumbled, jamming the pole so hard it almost snapped.

Five minutes later, the tent was half-collapsed, one corner flapping in the wind, and Logan was cursing under his breath.

“I think it’s supposed to stand up, Logan.”

He shot you a look, then glanced back at the tent. “It’s fine. I’m just, uh... testing its durability.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “Right. Maybe you should just let me handle that.”

“I’m a grown-ass man,” he muttered, glaring at the tent like it had insulted his mother.

“Yeah, and you’re losing a fight to a piece of nylon.”

After another moment of watching him struggle, you stepped in and started putting the thing together while Logan, not exactly one for sitting still, decided to gather firewood. He disappeared into the woods with nothing but his claws, because why bring a hatchet when you’re Logan?

By the time he came back, arms full of sticks and logs, the tent was up and looking perfect. You leaned against it, smirking as he dropped the wood into a pile.

“See?” you said, gesturing to the tent. “That’s how it’s done.”

Logan grunted, clearly not impressed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you start a fire.”

You crossed your arms. “Watch and learn, old man.”

He grinned, that dangerous little glint in his eye. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Logan, being Logan, didn’t just gather some twigs and light them with a match like a normal person. No, that would’ve been too easy. Instead, he pulled out his claws and crouched next to the fire pit, sparks flying as he struck them against a rock.

“Logan, that’s not how—”

Whoosh!

The pile of wood lit up like someone had dumped gasoline on it. Flames shot up higher than you thought possible, and you stumbled back, laughing your ass off while Logan jumped up, cursing.

“Goddammit!” He swiped his claws through the air, trying to beat the flames down. “I meant to do that.”

“Oh, sure,” you choked out between laughs, wiping at your eyes. “That’s the perfect height for roasting marshmallows, right?”

Logan glared at the mini-bonfire for a second, then at you. “Next time, you can light the damn thing.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, the sound of it bouncing around the trees. Logan finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff mutter.

After some careful maneuvering (read: Logan finally letting you fix the fire), you both settled down for the evening. The fire was low, crackling softly, the night air cool around you. Stars were starting to peek through the darkening sky, and the only sounds were the soft hum of the forest and Logan chewing on beef jerky.

You leaned back against a log, holding your hands out to the fire. “So, what now? Gonna show me your impressive ghost story collection?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, gnawing on his jerky like a wild animal. “Ghost stories? What are we, twelve?”

“Come on,” you teased. “Everyone knows camping isn’t complete without ghost stories. It’s like... the law.”

He scoffed but leaned back, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “Alright. You want a ghost story? I’ll give you one.”

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

Logan cleared his throat dramatically. “So... once upon a time... there was this girl. Thought she was real tough. Real smart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this about me?”

“Shhh, I’m tellin’ a story here,” Logan said, smirking. “Anyway, she thought she could survive out in the wild with just a little ol’ tent and her wit. But one night, she heard a rustling in the trees... something... watching her.”

You leaned in, playing along, even though you knew exactly where this was going. “Oh, yeah? What was it?”

Logan’s eyes widened theatrically. “A bear! Big, ugly thing. Twice her size. It came into her camp, sniffin’ around, and you know what she did?”

You shook your head, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing. She just froze. The bear ate all her snacks, tore up her tent, and left her sittin’ there in her own piss.”

You burst out laughing. “Wow, Logan. Truly terrifying. 10/10. I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks.”

Logan grinned, leaning closer. “I got more. You’ll be beggin’ for mercy by the end of the night.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such an ass.”

As the night deepened and the fire began to die down, you both retreated into the tent. It was surprisingly cozy inside, the faint warmth of the fire lingering outside while you snuggled into your sleeping bag. Logan stretched out beside you, his body taking up way too much space, but you didn’t mind.

“Comfy?” you asked, glancing at him as he wiggled around.

“Like a fuckin’ sardine,” he muttered, trying to adjust in the small space. “Who the hell makes these tents so damn small?”

“They’re meant for normal-sized people, not... whatever the hell you are,” you said with a smirk.

Logan snorted. “Mutant privilege. I need bigger accommodations.”

You both lay there for a few minutes, the quiet settling in around you. Logan’s breathing was steady, his body warm next to yours, and despite his earlier grumblings, you could tell he was content. This whole camping thing wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “I’ve got a ghost story.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, so you went on.

“There’s this guy, right? Big, tough, hairy—like, really hairy. The kinda guy you wouldn’t wanna meet in a dark alley.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you kept going.

“And one night, he decides to go camping with this totally amazing girl—smart, funny, great taste in camping snacks—”

“Wow, I wonder who this is about,” Logan deadpanned.

“Shhh,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But the thing is... the guy? He’s got a secret. See, he acts all tough, like nothing scares him, but deep down? He’s terrified of one thing.”

Logan looked over at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You grinned, leaning in close. “Commitment.”

Logan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling. “But you know I’m right.”

He didn’t deny it, just stretched out a hand to pull you closer, his arm wrapping around you with an ease that made your heart flutter a little too fast.

“I’m scared of plenty of things,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Just not the same kinda things as you.”

“Like what?” you asked, curious now.

Logan looked at you, his eyes serious for once. “Losing people. People I care about. That’s what scares me.”

The confession was quiet, unexpected, and it hit harder than you’d thought. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but Logan just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, pulling you in tighter.

“Guess that makes you a real badass,” you whispered after a moment, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the tent.

“Damn right,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now shut up and go to sleep before I start tellin’ real scary stories.”

You smiled against his chest, warmth spreading through you as the sound of the river and the soft crackling of the dying fire lulled you to sleep. And maybe, just maybe, you’d both survived the great outdoors after all.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

��Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Oversteering into Love (Live) °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Thirsty ahh reader (again), swearing, unserious jokes and unserious behavior, inaccuracies bc lets face it, even if you are an F1 you still get things wrong (😭)

Note: I did NOT expect the amount of support this would get when it’s still my first au, thank you guys so much, it means the world to me! as always don’t forget to like + reblog!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV. / NEXT.)

liked by gabyprentice_, littlefoxhermes and others.

ynbardot parents got confused and chose night out daughter

littlefoxhermes come see me soon babyy

— ynbardot counting on it!

francolapinto so pretty ey?

— francopinto ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

It was a slow, uneventful day, so you decided to liven things up by hopping on Instagram Live. You figured it’d be a good way to chat with your followers and share where you got your favorite jewelry pieces.

“This nameplate necklace?” you said, holding it up for the camera. “One of my friends got it for me when we went to Manhattan for my birthday. Isn’t it cute? She knows me too well—it’s literally my favorite thing ever.”

The chat lit up with comments asking about your other accessories, and you happily started sharing little stories about each piece. But soon, something unexpected caught your eye.

“Wait—guys, what? Franco is in here? Stop joking!” you said, narrowing your eyes at the screen in mock suspicion. “I’ll literally cry if you’re lying to me.”

Before you could even process the flood of comments confirming it, a message from Franco appeared: “Just here for jewelry recommendations 😏.”

Your laugh caught in your throat, and you tilted your head at the screen. “Oh… well, this is awkward. Hi, Franco~” you said with a playful smirk, leaning closer to your phone. “Trying to upgrade your accessory game, huh?”

The chat was in chaos, spamming reactions faster than you could read, but Franco wasn’t done. Another comment popped up: “Nah, just needed an excuse to say hi to my favorite model.”

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks burning as you tried to keep it cool. “Favorite model? Ha, ha. You probably say that to all the girls you meet, am I right?”

“Only the ones with nameplate necklaces and cute smiles,” he shot back. You swear you choked on your saliva, but you regained your composure when you were reminded of the thousands of people in your chat.

The comments were losing it now, a mix of “OMG” and “GET A ROOM” flooding your screen. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“Alright, Franco, if you’re gonna crash my Live, at least drop some real accessory tips,” you teased. “What do you know about jewelry?”

“I know the best accessories are ones you don’t have to buy,” he replied. “Like a certain necklace with MY name on it?”

Your jaw dropped, and you pointed at the screen in mock outrage. “Okay, that’s it! Get out of my Live!” you said through your laughter, though your blush gave you away.

As the playful banter continued, you couldn’t help but wonder: why was Franco on your Live in the first place? Was it pure coincidence, or had he been keeping tabs on you? Either way, one thing was clear—he knew exactly how to steal the show.

@fc4333 guys we’re finally getting the williams and y/n crossover we’ve been begging for 😭🙏

@colapintoes WILLIAMS PLS GIVE US THE CONTENT WE’VE BEEN BEGGING FOR

@racerbardot franco and y/n, the duo no one expected but got anyways and now we’re getting the crossover we’ve always wanted

@ynargentina not to mention franco accidentally joining her live 😭 poor guy was probably stalking her and ended up clicking her story

liked by ynbardot, jackdoohan and 832,554 others

francolapinto mix de un finde muy feliz 💫

williamsracing 🧉

ynbardot franco posts anything, and suddenly i’m an expert in appreciating the finer things in life

— felizpinto I’M CRYING

— ynbardot PLEASE LEAVE ME BE

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others.

ynbardot singapore bound

flavy.barla safe travels baby 🤍

lilymhe see you soon!

© soleilpinto 24’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[cherie-doll]

Hi I just read your "They waited for you" headcannons and my heart is broken 😭. It was beautifully written but I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so how do you think they'd react if they got home to find you still alive having either been missing or faking your own death?

aw thanks! yeah a couple others requested a happy ending to this hc as well so here it is! (sorry i was supposed to post this hours ago but i fell asleep...)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You (Happy/Good Alternate Ending)

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He had felt immense guilt for losing you, if only he could have kept you tucked away better, he knew your corpse was likely out there somewhere, so against the advice and warnings of others he set out to at least find your body and give you a proper burial

He covered the entire area you had last been seen in and no sign of you, he found tracks leading away and traced them for a couple of days until by what seemed like a miracle he found you, still alive, you had managed to make a little nook in a pocket of forest

Blinking, he stood aghast a moment before running towards you, there were deep scars across your face, bruises and wounds but you had managed to hold up, he was surprised to see how you had survived despite your injuries

After taking a step back to look at you, he assessed your injuries, you quivered as his hands cupped your face, it was the first time you had felt his sincere touch in what felt like an eternity, he meekly traces the scars running from your temple down to your cheek, "I knew you'd make it" was all he whispered before taking you home

Ghost

No one had seen him since the news of you being KIA had been delivered, he had felt the emptiness growing within him, consuming his being until he was sure to be left only a walking skeleton of mindlessness

Oh, his poor heart was numb, nothing could make a ripple of effect, it was as if the centerpiece of his being had been removed and he no longer was able to function, he didn't want to go out there and be met by more disappointment, he'd get over it, eventually, or try to forget you, but it'd never be the same

Imagine the shock that nearly overwhelmed his heart who hadn't felt a tinge of emotion when you knocked on the front door, the surge of emotions was like a tidal wave, he didn't hesitate to hold you again

He didn't notice the blood, the bandages or the way your features furrowed, wincing in pain, not at first, not until he got a good look at you and saw the damage you went through, a flicker of your eyes and he knew it'd be a long story, one you weren't ready to tell yet, and he would respect that, for now he was at peace again, let him bask in it

Soap

A dream forever encased in his mind; was his situation so dire that he felt the need to resort to replaying your happiest moments together? The gleam in your eyes that he took for granted, he wanted that spark back, you were a star, his star, his sun in the sky to warm his heart with the most exhilarating of feelings

He thought he had finally lost it when he dreamt you showing up to his doorstep, with arms reaching for him, pulling him into you, it'd always end with him almost reaching you, his fingertips grazing your skin until he would wake up

It was an unexpected feeling when one day his fingers clasped yours, he was able to fully wrap his arms around you and inhale your familiar scent, he thought it was a little cruel that this dream was far too realistic, when he would wake up he'd feel cold again

But it wasn't, it wasn't a dream, his reality was no longer bleak or grim, the cause of his happiness had resurged and it was here to stay for a long time, you were no longer a burning memory

Gaz

People noticed he wasn't the same anymore, the shine in his eyes was gone and the hands that usually transmitted tenderness and security were now hesitant and wavering, he wasn't steady in his emotions nor thoughts, as much as he tried to reassure others that he was fine it was clear the toll it had taken on him

When he felt the pain of your loss spreading over his body, he prepared for it to overtake him, until you appeared like a healer to ease his pain and restore him to what he was before, it was such a surprise to him

His eyes stared into yours for what seemed like an eternity, taking in that you had really come back, once he really processed that you were before him he pulled you into him, remembering how much he had missed holding you safe in his arms and placing kisses on your temple and lips

He was quick to take in your pains and try his best to erase them, he wanted them treated with the best care possible, you had survived even when they had told him you surely died, he wasn't about to let you do anything but be next to him for a long time

Roach

The pain hadn't left him for a moment, he didn't have the chance of peace for fear of forgetting you, he missed resting in your arms, the steady rhythm of your breathing, he missed you beyond more than he could bear

Seeing you barrage into his life again, standing motionless in the doorway, he didn't understand why you needed to fake your death or why you went so long without contacting him, all he needed in that moment was to get to you

He clung onto you, tightly securing his arms around you and letting the hot tears spill down his cheeks, he had felt so lonely, so lost without you he didn't say anything else for now, the both of you silently swayed together, finally, his voice barely above a whisper, with so much softness of heart in his words, he told you to promise him to never leave his side ever again

Alejandro

An explosion of emotions overtook him, he was confused most of all, and he hated confusion, not knowing how one moment you're declared dead then he's mourning for you and the next you're in the flesh before him

He wanted to ask a million question but saved them the moment his eyes landed on the blood seeping through the patched bandages, the way you gingerly held your bandaged arm close to you, the dimmed look in your eyes, you had been broken but managed to come back

He gathered you in his arms, the answers would come later, all in his mind right now was to make you feel at home and nurse you back to health, when you were soundly sleeping, he laid next to you and observed you rest, he felt immediate guilt for wanting to question your disappearance right away

It must've been so hard for you to find your way back, but you had done it all by yourself, you managed to survive and still you thought of crawling back to him

Rudy

He wasn't at all fine with the so called "closure" they had tried to give him when you were KIA, was that it? Would he have to spend the rest of his days trying to be content with only sighing and looking back at the past occasionally?

A pause extended and he found himself unable to do anything with the time he had previously spent with you, there was time on his hands but no one to spend it on, he simply couldn't shake away his thoughts of longing

Until news of your unexpected return came to him, he was the one to rush to you, for your injuries were far too great to be able to make it anywhere outside the hospital, you weakly smiled up at him from the hospital bed, pain ringing in your ears but that passed to being background noise the moment you saw him

The immense relief he felt in his heart that eased the shadow looming over him, he observed your face for any other signs of pain, tell him anything you need he assured, but you only wanted him next to you, you'll heal well if you're with him

Phillip Graves

He failed to ever compose himself, he just couldn't bring himself to get over you, not his job, nor those around him to attempted to provide some comfort, he felt rage at those who tried to distract him from you, they didn't understand he didn't want to forget you, not caring about the pain

The last messages you had sent him were still there on his phone, on some days he'd stare at the screen, wanting to believe the last sentence you had typed out, that it wouldn't be long before you were there by his side again

On other days he didn't want to hear any notification from his phone knowing you wouldn't be able to call or message him ever again, his phone would be on silent for days, until one day he turned it on to see missed calls from you

He thought he had been dreaming, rubbing sleep from his eyes he focused on the incoming call again, your name was flashing on the screen, it was as if his heart jumpstarted again hearing your voice come in, he nearly cried but was able to know you were waiting for him, wanting to come to him

And it was like he learned to smile again, a gentle smiling on his lips, tears glossing over his pretty blue eyes as he was able to hold you securely in his arms

Makarov

Through too many bitter days he had to keep living, and that was such a cruel punishment he couldn't withstand, he couldn't live day by day in ignorance until his death, he hated how early you had to part ways, it was much worse than a breakup, for you were still very much in need of one another

He had no one else to tell his sorrows to, not that he was willing to open up, he only had regrets, wishing he was able to rewind time and prevent you from going on that mission, he'd do anything to get you back

Fortunately, you showed up at his door before he was able to start a war, he saw your wounds and it was another bullet to his heart, something as dear to him as you should remain unscathed, but with your head on his chest you calmed him, telling him you were here after all

And for now he'd have to focus on keeping you safe, protecting these never-changing memories for as long as he could

Keegan

He held remnants of that pitiful hope that you were somehow still alive, although each day the chances dwindled, each time he went out he had to come to face the reality that you weren't there to do the things you used to always do together

He did have to wait a long time before he was able to see you again, by then he had almost given up the hope of you being gone forever, but there were just things he knew were off about your "death"

Still, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming when he saw you, you were across the street and the moment your eyes met he instantly knew it was you, you smiled gently at him it seemed like a dream underneath the sky

And he did do exactly as he hoped, took care of you even if most of your injuries had been treated, there was still a scar mentally and he did not hold back from caring for you

König

You had skipped the hospital, instead making your way straight to him, you could hold out a little longer but what if he couldn't? He wouldn't be able to wait long if he didn't see you, as soon as your saw him you collapsed into his arms, as if all this time you weren't safe until you felt him

His wishes were granted and he was to reflect on the blessing he had received, his thumb caressed your cheek but it was him who nearly spilled the tears brimming in his eyes, he didn't want to let go, he just wanted to hold you and look at you for as long as he could, he missed the sight of you

He was afraid to let go and that you would fade away again, as if a dream, you had to reassure him many times it wasn't a figment of his imagination but that you were here, his eyes noticed the wounds when you peeled off your clothing and he had to hold back from gasping at the sight of your bruises, most of them just needed time to heal

Horangi

It was such a beautiful sigh to see you again, even if you were hurt he looked beyond that and he no longer had to think about how grim the future would be without you

He had lost hope and regained it again, how was he to ever make up for this? You two gazed at one another, simply content with being in one another's company again, he didn't want you to do anything strenuous, just being by your side while you recuperated

He would no longer have to resort to past thoughts of you, now he could focus on keeping you by his side and preventing from danger taking you away from him

It had felt like such a long time since he was able to say your name, and now he could call out to you and you'd answer, knowing you didn't stop existing for a moment in his universe

Nikto

The reunion was quiet, you were both tired, you were on the brink of death, thinking you weren't going to make it, but you were a stubborn one, you had been determined to make it back to him, you loved the man

The darkness and static started to fade away and tune out in his mind, he was able to take in his surroundings once again just rest with you, his mind had gone through too much trying to cope with the grief

He didn't have to ask, he just knew you had resolve, too many times he went through the same situation himself only to still come out alive even if it was with a few new scars, but that was before he had met you, you had done it all on the act of wanting to see him again, to not leave him alone in this world

He would rather focus on healing your physical wounds than acting hurt from his mental wounds, it had been a long time since either of you had slept well, now the rest would be plentiful

[s4nguiine]

dead flowers; pressed against my lips

arlecchino x fem!reader

» summary: you and arlecchino go on a christmas date and end the night with nasty lesbian sex

» rating: NSFW!! minors dni!!

» notes: ohhhh my godddd merry christmas everyone! here is 3.5k words of wlw with dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, choking, strap sucking, you know, the kind of stuff you usually imagine when thinking about arlecchino. don't look at me like that. i know who you are. i speedran writing this in a single afternoon and it is not beta read so there are probably many many mistakes. have fun!

arlecchino does not get christmas. she finds it frivolous and materialistic and most of all, she finds it to be a waste of time. suffice to say that the house of the hearth does not celebrate this holiday. or at least it used not to.

when she wakes up early that morning, she is immediately struck speechless when she finds you up and about. that much is a feat on its own, as you are not one to get up early unless strictly necessary. and yet here you are, awake earlier than arlecchino herself, and the living room is… green, red and golden. your back is turned to her when she enters, and although your hands are preoccupied with hanging up a wreath above the fireplace, you notice her presence anyway.

this does not come as a surprise to arlecchino. you wouldn’t run the orphanage with her if you weren’t good at your job.

“good morning,” you greet her, then you finally face her.

“what’s all… this?” arlecchino asks as she motions around her in general.

“why, it’s christmas, of course.” you smile like you’re saying the most obvious thing in the world.

arlecchino furrows her brows, looking around herself once more. “it’s gaudy.”

you laugh. she looks like a grumpy cat finding out that the furniture has been rearranged. “yes. yes, it is gaudy. but i think the kids will like it. some of them never got to experience christmas before, a change of pace should do them good.”

the harbinger sighs and relents. “i suppose you are right. it shouldn’t hurt to spoil them every now and then.” she can’t not relent when there’s that spark in your eye anyway. in this way, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger.

“come on,” you say, making your way towards the kitchen. “we still have some time before the kids wake up. coffee?”

arlecchino follows. “of course.”

she doesn’t need to say how she wants it made. you know that she likes it black, no sugar, no milk or cream. in this way, the two of you are once again opposites. arlecchino often cringes at the amount of flavoring you like to put in your coffee, asking you if you even like coffee in the first place. the truth that you haven’t told her yet is that you just want to be involved in her daily routine.

you were right, of course. the children begin to filter in, and everyone’s spirits seem to lift when their eyes land on the decorated living room. the more extroverted children are visibly excited, wasting no time in running back to the dorms to grab their friends, and even the gloomy ones perk up somewhat. arlecchino’s eyes, however, remain pinned to your beaming face. you’re clearly proud of your work.

if you’re the sun, the arlecchino is the darkness. and much like the color black, she wants - no, needs to soak in as much of your light as possible.

arlecchino catches your attention by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. finally, your eyes are on her. if things went according to her, they would never leave her. the knave is lucky that the kids are too busy to notice this moment of tenderness.

days pass, and arlecchino finds herself growing accustomed to the holiday atmosphere around her. in the end, she is glad that she allowed you to do this.

she sits by the hearth, gazing into the fire as she usually does when she’s free, a warm cup in her hand. the scent of high quality chenyu vale tea wafts into the air, creating a relaxing atmosphere calm enough to lull one to sleep.

your footsteps draw near, and arlecchino knows that she can only hear them because you allow her to. she puts down her cup and folds her hands in her lap.

“come to keep me company?” she asks, feeling the backrest of her chair dip under your weight as you lean on it.

“maybe. or maybe i’ve come to ask you out on a date,” you reply.

arlecchino lifts both of her eyebrows and finally turns her head to look at you. “a date?”

“indeed. we haven’t gone in a while, right?”

arlecchino hums. she takes your hand in hers and brings it to her lips. “do you have something in mind?”

you smile at her display of affection. “there’s a christmas market in the court of fontaine. what do you say we go check it out tonight?”

she takes a moment to consider it. markets really aren’t her thing, and she really doesn’t understand the excitement about christmas. but it would make you happy. if she gets to see your smile, she will go.

“very well. let’s have a date, dear.” your grin is all she needs to know she made the right choice. “as for those three…”

“i will handle it.” you pull away and cross your arms, facing a nearby door. “you can come out now.”

there is a moment of silence before lyney, lynette and freminet emerge from the door, each looking more bashful than the other.

“i’m disappointed,” you scold. “surely i taught you to sneak better than this. did you even try to be quiet?”

the trio shift on their feet, throwing glances at each other to urge someone to speak already. you shake your head. “two weeks of dishwashing duties for each of you. now go along. i’m sure you have chores to do.”

lynette and freminet both deadpan at lyney, who laughs nervously. this is enough to clue you in on whose idea it was to spy on you. the children leave, and you sigh. “sometimes i feel like i have no clue what’s going on through their heads.”

arlecchino does. you’ve always had a way of pulling all eyes towards you. it makes it all the more impressive how good you are at being stealthy. she rests her hands on the armrests of the chair and pushes herself up.

“now then, let’s waste no more time and start getting ready, yes?”

you look at her, confused. “we still have ti-”

the words are swiped from your tongue when arlecchino leans in to capture your chin between her thumb and index finger. “don’t you want to pretty yourself up for me?”

your face burns up with the heat of a thousand suns. “i… yes… of course…”

the harbinger graces you with a small smile that’s enough to make you feel weak in the knees. she then lets go of you and retreats into the bedroom, leaving you reeling in the middle of the living room.

you’re pretty sure your brain just melted. when you come to, it’s been a full minute, and you quickly scamper to the bathroom to start putting on your makeup. yes, you’ll pretty yourself up for her. better yet, you will make her want you like she’s never wanted you before. tonight will end with her strap rearranging your guts, you’ll make sure of it.

when the two of you meet outside, you both stare at each other without saying anything. she’s hot. insanely hot. hotter than usual, even despite the fact that she is wearing more clothes than usual. arlecchino’s hair is let loose for once, a sight usually reserved for the bedroom. she knows you like it loose. seems that the two of you have the same plans for tonight.

you grin and take her up on her silent offer to lock your arms together.

“you look dashing,” she says. compliments are rare - you know you’ve struck gold.

“so do you. i’ll have to watch out for suitors.”

“no need.” her eyes are cold as she sweeps them over your surroundings. “i only have you in my sights.”

satisfied and arm in arm, you head out to find the christmas market. it only takes a few minutes for you to arrive at the main plaza, which is teeming with people. you know you don’t have to worry, though. as soon as you enter the crowd, there forms a circle of space around you two. this is simply the effect of dating peruere, who is so intimidating that people naturally avoid her whether intentionally or unintentionally. not you, though. you find that attractive.

you arrive at the first mulled wine stand and get a cup for each of you (but not without complaining about the ridiculous price.) arlecchino watches as you hold it with both of your hands and blow at the rising steam to cool the drink down a little. your cheeks and nose are red from the cold and your eyes are cast downward to show off the full length of your eyelashes.

having a better tolerance for heat, she sips at her own wine without taking her eyes off of you. you blink when you notice.

“like what you see?” you grin, exposing the teeth beneath your red-tinted lips.

arlecchino hums. “i do. very much.” she notices a speck of mascara on your cheekbone. immediately without thinking her hand darts out to wipe it away, black finger brushing against your skin.

“you’re spoiling me tonight, i see,” you joke. it’s all you can do not to give away your racing heart.

“for now,” she replies. “don’t get too used to it.” and with a wink she turns to lead you to another stand. you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach and you’re unsure whether it’s the alcohol or the anticipation of what’s to come.

it is a nice date. you walk between the stalls, looking at the various products on sale. at some point you buy matching rings for you two, and you get chocolate croissants and some more wine, her treat of course.

by the end of the evening there is a pleasant buzz permeating your body and you’ve got a dumb grin on your face. arlecchino also seems more relaxed, despite all the eyes on her. she leans in close to your ear.

“shall we get to the next program?” she asks. you have to hold down a whimper.

your shoulder presses closer to hers, both hands wrapped around her arm. “i would love nothing more.”

“wonderful. let us depart.”

you are shoved down onto the bed, your naked body bouncing with the force of the push. arlecchino watches you like a hawk about to snoop down to catch her prey. she finds pleasure in seeing your messed up makeup, the lipstick smeared from vigorous kissing, and she licks her lips to taste your spit. stripping down to her underwear, she finally climbs on top of you, presenting you with a full view of her clothed cunt. she’s wearing the panties you gifted her a few months ago; black with a small red ribbon in the front. you’re salivating.

“what are you waiting for?” her voice comes from above, and in the darkness of the room all you can make out from her face are the glowing red crosses in her eyes. you swallow. “take them off.”

your thumbs immediately find their way under the hem of her underwear but she slaps them away.

“with your teeth.”

you let out a shaky breath. “yessir,” you reply as you push yourself up on your elbows. your face inches closer to her sex and you pinch the fabric between your incisors, careful not to bite arlecchino. your nose buries itself in her lower abdomen, upper lip dragging across her skin as you pull the panties lower. you manage to pull them down to the middle of her thighs before letting go. a strand of spit connects you to the fabric before breaking once you’re far enough.

the harbinger lets out a pleased hum. “good girl,” she purrs, and her clawed hand cups your cheek. her thumb pushes down onto your lower lip before breaching the entrance of your mouth. she explores your tongue and teeth and you let her like an obedient puppy begging for a treat.

arlecchino releases you from her grasp and you whimper. she reaches behind you, grabbing something from her drawing, and when she comes back into your field of vision, she’s holding a strap harness.

“would you put this on for me, darling?” she asks. you nod. of course you nod. anything for her, anything she asks. you take the harness and put it on her, making it tight enough to stay in place but not so tight for it to dig into her skin uncomfortably. more praises spill from her lips and you have to rub your legs together in search of some kind of friction.

arlecchino fastens a strap-on to the harness. you peek up at her through your lashes, salivating at the sight of her towering you. she seems to notice your reaction as her eyes narrow into a crescent shape. she grips the toy with her hand, bringing it up to your lips.

“why don’t you suck it first, hm?”

you part your lips, breathing onto the fake cock in front of you. “yessir…” she doesn’t move. you have to do all the work, and you do it gladly, leaning in, resting the dildo on your tongue. it tastes funny. you pay it no mind. it’s time to put on a show for her.

you swirl your tongue around its tip before dipping lower to its base, coating the dildo with your saliva. her eyes remain on you, a scalding hot gaze that penetrates your very soul. it makes you shudder.

a couple more licks, and you feel that the dildo is sufficiently covered. you pull back to the tip to give it a tender kiss, maintaining eye contact with arlecchino, before closing your eyes and completely wrapping your lips around her cock. your head dips and you take more of its length in your mouth. you move without stopping, until the dildo hits the back of your throat, making you gag. breathing in deep, you swallow around the shaft in an attempt to get used to it, and as you do so, you feel arlecchino tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re taking it so good,” she coos, almost out of breath. “go on. you can take all of it.”

of course you can. if it’s her, you can do anything. so you flatten your tongue around the base of it and you push deeper, feeling it enter your throat. tears well up in your eyes, spit runs down your chin, but you press on - and at last, you can feel your nose hit the leather harness. you feel full, accomplished.

arlecchino shifts her hips and you gag again. “good girl,” she praises, and if you had a tail, it would be wagging right about now. “i suppose i should reward you for being so obedient.” she reaches behind herself, and as soon as you feel her fingers push past the folds of your pussy, you groan around the girth of the dildo. her middle finger teases your clit and your hips flinch. you want it, you need it so bad. unfortunately for you, you cannot beg with your mouth full of cock.

arlecchino pulls back her hips and you gasp for air, then cough as you choke on your own saliva. she brings her hand forward again, glistening with your arousal.

“so wet,” she drawls. “i didn’t even have to touch you.”

“please,” you seize this opportunity to beg, “please fuck me. please.”

arlecchino’s eyes find yours, and they’re freezing cold. “all in due time, my dear. or are you questioning my leadership?”

you shake your head. “i wouldn’t dare.”

“that’s what i thought.” you think you’re about to pass out with arousal. “open up.”

obedient as always, you do as you’re told, and her strap is back in your mouth before you can register anything. she begins to move her hips, and you suck to the best of your abilities. this proves difficult when her hand finds your cunt once again, middle and ring fingers rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling and you arch your back. the moment you lose focus however, arlecchino draws her hand back and slaps your pussy, forcing a muffled squeak out of you. you get right back to work, glancing up at her pleadingly. she decides to indulge you, going back to your pussy, this time pushing her fingers inside while her thumb stimulates your clit.

your thighs shake, but you do your best to focus on showering her strap with love. arlecchino sighs at the sight. she withdraws her fingers to touch herself under the harness. and you feel yourself drip even more. arlecchino then grabs a fistful of your hair with the hand coated in a combination of your slick and hers, and her thrusts grow more forceful. your own hands find purchase on her thighs, now gone taut as her muscles flex.

she fucks your throat mercilessly through your garbled sounds of pleasure and gagging, and your eyes roll back as your vision grows blurry with the lack of oxygen in your lungs. your face burns and turns red. and just as you think that you’re about to pass out, arlecchino pulls out to let you breathe. you gasp, and the moment your lungs fill with air, your cunt spasms and you release, painting the bed sheets with your arousal.

the woman above watches you intently, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. neither of you realize it, but her own arousal drips from between her folds, falling in drops onto your bare stomach.

once more, she praises you. “good girl,” she says, and you believe her. you’ve been a very good girl.

arlecchino lets go of your hair and gets off you, leaving you to ride out your high and calm down. once your small moans cease, she settles between your legs, lifting your hips and hooking your knees over her shoulders. it seems that while you were reeling, arlecchino procured a flask of lube, which she is now pouring over the dildo.

she then strokes the dildo with her bare hand, a casually vulgar display that leaves you biting your lip. her fingers delve inside your pussy and make a scissoring motion to test how stretched you are, and she hums, pleased with the result. at last, she lines up the tip of her cock with your entrance, and with a plunge, its girth enters your body.

you moan, fingers digging into the bed sheets as you’re stretched and filled. your heels dig into arlecchino’s back, toes curling while you struggle to breathe.

arlecchino’s hawk-like eyes remain on the connecting point between your bodies and one of her hands lets go of your thigh to rub at your swollen clit, which pulls a whine out of you.

“puh-please, have some mercy-” you interrupt yourself with a groan as arlecchino thrusts her hips, rocking your body. you feel like you’re going to snap in two.

“don’t lie to yourself,” she scolds, “you love it when i’m rough.” she thrusts again, hitting a spot deep inside that rips a sob out of you.

you cry, “you’re right! fuck- fuck me! peruere!”

arlecchino’s eyes widen at the mention of her name, crimson crosses seemingly glowing brighter. “as you wish, dear.”

she sets a merciless pace. the dildo penetrates you time and time again, and each time the sounds of your sex grow wetter, dirtier. you’re practically gushing over her dick while she rearranges your guts, fucking you into the mattress like her life depends on it.

her thrusts turn you into a whimpering and mewling mess, and arlecchino groans with you as you begin to unravel.

“so beautiful,” she says, voice gravelly, “you’re so beautiful for me. are you gonna cum again, dear?”

you have half a brain cell to nod. your mascara runs down your face and your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. in spite of this, she calls you beautiful, and you truly believe her, for anything arlecchino says is the truth.

you feel pressure on your clit again, as peruere massages the bundle of nerves. you sob, then throw your head back, and your vision goes white. everything inside you grows taut, until the dam breaks with the snap of a finger and you come undone, legs stretching as you squirt all over arlecchino’s belly.

her movements finally still, except for her finger on your clit, which only slows down. you hiss when it becomes painful and arlecchino stops entirely. she pulls out and leans in to kiss you, humming into your mouth when you reciprocate.

“wonderful,” she mumbles. “you’re simply wonderful.”

your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, leaving you unable to reply. you don’t need to. arlecchino draws back and you hear the clinking of the harness’ strap, followed by a soft thud.

as you stare at the ceiling, the harbinger comes into view once more. “i hope you don’t think we’re done for tonight,” she says.

you chuckle.

“without repaying the deed? never.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 2- Awakening

Summary: There was once a time in his life where knocking on your front door was the best part of Frankie's day. Now, the thought of having to ring your doorbell to face you makes him sick to his stomach.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: (the tiniest hint of) smut (18+), illusions to masturbation (m), angst/regret, fluff, awkward adolescent yearning (I have quickly come to learn this is my favorite thing to write whoops), Frankie realizing he's caught a case of the ✨feelings ✨ and doesn't know what to do

A/N: Less than 10K word chapters?!? Posting a series on a schedule?!?! I don't even know who I am anymore?!?! AH, thank you guys for all your sweet words about this series so far. Writing this has sparked such a joy inside me, and it means so much that y'all are willing to read my silly lil story 🥺💛 This chapter is from Frankie's POV- I know the first chapter had both reader and Frankie, but as I've been writing, it seems like it fits the story better if some are both POV's and some are just one!

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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Frankie, Present 

“Bring these next door.” 

His mother doesn’t even ponder the idea of phrasing it as a question when she practically drops the plate of chocolate chip cookies into Frankie’s lap. 

“Ma, it’s 7:30 in the morning.” Frankie looks up at her dumbfounded. 

“And? You’ve never eaten a cookie for breakfast when you’re sad? Go now, they’re still warm.” 

There’s no way he’ll be able to head anywhere but straight out his front door, but Christ, he at least hoped he would have been able to buy himself a little time before having to face you.

“I just got back from a run. I smell like shit. Can I at least shower first, por favor?” 

“Fine,” she groans, reluctant to give in so easily, “but be quick. Don’t think I won’t turn the hot water off, mijo. I don’t want these getting cold.”

She knows her son would take an hour long shower if he could. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’s spent way too long in the bathroom, over analyzing every inch of himself before going to see you. His mom isn’t sure if she should thank you or not for her son’s dedication to hygiene. She could barely get him to shower for the first 10 years of his life, but after you moved in, a few days before the start of 6th grade, bathing had magically no longer become an issue. 

Frankie understands her threat of an ice cold shower is very real, and a very effective way to finally get him four doors down. He lets the hot water wash over his skin, turning it to a temperature that’s almost too painful to stand. He hopes that somehow, it’s hot enough to wash away all the sins he’s prayed you’d forgive him for, that the regret of every poor decision he’s been plagued by washes down the drain, disappearing never to be seen again. 

He wishes it was that easy. That a simple shower would grant him the forgiveness he’s not sure you’ll ever give him. He wouldn’t blame you if you never did. 

He forces himself to put on the first pair of shorts and t-shirt that he pulls out of his suitcase. If he doesn’t, he’ll be stuck in his room for the rest of the day trying to figure out what to wear to bring a plate of cookies to your doorstep. 

“You should apologize, you know.” It’s the first thing his mom has to say to him as he makes his way down the stairs, barely three steps into the kitchen before she’s at his throat again. 

“For bringing them dessert at 7:30 in the morning? I was planning on it.” Frankie huffs, trying to deflect the plan for the real apology he knows he should be making. 

“Dios mio, Francisco, you know what I mean. I hope you’ve thought about how you’re going to explain yourself to her. You owe that girl an apology for the hell you’ve put her through.” 

Frankie can’t blame his mother for the way she’s twisting the knife that’s stuck in his gut. He’s the one who put it there in the first place. 

“I know. I’ve thought about it, believe me.” 

They both know that’s the truth. Frankie’s spent more hours than he can count thinking about what possible combination of words he can string together that won’t make you hate him anymore than you already do. In fact, he’s spent so long thinking about it, replaying the million and one things he could say to you over and over in his head, that he’s convinced there’s nothing he could tell you that would buy him even a shred of forgiveness. 

“Fuck you, Mackenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.” 

Three years ago, he disappeared out of your life and those were the last words he left you with. He's spent three years of letting the last thing he had to say you haunt him like some sort of ugly ghost he can't forget.

At this point, there's a part of him that's not even sure he's worthy of forgiveness.

“Mom?” Frankie asks, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “Am I making a huge fucking mistake coming back here?” 

“Well mijo,” She pauses, gently cradling her son’s face, lifting his chin enough to let his tired, worn eyes meet hers, “That, I cannot tell you. Some things you have to figure out on your own. I think this is one of them. But what I can tell you,” she stops again, ensuring Frankie is listening, really listening to what she has to say, “is that you have never been one to leave things unfinished. I think there are still things left to finish here for you, Francisco.”  

The slow nod of his head in her palm tells her he’s heard every word. He knows he needs to finish what he’s started. 

“You also need to finish bringing these cookies to the Andersons, sí? Don’t think I forgot.”   

“Didn’t think you would.” 

Frankie’s not sure the walk to your house has ever felt this long. Every step against the pavement makes his feet feel heavier, weighing his body down, its final attempt at keeping him from showing up at your front door. It takes every ounce of strength he has left to get him there, but he does. He won’t himself fail you again. He can’t. 

When he knocks on your door, he’s suddenly 11 years old, palms sweating and heart racing as he rings your doorbell for the first time, hoping the cool girl who moved in down the street still wants to play football with him. 

Right now, he’d give anything to be that 11 year old boy again. God, what he’d give to grab little him by the shoulders and shake all of the stupid decisions he plans on making in the years to come right out of him. He’d give anything for someone to come shake the stupid out of him now.

Seconds pass like hours as he waits for someone to answer his knock. Maybe it won’t be you who does. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it'll be your mom. Maybe your dad, who is sitting on his literal deathbed, will be blessed with some divine miracle that grants him the strength to get up and answer the door instead of you. 

“Be right there!” 

He’d recognize your voice anywhere. It’s been three years since he’s heard it. Even with all the time that’s passed, there’s not a doubt in his mind he knows it’s yours. 

Fuck, he’s missed the sound of you more than he’d ever like to admit.  

He braces himself as the lock clicks on the other side of the door. The knot in his stomach tightens as he watches it open. 

His heart wants to burst out of his chest when you finally appear on the other side. 

“F-Frankie?” 

“Hi, Mackenzie.” 

Frankie, Fall of 2002, Age 14

It’s been 3 years, and Frankie still rings your doorbell every time he’s at your front door. Both you and your parents have been more than adamant he’s welcome to let himself in, at this point, they leave the door unlocked just for him. 

As much as he wants to just slip through the front door unannounced to see you, he knows his mom would kill him if he didn’t wait to be let in and make his presence known. 

“Francisco, I do not care how often you are over there, you are a guest in their home. If they are gracious enough to let you over, the least you can do is use your manners and greet them at the door.” 

Frankie’s always been polite, but the world would stop spinning before his mother would let anyone else even have an inkling of thinking otherwise. 

Truth be told, he doesn’t mind. He’d be hard pressed to find any 14 year old who didn’t have some sort of complaint about their parents, but you never really do, and he can see why. 

They’re your parents, and he loves his mamá more than life, but the Anderson’s had taken Frankie under their wing from the moment he had crossed the threshold from their patio to their living room and never looked back. 

It didn’t take long for the three toned chime of your doorbell to become the favorite part of his daily routine. 

“Hi Frankie! Come on in, honey.” 

Mrs. Anderson has that soft kind of sweetness that would make anyone’s day brighter, the kind of gentleness that a gardener has when tending to a field of their favorite flowers. She’s the type of person that would put anyone before herself, to a fault. It’s no wonder that given the circumstances, a house that should be shrouded in sadness is one of the places that Frankie feels the happiest. 

“Thanks Mrs. Anderson. Can I put this in the freezer for Kenz? I figured she may want it when she gets home later.” Frankie gestures down to the chocolate chip cookie dough Blizzard he’s holding, trying to keep it from melting any further. 

It’s become a sacred ritual that every Friday night, you and him ride your bikes to the Dairy Queen two miles down the road. He always gets an Oreo Blizzard, you, a chocolate chip cookie dough one. On the few Friday nights you can’t spend together, it’s an unspoken agreement that a Blizzard will still end up in the other’s freezer for the next day. It’s only happened once that a cookie dough Blizzard hasn’t been found in your residence within 24 hours of the start to your weekend- the one time Frankie was out of town to visit his family, you were pleasantly surprised to find not one, but two Blizzards in your freezer on Monday night upon his return. 

 “Frank the Tank! How’s it going, buddy?” 

It’s always nice to see your dad up and around the house. His cancer has taken a lot of things from him, but his personality certainly isn’t one of them. Some bouts of chemo and treatment are worse than others, but it never ceases to keep Mr. Anderson from being the happiest man Frankie’s ever met. You always tease Frankie that he comes over to your house so often just so he can spend time with your dad. While of course it’s not 100% true that Doug Anderson is the only reason Frankie finds himself at your doorstep nearly every day, he also won’t deny the sense of comfort it brings him that your dad treats him like his own son. 

“Hi Mr. Anderson!” Frankie smiles, shoving your Blizzard in the top left corner of your freezer between the ice packs and frozen vegetables. 

“Another Blizzard for me? Always so generous, Frank. I’m convinced you might start running a Dairy Queen out of our kitchen pretty soon.” Mr. Anderson teases, giving Frankie a light punch to the shoulder. “How’d your algebra test go the other day, bud?” 

“Pretty good, I think.” Frankie shrugs, trying to play off his confidence. 

“Think you got a higher score than Kenzie?” 

“I think so. But don’t tell her that.” 

“Oh believe me, I will. Smart kid like you has gotta put her in her place every once and a while.” 

Frankie blushes. School has never been his strong suit. He’s smart in the way he could fix just about anything from the time he could barely walk, but sitting in a classroom trying to absorb information through reading, taking notes and test taking has always made him feel like an idiot. You, on the other hand, could graduate in your sleep with straight A’s. He’s not sure how you do it, but it’s enough motivation to make him want to at least try. He thanks his lucky stars that this year, math is finally starting to make sense, and he’s got the upper hand on you for now. 

“Is Kenz upstairs? I know she’s got her soccer banquet tonight, I just wanted to hang out for a little before she has to go.” 

Normally he wouldn’t mind staying longer to talk to your dad, but on days he knows he’s working on a limited time table, efficiency is of the essence. 

“Should be. If not, we have a problem on our hands.” 

Frankie scurries from the kitchen and through the living room, up the familiar and well traveled path to your bedroom door. His heart always races a little faster every time he reaches the top step to the second floor. 

Normally, it’s three long strides to cross the threshold into your bedroom before he plops himself on the edge of your bed, but as he takes a left turn at the top of the stairwell, he’s surprised to find your bedroom door is closed, and locked. 

“Kenz! It’s me! Open up!” Frankie raps his fist on the back of your door, knuckles thumping against the wood. 

“Not now, Frankie!” 

He’s taken aback by your protest, scrunching his brow at your response and the distress in your voice through the other end of the door. 

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” He asks, now a little more concerned. 

“It’s just- Ugh! It’s nothing! It’s stupid, okay! I just don’t have time for this right now!” 

You and him both know that’s not enough to get him to leave. Frankie is persistent. He’s not going anywhere until you open that door and he gets an answer as to what’s making you so upset. 

“C’mon, MacKenzie.” 

He only pulls the full name card for serious occasions, because he knows it’ll work. It’ll work every time. That’s why he can’t help but smirk at the click of your door handle unlocking, giving him permission to step inside. 

Except he can’t. 

“Kenz, get off the door and let me in!” 

“I’m not on the door! Ugh, hold on.” 

With the force Frankie was using, he nearly falls flat on his face as the barricade you’d built on your side of the door is removed, stumbling into your room and landing face first in a pile of clothes. As he looks up, he’s greeted with a sight he’s never once seen before in your room, and he has no idea what to make of it. 

“Jesus Christ, dude, what happened in here?!” 

To say a bomb had exploded in your closet would have been a polite way to put it. Every piece of clothing you owned was now a casualty on your bedroom floor, down to every last pair of shoes. You could barely stand to have a singular, stray sock on the ground, your bedroom always the near picture perfect scene of immaculately neat. So to see the disaster your room had become, Frankie knew that something had gone very, very wrong. 

“I don’t have anything to wear for tonight!” 

“Yeah you do, have you seen all the clothes on your floor? I think you have enough clothes for a small village.” 

“Francisco!” 

If she’s already pulling the full name card on him too, it must be serious. 

“Sorry! Is this because of the end of the season soccer party tonight? I thought you said you were just gonna wear like, a skirt or something?” 

Frankie’s never even contemplated the idea of you being upset over an outfit. You’d always been amicable in the wardrobe department- t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, same has him. This is uncharted territory for the both of you. 

“Yeah, but then at lunch today Katie and Morgan said all of the Seniors want to dress up, like, really nice, and now I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to wear and I don’t wanna look like an idiot Freshman who shows up in something dumb.” 

Frankie knows you’re stressed from how intensely you’re picking at the skin around your nails, leg bouncing furiously while your eyes dart around the room at the heaps of clothes stacked around the floor. 

“You’re not gonna look dumb, Kenzie. You’re the only Freshman that’s made the Varsity soccer team in like, a million years. Hard to look stupid if you’re that good.” 

It may not be much help, but it’s at least enough to bring you off the brink of tears. 

“I guess,” you pause, too stubborn to admit that he’s right, “It’s just- all the other girls on the team are so pretty. When we’re playing it doesn’t matter ‘cause we’re all sweaty and gross, but- I don’t know, I feel like I’m gonna look so awkward next to everyone.” 

But you are pretty. 

It’s the first thought that pops into Frankie’s brain. He’s not sure how it got there so fast. All of a sudden he feels a hundred degrees hotter, hoping you won’t notice the way he visibly tries to shake the thought out of his head.. 

Where did that come from? She’s your friend, Frankie. Your best friend. She’s not pretty, she’s just MacKenzie. 

“You won’t look awkward, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.” He’s relieved his response doesn’t seem to raise any suspicions, like you would have been able to read his mind and watch his thinking play out in real time. 

“If I um- If I- Never mind, this is stupid! Ugh, this is stupid.” 

You’re pacing now, arms crossed so tightly over your chest, he’s worried you’re going to squeeze your own eyes out like one of those little squishy toys you win from a claw machine. That’s if you don’t burn a hole in your carpet first. 

“What?” 

“If I-” You stammer again, scrunching your face at your own frustration, “If I try on what I think I should wear, will you tell me if it looks dumb or not?” 

You’ve asked Frankie plenty for plenty of favors in the three years you’ve known him- being the one to lead the two of you home on a bike ride in the dark, opening your pudding for you at lunch because it exploded on you once and you’re terrified it will again, catching the giant spider that makes a recurrence in the top right corner of your bedroom and throwing it out the window- He’s not sure why out of all those things, this is the most terrifying favor you’d ever asked of him. 

“Y-yeah. Okay.” 

The two of you quietly nod at each other for a moment, Frankie hoping that he’s not the only one who’s wondering why the air has all of a sudden seemed to have gotten thicker. 

“Okay. Well, um- turn around.” You point for him to take his usual spot on the edge of the bed, ensuring that his back’s to you and eyes only have the choice to roam the floor or the wall above your desk before he hears the shuffling of clothes behind him. 

It’s then that everything starts to move in slow motion, like a flip has suddenly switched in Frankie’s brain as a wave of unsolicited thoughts begin to flood his head, feeling himself drown in the panic and confusion that’s washing over him. 

What if he did turn around? You’re probably taking off your clothes right now. Are you in just your underwear? What color is it? Maybe you’re all the way naked. What would you look like? Why does he all of a sudden want to know so bad? What’s wrong with him? 

In his manic state, his eyes are darting everywhere, trying to find something to lock onto that will shake him from whatever obscene cycle of thought he’s caught himself in. He instantly regrets when he lets his gaze fall to his feet, because peeking out of the pile of clothes beneath him is the better part of a bra. 

Your bra. 

He feels so awful that he can’t stop looking at it. So guilty that he can’t help the fact he’s trying to commit every detail of it to his brain- the teal and green polka dots, the thin lace that covers the shoulder strap, the little bow that sits in between the two cups where your breasts would go. He can’t stop staring. He can’t stop thinking about  what you would look like in it. The only thing that stops him is hearing your voice from over his shoulder. And somehow, your voice only makes his chest feel tighter. 

“You promise you won’t make fun of me if I look stupid?” Your words are so soft, delicate and fragile in a way he’s never heard you use them before. However scared you are, right now, Frankie would be willing to take that feeling and triple it for himself. 

“Promise.” 

His eyes are still closed when he swings his legs over the other edge of the bed. He’s too afraid to open them. 

“You’re gonna have to open your eyes, unless you’ve suddenly obtained x-ray vision that you haven’t told me about in the last thirty seconds.” 

The way you tease him grounds him enough to give in. It doesn’t ground him enough from leaving him speechless the moment he opens his eyes. 

“Kenz… You uh, you- um-” 

He’s stumbling over his words, trying to find them fast enough to stop the disappointment that’s flooding over your face because you think he hates the way you look. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

“I look dumb, don’t I? It’s fine, Frankie, you can just say it.” You’re back to pacing again, storming around your room with a desperate, crazed look in your eye. “Ugh! This sucks! Why is this so hard, I just wanna-” 

“You look really pretty.” 

It stops you dead in your tracks. He can almost hear how hard you gulp, looking back at him like a deer in headlights. 

“W-what?” 

You ask it like you didn’t hear exactly what he said. He knows you did. You always do. It doesn’t stop him from trying to twist his words to help him out of the hole he’s already dug himself into. 

“Your- Your dress. It looks really nice. You should wear it.” 

He’s not sure how much time passes as the two of you finally lock eyes. Thirty seconds? Ten minutes? An hour? The way you’re looking at him right now is enough to make his world stop turning. It only makes it worse that he swears he can see your lips trying to fight the smile that’s slowly curling in the corner of your mouth. 

“MacKenzie! We need to go, sweetie! Dad and I will meet you in the car!” 

Frankie doesn’t know if it’s divine intervention or a devilish curse that your mom is calling for you from the bottom of the stairs. Whatever it is, it’s enough to snap both of you out of the strange spell that had overcome your bedroom and make Frankie feel like the only appropriate response was to race out of your house and hide in embarrassment for the next forty-eight hours. 

“I should um- I should go, too. Santi’s probably waiting for me at his house. Have fun tonight, okay?” 

“Yeah, o-okay. You have fun, too. Tell Ding Dong I say hi. See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” 

Frankie’s in a trance the rest of the night. Physically, he spends the next few hours in Santi’s basement, glued to the couch while his friend yells at him that he’s not using the right combination of moves to max out his points in Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3. Mentally, he’s convinced he no longer exists on the same planet as anyone else around him.

When he gets home, all he can do is stare at his ceiling. If he closes his eyes to try to fall asleep, the only thing he can see is that teal and green bra laying on your bedroom floor.

He wishes the thought of you in it didn’t make his stomach churn. He wishes it wasn’t you he was picturing when he lets his hand creep below the waistband of his sweatpants. He wishes it wasn’t your name he was muttering under his breath as he makes a mess in hand, hips stuttering into his grasp. 

He wishes it wasn’t you. 

At least that’s what he tells himself. Maybe one day, it’ll work. 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

HI!! i recently read your posts ab the free use human and promptly lost my mind they're so delicious 🙏

i was wondering if you would be able to do something smutty between swerve and a human reader?? i already KNOW he would fantasize ab getting crazy with a human but then when he finally gets offered the chance to do it? he's obviously not gonna miss the chance but he's really nawt gonna know what to do with himself 😭

I am a hopeless slut for Swerve. Sir please blabber to me about nothing while I gaze at you with heart eyes.

Swerve x reader, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, fluff to smut, mutual pining, oral, dirty talk, size kink, strength kink

Swerve couldn’t help when his gaze lingered on you sitting on the bar. Little human form so tiny compared to the mechs around you. Even compared to a minibot like Swerve you were puny.

He couldn’t help the thrum in his spark when you looked up at him like he was your world. He couldn’t help the flush of energon in his faceplate when you reached up and held his servo. Your hand wrapped around three of his fingers as he walked you back to your habsuite every night after you help him with his bar.

So small, so soft, so cute.

You were just sitting there kicking your legs and jabbering with some of the lingering bots while Swerve cleaned up.

“This is the longest I’ve heard you quiet,” Nautica mused placing her empty cup on top the bar.

Swerve jolted swinging his helm to the femme meche before him. “Y-yeah?” He stuttered out hoping she hadn’t caught on to his ogling. “It’s been a long cycle.”

Nautica smirked with a knowing look on her face. “Yeah? Bet it’s gonna be a long night too.”

Swerve immediately caught on to what she was insinuating. He nearly dropped the glass he was cleaning and ended up fumbling it in the air for a good second before catching it.

“Are you okay, Swerve?” You ask noticing his strange behavior.

“Yeah! I’m fine!” Swerve reassured you nervously.

You smiled at Swerve before returning your attention to the bot in front of you. Nautica chuckled behind her servo trying to hide her knowing smile. “The human is totally into you,” she teased quietly.

Swerve scowled at Nautica. “Don’t joke about that.” He turned his gaze to you longingly as you waved goodbye to the final bots leaving the bar. “I think you got a chance,” Nautica said to Swerve. “They may or may not have said something to me.” With that Nautica left Swerve to his gaping jaw on the floor. You gave her a wave goodbye before turning to Swerve.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask with a giggle.

Swerve coughs trying to gather himself his vents running flusteredly. “Yeah! Yeah I’m totally cool,” he said more so trying to reassure himself. Under your gaze he felt like his plating was on fire. Your concerned little stare and how you sat so demurely on his bar. “Want to be a gentleman and walk me home again?” You asked with a flirtatious inclination.

Or at least Swerve thought as much. Maybe Nautica was just getting in his head. There would be no way he could have a chance with you. Someone like Rodimus or Mirage is more your type. Someone heroic and strong and definitely cooler than him.

“Why I’d be honored,” Swerve said in a mock posh accent and with an animated bow.

Your laughter was like twinkling bells in his audials. You reached your arms out for Swerve and he nearly passed out. Your arms outreached looking for him. He moved in, pedes heavy against the bar floor, as he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug.

You made a soft sound of surprise but hugged Swerve back giving him a couple pats on his helm. “As much as I like the hug, can you help me off the bar?”

Swerve felt like he took a kick directly to his spark. Of course you weren’t looking to hug him. Hell, he did this routine with you everyday! Nautica’s words wormed around his processor laying parasitic eggs in his thoughts.

Swerve lifted you up off the bar counter trying to savor the feeling of your soft body against him. Your feet met the ground as Swerve gently set you down.

Your hands slid down his arm plating during your descent as Swerve’s servos landed on the back of your biceps. “Thank you, Swervy,” you smiled unintentionally letting the nickname slip from between your lips. You two stayed like that for a little bit; Swerve marveling at how you felt in his embrace and you burning up from embarrassment.

“Wait-“ Swerve laughed standing up straight. “Swervy?”

You sputtered trying to find an explanation for the nickname. Swerve reached out pinching your cheeks. “You’re so cute! Please don’t stop being so cute!” You made an annoyed noise at having your cheeks pinched but made no move to stop Swerve.

“Hey,” Swerve’s suddenly serious tone caught you off guard. “Do you want to come over to my habsuite and watch-“

“Yes!”

You both blinked at each other surprised by your eager acceptance of Swerve’s invitation. The minibot called back to what Nautica said feeling his knee joints wobble a bit.

“Y-yeah?” Swerve gulped with excitement. His Servos cupped your face stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked holding onto Swerve’s wrists.

This was supposed to go differently in Swerve’s processor. He was supposed to be smooth and suave, leaning over the bar nonchalantly cleaning a glass. He’d say something flirtatious making you swoon. He’d butter you up then drop the question. He could have rescued you from a mean bot teasing you for your height and organic limitations. He’d stand up for you and tell that bot off and he’d be a hero in your eyes. He could have ran into you in the halls making you drop your books and he’d help you pick them up. Your little hand would make contact with his servo and you two would slowly look up at each other. He’d offer to carry your books and walk you to wherever you were going.

“Swerve?”

The minibot so stuck in his daydreams of what should have been didn’t even realize that he’d been staring at you and mindlessly stroking your face.

“Yeah?” He said barely above a whisper.

“Yes to you asking me out or yes to me saying your name?”

“Yes to both!” Swerve exclaimed sweeping you up into another hug. You squeaked surprised at being suddenly lifted into the air and engulfed in mechanized arms. He pressed his faceplate into the side of your head taking in the feeling of your body against him as well as your scent. “Primus I can’t believe it.” You giggled patting his shoulder plate.

Swerve adjusted your position so you were sitting in the crook of his arm with one servo holding onto your calf and the other supporting your waist. You held onto his shoulder plates and smiled down at the minibot.

“I can’t believe you’d actually agree to going out with me after that whole disaster of an invitation! I mean I had this whole scenario planned out where I’d wine and dine you.” Swerve chuckled stroking your waist with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Swerve,” you giggle cupping his face. “The whole bar could have caught fire too and I’d still say yes.”

Swerve’s engine rumbled so enamored with how you stroked the metal of his fave as well as how you spoke to him. Nautica ended up being right. Every time she’d come in here and tease him for his little crush, telling him he should ask the little human out, she was right. Swerve’s spark thrummed through his chasis as you left a small kiss on his forehead just above his visor.

“I’ve really liked you for a while,” you admit shyly. “I just didn’t know if I’d be ruining our friendship if I said something.”

“I don’t think you could do anything that would make me not want to be around you,” Swerve reassured you. “You could straight up kill me and rip my spark out and I’d haunt you trying to hang out with you!”

You snorted giving Swerve another kiss to his forehead. Swerve let out a little huff and furrowed his optic ridge. “I don’t get a kiss on the cheek too?” He said tapping his cheek with his finger. You laughed leaning down to give him a kiss on his cheek but at the last minute he turned his helm causing your lips to collide with his instead of his face.

What was supposed to be a little gag on his end ended up turning into you gripping his face and pushing your mouth against his intake. His optics widened glowing brightly behind his visor but he did nothing to move away. Instead he gripped your hip with his servo and returned your passions.

His intake moved fluidly against your lips like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. Swerve couldn’t help the groans of delight he released into your mouth. You tasted so sweet on his glossa like honied energon. When you finally pulled back for air he couldn’t help but try to chase after you before taking in your face.

Sweaty, panting, and you felt so much warmer. Your eyes were half lidded and your pupils blown wide.

“I wanna frag you so bad,” Swerve said in an airy voice. Your eyes widened in shock at how forward he was being. “Wait! I didn’t mean to-“ you cut him off with another kiss this time more passionately. Your tongue slithered across his dermas. The whimper he let out made you clench your thighs. He opened his intake allowing his glossa to move against yours.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Swerve mumbled against your lips. You devilishly nipped at his bottom lip. “God Swerve,” you groaned between kisses. His name coming from your mouth danced around his processor like a melody. “Please fuck me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at how loud Swerve’s engine revved. You barely had enough time to laugh before he was tossing you over his shoulder plate and rushing out of the bar. “Oh man,” Swerve huffed as you bounced with his stride. “Holy shit I can’t believe this is happening!” A couple mechs you two passed by looked at you concerned before donning a knowing look when he realized what Swerve had planned for the Lost Light’s little human.

You covered your face slightly embarrassed that so many mechs now knew that not only were you a robotfucker but you were also on your way to pound town with Swerve as your conductor.

Swerve’s habsuite door opened with a swish. Being mindful of your head and the doorframe, Swerve rushed into his room and flopped you on his metal berth. Your head made sharp contact with it creating a loud bonking sound that made Swerve freeze and you laugh.

You held the back of your head where it started to sting laughing with no noise at the ridiculousness of the situation. Swerve bit his knuckles as he reached his other servo out for you. “Are you okay? Shit, I didn’t kill you did I? I can’t kill you on our first date!”

You shook your head propping yourself up on your elbows. “I’m fine!” You laughed feeling the stinging start to fade. “I’m fine, I promise.” Swerve seemed to relax a little as he reached out to hold your head. He made you bend your neck forward as he towered over you making sure the back of your head was truly okay. Swerve let out a sigh of relief while stroking your hair. “I totally forgot you’re not as durable as us,” Swerve murmured softly. “I thought I would be all romantic and throw you on the bed.”

You hummed wrapping an arm around Swerve’s neck to the best of your ability. “I thought it was pretty romantic,” you said with a smile. “I mean it’s not everyday such a stud of a mech gives me a concussion.”

Swerve huffed picking you up from under your armpits and adjusting his position so he was sitting with his legs crisscrossed and you in his lap. He rested his servos on your waist with a dissatisfied look on his faceplate. “Now don’t go spreading rumors that I knocked you out or gave you brain damage on our first date!”

You wriggled in his grip so you were straddling his lap. “Aww,” you teased while holding Swerve’s face. “That’s the only reason I’m here. I thought you were going to fuck my brains out.”

The steam that released from Swerve’s vents made your shirt ruffle. His face was flushed blue with energon and his grip on your waist tightened. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Swerve murmured leaning down towards your face. You met him half way tipping your head up so you could capture his dermas with your lips.

Swerve groaned into your mouth as his servos explored your back and hips. “You’re so soft,” Swerve mumbled into your mouth. “I can just squish you under my servos.” Swerve punctuated what he had said with a couple squeezes to your hips. You smiled into the kiss adoring how even when he was making out with you he still continued to talk.

You pulled back to get some air admiring Swerve’s dumbfounded expression. “Frag,” he said in an airy voice. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean I’ve never done this before! I mean I’ve fucked other bots before but I’ve never interfaced with a human! I know we have the same set up because I’ve seen human porn but I don’t-“

“You’ve watched human porn?” You asked pushing your chest against Swerve. He dropped his jaw not realizing what he had said. “What are you into,” you asked giddily rubbing your hands across his chasis.

“C’mon,” Swerve groaned tilting his helm back. “Just pretend you didn’t hear me say that.”

“Do you jack off to it?” You pushed further letting your hands wander to his shoulders. Swerve hissed steam at your teasing. His servos reached down to cup your rear as you explored his torso. “Cause sometimes I like to think of you when I do,” you whispered into his audial. Your whole body felt hot at that confession both aroused and embarrassed.

There was a click then a hiss like pressure being released before a heavy metal chord sprung between your legs.

“Shit!” Swerve said embarrassed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to do that!” He could already hear you laughing at him for how disgustingly turned on he was.

“Is that your dick?” You asked with wide eyes.

“It’s called a spike but yeah,” Swerve said wincing at your gawking.

“You’re huge,” you gaped trying to hold yourself back from touching his spike.

Swerve’s robotic cock twitched at your compliment. He could feel his cooling fans kicking on trying to keep him from overheating. Despite every hiccup today, despite how unsuave Swerve was, you showed him nothing but love.

“Can I touch it?” You ask feeling your underwear dampen at the sight.

“Yeah! Yes! Yes please!” Swerve begged squeezing your ass. You reached down giving his spike a firm stroke. His engine sputtered at the feeling of your soft hand against his arousal. “Primus,” Swerve gawked watching how you tenderly rubbed him. “Primus I can’t believe you’re here.”

You ran your thumb over his leaking tip gathering the pink transfluid and using it as lubricant to help your hand travel over the cabling of his cock. Swerve exvented hot air out of his frame. He couldn’t hold back the whimper that bubbled out of his intake at the pleasure you brought him.

“Noooo,” Swerve whined when you took your hand away from his spike. His protests were soon quieted when he saw you moving to take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. His optics darted to your chest with intrigue.

“Those-“ Swerve started sliding his servos up your body until he was holding your chest with his fingers splayed over your sides and part of your back. “Frag, these are your nipples.”

You giggled at Swerve’s dumbfounded yet aroused reaction to your chest. He ran his thumb over your nipples making you moan softly. “And humans just spray milk from these?” Swerve seemed almost giddy at the idea. “Sometimes,” you responded your eyes trained on where Swerve rubbed at your chest.

“Why do you guys do that? Is it like a defense thing or?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bloomed out of you. “No! Well maybe for some people but it’s mainly to feed babies,” you explained gently rubbing your pelvis against his spike. Swerve swore under his breath at your movements. He pinched at your nipples making you whine and arch your back towards him. You could feel the hot drift of hair from his vents.

“I want to put a baby into you,” Swerve groaned pulling at your sensitive nipples.

You whined pushing your chest into his grip. “Yeah?” You panted while grabbing his spike once again. “Yeah,” Swerve said tilting his helm down to bite at your neck. “I wanna see how much milk I can get from you.”

Swerve thrusted into your hand in time with your strokes. His intake brushed against your soft skin leaving kisses across the sensitive expanse of your neck. “I bet you’d be so tight,” Swerve whined doing his best not to be too rough with his biting. “Could I even fit in you? You’re just so much smaller! I mean, frag, I can pick you up with one servo.”

You moaned tilting your head to the other side so Swerve had better access to your neck. “I can stretch,” you said breathlessly. You could feel the desperation building inside of you. Swerve hummed with your nipples in his intake. You whined feeling so empty without Swerve’s spike filling you.

“Swerve!” You cried as you humped his lap. “Please! I want you to fuck me so bad!”

Steam blasted out of Swerve’s vents at your sudden desperation. “How?” He asked releasing your nipple with a pop. “How should I uhm do you?” He couldn’t help but feel awkward in the situation. While he was one to constantly speak for some reason dirty talk felt so different now.

You leaned back trying to wiggle out of your pants. The position made it awkward and Swerve had to help you by supporting your back with his servo and guiding the fabric down your legs. When your underwear and pants were finally slid off your body, Swerve could only gawk at your pulsing heat.

You were already so slick with need and he could feel the heat radiating off of your pussy. His Servos dug into your skin possessively and hard enough to make you squeak out in pain.

“Ah! Sorry! Sorry!” Swerve apologized lightening his grip on you.

“It’s okay,” you panted with your eyes half lidded. “I hope it bruises.”

Swerve sputtered in outrage. “You want me to bruise you?! Now why in the whole of Cybertron would you-“ then it hit him. You want him to mark you. You want him to leave evidence of his touch on your body for wandering optics.

“Frag,” Swerve said breathlessly. “Yeah? You want it to bruise?”

You nodded leaning forward to grab Swerve’s lips with yours. He moaned into the kiss letting his grip tighten on your hips once more. He rolled his pelvis up towards yours trying to find stimulation for his spike. You responded by eagerly pushing your sopping cunt against the throbbing metal cord.

Swerve swore his entire system crashed and rebooted when he felt the slick glide of your arousal along his spike. Your soft panting into his intake was like a drug fueling the violent lust for you that had been brewing inside of him for what felt like forever. He pulled back trying to stifle the rumble his engine made when he saw how you chased after him.

“How am I going to put this inside of you?” Swerve laughed giving you a rough thrust of his hips against your core.

You hadn’t considered that and thought for a second. “Let me take the lead for a bit,” you said steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder.

“Please do,” Swerve smiled, his hands never leaving your hips.

You lifted yourself up off his lap using your knees so you could position his spike towards your hole. “Primus,” Swerve panted seeing the strings of arousal you left on his spike. “I got you that wet? Me? Frag, you think I’ll just slide in there?”

“I hope,” you panted grabbing a hold of Swerve’s spike in on hand and steadying yourself with the other. You aimed the pointed tip of his chubby cock towards your leaking hole. Swerve’s systems were buzzing in impatience at the thought of finally being inside of you.

You dipped your pelvis down trying to capture his cock but only ended up causing it to slip and push against your clit. You both gave an unexpected moan at the same time before you tried again.

With a firm grasp on his cock you tilted your vagina towards the tip and finally pushed down.

The immediate sting of being stretched by something so wide made you wince.

Swerve had to steady every impulse in his body to not thrust up into you. You were so tight and so warm. He could feel your pulse along the head of his spike and he forced your pussy open.

“B-big!” You panted trying to gather your thoughts.

“Yeah?” Swerve wiggled his optic ridge at you.

You huffed out a laugh trying not to let your shaky thighs give up on you and force your body onto his spike.

“Look at you,” Swerve gleamed feeling his spark swell with love. Your shaky body covered in sweat and so sensitive under his touch. He hadn’t even started properly fucking you and you looked absolutely ruined.

“Let me know when you’re-“ Swerve was interrupted mid sentence when he felt your sweaty knee slip against his plating making you lose balance. He was quick to grab your hips and keep you from being impaled but not before you took more of his girth.

You cried out throwing your head back. “Fuck!” Your voice was like a choir to him. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Swerve gave a slow, experimental thrust up into your heat. “Is that good?” He asked with a slightly concerned look on his faceplate.

“It’s so good!” You moaned letting your hand drop from his shoulder and work at your clit. Your body weight was now completely supported in Swerve’s grip as he held you by your hips and waist.

Swerve wanted to drop you on his spike so bad just to see that shocked expression on your face when you’re filled to the brim with him. “Want me to fuck you now?” Swerve asked feeling more empowered by your reaction.

You nodded eagerly while trying to lean forward to take his mouth with yours.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Swerve tsked with a teasing smile. “You gotta use your words! I know humans are smarter than that.”

You pouted but gave in to his request. “Please! Please Swerve I want you to fuck me!”

“As you say,” Swerve gave in to the devil on his shoulder whispering into his intake to drop your weight on his spike.

The choked noise you made and how you tightened around him was somehow better than the shocked expression you made.

You were sat on his pelvis, pussy filly engulfing his spike with room for little else. Your sweet arousal leaked around him making his plating sticky with slick.

“You’re in my guts,” you choked out as tears came to your eyes.

Swerve leaned down to kiss the salty tears before they could run down your cheeks. “Feel good?” He asked starting to feel unsure if his impulsive action might have hurt you.

You nodded eagerly almost knocking your head against Swerve’s helm. He could only laugh in adoration at your desperation. “You’re tight,” Swerve said breathlessly. “I don’t think I’ve been with anyone this tight.”

“I’ve never been with someone this big,” you panted as you slowly began rolling your hips.

For some reason that sentence managed to make a nest within his processor. Unless you’ve been in the berth with other mechs you wouldn’t have been with someone as big as him. The idea that he was the first mech you’d ever fucked made his spark glow with need.

Swerve changed the position so your upper back was against his berth while he held your lower body in his servos. He curled his frame over yours to capture your pleasing lips into another kiss. He was going to show you how much better he was than any human you had ever been with. He was going to prove just how worthy he was in being your first mech.

You held onto his helm as you moved your lips against his then whined into his intake when he started his frantic thrusting.

He plowed into you like he’d lose you if he stopped. You could feel the backs of your thighs and your rear start to sting from making sharp fast contact with his metal plating.

The more you thought about it the more it scared you how strong Swerve was compared to you. Despite his rabbit like pace, Swerve was still holding back so he wouldn’t hurt you. He was managing to keep his pistons in place well enough to not break your pelvis.

You could feel his fat cable pushing your walls open and the thickest parts rubbing against your G-spot.

You finally had to pull away from Swerve’s intake to catch your breath earning a frustrated whine from the mech. He pushed forward trying to capture your lips once again but when you tilted your head up and away he settled on drowning your neck in love bites and kisses.

“Please,” Swerve begged between slathering your neck in love. “Please it’s so good!”

What he was begging for you weren’t sure but you tilted your hips up more in response.

The wet clapping that filled the room would be lodged in Swerve’s processor until his spark went cold. The feeling of your velvety walls pulsing around him was something he couldn’t believe he had lived all these years without. Swerve was sure that if he wasn’t inside of you fucking your body with all he had he would surely die.

“It’s too much!” You cried out tears prickling from the corners of your eyes. “It’s too big!”

Swerve tucked his helmet against the space between your neck and shoulder trying to memorize your scent. “I got you,” Swerve moaned. “You can take it.” He struggled through the last sentence as your walls clamped down on him like a beat trap. He could feel your body shiver and squirm in his iron grip as your orgasm overcame you. Your mouth was open in an O shape as your eyes were squeezed shut.

Swerve wrapped his metal arms around your body holding you flush to his frame as you rode out your orgasm. He swore he hadn’t seen a sight more beautiful than your body shivering in bliss in his grasp. He had never heard a sound more beautiful than how you shakily moaned out his name as he punched the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

You whined in his arms as his thick spike dragging along your walls soon became overwhelming. You were spread so wide and so sensitive you were sure your body was unraveling.

You could feel coolant tears dripping onto your body as Swerve sobbed in pleasure. “I love you!” He cried holding you like you were his last tether to this mortal realm. “Frag I love you so much!”

He could feel his valve clenching and his spike becoming more sensitive. The way you squeezed around him was becoming too much and before he could warn you as to what was happening, a thick stream of transfluid shot out of him filling your cunt to the point of leaking.

You shuddered at the warmth his overload brought inside of you. His fluid was almost unbearably hot as it sat in your womb. You could only concentrate on the feeling of being so unbelievably full with both his spike and his cum stuffed inside of you.

You shuddered and twitched in his hold all the while Swerve just clung to you like a teddy bear.

“Are you okay?” Swerve asked, his cooling fans whirring at their highest setting.

“S’good,” you managed to dribble out feeling like your body was no longer yours but instead a bowl of gelatin.

“Primus you feel so good,” Swerve groaned while stroking your hair. “Don’t make me pull out please. You’re so warm and soft and tight.” Swerve’s words slurred together as he gently started moving his hips once again.

You shivered and cried out pulling your legs close to your body as the overstimulation started to set in. “Too much!” You wailed shakily.

Swerve immediately stopped his humping but you couldn’t miss the last thrust he got in. “Sorry,” he mumbled against your neck. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Yes,” you sighed while running your hands up his helm. “Please don’t pull out.”

Swerve lifted his helm to plant a wet and loud kiss on your cheek. “I didn’t plan to.”

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Is Y/N okay? Please tell me she’s okay?" Chan’s voice was laced with panic as they finally stepped into the house. His eyes were bloodshot, and so were Changbin’s—both of them were fully in alpha mode.

His body ached, but he could already feel his powers working, healing him rapidly. One thing about alphas: they always heal in hours, no matter the damage.

"Can we at least get you settled before you start panicking?" Leeknow scoffed, his tone exasperated. "You’re acting like you’re not bleeding right now."

"Oh, hyung!" Felix gasped, hands covering his mouth in shock. He looked terrified. "What happened to you guys?" His omega was whimpering anxiously, and Felix’s hands shook as he tried to move closer, but Seungmin held him back.

"We’re fine, Lix. Just a little damage control," Changbin teased, waving it off.

"You guys can't keep doing this to me. I’m too pregnant to be stressed out every time you walk through that door!" Felix huffed, pouting in frustration.

"Come here, sweetie," Chan said softly, holding out his uninjured hand. Seungmin released his hold on Felix’s waist, and Felix waddled towards his pack alpha, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away.

"You must have been so worried, hm?" Chan kissed the younger boy gently and began to scent him, his fingers gently brushing through Felix’s hair as Felix clung to him tightly, unwilling to let go.

"Yes, I was... I can’t lose you guys too," Felix sniffled, his voice trembling.

"I'm fine," Chan assured him, his voice steady. "I’m right here, and so is Changbin. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon." He kissed Felix’s forehead. "Go ahead and finish your dinner with I.N and Seungmin. We’ll be there soon, okay?" Chan noticed the food still on the table, realizing they had been in the middle of dinner.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Felix asked again, his concern still clear.

"Positive," Chan replied with a reassuring smile. "You know me. I’ll heal in a few hours, and then I’ll tell you about my little adventure. I’ll come cuddle you tonight."

"Really?" Felix’s eyes widened, and his voice held a spark of excitement. Chan hadn’t been able to sleep with him the past week because of all the stress, so this meant a lot to Felix.

"Yeah, I promise," Chan said, his smile softening. "Now, go eat. We’ll join you soon."

Felix nodded, giving Chan a quick kiss on the cheek before waddling back to the dining room, rejoining the rest of the pack.

Leeknow sighed as he shifted his weight to help Chan, once again supporting him. "Let’s get you both cleaned up," he muttered.

"Binnie-hyung?" I.N’s voice called from across the room, his tone shy and hesitant.

"Yeah, I.N?" Changbin, who had been lounging on the couch, looked up at the younger boy. I.N was standing awkwardly, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Can you sleep with me tonight?" I.N asked quietly, his face turning even redder. He fidgeted, clearly embarrassed by his own request.

"Of course, love," Changbin replied with a warm smile. "You can always sleep with me."

I.N's face lit up with a huge grin, and he giggled, practically skipping off to the dining room, clearly thrilled.

"I swear, those boys love you more than they love us sometimes," Hyunjin grumbled, rolling his eyes as he helped Changbin off the couch.

"Pack alpha always wins," Chan said with a teasing smirk, his eyes glowing faintly red, clearly enjoying the banter. The other boys groaned in unison and rolled their eyes.

When Leeknow got Chan into his room, he couldn’t resist flicking the older alpha lightly on the forehead, earning a small grunt from him.

"Ow!"

"You idiot," Leeknow scolded as he carefully helped Chan sit down on the bed. "No way you went and killed them without the rest of us. I thought you guys were just going to hunt."

"Leeknow, they saw us coming. Mark and the others were already in position. They wanted to finish it quickly, and I didn’t have a chance to react," Chan sighed but winced as Leeknow gently removed his clothes.

"Are the others injured, or was it just you?" Leeknow asked, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. He was trying to stay calm, but it was clear he was upset about Chan's reckless decision.

"No, everyone else is fine," Chan reassured him. "They’re coming over tomorrow for dinner to celebrate."

Leeknow sighed, nodding. "Well, I’ll need to go hunting for some meat then," he said, focusing on wrapping Chan's wounds.

"H-how’s Y/N?" Chan asked, his face twisted in pain as he winced again. His thoughts were clearly on his luna, and Leeknow could see it in his eyes.

"She’s doing okay," Leeknow replied, his expression softening. "She let Han in today, but..." he hesitated. "She’s still not letting anyone into the bond. She’s rejecting even Hyunjin."

Chan’s expression dropped. "Yeah, I figured. My bite mark still feels like it’s burning," he said with a defeated sigh.

"She’ll come around, Hyung," Leeknow said gently, pausing to adjust the bandage on Chan's arm. "Time will heal things. You did what you needed to. Now we just need to give her space to heal, too."

"What am I supposed to do, Leeknow?" Chan asked, looking up at him, his eyes filled with frustration and self-doubt. "I handled the rogues, but I can’t fix what they did to her. I can’t make it right. It feels like she’s still hurting, and I don’t know how to help her. I thought I’d feel better, but it’s like I’m suffocating… and I can’t fix it..." His voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of his words.

Leeknow paused, seeing the pain in Chan's eyes. Without saying a word, he leaned in and placed a firm, comforting kiss to his forehead.

"Hyung, you really need to stop blaming yourself, actually...we all need to stop blaming ourselves," Leeknow said, his voice full of quiet conviction. "You’ve done what you needed to. Time will heal everything, but you can’t do it all. You took care of the rogues, but now we need to give her the space to heal. We can’t keep dwelling on the past. Felix needs you, and so does she."

Chan let out a long breath, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body, but his worry for Y/N was still there. "I’m trying to be there for them both," he murmured. "Everyone expects me to hold it together, and I just don’t know how."

"Chan," Leeknow sighed, rolling his eyes at the older alpha’s stubbornness. "You’ve got a thick head, don’t you?" He chuckled softly. "You can’t fix everything right now. Time will take care of things. Let’s focus on the positives. Y/N is back home, Felix is healthy. We have that."

"Yeah," Chan agreed, finally giving in to Leeknow’s words. "You’re right."

"I know I am," Leeknow said with a grin. "Now, go take a shower, you’re a mess. And while you’re at it, tell me everything about your little killing hunt later."

Chan couldn’t help but smile at Leeknow’s playful tone, feeling a bit lighter. "Alright, alright," he chuckled. "I’ll go clean up, but you better not skip dinner, go eat."

"oh please! how can i eat with you rascals running around." chan stuck his tongue out as he slowly limped into the bathroom.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Hyunjin finally helped Changbin get dressed in pajamas after a shower (the alpha didn’t really need help, he just wanted Hyunjin’s attention), they both made their way downstairs into the dining hall, where everyone was already sitting, including Minho and Chan.

"What took you guys so long?" Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"SOMEONE," Hyunjin rolled his eyes and pointed at Changbin, "Wanted me to help him shower and get dressed," he huffed as he took his seat.

"Okay, first of all," Changbin gasped dramatically, holding his chest, "I just got back from a killing hunt. Can’t I ask for a little love and attention from my wife?" He playfully nuzzled his nose into Hyunjin’s neck, earning a surprised moan from him.

"Hyung!" Hyunjin smacked his chest lightly before rubbing his sensitive gland, his face flushed.

"Oh, you two definitely fucked," Seungmin snickered, and the room erupted into laughter.

"We did not!" Hyunjin screeched in embarrassment, his face turning bright red.

"We did too!" Changbin teased, poking Hyunjin’s stomach.

"Ugh, why are you always so...horny?" Hyunjin rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated, though a small smile tugged at his lips. The room was now thick with alpha scent, mixing with the betas' as the tension shifted.

"I'm the one who's horny?" Changbin shot back, but before they could continue, a small voice interrupted.

"Hyung? You’re back?" Han’s voice was soft, his nervousness clear as he stood in the doorway. Chan’s eyes flickered red as he recognized the familiar sweet scent of mangoes and peaches. His omega had arrived.

"Hey, baby," Chan stood immediately, his concern clear as he walked toward Han, who looked hesitant to enter the room.

"Yes, I’m back, my love. Are you okay?" Chan pulled Han into a gentle hug, sensing the exhaustion and sadness hanging around him. Han’s posture was tense, and Chan could feel the weight of the day on him.

"I’m... fine," Han whispered, though his voice trembled slightly. "Just tired."

"Hyunjin..." Han glanced over at him. "Can you—"

"Of course," Hyunjin said, standing up to make a plate of food for Y/N. "I’ll bring it up, don’t worry."

Han gave him a soft smile of gratitude as Hyunjin left the room, carefully carrying the food upstairs.

"She’s asleep, so she’ll be up in a bit for her medicine," Han sighed. He felt Chan's eyes studying him, the weight of his gaze making him uneasy. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Chan’s eyes.

"Do you want to talk, my love?" Chan’s voice was tender, but there was concern behind it.

"Not right now, hyung," Han answered softly. "I just need to eat. I’m tired, and I don’t want to talk."

"Did something happen?" Chan pressed, his voice thick with worry. He couldn’t ignore the way Han had been blocking everyone out, even from the bond.

"No, Chan, it’s just..." Han’s voice broke, his lip trembling. "It’s just... being in that room with her. She’s not getting any better."

"Don’t say that," Felix said, his voice tight as he stood up. "Maybe if I go see her, it’ll help. Maybe I can do something."

"No, Felix," Leeknow’s voice was firm, his tone shifting to something serious.

"Why can’t I go see her?" Felix’s voice was laced with confusion. "Why are you all keeping something from me? Does she not want me there?" His eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

Leeknow sighed, his gaze shifting away as he answered through the bond talking to only chan so no one else could hear. She doesn’t want him there because of... his situation. Don’t tell him, Chan.

Chan’s expression hardened, but he nodded in understanding. I won’t.

Felix’s frustration was building. "I can see you guys talking through the bond! Why are you hiding something from me? Does she not want to see me?" His voice cracked with hurt.

"I already said no, Felix," Leeknow said, his tone sharper now.

Felix’s eyes watered as he stood there, looking between them. "What are you not telling me, hyung? I can feel you lying through the bond. Just tell me the truth!"

Leeknow exhaled sharply, frustration evident. He stormed out of the room without another word.

"Leeknow, wait!" Felix called, immediately getting up to follow. As he passed Chan and Han, Han reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Just... let him cool off," Han said quietly. "I’ll explain everything. But i need to eat first."

Felix’s eyes softened as he looked at Han. "She doesn’t want to see me, does she?" His voice was breaking now, tears welling up in his eyes. "I knew it."

Before Han could answer, Felix yanked his hand away and quickly turned toward the door.

"Felix, wait!" Chan cursed under his breath before running after the omega.

Seungmin, who had been watching the entire exchange, sighed dramatically. "Well, screw this," he muttered, getting up and heading to the fridge. "I need a drink to deal with all of this."

"Pour me one too," Changbin added, slumping down in his chair. "I can’t keep up with this pack anymore."

Han let out a long sigh, sitting down at the table and serving himself some food. "Tell me about it," he muttered before pouring himself a glass of soju.

"I heard she’s talking again," I.N asked, also helping himself to a drink. "At least that’s a good sign, right?"

"Yeah, we’ve had some conversations," Han replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "But mostly... she just cried. About... everything."

"The pup?" I.N asked softly, glancing at Han with concern.

"Yeah," Han said, looking away. "It’s so draining, I thought I could handle it, but being in that room... it’s like I’m sinking."

Seungmin nodded sympathetically. "I get it. When they brought her in, I could barely look at her. I thought I was going to break down too."

"At least she’ll talk to you guys," Changbin said with a groan, his shoulders slumping. "She won’t even let us near her. I can’t wait for all of this to be over."

"Same," I.N, Seungmin, and Han all agreed in unison.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: can these guys actually stop stressing felix tf out

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

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[solar4seekstron]

Trapped 150 followers special!

Tf1!SG!Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot

Introduction Movie Oneshot Masterlist

Content: Orion pax becomes Optimus Prime and with that power he becomes your Conjunx. You don’t find out his true colors until it’s too late. At least…that’s what you tell yourself.

TW/Tags: Toxic Relationship, Manipulation, mention of Pregnancy, mild dubcon/noncon, threats, mild cursing, death, couple sex scenes (will be in purple if uncomfortable), OP is loyal but evil, I think that’s all??

Note: The reader is basically the same in the regular universe. I just got this idea because I saw some cool art with their SG versions. This fic is pretty dark so please read TW/Tags if you are uncomfortable. I have been cooking this one up for a while so I hope you enjoy! In my stories when the reader is GN! They both have a spike and valve since they’re both genders and genderless. So they can get pregnant and get other gn or femmes pregnant.

You were best friends with the iconic duo. Although D was a bit of a cry baby. You were always so gentle with him. And had to scold Orion when he would make fun of him. You were even used to Orion's flirts and quick remarks towards you. You were like a mix between the two being both strong and kind.

You always had a strong personality and quiet when it came to your actions. You are gentle but tougher than what most people would expect you to be.

Overtime you and D became more like siblings if anything.And Orion mostly kept to himself unless he wanted to hang with you two. Even at times placing both of his cervos on your hips when you two would be talking to each other.

At times when it was just you and Orion. He would always flirt and mak you smile. Even when he got touchy at times. You dint mind. You just wanted him and D to be happy. You did have a bit of a crush on him.

You wont lie. But you didn’t always agree with him and you didn’t really know how to deal with them.

Youre certain he has a good heart and you know he has feelings for you as well. He even started courting you a few days before he disappeared.

He became intimate with you one day when he asked you to go with him to the sign for the Iacon 5000 to just “Hang Out.” You weren’t against it. To finally feel his embrace was wonderful. And he was so gentle. That was the start of his courtship.

And the next day made a promise to you as Disclocure. To always protect you and keep you by his side. His Prefference by showing that he truly sees and treats D as his own brother.

The next day he was to give his devotion as the final part of your courtship….but..After a day though they disappeared…Until that day.

When the events happened you weren’t able to fully know what they were talking about but just their actions told a story…

You didn’t know who to believe and you just tried you best to find out what happened after you had to watch one of your best friends leave with the high guard. You were spark broken. After some time some guards found you as you spoke with the crowed. They took you by force and flew you to the tower that once belong to Sentinel.

Now belonged to the city its new leader Optimus Prime.

As you made your way in you noticed Elita and a blue bot with yellow shades glare at you as they leaved the room. Once you entered you realized it’s just you and Optimus Prime. His back to you. When he turned to you he was holding a data pad and had a grin on his face.

“Ah Y/N my closest friend.” He sat in one of the chairs. “Please come. Have a seat.”

You walked forward and pulled the chair next to him and takes a seat. He watched you with a grin and once you sat down he spoke.

“So old friend. Was worried I’d never see you again.”

His cervo rested on top of yours on the table as he smiled down at you. His optics narrowing down at you as he grinned. You decided to just get to the point.

”Ori-Optimus. What really happened that day. That moment with D…” His grin was soon gone. He then closed his optics for a moment then opened them. His cervo gently squeezing your cervo as he leaned a bit closer.

“He betrayed us. He’s nothing but a traitor to you and me. He wanted to continue to enslave us!”

He lied as he stared down at you. You took in his words and sighed as you turned your cervo to hold his. “I…I just can’t believe it….”

Optimus optics narrowed. “You know, we are no longer slaves to our city. I’ve been thinking.” He then held your cervo then kiss the back of it as his optics stared at you.

”Will you be mine sweetspark? Be a part of my life as I will for yours?” You only stared at him as you looked at your cervo in his… “I…..”

Is this the right call? He’s devoted to you and it shows… almost and he only stared at you. You then descide..

“Yes. I’ll be your Conjunx Optimus.” You gave him your usual gentle smile. He loved that smile. He created for that smile.

He gently pulled you to him. As you stood up he set you on his lap and gently held you. His cervos on your thigh and aft as he still looked down at you as your cervos rest on his shoulders. “Let’s make it official now, shall we sweetspark.” He gently pulled your frame against his.

Both frames now pressed together as your dermas connects. You both stared at each other for moment until you both closed your optics the room was quiet as you both heard nothing but your kisses.

One of your cervos gently holding the side of his helm as his cervo that was once on your aft move to your lower back to keep you pressed against him.

You both two stayed in this moment for a while longer. After what felt like minutes he tried to press his glossa against your dermas asking for access. But before you can accept. The doors opened. You turned to look at the entrance of the doors much to Optimus annoyance.

“What do you want Elita?”

She then speaks of how they need to get started with rebuilding the city. Optimus rolled his optics. Your frame no longer against him as you listened to her. Who just seemed annoyed to even see you right now.

His cervo now resting on your aft once more as his helm rests on his fists as he listens to her. He’d then sit a little straighter as Goldbug walks in and starts to pick a fight with Elita. You were basically sitting on his thigh as your cervos rested on your own lap.

”I should probably go…I’m kinda hungry.” You got off his lap and stood as the two continued to bicker. His cervos gently grabbing your waist and the other your arm.

”Wait hold up sweetspark no need to go. We can both grab some energon together.”

He said softly as he stood up bringing you a bit closer as he stared down at you. You only looked up at him with an unsure expression. “Optimus you are a leader now. I’ll bring you some treats on my outing, alright?” you leaned up and gently kisses his dermas as his expression seemed more annoyed.

You then walked off as he stared at you. Passing by the two and walking through the door.

—————————————————��—————————

After some time you returned through the doors to the meeting room. You knew he was in there thanks to the guards letting you know. When you walked in you didn’t see Elita or goldbug. And Optimus was speaking tp a few other high councils that you knew who were once miners.

They were speaking and when you peaked through the door. They seemed to still be busy and slowly closed the door.

You noticed Elita and Goldbug weren’t there. You were then told by one of the guards that you and Optimus have your own sleeping quarters. He led you there and told you by orders you must wait there. And so you did. Looking out the window. “I hope his meeting is going alright..”

After a few hours. The door finally opened. You head down the stairs in the apartment as Optimus walk in. Locking the door behind him as he walked past the kitchen area and living room. As you got down stairs you treated him with snacks you got when on your day out. He seemed out of it. “Would you like to lay down. You look exhausted.”

He only stared down at you and slowly nodded a small smile on his dermas. And so you both walked up stared to your shared room. You held his cervo as all he looked at was your aftas you walked unaware.

Once in your shared room, he’d gently picked you up like a bride as he walks to the berth. As you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently kiss his helm.

You heard him chuckle as he lays you on the berth. Him ontop with one cervo on the bed to support him as the other gently rubs the side of your waist. Your cervos holding the side of his helm and pulled him down to you and kiss him. The kiss a lot more hungry as he let out a moan against your dermas. He has been waiting to do this all day. You could tell just by the way he pressed his panel against yours as he thrust against it a few times. His cervos around yours waist lifting you up. Your arms around his neck.

You accepted when he pressed his glossa against your dermas. Accepting the kiss only became more hungry.

As his panel rubbed more against yours as he growled in the kiss, you finally finished teasing him and opened you panel.

He was quick to open his. His spike large and- pretty girthy. He wasn’t too gentle though. Shoving his spike into you without preparing. This caused you to moan and groan loudly against the kiss for a moment in mostly pain then pleasure.

He left his spike in there as you adjust to his size. Your legs shaking as he placed gentle kisses on your neck cables and shoulder.

His cervos holding your hips up against his own. His knees on the berth now as your arms remain around his neck. It took you some time as tears run down your cheeks from your optics. He gently kissed your tears away and he whispered to you.

”Breath sweetspark. It’s alright…” He whispered.

After a few moments you slowly nodded to him and he began to thrust into your valve. Slowly pulling out at first then pushing back in.

This causing you to continue moaning. His dermas against the front of your neck, gently sucking on the sensitive cables. You can feel his grunts and moans against your neck.

Even the berth moving with your body as he thrusted. each one fast and rough.

This continued on for what felt like hours. He mustve overloaded in you at least four times now. You loaded at least 7 times.

And you were becoming exhausted. You tried to speak saying you were exhausted for the past few minutes but your moans always got in the way.

Until you finally was able to say “Stop”. He did so. He looked at you. Seeming like he was barely not out of breath. So you looked at him with tired optics. “You have showed…Your devotion…” He stared at you and chuckled.

”Ready to bond Sweetspark?” You slowly nodded, his spike still in your valve as his load slowly leaked out.

He gently kissed your forhelm as you closed your optics. You chest slowly opening which you weren’t sure why it did. His spark then opened a lot faster and you were hit with a pleasurable feeling.

Both of your sparks dancing together as a bond begins for you both.

After a moment your both are bonded. You two stared at each other as you continue to catch your breath. He only looked down at you with loving optics and gently lifted you against his frame.

Then laying you on the berth closer to the window. As he lays on the other side. Your legs were closed and still shaking a little.

Your frame over heated as your helm turned to him. He was smiling as his cervo gently rubbed your other arm. Your other cervo against his chest as he used his other arm to support himself “You did so good sweetspark.”

He’d give you a gentle kiss as he sat up and grabbed a towel and started to clean you up gently. Being a true gentlemen. After he slowly cuddled you. You were on your side facing the window as he came behind you also laying on his side.

His arm wrapped around your waist as his front frame is against your back and aft. As his legs pressed against yours.

You turned your helm a bit to look at him. He leaned his hel forward to be able to kiss your dermas as a good night kiss. You both then lay your helm down and fall asleep as you both closed your optics. Though….it took you some time to fall asleep yourself. Not to mention his grip around you was pretty….firm.

———————————————————————————

In the morning as the sun started to rise. The window was the cause for the sun to hit you first. Your optics slowly opening and as you slowly sat up.

Your valve and thighs were very sore. As you sat up, you noticed Optimus was on his back still asleep. But his cervo was resting on the side of your hip. As you sat up you moved his cervo to your lap.

Using your body to keep the sun from hitting his optics as you sat up. Using your arm above his helm as support as you leaned down to kiss his forhelm. You’re sure because of you moving caused him to wake up.

He grumbled a bit, his optics stilled closed as his cervo that was icloser to you was now under you. It now resting and holding your waist as you kissed his helm. Your cervo that wasn’t supporting you up now on his cervo that’s on your lap.

His optics slowly opened as he stared up at you. “There’s a view id like to wake up to every day”

You chuckled. “Good Morning to you too.” Both of your dermas connect. Both closing your optics. As his cervo that was once under yours moved to the side of your helm, his other one on your waist was pulling you closer. Until you stopped him.

”Why don’t I fix us some breakfast before our day start, yeah?” You gave him your usual soft smile. He held back a groan and just nodded. Giving to a half smile as you got up. Out of his grasp. He sat up, moving his cervo up to protect his eyes from the suns light as he watched you make your way to downstairs.

He’d then get a comm by Ratchet. He soon had a frown on his face.

You made it downstairs and started to get some energon ready for the both of you on some nice plates in the room. As you sat the plates on the table and sat down. Optimus came down and seemed annoyed.

“I have another damn meeting with the new council.”

You stood up and walked closer to him. “You should eat before your meeting sweetspark.” You hand him his plate. He only stared down at you with a bit of a frown before closing his optics for a moment. Then gives that same fake smiles as he leaned down and kissed the top of your helm. Gently taking the plate and sits down as he eats. You watched himm. Noticing the change in him. You summed it up to the council and meeting he has coming. You just picked up a data pad on a shelf and started scrolling through it as you stood there. Your back to him.

He noticed and finished his food. Then walking to behind you and looked over your shoulder. His helm a bit closer to you. “And what are you doing sweetspark?” He glanced down at you as you payed not much mind to him. using your gig it to scroll through a page as you spoke.

”I’m just looking for any opened jobs. I should do my part for the city sweetspark. I cant be just the Leader of Iacon cities Conjunx.”

You speak with optimism. A gently smile gracing your dermas.

Little do you know his optics are dark as he stared at you. Until his cervo rests on our hip. The grip firm as this caught your attention. His other cervo grabbing the data pad as he moved it behind him as he stared down at you. You turned to look at him with confused optics.

“Optimus I need that.”

”No..you don’t..I descided. You can join me. My personal assistant as that you are with me. How about that?” You chuckled. “We’ll get bored of each other. And besides I wish to help others. So why not out of the tower.”

He sighed and his other cervo once on your hip moved to hold your chin. “Please…I already lost my bestfriend…..I just want what I have left with me….Please?”

His optics were almost… sincere. You weren’t sure how to respond. You just looked down as he put the data pad down. Little did you know he had a grin on his dermas as he stared down at you. “Just come with me. I’m sure we can find a job for you sweetspark. Now be a good Conjunx and join me. Hm?”

His digit gently held your chin as he then kissed your cheek. You let out a small hum and looked at him. “Sure…why not sweetspark.” He chuckled

“Good Conjunx.” He takes your cervo and you both walk out of the room. As you made it to the meeting room.

———————————————————————————

There were other Cybertronians speaking amongst their self. Optimus walked forward as you stay close behind. As he made his way to his chair, you follow behind and notice some of the femmes and mechs look at you as you stand next to Optimus once e takes his seat.

”Alright. Let the meeting commence.” You stayed next to him with a few data pads in your arms for him. The others sitting down. You noticed one of the femmes making ‘eyes’ to Optimus. You had to remind yourself that Optimus is Loyal. Isn’t he?

Your spark implied a bit of pressure. Something he can feel through the bond. And out of no where. The bond from him sent a wave of annoyance and warmth. He moved his cervo back toawrds your gently holding the one that isnt holding all the data pads in your arm.

He kissed the back of your cervo, you noticed the femme looked annoyed and glared at you as he glanced at the femme with very dark eyes.

He did not like this femme making you sad.

You continue to just look at the statues of the former primes around you as he spoke during the meeting. Your cervo still in his larger one as it continues to hold yours. His digit gently rubbing the back of your cervo.

You’d keep a few of the data pads with one arm. As the meeting continues on, some of the mechs looked at you. You ignored them. But you could feel through the bond that Optimus was getting annoyed by the meeting still going on.

Eventually the meeting soon ends and as the bots left and you watched them exit the door.

You felt Optimus cervo gently pull you closer as he stayed in his seat. He took the data pads and set them on the table far from him.

He then sets you on the table in front of him even scooting closer as he spoke.

As he spoke he wrapped his arms around your waist as he looked up at you with hungry optics. Having his usual devious grin as he sets his chin on your chest as you looked down at him. You had a shy smile on your dermas.

“Now sweetspark. I believ with you as my assistant it can give a better chance for me and you to grow….closer as Conjunx. If you be a good Conjunx. I’ll be sure you’re always treated as a Queen.”

”Queen?” You chuckled

”Well you are the wife of the relationship my dear.” He kisses your chest and waist as his cervo gripped the side of your waist and pulled it a bit closer against his dermas and his other cervo rested on your thigh. That cervo then moved to your panel.

You chuckled as you cervo gently rubs the top as his held as the other rests against the table.

“Sweetspark if I’m the wife. Does that mean I will the soul carrier for a future sparkling?” He stops for a moment. His optics soft as he thought for a moment as his body moved up in his chair getting closer.

His chest against your waist as his chin rests on your chest.

”Yes….Our sparkling. My successor.” His dark optics look up at you. You almost felt fear. Something telling you to stop at the back of your head. He’d then gently pat your panel.

”Let me see that lovely spike of yours my love?”

”Optimus we really shouldn’t do this in here. We’re disrespecting the primes aren’t we?” He forcefully opened your panel. Showing your valve and then spike. You shivered at the cold air.

He starts to gently stroke your spike. Having a firm grip and squeezing rather tightly. Your legs slowly shaking as he licked at the tip. You were a bit smaller then him and not as thick. But you can stretch a valve pretty well.

Your hips almost thrusts forward a few times. He chuckled as he continued. Your cervo grabbing the one still stroking your spike. As your other cervo covers over your intake. Trying to hide your moans.

“O-Optimus please we shouldn’t-“

“I will please my Conjunx. Will you so rid me of that?” His helm leaned down to the tip and gently licked at the tip. This made it harder to not thrust forward as you stared down at him…

You couldn’t stop him for a good while……

….You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there. But your cervos gripped his helm as he deep throated your spike in his intake. You came in his throat a couple times now. A few small moans escaping your dermas a few times. Your legs shaking as both of his cervos held firmly under your thighs.

Once you loaded for the third time. He finally pulled your spike from his intake even licking at the tip. Then licking his dermas as he stared up at you. “W-Why did you..-“

“The only good thing of use this spike will have is for me to pleasure you. And your valve is for you to pleasure more.” He gently rubbed the lips of your valve making you shudder. “Now then….be a good bot and sit on your Conjunx lap as the next meeting commences hm?”

He sat against his chair once more. Holding his cervo out to you to take it. You were hesitient at first as your cervo reached out for his. But when he noticed you were holding back he was quick to grab it and pull you onto his lap. His chuckle was deep as his cervos firmly grab your arm and upper thigh.

“You were so good for me.. Now how about we enjoy some time before lunch. I don’t have another meeting for a while my dear.”

He kisses you once more. You took a moment to return the kiss. You had a horrible feeling in your stomach…You told yourself it was hunger. He noticed. His hands gripping tightly to you as a sort of warning.

You both kissed for a moment longer and all that’s heard in the room was your kisses and moans. He’d then stop and stood up holding you and gently sets you down. “Now there’s a really nice restaurant I wish to take you to sweetspark.” You could only nod. As he walks with your cervo in his.

——————————————————————————

Once at the restaurant he was often stopped and asked mid sentence about himself and more now that he was the leader of the city. You only looked at the menu as many people continue to talk to him.

You noticed even as femmes and mechs flirt with him in front of you, he’d always shut them down rudely and glance at you as your looked down as you only feel nervousness.

He didn’t like feeling that through the bond. His side of the bond made you stop that and to be good. You sighed as told the waiter what you wanted. He then asked for the fans to be taken out so that he can eat.

After that the rest of the day went by before you knew it. He’d often pul you closer to him by your waist when walking around. In and out of the tower. You’d always notice femmes, mechs, and neutral bots either give you stink eye or admiration of lust or affections. You still don’t know how to feel about it.

He’d go around, with you with him as he makes speeches and promises. Even going to some charities. Although some of his actions seemed forced. This took all day and before you knew it. It was night.

Once at the tower and back in the meeting room after stopping by a few of the rooms to see what Goldbug and Elita were working you. You noticed they had a few dents in them. Something that made your body shiver as you felt Optimus larger cervo on your waist.

Keeping you close. Once you made your way to the meeting room he took his spot in the sweet. He seemed tired but willing based on how tired his optics appeared.

As he sat he rested the side of his helm on his fist as his other cervo rests on the arm of the chair.

You stand next to his chair as you looked over the updated data pads as he glanced at you. “Sweetspark. Why don’t you take the seat next to me. No one else took it in our meeting before.”

You’d slowly nodded and sat in the seat he told you. He’d then brings you closer by the chair and rests his cervo on your lap as his other cervo holds a data pad. As the others came in the one femme who made eyes at Optimus before glared at you. She then took as seat next to Ratchet. Who descided to sit next to you. You didn’t mind as much. As the meeting continue Optimus kept his cervo on your thigh. Gently squeezing it so often. God do you feel trapped. Ratchet would speak to most with Optimus as the others listened. You’d then notice he seemed annoyed. Even feeling it through the spark bond.

Once the meeting was over you watched as Optimus moved his cervo that once held a data pad go to his face as his digits held the bridge of his nose.

Your cervos moved from the table to the top of his still ontop of your thigh. You then noticed how late it was and stood up. Gently holding Optimus chin with your digits making him look at you.

He watched you as you leaned forward and kisses him gently. “Let’s go to bed sweetspark. You earned it.”

You said as you took his cervo and started walking to the other door to your shared room.. He was quick to stand up and walk with you. Liking the view of you taking a small lead. Not noticing how Moonracer was watching and waited by the door.

As you both made it to your room, you tried your best to not slap his cervo away when he set it on your aft.

You turned around to face him and he was quick to pick you up. Placing your legs around his waist as you wrapped his arms around his neck on your own. Your kiss was soon hungry and passionate as he made his wa the sofa and had you laid down. Having one leg on the couch as he kept kissing you. His panel against yours. Gently humping against it as he whispered between kisses and moans “I love you.”

That’s until you’re interrupted by a knock at the door. He groans and sat down between your legs. Rolling his optics. “It’s probably something important Optimus.”

You sat up as he only looked more pissed off. You then set your cervos on his chest as you looked up at him with a smile. Trying to calm him down. You’d then stand up to go answer until he stopped you.

“Just sit here and look beautiful sweetspark.” He said with a smile and gave you a small kiss.

As he walked to the door he had a huge frown on his face. But he didn’t let you see it.

Once he answered the door it was Moonracer. She instantly started flirting with him. Telling him how she’s been watching him. How she’ll be a loyal bitch and all that. Even a good Conjunx. You could only watch as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He only watched her with an unamused expression. She’s then trying to pull him down closer to her as she tried to kiss him.

You stood from the couch as you made your way, about to speak that she needs the cut that out. Yes you were angry. You are his Conjunx after all.

But when you were about to speak, Optimus noticed you. And raised a cervo to stop you. Only turning his body a bit to look at you. She then looked at you.

”What are you doing here you Bi-“ Before she could finish. She’s then blasted on the side of the face.

Her head completely off as her body falls to the direction the same as when her head was shouted at.

You…were frozen…Even backing up.

”Ugh you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fo that. Just to shoot her from across the table.” He groaned as he turned to you. You could only fall onto your aft as you looked at him with wide optics. “Oh come now sweetspark don’t be scared. The others can clean this up in the morning.”

He put his canon away and kicked the body out of his way.

He walked to you. Even as you backed up he still grabbed your cervos and pulled you against him. He had a large and….terrifying grin on his dermas as he stared down at you. “Let’s go lay down…” He pulled you closer. “Shall we?” His optics glowed.

———————————————————————————

You were sitting on the berth. Your back against the wall as you stared out the window. Optimus was laying on his back His helm on your lap as he looked up at you with a…..’smile’.

You only had an uncertain frown on your lips as you kept looking out the window. Seeing the city lights as many Bo’s still flying around late.

Your cervos gently holding the side of his helm as his cervos hold the side of your thighs. He was loving his spot. After was felt like almost an hour he sat up. You kept looking out the window.

He was on his knees. His cervos grabbing your arm on both sides and pulled you close onto his lap.

”You love me…Don’t you my dear?”

He stared down at you as his cervo held your chin to make you look at him. Your optics were narrowed and tired. You didn’t know how to feel. His optics….They were a mix of love….lust…and hate. He was so possessive and……a killer….

Your intake slowly opens and….aganist your better judgement…you know he can hurt you..and so..

”Optimus…I love you.”

His smile only grew. As he leaned down and connected his dermas with yours and closed his optics, the kiss passionate. You were quick to return the kiss. Your cervos resting on his chest. Closing your optics as you both stay together as so. For a little while longer….but dread rests in your spark…for a moment longer…..

Primus….what have you done?…

This one I have been working on for a good while. I hope you guys enjoyed this and can’t wait to see the comments after. As always a repost is appreciated and hope to see you all in the next post. Hope you all have a good rest of your day!

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[hipsdofangirl]

my SVT bias line as HOCKEY PLAYERS

general + romantic headcanons

genre: college au!, hockey au!, some hockey lingo that may be wrong, subtle innuendos but nothing explicit, lowercase intended

note: always after i go to my college’s hockey games i want to write something… also not proofread as always cause i just got back from a game to sit down and write this for an hour straight... PLEASE comment your thoughts cause i need more people to talk to about this

general information:

the svt hockey team can play in any lines, but they prefer their units they dubbed themselves! this is what makes them so dangerous…

yoon jeonghan (04; position: right winger)

very fast but normally has no stamina, causing early line changes. they usually throw him toward the end of the periods to spark fear into the opposing team.

his signature move is flicking the puck to and fro in front of his opponent only to swipe it under his legs.

he loathes getting shoved but he plays it up so his team gets more angry (they always fall for it).

has best lettuce (slang for hair and this shocked me to my core learning about this)

subtly goes offsides and it’s a 50/50 chance of him getting caught.

he is not the type to pick fights but sometimes feels left out when they occur. one time, the other 3 were butting heads with the other team after a shot and he just stood there with an opposing player and just lightly grabbed his stick; the player tried tugging it back but jeonghan would not let go.

normally, after a fight he is immediately with his teammates and checking for any injuries and hearing them complain about the other team. if they are injured, oh boy watch out.

romantic

during warmups before the game, he purposely shoots with force and towards your direction. you can always spot a little smirk (and a giggle which mingyu side eyes him for) whenever you flinch in response

whenever he scores and his teammates hug him, right after he scans the crowd for you. once he spots you, he does his signature ‘click’ noise and salutes you (sometimes you blow a kiss and he dramatically is taken aback).

when he had his injury that took him to out of play for a month, he would always sit beside you, arm resting on your seat. whenever his team would score a goal, a smile donned his face as he clapped; you on the other hand, always stand up and high five the people around you, his face seems to bloom when he watches you with love.

obviously you receive his jersey and he adores you when you wear it. when he first gave it to you, in your apartment, he had to indulge in his free will and squish your cheeks before planting many light kisses.

when you were mad at him, you wore joshua’s jersey. he was not amused for too long as his name wasn’t the only way to claim you.

xu minghao (08; position: left winger)

exchange player

he is the one with the least amount of broken sticks in his usual line up

along with jeonghan he is one of the fastest but has better stamina. he is also agile and flexible, causing opponents to hate going one-on-one with him; he does that meticulous side by side movement but the final one he leans his body to the avoid crashing into the plexiglass (his opponent doesn’t avoid this fate).

toward the start of his second year playing, the coach told him to tone down his anger, so the rest of the year he wasn’t very aggressive, losing points and vigor till hoshi had to have a talk.

now? once second period rolls around and the vibes are set, he will RUIN them. not with physical fights but his ‘light-taps’ with his shoulder and stick seem to blur the line of being a penalty.

romantic

after the whistle has been blown to perform another puck drop in their zone, minghao will always look to you and tap his stick onto the ice.

whenever you get the courage to create a sign, he will read it but then won’t indulge in your schemes; however, when he faces the other way a smile seems to shine through the face shield.

now when HE had his injury, he would also sit next to you. it was awkward when his injuries overlapped with jeonghan’s as you all sat next to each other to cheer. when it was break time and the screens in the middle points to a new ‘____ cam’, jeonghan would look over at him leading minghao to sigh and gave a brief glare to the man. jeonghan would purposely flag down the cameraman and point towards you two. have fun under new situations (kiss cam, dance cam, cowbell cam, you name it).

he wants to teach you how to play or at least how to successfully hit the puck. he desires to indulge in both of your hobbies for a closer connection; even if you can’t skate or is not accessible, he will find a skate park where you two can hit a ball with hockey sticks while complaining about your latest group project.

if the ice is accessible, he will teach you how to skate…oh? you already know how to skate? no, you don’t; he will correct your form or tease you, allowing himself to be barely out of reach as you stretch your hands to lovingly strangle him.

unlike the others on the team, he never asked you to wear his jersey. instead, whenever he visited or you did, he would ‘forget’ or ‘misplace’ his jersey around you and sometimes overnight. he wanted YOU to ask if you could wear it; call it self-consciousness or call it pride, he wanted you to take this step. of course, you always noticed and knew where it was; and of course, one time he happened to catch up trying it on in the spur of the moment. and of course he had to see it off too…

lee seokmin (81; position: center)

originally played baseball as a kid till he fell in love with watching his sister ice skate.

didn’t think he would actually join the college team but he immediately vibed well with the other players.

somehow on the official roster they spelled his name wrong?? who is dokyeom??

at first, he was scared of boarding people or engaging in fights; however, after watching mingyu and wonwoo tag team someone after the pushed woozi out of the goal, he accepted his anger.

the first time he showed aggression was during an argument he had with mingyu: he slammed his bag on the locker room floor and the silence was so loud that everyone teases him about it to this day.

unlike some of his teammates, he continues to occasionally fight; when a fist goes flying and knocks his helmet off, it’s hard to miss that rare dark look (only reserved for some moments you aren’t naive to) before he winds back to tackle the assailant.

ANYWAYS since he is one of the centers, the other members hold amounts of trust for him as he never fails to lighten the mood. with random words that become pregame cheering phrases, or with a jaw-dropping goal that flew just over the shoulder and into the net. even when he barely misses, his teammates will no doubt have his pack and flick it in.

during warmups, he loves ‘missing’ the goal and miraculously a kid gets the puck.

romantic

always looks forward to what sign you created in the crowd and secretly hopes it’s his number written on there.

when the rink has open ice skating, he loves taking you on there. bonus points if you suck cause you know he will hold your hands the whole time (even if you don’t really suck and you are pretending) and beam at you with the prettiest smile and shining eyes.

after games, he WILL ride the bus with you back to your apartment. when you ask how he is going to get back to his place, as the closest bus line doesn’t go that way, he somehow is passed out in your bed: snuggled under your weighted blanket and hugging your plush squishmallow (he eventually abandons it for you when you give in hmm it’s like he was never asleep…you feel bad when you wake up and look over on the floor to see the abandoned mallow’s beady black eyes staring into you).

it’s a little tradition and mini competition between you two to see who can leave the most notes of encouragement for one another! he came so close to crying—when you first started this trend—by placing 7 blue sticky notes littered with words of affirmation and doodles: located on top of his hockey stick, inside his gloves, top of the inside of his helmet, in the side pocket where he holds his water bottle, and on both of his skates.

please please please wear his jersey!!! his mood will sour when you don’t. even if it’s dirty and smells and someone spilled beer on it—don’t worry!! seokmin will give you another one which leads to his coach wondering why he has no jersey (or one that reeks with beer).