#it's not even like transformers. he's literally just a car

[heartbeetz]

Urge to include kᎥtt in my f/ovember vs The Cringe

[starscreamingg]

Honestly transformers one deserves a medal for being the first transformers. Thing. In like five years to make me actually like and want to see bumblebee

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ultimate Glow-Up

Part 2

Word count: 559

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Y/n was Lando’s childhood best friend who used to have braces, bad bangs, and a deep love for Minecraft. Years later, she shows up at a Grand Prix looking stunning.

________________________________________________________

Lando Norris had seen a lot of shocking things in his life.

He’d seen Max Verstappen drive an entire race with a broken car and still win.

He’d seen Daniel Ricciardo shotgun a shoey without flinching.

He’d even seen his own pit crew change all four tires in under two seconds.

But none of that compared to the absolute whiplash he experienced when he saw her.

“Mate, are you okay?” Oscar’s voice barely registered in his ears as Lando stood frozen in the McLaren hospitality. His drink was halfway to his lips, forgotten, while his jaw quite literally dropped. His eyes were wide, nearly cartoonish, as his brain short-circuited.

Because Y/n—his Y/n—his childhood best friend, his former Minecraft-building buddy, his partner-in-crime during their gangly, brace-faced, awkward teenage years—was walking toward him looking like that.

What the hell.

Gone were the crooked bangs she had once cut herself in his bathroom mirror. Gone was the oversized creeper hoodie she practically lived in from ages twelve to sixteen. Instead, she looked… elegant? Effortlessly hot? Her hair was all glossy and perfect, she had an easy confidence in her stride, and—was that eyeliner?!

Lando gulped. His fingers twitched around his drink. This was bad.

He wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that she looked this good or the fact that she seemed completely unaware of it.

“Lando!” Y/n’s voice cut through his existential crisis, bright and familiar as ever. Her face lit up when she saw him, and before he could even react, she threw her arms around him in a hug.

Okay. Cool. No big deal. Just his childhood best friend pressing against him like it was nothing. Just normal, casual, totally platonic best friend behavior.

Lando did not freak out. He did not inhale her perfume like a total weirdo. And he definitely did not melt like butter in the sun.

“Y/n! Hey! Wow, uh—hey,” he sputtered as he pulled away, struggling to form actual words. He ran a hand through his curls, vaguely aware that Oscar was watching him like he was witnessing the most entertaining disaster of his life.

Y/n just grinned. “It’s been ages! I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Lando let out a laugh, slightly unhinged. She almost didn’t recognize him? That was rich.

“Yeah, uh, same,” he said, because he couldn’t just say what he was actually thinking, which was What happened? Who allowed this? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to transform into a goddess before showing up at my workplace?

She beamed. “You look exactly the same.”

Lando nearly choked on air.

“Wha—I—excuse me?” he sputtered, gesturing vaguely at her. “I look the same? Y/n, have you seen yourself?”

Her brows furrowed. “Yeah? Why?”

“Why?!” Lando’s voice cracked. “Because—because you—you’re all—” He waved his hands at her helplessly, looking to Oscar for support, but the Aussie was absolutely no help, hiding his laughter behind his hand.

Y/n, meanwhile, just looked confused. Like she genuinely had no idea what he was freaking out about.

“What?” she asked, blinking at him like he was the weirdo.

Lando opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Nothing,” he mumbled, defeated. “You just—you look great.”

“Oh.” Y/n’s face lit up in surprise, and a faint pink dusted her cheeks. She smiled—an old, familiar smile, braces or not. “Thanks, Lan.”

Lando was so screwed.

[inthelow]

THE LIST — BTS OT7 (chapter one: park jimin).

Pairing: fashion girl f!reader x ot7!bts

Summary: after finding out that some girls have a list of their hookups and how they rank them on different aspects, the boys are eager to know their scores and show you how they can be better than the others.

Masterlist: introduction, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. eight.

Genre: literally porn with a plot; a lil fluff but mostly smut and crack

Warning/Notes: a lot of sexual talk, scenes and jokes. (dirty talk, fingering, face riding, oral -f!receiving-, humping, penetration, missionary, chocking).

CHAPTER ONE: PARK JIMIN.

summary: after Tifanny & Co’s event, Jimin shows up to your house to celebrate. However, you notice he’s acting a little suspicious when he starts sweet talking to you.

Jimin was the one to break your celibate life.

It had been six months ago when you decided to stop having sex for a while. Having sex was not something taboo for you, let alone something you were ashamed to talk about. You had started your sex life from an early age so by now you already knew what you liked and didn't like. You had had several sexual partners and several one-night stands, it wasn't something you were ashamed of, you loved sex, you liked it. Things started to change when your friends started getting steady partners, suddenly the way they described having sex was like something out of this world. For them couple’s sex was something special, something unique, a connection you couldn't have with just anyone. It didn't bother you to hear that but after a while it became annoying. You had had loving partners but none of them had felt that way, not because you didn't love them but because sex was always good, you didn't need a specific connection to transform it into something brilliant... at least you thought so until they made you doubt... maybe there was something wrong with you or your body, because all your friends thought sex was more important and special with a partner, was it true?, were you the crazy one?.

There were few times when you doubted about your sexual desire which was rare because you considered yourself very sexual, the doubts began to cloud your mind and suddenly you made the decision to live a celibate life until you met someone special, although you had done it before, this time you wanted the next person you were with to be someone with whom you first formed a strong love bond. You had slept with your previous partners before you became a couple so you were willing to put sex with other people on hold and wait to see if you could find that connection your friends were talking about.

Of course, the situation was hell. The toys were amazing at satisfying you but nothing felt like another person's touch. You were starting to go crazy for just one quick fuck, maybe your friends were wrong and had never had good sex until they met their partners. You had that conversation with Yoongi the day you slept with him and decided to go celibate, he had been on your side, sex with love was just as amazing as sex without feelings, you just had to know what the other person liked. And, even though he showed you right that night, you decided to go ahead with the plan to try to see if it was really different… but it was becoming difficult, finding love was frustrating.

Jimin arrived that night to break your oath.

It was midnight when you arrived at your apartment. It had been the Tifanny & Co’s event to which Jimin had managed to get you an invitation after his pinky promise. It had been a spectacular night, you achieved your goal of charming the owner of the brand you wanted to collaborate with, you made new contacts and had a lot of fun. You hadn't seen much of the idol, greeting him once before you lost sight of him. By the end of the night you were already taking a car back to your duplex, writing him a text message thanking him for the invitation even if he owed you that. You couldn't even take your shoes off because the boy's message caught your attention.

Park Jimin: I know a way you can thank me

You: u wish

Park Jimin: you don’t even know how much

Park Jimin: open the door

You chuckled, thinking he was just kidding however, when someone knocked on your door, you frowned confused. You opened it to see the idol himself standing in front of you with the same outfit as before and a big smirk on his face.

“The hell are you doing here?” was the first thing you asked.

He looked offended “you didn’t say bye, I needed to see you one more time” he pushed you out of the way to enter into your apartment “. Tell me how everything went out”.

You sighed before walking to your kitchen, he followed you. It wasn’t like he was an stranger, you both had a great bond even if most of your talks were banters.

“Fine, let me get a glass of water first”.

“Water?. Baby, take the wine, I know we’re celebrating tonight” he didn’t give you an option, knowing where your bottles of wine were he took one immediately.

“You’re an alcoholic and of course everything was fine, I’m literally the best closer ever” you watch him take two glasses to pour the red wine.

“You’re not a lawyer but you are the best” Jimin nodded before giving you a glass.

“That…”

“Wait” he cut you off before taking a step closer to you, he didn’t say anything as he guide his gaze from your feet to your eyes, looking every part of your body as if you were a piece of his favorite food, you raised an eyebrow “. Yeah, that dress is perfect for you”.

You were wearing a burgundy lace dress that was held with two straps over your shoulders and left a neckline of your collarbone, it was long to the floor but with a slit in the left leg, you were also wearing some lace gloves of the same color that reached your elbows and several jewels of the brand that you had been allowed to wear, your long heels were not visible but they were already killing your feet. Your hair was loose and wavy after you put it down when you arrived to your house and your makeup was still intact, it was not a breathtaking look because the event was not that high elegant but you knew you look good anyway.

It was very obvious he was flirting with you.

“You don’t look bad yourself” Jimin was wearing a black suit before but now he was only with the black pants and a white shirt that was unbuttoned till his chest, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked hot.

“Thank you, pretty” he smiled “. Now tell me what happened”.

You started talking to Jimin about what happened at the party, exchanging gossips about some of the people who attended. Several hours passed where you continued talking and drinking, you leaned against the wall of your kitchen and he took a seat in a chair in front of you, just a few steps away. He moved the chair so he could see you, his legs stretched slightly, he was manspreading as he spoke. His eyes didn't move from you and after several minutes you decided it was obvious enough to keep playing dumb.

"Are you trying to get in my pants?".

He chuckled "is it working?".

Of course he was. You knew how he work for it, he did it many times with you, you knew his game. He knew how to do the sweet-talking, he did it the first time he slept with you. It was years ago, after you had already slept with Tae and Jungkook so you knew all the guys already, you had ended your casual sex encounters when you tried to start dating for real but nothing worked out, almost a year later Jimin found you in a party and he started his game with you. Why? You looked hot and he wanted to taste you. The two of you ended up sleeping together a couple of times, just casual sex since you were not looking for a serious relationship.

“You always knew how to sweet-talk me” you crossed your arms “. Is this because of the list?".

“You’ve always been so smart" he smirked.

“I know, now explain yourself".

“What? You think I just wanna fuck you for a list?" he frowned.

You nodded “oh, you so are.”

“I think you’re the most beautiful and hottest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes..."

“And you would be speaking facts but get a grip, I’m not sleeping with you again" you rolled your eyes, finishing your glass of wine.

“Do you not find me hot anymore?" he tilted his head, making himself look cuter and fishing for a compliment.

“I slept with you when you had those horrendous rainbow highlights" you reminded him ". You think I don’t find you hot right now?".

“Ouch, that was for one day and then I was blonde” he pouted “. I feel like this natural color is good".

“Blonde was so hot" you sighed.

“... I’m going blonde next week".

You snorted “try next week then, it’ll probably work better".

You left your glass in the sink before turning to leave the kitchen, he was quick to stand up and hold your hand, taking you to your position from before. Jimin pressed you to the wall, his body almost touching yours.

“Can I try now?”.

“You’ve been trying” you made a grimace “. It was a hard watch”.

He rolled his eyes “I don’t remember you being this hard to get”.

“Rude” you pushed him and he stumbled back, he let you go “. And that was because I wanted to sleep with you, now I’m in my celibate era” you shrugged “. You know what they say…Nun life is a good style”.

“Why are you doing that to yourself?” he laughed “. You’re the most sexual person I know”.

“That’s exactly why, I wanna find someone to have a special kinda of sex or something like that” you tried to explained yourself.

“Ah, I remember” Jimin nodded “. Yoongi told me you were having those weird thoughts”.

You groaned, embarrassed “why are you talking with Yoongi about that?”.

“We talked about you” he smirked when you made a disgusted face “. What? We share things too, I wanted to know why you wouldn’t sleep with me”.

“I’m not sleeping with you because you’re doing this for the list” you stated.

He raised an eyebrow, trying to look innocent “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Tell me you’re not doing it for the list then”.

“Okay, I’m doing it for the list” he was quick to break.

“Do you know how insulting that is?” you weren’t actually mad but annoyed.

“Babe, I’ll sleep with you any day, any time, any place” Jimin told you like it was something obvious “. Just happens that now I want that ten”.

“To brag?.”

“Duh”.

“You’re not making this better”.

He took a step closer yo you “I can make you feel better” he smirked.

“Ew, stop.”

“I mean, I will brag but I also want to show you how good I can be” he put his hands on your cheeks, his face getting closer to yours “. I wanna show you how I can get that ten”.

You looked at him through your long eyelashes, his body pressed to yours a little hard, trying to feel you. You tried not to sigh, missing having someone this close. His thumb started brushing your cheeks softly before going down to your lips, pulling it a little slow without taking his eyes off them. You were breaking so fast, it was almost funny.

“Look at you” you whispered and his eyes found yours “. You’re so confident now. Five years ago you wouldn’t even make eye contact with me” you mocked him.

“I’m just very shy” he said softly.

“Not on the stage, not now”.

“You wanna know why?”.

He took his right hand down your body, the tip of his fingers tracing your dress from your shoulder to your hip before going down to your right tight, slowly grabbing the back so he could put it around his waist.

“Why?”.

“Because I wanna show you how bad I want you right now” his other hand stopped at your neck before grabbing your chin so you couldn’t break eye contact, he pressed his hips to yours, making you feel his bulge in your core, you press your lips trying not to make a sound “ I want you so bad… do you want me?”.

Jimin was so hot when he gets in the mood and you were so quick to give in.

“I want you”.

“Oh” he started smirking, looking at your lips again “, you want me know?” he asked, not waiting for an answer he ghosted his lips to yours “. Such a complicated girl”.

“Doing all this for a dumb score is crazy. You know that, right?” you tried to fight back.

“For the score?. That’s only a thing I get to win while doing this” he frowned “. I always want you”.

Okay, fuck it, you were going to fuck him.

“Show me then”.

He grinned “kiss me”.

There was one thing you like about Jimin that other guys couldn’t copy, he made you work for it. He always made you want him, it didn’t matter the place, the time or the date, if he wanted you he would make you want him too. His charm was something out of this word and you love how he could make you so horny even when you weren’t in the mood. He always made you want him more than you normally did.

Your lips pressed hard against his, your hands went to his head so you could guide the kiss. His lips were plump and soft, you bit them lightly so he could open his mouth, your tongue found his quickly, you moaned with satisfaction at the passion with which he kissed you. It had been six months since the last time you fucked someone, you were dripping wet at just some fraction. With his right hand he kept squeezing your thigh so he could pressed to you even harder, he started a gentle back and forth to make you feel his erection. You wanted to rip off his clothes. His other hand pushed you softly so he could grab your cheek with determination, this time he was the one to guide the kiss. His lips were more hungry, he kissed you with passion, his thumb went down to your lower lip to open it so he could slide his tongue, his other fingers were holding the side of your neck so you couldn’t scape. He tasted every part of your mouth.

After a couple of seconds Jimin pushed you back slowly with his jaw and broke away to give you a peck before moving his lips down your jaw and neck, biting lightly on it and making you moan. He pressed harder on your hips and moved the hand that was on your thigh to start pulling your dress up slowly, meeting the slit halfway and lifting it up to make you grab it with one hand. His fingers moved down to your center, his thumb starting to rub your clit on top of your underwear. You sighed at the fraction and he smiled slightly. It was so good feeling someone else’s touch after son long, you knew you weren’t gonna last that long.

“Am I making you feel good?”.

“Uhm” you nodded, trying not to moan at the motion, he was touching you so good.

“You’re dripping wet” he pouted “. Did you miss this, baby?. Someone touching you like this… making you feel this good”.

“Jimin” you breathed out when he pressed harder, moving his thumb a little faster.

“Yeah?” he snorted “. You’re falling apart so easily, you really needed this, huh” you didn’t say anything, knowing he was right “. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you” he took his hand away from you and you whined, he chuckled “. Tell me you want me”.

He moved his thumb to his lips, sucking it softly to have a little taste of you. You started breathing faster, he sighed, licking his lips like he had a good meal even when he could barely taste you.

“Jimin…”

“Tell me you want me” he said again.

“I want you” you pressed your thighs together, wanting some kind of fraction.

He smiled, satisfied “good. Now do what I say”.

You frowned confused and frustrated when he took a seat on the chair, leaving you standing in your place.

“What are you doing?”.

“Touch yourself”.

You froze momentarily, not knowing how to go on. Jimin looked very confident, sitting with his legs spread wide open and his breathing slightly agitated. He was closer this time, just two steps away and with a good view of you, his pupils were completely black and you guess yours were too. Everything felt too much, too good. The blood rushed to your cheeks, he was so sinful.

“What?”.

“You heard me. Touch yourself for me”.

You were too turned on by it to not do it. Your left hand held your dress to the side, showing him your bare legs and panties. You removed your right lace glove from your right hand and slowly moved it down over to your center, you started patting yourself over your underwear. Your fingers formed a V and you started moving them over your labia, getting even more wet.

“Open your legs, baby” you did as he told you, showing your wet panties “. Fuck, you’re making a mess, you’re so hot” you sighed, moving your fingers harder “. Put your panties to the side, I wanna see you”.

You obeyed , moving your underwear aside so you could touch yourself directly. The tip of your middle finger found your clit and you gently rubbed it, moaning at the stimulation. After a couple of seconds you moved your hand to your labia to gather your juices and open your entrance, ready to take something as your cunt was begging to be taken care of. You inserted your middle finger first and bit your lower lip to not moan again, Jimin groaned at the sight, you looked so hot he wanted to fuck you already, making you take everything he could give you, he wanted to make you fall apart first, no mercy.

“Yeah, fuck yourself, pretty. Put another finger inside ” he sighed, starting to rub his bulge over his pants. You inserted another finger, moaning “. Is it tight?. I bet you can barely fit them, you’ve always been so tight, baby. I remember how good you felt every time I was inside you, so warm”.

“Jimin” you whined, you couldn’t wait anymore “. I want you”.

“Fuck. You do, baby?” you quickly nodded and he groaned “. Come here”.

You pulled your fingers out of you and walked towards him. Jimin grabbed your hips, making you stand in front of him and watching you from below with desire. His fingers ran down your stomach to your panties, gripping the sides before slowly pulling them down. You lifted each foot so you could remove your clothing, deciding not to say anything as Jimin crumpled the underwear before tucking it into his back pocket. You looked confused as Jimin moved to take a seat on the floor, leaning back against the chair legs before throwing his head back, resting his head on the seat.

“What…?”

“Use my face” he grabbed the back of your tights, trying to get you closer “. Make me feel useful”.

Oh.

Now you understood the competition for him. He wasn’t going to just brag about the number, he wanted to show you he could be better, than he can be good. You knew he struggled with a lot of insecurities about his talents, about his hard work. He wanted to show you he could be the best. He was needed for approval.

You spread your legs so you could get around the chair, Jimin stretched further so he could get his whole head on the seat, not caring if it caused his neck to ache in pain later, he only wanted to give you pleasure. His arms went around your thighs as you slowly lowered yourself down, he squeezed you tightly before making you sit on his face without any delicacy. His tongue touching immediately your labia, he dives into your cunt, desperately pushing into your walls. he wants to hear you cry, to feel you squirm, he wants to hear you break for him.

“Fuck, Jimin!.”

His tongue ran over your entrance, circling it a couple of times to taste your juices. You sighed in pleasure when he reached your clit, sucking hard and trying to squeeze it with his lips, his tongue flicked over it with force and you moaned. He was eating you so good. He moved his head upward so he could talk, his lips wet of your juices and his eyes narrowed, making him look like a siren.

“I said use me” he took a breath before going in again.

Shit.

Your hand went straight to the seat so you could hold yourself up. Your hips moving slightly to find a rhythm so you could get yourself off. His head moved a little and his tongue expanded towards your entrance so your clit was positioned on his nose, you began to ride him a little faster, feeling your clit vibrating over the stimulation his nose was giving you. He could barely breathe, his face shoved into your cunt as he listened to your moans and sighs, you were making him lose his mind. His right hand moved down and he started stroking his bulge over his pants, trying to get some friction.

“Fuck, fuck” you moaned, feeling the pressure in your core starting to build “. I’m coming, shit” you moved harder, not caring if he couldn’t breathe anymore, trying to reach your high “. Shit!. I’m coming…”

You moaned loudly as you reached your orgasm, your thighs squeezing the singer's head, coming all over his mouth. Jimin didn't complain at any point, helping you ride your high. You tried to catch your breath while he continued to lick your cunt. You tried to stand up so you could recover but Jimin wouldn't let you, squeezing your thighs as he continued to drink your juices. Your legs started shaking, too sensitive when he didn’t stop eating you out at any point.

“Too sensitive” you whined and he sucked your clit “. Jimin!”.

He let your thighs go and you moved to sit on the floor next to him, exhausted. Jimin kept his head back, breathing heavily. You both took a couple of minutes to catch your breath.

“That was so hot, y/n”.

He licked his lips, cleaning his jaw and nose with his sleeve before leaning over you. His hand grabbed your jaw to give you a peck, you tasted yourself on his lips.

“That was crazy.”

He smirked at you “you thought that was it?”.

Jimin carried you without difficulty in order to take you to your room, knowing the place perfectly. You laughed lightly as he dropped you on the bed without delicacy. He positioned himself on top of you before kissing you again. His hands ran down your body, sliding his fingers over your dress until he lifted it back up to your hips, he positioned himself between your legs. Your hands quickly searched for his pants so you could unbuckled them and tug them down, he grunted when you start touching his cock over his underwear, firmly and slowly.

“You’re so hard”.

“How could I not?” he start kissing your neck “. You are so hot. Fuck, you tasted so good, I could eat you for hours”.

“Yeah?” he nodded and you pressed your hand harder “. You made me feel so good, I came so hard”.

“You did” he moaned when you pulled down his underwear, touching him for real this time, your hand was cold and his tip was full of pre-cum “. Shit, keep going, baby”.

“You’re so good” you praised him “. So good for me, baby”.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock tightly, your thumb rubbed his tip so you could spread all his pre-cum over it. His hips began a slight back-and-forth, fucking himself on your hand, slowly as he became slightly lost in the sensation. You were too good. Jimin sighed when you bit his jaw between kisses, nodding before looking at you with starry eyes. Your other hand started unbuttoned his shirt slowly, trying to touch his torso.

“I’ll be better. I’m gonna fuck you so good”.

“Show me then.”

His attitude came back like a flash, Jimin smirked at you before grabbing your legs to get you close, putting them around his waist. The tip of his cock rubbed your clit slowly, wetting it with your juices. You moaned breathily as he started rubbing hard, you could feel every vein of his cock running all over your cunt, it felt so good to feel the skin of someone else. You bit your lower lip when he thrusted his hips to hit your clit with his tip again. It felt so good but you knew you couldn’t fuck him without protection, he seemed to read your mind because he was quickly to ripped one of his shirt pocket, you rolled your eyes knowing he had planned it all. Fucker. He put the condom on quickly before putting the tip on your entrance, teasing you for a couple of seconds.

“Jimin, I swear if you don’t put it in right now…fuck!”.

He fucked you all the way until his hips pressed flush against you, letting you feel every inch stretching you open. You moaned out softly, hands fisting his shirt, head thrown back against the bed. Jimin grunted with euphoria, feeling you squeeze tightly around him, feeling your warmth. He slowly pulled out before giving you another hard thrust, feeling you completely again.

“You feel so good, holy shit” he moaned in your ear, he started to move in a slowly but hard motion, fucking you good “. So so so good, baby”.

“Shit, fuck me harder”.

He groaned at your words before doing what you said so, moving his hips with force to make you feel good. He found a pace where he could reach most of you, his hand travelled to your clit, rubbing it slowly with his thumb, you moaned and he gave you an open kiss, licking your mouth with desperation.

“Am I making you feel good baby?” You nodded, feeling lightheaded as he took his hand out of your clit to put it in your lips, your tongue was quick to lick it, pressing your lips around it to suck it an taste yourself. Jimin licked his lips, hungry of you, he snapped his hips faster “. Shit, this is your place. You look so hot like this, you were made for me to fuck”.

Jesus Christ.

“So good” was the only thing you could say.

“Yeah?. You’re becoming so dumb, baby” he sighed, amused “. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you” his hand travelled to your throat, putting his finger around it before giving you a squeeze “. Go dumb, pretty. I’ll keep fucking you good, yeah?. Just think of creaming on this cock, that’s all you need to do”.

Your mind went blank. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned again as this time his grip on your throat became more tightly. He slammed his hips against yours harder, making the bed move dramatically. With his other hand he began to rub your clit in order to bring you to your second orgasm. All you could think about was how good it felt to be completely filled by his cock, hitting your g-spot with richness. It all had happened so fast, it had been a dirty fuck, you hadn't even taken off your clothes, just moving them to the side.

He could feel you completely, how wet, hot and tight you were. He knew he was making you feel good by the way you could barely say anything, you were practically drooling with the way his cock was abusing your cunt. You knew it had been a while since anyone had touched you that way so you were more sensitive than ever. He liked making you feel that way.

Your walls clenched around him without mercy, squeezing him so deliciously tight that he nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure. he was drowning in the sensation, the way your heat wrapped around him, the way you took him so good. His fingers grabbed your hips with strength, leaving marks on it, he wanted to do that, leave marks all over your body, his lips bit your neck. He was about to cum, he could feel it. His cock was slamming deep into you, the tip kissing that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. it was heaven, the way he filled you up so completely, stretching you just right, making you feel so good, you felt it coming too.

His thrusts became unsteady, trying not to fall apart as how your delicious cunt was hugging his cock so tight, you scratched his abdomen with your nails, tears filling up your eyes. Jimin groaned and you bit his lower lip before grabbing his hair to pull it with strength, too overwhelmed. His hips bumped against yours hard and his thumb rubbed your clit harder, meeting your orgasm and going out of the edge too. You felt him fill the condom with his cum, hard and strong. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his arms trembled, trying to come down from his high as he continued to fuck you slowly.

He pulled out off of you before falling to your side, you both took a second to catch your breath.

It was too good.

“Are you still with me?”.

You laughed and hummed positive when he grabbed your hand to check on you, your eyes were closed, you couldn’t opened them up because you knew you would get dizzy. After a couple of minutes in silence and trying to catch a break Jimin stood up to go to the bathroom, you didn’t notice what he was doing, trying not to fall asleep and coming back to the real world. You couldn’t believe you went out for months without sex, now you could confirm that everything your friends told you was shit, sex after being a prude was the best sex ever.

Jimin came back after some minutes, lifting you up so he could take you to the bathroom where he had made a bath for you. He took your clothes off and you sighed with excitement and pleasure when your naked body touched the hot water. Oh, he was so good for you. He brought you a glass of water before going into the bath with you. You knew it would lead to another round after some minutes but you didn’t care, you would fuck him again if the chance was given. Isn’t that what he wanted anyway?.

Your eyes opened and a little smile grew on your face. Maybe you could wait to try them all so you could put the number ten in one of them. After all, that’s what they wanted right?… celibate life was never for you anyway.

ayeee after like 6 months here u have the first chapter,, its been so long idk if anyone is reading this bye here ya go heheh;; i know it might be shit but i’m new to writing smut so bare with me 😓🙏🏼

i hope u like it hehe, who do you think is gonna be the next one? ;)

i think i’m gonna make a taglist so let me know if you wanna be on it<333, hope someone is still reading this story over here lol

[deadghosy]

Hi! I hope you're doing great!

So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?

Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller

And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!

P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival

HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER

Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!

Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.

The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….

I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.

“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.

Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️

You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.

You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.

I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”

“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.

You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.

I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.

No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.

You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..

You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.

“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.

“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.

Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.

I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.

Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆

You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨

You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.

You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.

Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.

I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭

lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.

“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”

They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.

When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends

You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.

Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.

Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho

I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.

LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭

I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along

Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-

So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.

After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.

Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers. 

HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH

[fordiaz]

Smoke Signals (Eddie Diaz) 🧃⋆˙ᝰ.ᐟ

“Because you hurt her. I saw it. I picked up the pieces while you played house with someone else.” ✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

Synopsis: You’ve always been Buck’s person — his best friend, his confidante — and he’s always kept a quiet, unspoken affection for you. But you’ve drawn a clear line: no dating within the workplace. That is, until Eddie Diaz walks into Station 118 and suddenly your rules seem negotiable. Buck watches as you transform in front of him, and it nearly breaks him. But things aren’t as simple as they seem, especially when Eddie’s past — and his wife — come to light. What follows is a long road of heartbreak, silence, healing… and ultimately, love.

Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, Slow Burn

AU: None

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Afab!Reader (with heavy Buck x Reader friendship angst)

Warnings: Eddie is a major asshole but I only did it to get his messy love life out the way (😭), Evan Buckley with second male lead syndrome, mention of a cardiac arrest and OD, character death (Shannon).

Note: Guys this is my first 911 fic after rebranding this account so BE NICE please. ;; Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this read, I tried to at least be lore accurate somehow because my memory of S1-S4 is still a bit fuzzy since I just started rewatching the show, so no mentions of Marisol or anything just yet. Don’t forget to like + reblog as a way of supporting me and other writers as well, happy reading!

The sweltering Los Angeles summer heat had nothing on the firehouse kitchen when the crew of Station 118 rolled in after a long call.

The air was thick with post-adrenaline energy, gear clunking to the ground, laughter echoing off the walls, and the scent of someone burning microwave popcorn — again.

You stood near the coffee machine, peeling off your gloves, when Buck nudged your side.

“Bet you five bucks Hen blames me for that popcorn smell in five minutes,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t even look up. “It was you.”

Buck feigned offense. “Allegedly.”

“You literally said you’d try that TikTok trick where you pour milk in the bag to make it creamier.”

“Okay, that sounds made up—”

“You said it. In front of everyone.”

Hen walked in right on cue. “Jesus, Buck! Did you try the milk thing again? I told you it’s just online nonsense—”

You tossed a knowing look his way, biting back a smirk.

“Unbelievable,” Buck muttered under his breath, defeated.

This was the rhythm of you and Buck — light banter, teasing, but underneath it all: something quieter, deeper. You’d known each other before 118. The kind of bond forged in chaos and grief, a friendship built like a fireproof wall.

There were people in the world who made you feel seen. Buck made you feel known. And that should’ve been enough.

It was enough.

Until he walked in.

You remember the day Eddie Diaz arrived with perfect clarity — how calm he looked stepping out of Bobby’s car, uniform immaculate, boots polished, expression unreadable.

His eyes scanned the station like he was evaluating threats, but not in a hostile way. Just… trained. Controlled. Measured.

“Everyone, this is Eddie Diaz,” Bobby had announced.

“He’s transferring in from Texas. Served in the Army, graduated top of his class this week, and has a bunch of medical experience that could aid us during calls. He’ll be riding with us starting today.”

Your eyes locked with his across the room.

He nodded once. “Hey.”

You said “hey” back, but it came out breathier than you meant it to — like your lungs hadn’t caught up with the rest of your body.

There was nothing flirtatious in his greeting. It was a single word. A glance.

So why did it linger?

In the weeks that followed, Eddie proved himself quickly. He was sharp on calls, steady under pressure, the kind of firefighter who didn’t flinch even when everything went to hell. And yet, despite his precision and quiet nature, he never came off as cold.

He listened. He noticed things.

Like the way your hands trembled slightly after high-stakes rescues — and how he’d subtly pass you a water bottle before you even realized you needed one. Or how he always volunteered to cover your spot on late shifts when you looked run-down, without asking questions.

You told yourself it was professionalism. Just one teammate helping another.

But when you’d hear him laugh — that low, soft laugh he reserved for moments where his walls dropped — you started to forget why you’d drawn the line in the first place.

The infamous “no dating in the firehouse” rule had always been more about protection than principle. You saw what happened when lines blurred. You saw the mess it left behind when it fell apart.

And Buck… Buck was always the exception you refused to let yourself entertain.

He was too close. Too familiar. Too safe.

You knew how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You knew the way his hand lingered half a second longer when he passed you your helmet, or the way he always positioned himself between you and danger — instinctively, like muscle memory.

But you also knew how fragile your friendship was. If you opened that door, there was no going back. And you didn’t want to lose him.

Eddie, on the other hand… Eddie was new. Untangled. Unknown.

Tempting.

“Okay,” Hen said one night, sitting across from you in the loft after a call, “I gotta ask.”

You glanced at her over the rim of your mug. “Ask what?”

“The Diaz situation.”

“There is no ‘Diaz situation,’” you said calmly, biting back a smile.

“Girl, please. You turned down dinner with us to ‘go over reports with Eddie.’ At his place.”

“We were organizing notes from last week’s apartment fire.”

Hen raised a brow. “And you couldn’t have done that here?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then sighed. “You’re reading into things.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, “everyone’s reading into things. Chimney started a betting pool. Bobby is pretending not to notice. And Buck—” she paused.

“Buck’s trying real hard not to care, but he does.”

Your chest tightened.

You’d noticed the shift in Buck. He was still Buck — still your partner on calls, still quick to joke, still watching your six like always. But the light in his eyes had dulled a little.

The jokes didn’t come as easy. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you and Eddie talking in the corner of the station, and he’d look away before your eyes could meet.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like from the outside.

Hell, even from the inside, it scared you.

Because Eddie made you feel like someone had finally met you at your level — calm, careful, steady. And you couldn’t pretend you didn’t crave that stability.

But with every step you took closer to Eddie, something inside you whispered that you were walking further and further away from something else.

From someone else.

Later that night, as the station settled and the lights dimmed, you found Buck in the garage, fiddling with his turnout gear. Everyone else had gone to sleep, but he was wide awake, pretending to be busy.

“You good?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you at first. “Yeah. Just… cleaning up.”

You stood beside him in silence for a beat before saying, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

Buck nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “I know.”

The words hung heavy between you, unsaid but understood.

You weren’t breaking a rule. But something was breaking — maybe slowly, maybe just in Buck’s heart. You didn’t know how to fix it without undoing the thing that had finally made you feel seen in a new way.

And as Buck finally looked at you, eyes soft but distant, you wondered if maybe some lines weren’t meant to be crossed — only redrawn.

The call came in midafternoon.

Cardiac arrest. Male, mid-60s. Possible overdose on blood thinners.

You and Eddie loaded into the rig without missing a beat — a rhythm that had started forming between you, quiet and natural.

Hen had swapped rotations with Chim earlier, and Buck was partnered with Ravi that day, left behind at the station when you rolled out with Diaz.

That’s what made it worse.

Buck couldn’t do anything but watch from the bay doors as the rig pulled away, your laughter echoing faintly just before the doors slammed shut.

He’d never heard you laugh like that for anyone on shift before.

Meanwhile, the scene was chaos. The man’s daughter was sobbing on the front porch, screaming at the 9-1-1 dispatcher still on speakerphone.

Eddie cleared a path through the entryway while you knelt beside the patient, fingers flying over his pulse points.

“Unresponsive, no pulse,” you called. “Starting compressions.”

Eddie dropped beside you, AED already powered on. You didn’t have to speak much — he mirrored your movements like he already knew how you liked to work. And that was new.

You had a rhythm with Buck, sure, but with Eddie it felt instinctive. A kind of quiet understanding you hadn’t even noticed forming until it was already there.

“One milligram epi, IV push,” you said quickly. “Charging at 200.”

Eddie handed you the syringe, voice calm. “Done.”

The daughter sobbed louder behind you. “Please save him,” she begged.

You didn’t blink. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Eddie moved in to relieve your compressions, sweat glistening along his brow, but his hands never faltered. He was strong, steady — and when you met his eyes across the man’s chest, you felt a strange heat crawl beneath your ribs.

Focus.

But you saw it then. That flicker of something in his gaze. Not admiration. Not just trust. It was quieter than that. A kind of silent awe.

After two shocks and almost eight minutes of CPR, the man’s pulse came back.

The daughter fell to her knees. “Oh my God.”

Eddie exhaled deeply, sitting back on his heels, eyes finding yours again.

You grinned, exhausted but satisfied. “Nice work, Diaz.”

“You too,” he said. But he was still looking at you.

And that heat returned — low and persistent, curling at the base of your spine.

Back at the rig, you leaned against the open doors while Eddie finished writing his report. You were quiet for a beat, letting the adrenaline wear off. The day was warm, sun angling across the metal, casting a golden glow on his skin.

You watched him — the way he furrowed his brow when he focused, the faint scar on his jaw you hadn’t noticed before, the way he chewed lightly on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” he asked without looking up.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

You smirked. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Eddie’s pen stilled. He looked at you — really looked — and for a moment the air felt charged.

“That was the most unprofessional thing I’ve heard you say in uniform,” he said. You lifted a brow.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

His mouth twitched. “I didn’t say that.”

You were about to push it further — tease him the way you had a few nights ago during a late-night coffee run — but your phone buzzed. Buck.

BUCKLEY: Call went okay?

You stared at the message for a moment. Then typed back.

YOU: Yeah. Patient survived. All good.

You didn’t mention the moment. You didn’t tell him how Eddie’s hand had brushed yours when you passed the IV kit, or how your heart skipped a beat when he smiled at you afterward like you were the only person in the world.

You didn’t mention how easy it felt.

Because that wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain over text.

Later that evening, when you and Eddie walked back into the station, laughing about something Christopher had said the other day — Buck noticed.

He’d been waiting. Watching the clock. Pretending to sort equipment in the gear room when really, he was just trying not to let the jealousy eat him alive.

But then he saw you.

Not just the way you walked beside Eddie — close enough to brush shoulders — but the way you looked up at him, lit from within.

Buck had known you for years. Through heartbreaks, broken bones, birthdays, and breakdowns. He’d been there when your dad had passed. When your first real relationship after him had crumbled. When you’d failed your lieutenant’s exam and then aced it six months later.

He had seen you cry. He had seen you fight.

But he’d never seen you smile like that.

Not for him.

“You ever think about switching partners?” Buck asked casually, later that night, lounging in the kitchen.

You were pulling a water bottle from the fridge. “What, like musical chairs but with defibs?”

He shrugged. “I just meant, you and me used to ride out together more. Kinda miss it.”

You turned, leaning against the counter.

“It’s not like I asked to switch. Just how the schedule landed.”

“But you like it better with Eddie?”

There it was.

You hesitated. “Eddie’s easy to work with.”

Buck nodded, but his jaw tightened. “Right.”

You studied him. “Is this… weird for you?”

Buck looked up, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his eyes. Just honesty.

“A little.”

The air stretched between you. You didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

Hen pulled you aside the next day as soon as you came in for your shift. “He’s not handling it well,” she said gently.

You sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know. But Buck’s always had a blind spot when it comes to you. Maybe he never thought you’d actually fall for someone else.”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “I haven’t fallen for anyone.”

Hen gave you a look. “Girl, please. I saw the way you looked at Eddie after that call. Like he invented CPR.”

You groaned. “That obvious?”

“Only to everyone with eyes.”

You didn’t know what this thing with Eddie was yet — just that it was starting to take up more space in your chest than you wanted to admit.

It was in the way he walked beside you to the rig every morning.

The way he remembered how you took your coffee — sweet, no cream — and brought you one on tough days without being asked.

The way he saw you — not as a rule or a boundary or a decision you made once to protect yourself, but as someone worth knowing anyway.

You hadn’t crossed any lines yet. Not officially.

But the pull was undeniable now.

And the line was starting to blur.

It had been months since that first call with Eddie. Months since that quiet moment by the rig, where the air between you shifted and never quite returned to neutral.

And now?

Now it was breakfast at the same diner after shift, every Tuesday without fail — him always getting black coffee, you ordering the same banana pancakes you swore you’d try to switch up one day.

Now it was shared glances across the truck when Captain gave new assignments. Subtle, silent nods that said I’ve got you louder than words ever could.

Now it was you and Eddie waiting in line for coffee with Chim, bickering over who gets to use the punch card next.

It was laughing until you wheezed because Hen made a crack about how Eddie’s flirting sounded more like reading Miranda rights.

Now it was Christopher.

Meeting him hadn’t been planned — not really. Eddie had invited you along to the adaptive soccer game he helped coach, casual, no-pressure. You said yes because you wanted to support him.

But then you saw the way his son looked at him. Like he hung the moon.

And then you saw the way Eddie looked at you when you knelt beside Christopher after the game to tie his shoelace, laughing at something he said about wanting to be taller than his dad one day.

You weren’t a stranger to kids — you had nieces and nephews, the occasional firehouse tour where little ones clung to your leg. But with Christopher, it was different. You weren’t trying.

You just fit.

And Eddie saw that.

That scared you more than anything.

Back at the station, Buck noticed.

It wasn’t just the way you and Eddie gravitated toward each other — it was the little things. The way Eddie always saved you a seat. The way you reached for his arm when you laughed. The way you spoke in half-sentences he somehow always understood.

He noticed the way Carla had started asking you if you’d be around next weekend when she planned something for Christopher.

The way you already knew where Eddie kept his protein bars in his locker — because he liked the peanut butter ones, not the chocolate.

It wasn’t subtle.

It wasn’t nothing.

And Buck? Buck was unraveling by the day.

Because he wasn’t just watching the man he considered a brother fall for someone. He was watching you — the person he’d quietly loved, the one he always protected, always hoped would someday look back and see him — fall for someone else.

And worse?

You didn’t seem like you were falling at all.

You looked like you already had.

The revelation came without warning.

You and Eddie had just come back from a routine call — a standard ride-along with a heart patient, nothing intense. You were sitting on the back bumper of the rig, sipping a bottle of water, talking about some beach you wanted to visit in the summer. Eddie was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. Then hesitated. “I need to tell you something.”

The knot in your stomach formed instantly.

“It’s about my wife,” he said. Your heart stumbled.

“Your… wife?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Shannon.”

You said nothing. The world spun.

“We’re… married, technically. Separated. Long story,” he added quickly, seeing your face drop. “We’ve been off and on for years. We tried again after I left the army, for Christopher. But it didn’t… stick.”

You blinked. “So she’s not… in the picture?”

“She was. Until a few months ago. She’s been back in L.A. Trying to figure things out. With Chris. With me.”

Your stomach turned. “And you didn’t think to mention this sooner?”

Eddie looked pained. “I didn’t know how. It’s not like we were—”

“Not like we were what?” you asked, voice sharp. “Not like we were seeing each other? Sharing breakfast every Tuesday? Like I haven’t met your son?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“You just left out your marriage?”

The silence stretched.

You stood up, every bone in your body aching like you’d just taken a fall from three stories up.

“Was this a game to you?” you asked, quieter now.

“No. Never,” he said instantly. “It’s complicated.”

You scoffed. “You think I don’t know complicated?”

But the words felt hollow.

You didn’t wait for a response. You walked away.

And for weeks after that, you barely spoke.

Buck found you in the garage one evening, elbow-deep in engine checks.

“You alright?” he asked.

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

“I heard about… you and Eddie.”

You paused. “There is no me and Eddie.”

Buck watched you for a moment, saw how your hands moved slower than usual. How your eyes stayed trained on the wrench like it held all the answers.

“I just want you to know,” he said, softer now, “you didn’t deserve that.”

You finally looked at him. “Thanks.”

There was a beat.

Then he added, “He should’ve told you from the start.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But even as you said it, something twisted in your chest — because part of you knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you. Part of you remembered the way he looked at you during those quiet in-between moments.

The part of you that hadn’t stopped feeling warm whenever Christopher mentioned you in passing, like you already lived in their orbit.

It wasn’t that you stopped caring.

It was that you stopped trusting.

Eddie didn’t push. Not at first.

He let you have your silence, your distance. He knew he’d earned it. He didn’t make excuses.

But he waited.

He sent you coffee on the days he wasn’t at your side. Asked Hen to check in. Made sure you were still partnered on the rotation board. Never once overstepped.

Just… waited. Quietly. Steadily.

It wasn’t until Shannon’s accident that everything changed.

You weren’t there for it. You only heard about it through quiet whispers and late-night conversations at the firehouse during your shift.

A car crash. Christopher had been in the vehicle too. A drunk driver ran a red light.

Shannon died.

Instantly, it seemed — at least that’s what they told Eddie.

He’d later tell you about the last real conversation they ever had. Not at the accident. Before it.

It was in a hospital waiting room, after another tense day of figuring out how to co-parent. She told him she was thinking of leaving again — for good this time.

That being a mom full-time, being part of Eddie and Christopher’s world again… it just wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

She didn’t say it to be cruel. She said it like someone already halfway out the door.

And then she was gone.

No chance to work it out. No goodbye to Christopher. No final decision made. Just… gone.

Eddie never got to confess the truth to her — that he wasn’t angry anymore, just tired. That he had found peace somewhere outside of what they once had. That he’d started to look at someone else — you — and feel like the future didn’t have to hurt.

So he sat with that guilt.

Not because he still loved her.

But because she was Christopher’s mother. Because they never got closure. Because part of him still blamed himself for not trying harder to keep her safe, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

And when he told you all of this — standing outside the station one evening, his voice low and quiet like it was breaking all over again — you didn’t say anything right away.

You just looked at him. At the pain he wore so openly. At the strength it took to admit that grief wasn’t always linear.

Then you took a step closer. And another.

Until your hand was in his, and neither of you said a word. Because some wounds don’t need fixing.

They just need someone willing to stay.

The distance between you soon narrowed. Slowly, but surely. You started saying good morning again. Let yourself smile at his jokes. Started asking about Christopher.

And then one night — after a long shift, when the sun was rising over the station — Eddie sat beside you on the roof and told you:

“I never wanted to hurt you. But the truth is… you’re the first thing that’s made me feel real in a long time.”

You didn’t say anything.

You just leaned your head on his shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like falling.

It felt like staying.

The quiet between you and Eddie hadn’t been as sharp lately, but it was still there — soft around the edges, cautious. Like stepping on floorboards you weren’t sure were stable anymore.

You were civil. Friendly, even. But the spark, the comfort, the trust — that was still something you kept just out of reach. He knew it too.

Which is why he pulled you aside after shift, asking if you had a moment — his voice low, unsure. You could see the worry in his eyes, the tension in the way he stood, like he was waiting for the ground to split beneath him.

You nodded.

He led you outside, away from the bustle of the station, to where the sun was just beginning to set behind the trees. His hands were shoved in his pockets, jaw tight, like every word was a landmine.

“I owe you another truth,” he said finally.

You stayed quiet. Waiting.

“I saw someone else,” he confessed. “Back when you and I weren’t speaking.”

You froze, your breath catching. “Who?”

He swallowed. “Christopher’s teacher. Ana Flores.”

You tried not to let it show — the way your stomach twisted. You tried to remind yourself you weren’t together. That he had every right. But logic didn’t numb betrayal.

“Right,” you said, quietly. “That’s… understandable.”

“No, it’s not,” he replied quickly. “Not really. Not when I was still carrying you around like a shadow.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It wasn’t serious,” he added. “But I think… I think I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on clean. That I could pick someone safe, someone easy. Someone who didn’t know all the messy parts of me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Did Christopher like her?”

Eddie looked down at the ground and let out a half-laugh. “He tolerated her. Until he didn’t.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at you then, more vulnerable than you’d seen him in weeks.

“One day he just… called me out for dating his teacher. Said I was being weird. Said I smiled more around you than I ever did around Ana. And then he asked me if I was gonna stop pretending you didn’t make our lives better.”

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath.

“He told me,” Eddie went on, “that if I liked Ana, that was fine. But if I loved you, then I needed to stop wasting everyone’s time and admit it. Because in his words, ‘It’s not fun having dinner with someone who isn’t her.’”

You blinked. “Christopher said that?”

Eddie nodded. “He’s smarter than me. Always has been.”

There was a beat.

Then he said, softer now, “He was right. About everything. I kept thinking I needed something easy. But you—” He stopped, took a breath.

“You’re not just someone I like having around. You’re the person who saw all of me and stayed. Until I made you think you shouldn’t.”

Your voice wavered. “You broke my heart.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” he repeated, his voice raw now.

You swallowed hard. “Did Carla say anything?”

Eddie actually winced.

“Yeah. She wasn’t subtle.” That made you raise an eyebrow.

“She told me I was a damn fool,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Said you were one of the kindest people she’d seen around Christopher — and me — and that if I was going to waste that on old guilt and bad timing, then I didn’t deserve either of you.”

You smiled at that, just faintly. “She’s good with words.”

“She’s terrifying when she’s mad.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and surprised.

But then Eddie stepped closer, tentative. Not assuming. Just… hoping.

“I’m not asking you to jump back into something that hurt,” he said gently.

“I just want you to know I’m not running from the hard parts anymore. I don’t want easy. I want real. And real has always been you.”

Your eyes met his.

You didn’t answer right away. But for the first time in a long time, the part of you that had been holding back started to ease.

Because people can change when they’re brave enough to face themselves.

And Eddie Diaz had finally stopped running.

The air in the firehouse was thick with unspoken tension — not from smoke or sirens, but from you and Eddie.

There wasn’t a dramatic announcement, no hand-holding or grand gestures. But the shift was unmistakable.

You laughed with him again, ribbed him during lunch, casually adjusted the collar of his uniform before a call like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eddie had that soft-eyed look around you, the one that said everything even when he said nothing.

Everyone noticed.

Especially Buck.

He didn’t say anything the first few days. Just watched.

Watched you pass each other notes across the table. Watched you wait for Eddie to catch up before grabbing coffee on runs. Watched Eddie find excuses to stay by your side, even when the rotation didn’t require it.

And eventually, it all came to a head.

The call was a simple one — a heat exhaustion case during a community clean-up event. Nothing too intense. You and Eddie worked the scene like a well-oiled machine.

No friction, no hesitation. Just you and him, falling back into rhythm like the months of silence and pain hadn’t existed.

When you returned to the station, Buck pulled Eddie aside without warning. Right there in the apparatus bay.

“Hey. We need to talk.” Eddie blinked, pausing mid-step.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Buck crossed his arms. “You and Y/N. What’s going on?”

Eddie’s jaw tensed. “That’s between me and her.”

Buck stepped forward. “She’s my friend too, Ed.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Buck’s voice rose slightly, not angry — not yet — but close. “Because you hurt her. I saw it. I picked up the pieces while you played house with someone else.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” Buck challenged. “Because from where I stood, you disappeared when she needed you most. Then suddenly you’re back like nothing happened?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment.

Then: “I’m not pretending nothing happened. I’ve done nothing but deal with what happened.”

Buck scoffed. “Does she know about Ana?”

“She knows everything.”

“And she still forgave you?” Buck said, incredulous. “After all that?”

Eddie nodded slowly. “She did. Because she’s… her.”

That stopped Buck for a beat. He looked away, jaw tight.

“I never wanted to be in the middle of this,” Buck said, quieter now. “But I’ve known her longer than you. I know what she looks like when she gets her heart broken. And you broke her, man.”

“I know,” Eddie said again, firm now. “And I hate myself for it.”

Buck looked at him, really looked at him. “Then why now? Why come back into her life like this if you’re not absolutely sure?”

“I am sure,” Eddie said, no hesitation this time.

“Christopher’s sure. Carla’s sure. And most days, I think she is too. I’m still earning that. But I don’t want temporary. I want… all of it. Her.”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.

“I didn’t plan it,” Eddie continued.

“But she fits into our lives like she was always meant to be there. And I almost lost that because I was scared. Because I didn’t think I deserved to move on.”

The silence stretched. Just the hum of the garage.

Then Buck sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Christopher likes her?”

“He loves her,” Eddie said. “Told me he was tired of me being stupid about it.”

A quiet laugh broke through Buck’s frustration, against his will.

He looked down for a second. Then back at Eddie.

“You gonna mess it up again?”

“No.”

“Because if you do,” Buck warned, softer now, “you’re not just breaking her heart this time. You’re breaking his too.”

“I know.”

“And mine,” Buck added, after a beat. “Because I trust you. And I love her, so much. So if she’s yours… protect her.”

Eddie’s voice was steady. “I will.”

The tension didn’t disappear, not completely. But something shifted. A silent understanding.

Because Buck didn’t need to win.

He just needed to know you’d be okay.

And now, maybe — just maybe — you finally would be.

The Diaz house was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft bubbling of something simmering on the stove.

You were barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pan with one hand, swaying lightly to the music playing from Eddie’s speaker.

Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you with that lazy grin he didn’t use around anyone else — not even at the station.

His gaze lingered on the way your nose scrunched when you tasted the sauce, the way you swatted him playfully when he tried to sneak a bite.

It was domestic. Soft. Easy.

And Buck saw it all from the doorway.

He had come over to drop off a charger Christopher had left in his duffel at the station. He hadn’t expected… this.

The house smelling like garlic and warmth, Christopher at the table drawing something you’d clearly helped him outline. The laughter. The kind of peace Buck hadn’t seen in Eddie’s home since before the storm of the past year.

He didn’t knock.

Eddie spotted him first. “Buck?”

You turned around, eyes widening with surprise, then softening with warmth.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Buck lifted the charger, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “Thought Chris might need this back.”

“Uncle Buck!” Christopher perked up from his drawing, grinning. “Come in! We’re having spaghetti. And she made garlic bread but didn’t let Dad near it.”

You laughed. “He almost burned the first batch.”

Buck stepped further in, the scent of dinner wrapping around him like a memory. “You guys always have it this nice?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Define nice.”

“I mean—” Buck paused. “—quiet. Normal. Feels like… I don’t know, a real home.”

You and Eddie exchanged a glance. That unspoken tether between you sparking to life again. But instead of brushing it off, Eddie invited Buck to stay.

“Grab a plate,” he said. “We always make too much.”

Buck hesitated, but Christopher’s enthusiasm — and the way you smiled like you wanted him there — made it easier to cross the floor and take a seat.

Dinner was filled with soft chatter and bursts of laughter. Christopher went on about his latest school project, something involving dragons and ancient civilizations.

You asked questions like you meant them, nodding along and gently correcting his pronunciation when he stumbled on a word. Eddie chimed in occasionally, but mostly watched — a silent kind of contentment in his eyes.

Buck ate in silence for the first few minutes. Not because he felt left out. But because he was watching it all unfold like a scene in a movie he used to wish he’d starred in.

You made Christopher feel seen. Valued. Eddie seemed lighter. Happier. The old shadows still lingered — Buck wasn’t blind — but they weren’t as loud as they used to be.

And that twist in Buck’s gut?

It wasn’t bitterness.

It was grief — for what he’d imagined once, maybe. For the possibility that you might’ve chosen him, if things had unfolded differently. But mostly, it was just change.

The ache that comes with watching people you love move forward without you in the center anymore.

After dinner, you and Eddie cleared the table while Christopher pulled Buck over to the couch to show off his drawing. It was a three-headed dragon with fire in its teeth — and all three heads were labeled: You, Dad, and Y/N.

“She helps me name stuff better,” Chris said proudly.

Buck smiled, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Christopher didn’t look up. “Dad is, too.”

Buck sat back as Eddie joined them, handing you a glass of water as he took his spot beside his son. You tucked yourself beside them like you belonged — and maybe, finally, you did.

And that’s when Buck realized something else.

This wasn’t the end of anything.

It was just a different beginning.

And maybe, for the first time, he didn’t have to be the one fixing everything. Maybe he just had to let people be happy.

Even if it wasn’t his happy.

As the night stretched on, Buck caught Eddie’s eye once. No words were exchanged — just a nod. One that said: I see it. I get it. Just take care of them.

And Eddie, steady as ever, nodded back.

I will.

© fordiaz 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[berracids]

I will start to use the term ‘muscle car trio’ when referring to those lovable speedy idiots.

can I ask for headcanons of them (N/SFW either is fine) with a car enthusiast reader who loves tinkering with cars and is a total grease monkey and how each bot is like

SWEET HOT MOTOR OIL, I’ve been waiting for that!, I love those three so much it’s crazy y’all fr

A/N: after some researching, turns bumblebee is the only muscle car out of the three (closest car was still the Camaro), since smokescreen and knockout are sports cars (McLaren 12c and Aston Martin vantage) so that means that bumblebee will be labeled as a sports car to fit into the trio

Bumblebee, knockout and smokescreen HCs with car enthusiast reader

Warnings: slightly suggestive themes

Bumblebee

The yellow scout’s presence was always a delight for you to be around with, even if there were no words spoken on his behalf. You had alot to say for the both of you as you held conversations with bee as he would beep, chirp and whirr excitedly as you would bring the car magazine to read it with him.

Peeking beside your shoulder with his wide puppy like optics staring at you with giddiness as you explain the car lines that will come later that year and the official events that will be held, bumblebee would listen to you talk and explain to him the newly recruited racers, the yellow mech would point his large digit at the paper, pointing to the racer he is betting on to win.

Bumblebee enjoys messing around with yours and ratchet’s tool as he tries tweaking a few things in him before giving up and dragging his pedes with his door wings slung down as he gobies you his biggest puppy optics he can to guilt you into unscrewing some of his bolts so he can relax a bit, for a mech on the smaller side and having the build of a muscle car is lot of load on him, as he is not used to the frame of earth vehicles with it being heavier than his original cybertronian model

Knowing that ratchet would chew your ears and his audio receptors you begrudgingly comply as you can feel him literally buzzing as you unscrew a few of his bolts to relive some of his strain,

That is until he revs his engine suddenly at feeling relaxed which makes you retract your hand quickly to not lose any fingers, and you waste no time reprimanding him, which earns you a guilty and betrayed look by bumblebee as if he didn’t almost cause you to lose a few of your fingers, until you tell him that you will screw his bolts back which gets the yellow mech angry and to whirr with his bright blue optics narrowing at you with his wings pointing downwards as he tries to flee you

Smokescreen

If you think that bumblebee was like a golden retriever puppy just because of his yellow paintjob, then you couldn’t be any more wrong,

Cause smokescreen is the definition of a hyperactive golden retriever that drags you literally anywhere that has the smallest bit of motor related activities, as he wants you to introduce him to all the different types of vehicles

He’s a young mech so he is more curious towards the different form of earth cars and who is better for him to drag than the maestro that you are, with you in his driver seat passing by an auction of brand new sports car, the bright and sleek forms of them catching the gaze of the eye and the optic

Poor you, having to answer all of his questions about the inside of the vehicle,

And I mean all of them, smokescreen won’t stop asking about all the different types of questions for every bolt in the cars that are out there, you would think that by being able to transform into a literal sports car, you would think that he would know the basic earth technology despite it being somewhat primitive to cybertronians

“Hey not all humans know what is in their bodies, we are the same too!, not all of us are medics!” The speedster would excuse his short coming with an embarrassed rev of his engine before his attention is swayed (again) by a sign of someone who sells car parts

“Oh~!, what does an ignition system mean is it like a flame thrower?!, I never knew humans had defensive systems in their vehicles can I get one?!” My sweet summer mech, you make a mental note to have him beside you as you make him read ‘dummy mechanic guide 101’ before you take him to watch the whole process of fixing a car

That mech will cause your pockets to bleed if you caved in for every time he kept begging you to tweak a few things in him, install new upgrades, to make him drive faster.

But do you blame him?, no!, “nothing is better than burning some rubber!” Smokescreen keeps repeating in hopes of poking that competitive driver in you.

Knockout

Speaking about competitive drivers. That is how you two came to know each other.

Meeting at one of the many illegally held street races that knockout goes to blow off some steam, both literally and figuratively, but do you blame the mech? He has the most deranged and unhinged superiors let him have this for himself.

You two raced along with each other more often than not even going on one on one speed off of the finish line to see who would stop first, only for you to do so when your fuel tank is on its last drop as you watch the cherry red vehicle speed off before hearing it’s ‘driver’ laugh at your predicament of being stuck without gas in the middle of nowhere.

“I would advise you to have some extra emergency fuel, you wouldn’t want to lose to me do you?~” lightsparked chuckles left the rolled up illegally tinted glasses of the cherry red car beside you before taking a sharp drift and speeding off into the night leaving you stranded

Rude much?, that was one of the first impressions you had about the anonymous driver of the vantage car, despite that you couldn’t lie and say that his ‘charisma’ (his words) started to to rub off on you and that you in fact do not mind it (also his words)

Days come and you see the unmistakable lavish finish of your racing buddy with his vehicle parked there looking all pretty and buffed to the point you can see your own reflection on the red finish

“New paintjob you got there darling!, where did you get it from?” You turn you head at the sound of the low whistle from your racer friend as he asks where you got the new paintjob of your car

“My own paint booth! At my shop.” And just like that, you have caught knockout’s attention

The decepticon’s medic engine revved with life at seeing you tap on his heavily tinted windows to drop your business card onto his driver seat, and a promise of a very good discount on the polishing and waxing combo

Is this is how humans initiate courtship? Color him satisfied

Because he will take up that offer, so what if he is a huge alien robot that can turn into a car?, do you expect him to pass on such an offer?, of course not!.

And that is how it all came to, just as you were about to close off your shop you heard a loud honk of your ‘friend’ as he drives towards you, “I hope that I am not too late~” and just with that you were met with a 16 feet tall flashy red mech who was waving the business card you gave him a few nights ago with a very mischievous smirk on his faceplate

The thing that knockout forgot to take account for other than turning off his audio receptors because of your blood curdling screams that was caused by seeing his bipedal form like it’s nothing, is that this is your first time seeing him in his bipedal form

“I am expecting extra treatment from you after frying off my audio receptors!” And thats what he is most concerned about,

After sitting you down and giving a brief introduction of himself and reassuring you that he is not planning to harm such a talented craftsmanship such as yours, he wastes no time laying on the plastic covered ground as his helm is supported by his servo with a dashing smile of anticipation while pointing to his red finish

“Polish me like one of your sports cars, and make sure to make it special~” you can’t help the smile that creeps it’s way to your face as you waste no time rolling your overalls and let it hang on your waste to help maneuver when getting into the tiny details of the huge mech laying there in front of you as he rants about his superiors, and how you are a much better company.

After a few hours of polishing and waxing knockout until you can see your reflection on his finish you take a few steps back to admire your work, “already ogling at me aren’t you?, can’t say that I blame you!, I am quite the sight~” he teases as he gets up and takes a look at himself before a look at you seeing the sweat glistening on your exposed skin giving it a shine.

“Can’t say that I’m complaining when having such a sight” such a polished way with words that he has, you thought to yourself as his long talons ruffled your hair before he transforms into his alt mode waving you off and promising that he will make sure to flex your work, “make sure to not make other mechs or earth vehicles look as good as me!”

And with that is how you took knockout as a regular customer, an alien customer that doesn’t pay for the services you provide, at least he provides as a formidable racing buddy

⌗𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴-𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 @berracids

[revelboo]

Hello! I usually don't post much here in these ask Boxes, but seeing your writing style made me have thoughts about ..... I don't know if you saw TFE(earthspark) but if so, can you write something about megatron?? 😘👍😔💅 (I'm literally addicted to everything you post)

Haha I do adore Rory McCann’s lovely, growly voice. 18+ 🌶️

Give Up/Give In

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• That mad laughter rings in his processor as he transforms and reaches, only to find Skywarp already gone. Weapon fire slamming into his back right before Starscream slams into him, driving him down to the ground. He’s dimly aware of brakes squealing, something colliding with his ped. Humans screaming and running from the fire fight, but there’s no time to lure the Seekers out of the middle of town. They’re darting away before he can bring his canon to bear. The three clever enough to know that he’s stronger, but they’re faster. All they have to do is keep moving. Servos tightening into a fist, he bares his denta at Skywarp. “Come on then!” He roars in challenge.

• They came from out of nowhere, Cybertronians fighting. Sure you’d seen this sort of thing on TV, but it was always a distant horror. Something that didn’t happen in your town. Slamming on the brakes, you hear tires squealing before another driver slams into your sedan, caving in the driver’s side door as pain sears through you and then your head is snapped back when the airbag goes off. From far too close, those massive aliens are brawling, and you watch the gray one step on an abandoned car flattening it and not even noticing. Clawing at your seatbelt, you see the guy who hit you stagger out of his truck. “Help! I’m stuck!” You scream at him and he hesitates. For one brief moment you think he’s going to actually come over, then something explodes and he’s running away. Leaving you.

• There’s guilt there in the back of his processor as he fights his former allies. His followers who believed in him. Needed him to be their rallying cry for change. For a better life. Understands their hatred and how they see his actions as betrayal. But he can’t let the weight of his failures cripple him now. A blow to the back of his head. A kick to his shoulder. Weapon’s fire to the face. Staying out of reach, because they know as well as he does if he gets his servos on them it’s over. And just like the last two times in as many days, the attack stops. The trio warping away without any clever words or sneering. Looking for weaknesses. Testing him. Baring his denta with a snarl, he steps back and something crunches under his ped, a ragged noise of pain freezing him.

• The ruin of your car tips up slightly as that massive foot steps on the hood. It’ll step back any minute, crushing you and never even noticing. Then that foot moves and he’s crouching down. Megatron. How many times have you seen this one on TV? The reformed warlord. Huge fingers grip the roof of your car and just pull it away so easily. Glowing red eyes staring down at you as he frowns. “Easy, little one,” he says and that low, growling voice rolls over you. When he wrenches the door from the car frame, you become aware of the pain and the wetness at the same time, a ragged scream tearing from your throat.

• There’d been no time to worry over the humans and, if he’s being honest, he hadn’t spared them any thought at all. While he protects Dorothy and her family, the rest have never actually mattered to him. Just more collateral damage of the war. The little human’s screams taper off to a panicked wheezing as he breaks the seatbelt and lifts them free. The red blood making him remember Dorothy hurt, bleeding out and still trying to fight. Defiant. You’re not her. Trembling in his servos, eyes wide and terrified as you look up at him. “Please,” you whisper and he’s frozen. Because you need him and he isn’t sure what to do.

Next

[skeltnwrites]

Summary: You are there for Steve when he has to face his fear of needles. | 1.1k

TW: needles, medical anxiety, panic attacks, bf steve

A/N: this is based on true events 🥲 also you cannot convince me he doesn't have anxiety about this after rewatching that scene where he is literally stabbed in the neck with a needle

This is the first time Steve’s ever let you drive his car. Not because he doesn’t trust you with it but because he’s happy to be your chauffeur for as long as you let him. He’s always one to refuse when you offer, to grab the keys before you even think about it. He’s a gentleman at heart, even if part of him just likes to drive. But today is different. 

Steve’s practically buzzing in the passenger seat, snapping his foot against the floor mat like a rubberband and tapping his fingers where they are crossed over his arm. And he’s silent, which is weird because he’s always been the type of nervous to not be able to shut up. 

You wrap a hand around his knee, thumb caressing denim. He doesn’t acknowledge it like he normally would, gaze trained on the windshield. His eyes are glazed over like he’s somewhere else entirely. You have to call his name twice before he hums. 

“Wanna get ice cream after?” 

You barely catch his nod.

You’re grasping for anything to get him out of his head but he refuses to talk to you regardless of topic. He’s been more obliging during arguments. 

It’s not surprising that he’s anxious today, you expected it. He’s always been hesitant about doctors and only goes if he absolutely has to. But lately, this hesitation has transformed more into refusal, regardless of reason. This appointment specifically, a checkup and routine bloodwork, has been an ongoing battle with Steve for months. After his dad had a health scare, it was recommended Steve be seen to rule out anything preemptively. You’d given Steve every opportunity to schedule it himself like he claimed he would, but weeks turned into months of procrastination so you eventually phoned the doctor's office. 

Steve stalls in the parking lot. You’d turned the car off nearly ten minutes ago but he’s had to fix his hair twice, retie his shoes, and he even pretended to search for something in the glove box. You’ve been patient, but with only two minutes left until his appointment, you circle around to his side, gently guiding him out of the car. Before he can protest or claim he forgot something, you quickly lock the door behind him.

“Name?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk asks. 

“Steve,” his voice shakes so he clears his throat.  

She pops the wad of gum she was blowing, bemused at your boyfriend. “Steve…?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You swipe a hand across his back, finishing, “Harrington. Steven Harrington.” 

She turns to her computer and begins typing lazily. 

“Oh,” he nods. 

She hands him a clipboard and pen, “Fill this out.”

You lean over the arm of his chair as he writes. His hands tremble around the pen and he stops to scribble out where he wrote his birthday incorrectly. You offer to do it for him but he declines. 

“Steven?” A nurse calls from the other side of the room where she’s propped a door open with her foot. You’re thankful for the short wait so Steve didn’t torture himself for long in the lobby. 

Steve doesn’t move so you squeeze the hand you’re holding, “Ready?”

He neglects to answer you but stands. You release his hand, collecting the clipboard and your things. Steve turns around, frowning and wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah, baby. Do you want me to?”

He nods as you pass him his papers.

The nurse guides you down the hall, obtaining Steve’s height and weight before reaching a small room smelling of antiseptics. She takes his blood pressure, listens to his heartbeat, and jots down notes on the clipboard throughout. Steve’s breathing shallowly and staring at the floor as she works, focused on holding it together. 

When she leaves to grab the phlebotomist, Steve lets out a staggered exhale and whispers, “I really hate this.” His eyes join yours for the first time that morning, all warm and honeyed. 

You climb onto the paper sheet beside him, sealing his palm between both of yours. “I know, babe. You’re doing so good. Almost done.” 

He cranes over until his forehead meets your neck, eyelashes tickling your skin. You lean into him, planting a kiss on the nearest strip of skin. 

There’s a knock before the door swings open. A new face in the same scrubs. This one is all smiles, however, and chatting up a storm before she even sets her things down. 

Steve sprawls up slowly, eyeing the woman’s caddy as she rambles. 

She familiarizes herself with his chart before getting to work– washing her hands, ripping open the needle packaging, brushing a disinfectant wipe across his skin. It's all happening so fast. Steve’s breath picks up and his eyes dart away to the bland wall beside him. The nurse notices but doesn’t address his fear. She instead tries to distract him, asking him about how you guys met. 

A few words will find his tongue before he’s cut off by a series of gasps. He’s trying so hard to speak but his thoughts keep spilling out in a scrambled mess and that terrifies him even more. It terrifies you too– you’ve never seen him so scared. 

Steve gets a glimpse of the long needle near his arm and flinches away from her fingers. You’re pressing his face into the slope of your neck with your free hand because he keeps trying to watch what she’s doing.

“I need you to stay still, okay, hun? I’ll be so quick, I promise,” the nurse encourages. 

But as soon as her grip on his arm tightens, locking it against the table, he’s losing it. Fat tears are dribbling down his red cheeks and falling onto his lap where you’re clutching his hand. His chest convulses with shallow, uneven breaths, his muscles tensing under the strain of trying to keep his arm still. The needle slides in, and for a moment, his whole body stiffens, but she successfully finds the vein with a single poke and starts draining the blood into a vial.

Gradually, his breath starts to even out as he realizes the worst is behind him. Your fingers weave through his hairline and soothing words are whispered into his skin. A few final hiccups escape into your tear-stained collar.

“All done,” she’s patching him up with a cotton pad and tape and even you’re surprised at how quick it was. 

Steve tilts in your embrace to see the damage, unleashing a shuddered sigh. The nurse smiles at him and he offers a wobbly one back. 

Over a bowl of his favorite ice cream, he hesitantly opens up about his fear, recounting his traumatic experience with a Russian doctor. His words are thick with the weight of the painful memory and anxiety lingers through the tremble in his voice. No matter how many questions you have or how much you wish you could take away the experience, you know the best thing you can do is listen and praise him for his bravery.

[puckinghischier]

The 7th Year

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader wants to celebrate Nico’s 7 year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils

notes: i really wanted to post this on his actual draft anniversary but i’m a slacker and didn’t finish it in time, so here it is now. it still counts cause it’s still draft week, right? anyways, i hope you enjoy and happy reading! 🫶🏼

[4.4k]

“Jack, it’s all wrong!” you cry out, looking at the orange cake sitting in front of you.

“Listen, we can fix it. I can run down to the nearest grocery store and have them make me a new one really quick,” Jack tries to reason with you, attempting to avoid the incoming meltdown.

Today was Nico’s seven-year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils. You know it’s an in-between milestone, most people celebrating every five years, but you didn’t care. You weren’t with him two years ago, having only been dating the hockey captain for a little over a year, so you were determined to make a big deal out of this milestone instead.

Your apartment was decked out in every tacky, red or devil related decoration imaginable, from cardboard cut-outs of Nico littered throughout the large living space to a custom ‘pin the horns on the nico’ party game you ordered for the occasion.

“Jack, I special ordered this cake four months ago, because the bakery he likes had a waiting list almost six months long for their cake decorator. I literally told them I’d pay extra if they could have it done by today,” you shut the lid of the cake box, not wanting to look at the orange monstrosity any longer.

You had sent them several reference pictures of what you wanted done, confirming with them last week that they had the correct pictures and color scheme.

“Well, at least they got the logo right?” Jack tries again, watching you run your hands through your recently curled hair.

People were set to start showing up any minute now, and you were panicking about being ready in time for Nico’s return home in a little over an hour. You barely had time to shower and make yourself presentable after spending all day transforming your apartment into a Nico museum.

All of his trophies and medals from childhood up until now are displayed on various surfaces around your shared apartment, action shot posters are taped on the living room walls, taking the place of your decorative pictures, and several of his old jerseys are on display in shadow boxes propped up in the high-top chairs that usually sit around the small table on your balcony, but are currently placed in various spots around the large room.

“Yeah, sure. The logo says Devils, but the colors say Flyers,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stop yourself from crying off your fresh make-up.

Jack had been a trooper today. Luke too. The two of them had shown up to your apartment not even twenty minutes after Nico left with Jesper and Timo this morning for their early tee time. They helped you decorate and arrange your entire apartment, ran all over Hoboken with you grabbing last minute stuff for the evening, and Luke is out right now picking up the catering order that was supposed to be delivered but somehow got marked for pick up.

Your phone starts ringing in the middle of your deep breathing moment, trying to calm your nerves.

“Luke, please tell me you have the food and are on your way home,” you answer the phone, praying Luke is calling to check in and not to give you bad news.

“Yeah, I got it. On my way now. Just calling to check and see if you need anything else while I’m out,” he tells you, the sound of his car door shutting heard in the background.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. At least the food is taken care of, you think to yourself. “No, I think we’re good. I double checked everything before I got in the shower. And Jack has been setting stuff up while I was getting ready. Just please get here in one piece with the food before I have a small stroke,” you attempt a joke, but your tone sounds more strained than anything.

“Aye Aye, Mrs. Captain,” you hear through the phone, picturing the small salute Luke is likely doing right now.

You chuckle out a goodbye and hang up your phone.

“So, am I good to go get changed now, or do you need me to talk you off a ledge right now?” Jack asks you, treading lightly.

You send him an unamused glare. “No, I think I’ve done everything I can do until Luke gets here with the food. Go, change. Shower if you need to,” you wave him off, grabbing the cake on the counter in front of you and walking to place it in the large fridge.

“Alright, but if I hear the balcony door open I won’t hesitate to run out here butt naked to make sure you’re not trying to make an escape,” he sings out as he walks out of your kitchen, turning down the hallway towards your guest bathroom.

You flip him off even though he can’t see you, a smile on your face nonetheless.

Thirty minutes later, Jack is showered and dressed and a few of Nico’s teammates have shown up, decked out in the t-shirts you had ordered and distributed to everyone.

Each of Nico’s teammates are wearing a shirt with his picture from his draft on it. No matter who you were looking at, Nico’s smiling baby face, devils hat on his head and devils jersey pulled over his formal attire, with one finger pointed in the air to signify his being picked first overall, was looking back at you.

You thought it would be funny to have Nico walk into a surprise celebration with his face staring back at him from nearly everyone in attendance, and when you pitched the idea to his teammates they were all for it.

You had ordered your own shirt with Nico’s face on it, too. Although, yours was one of the shirts in the WWE style, overlapping, various pics of Nico making up the design.

As the time got closer to Nico coming home, more and more of his teammates and their significant others showed up, ready to surprise their captain.

Ten minutes before Nico was due arrive, you get a call from Jesper.

“Hey, you guys almost here?” you answer, walking away from the noise of your living room.

“Yeah, leaving the bar now,” he tells you, pausing to bid someone in the background goodbye and ringing out ‘thank you’ a few times as he walks out of the bar.

Jesper and Timo were tasked with keeping Nico busy and away from home today. It started with their game of golf, but quickly turned into an additional eighteen holes and trying to kill time at the clubhouse bar when their games went by far quicker than they anticipated.

Around lunchtime, Timo called you and told you Nico kept saying he was going to bow out early to come home and spend some time with you, but you begged them to find a way to keep him occupied. You ended up having to send him a message, telling him you were out with a friend for a quick lunch before a fake nail appointment that turned into a real one once he asked to see what design you had chosen this time. Which is why you were late getting ready, having to leave Jack to decorate the apartment during your impromptu salon trip.

Most of the time you love that Nico is so invested in your relationship. He always wants to spend time with you, going with you to hair and nail appointments, following you around like a puppy when you go shopping, and simply sticking around the house on days when he has nothing planned just to catch up on your latest reality show obsession he always gets hooked into.

Today, though, you wish he was a little more apt to spending time with his friends. The amount of ‘I miss you’ and ‘can’t wait to come home and binge love island!’ texts you got today made you love him even more – if that’s even possible – but also made your anxiety sky rocket each time, because you know if he wanted to, he would simply leave in the middle of his plans with Timo and Jesper, no amount of convincing able to keep him there.

“Alright, don’t forget your shirts,” you start to remind him. You turn your body to look behind you, hearing a chorus of “Lukey!” and “Moose!” ring out, signaling Luke was finally back with the food. “Hey, I gotta go Jesp, Luke just got back with the food. Be safe!” you rush out before hanging up, making your way back into the small crowd.

You weave through bodies until you reach your kitchen, watching Luke attempt to sit down the large disposable trays.

“Luke, please don’t drop those,” you run over to him, helping him slide the heavy food onto your kitchen island.

You unstack the pans, making sure each one is unharmed and an appropriate distance from the edge of the counter.

“C’mon, Y/N, have a little more faith in me than that. I can carry a few trays of food,” he tells you, dramatically flexing his arms at you.  

You roll your eyes at the curly-headed giant. Checking the time on your phone, you figure you have enough time to try and set up the food a little bit before Nico gets here. Opening the various pans, you freeze.

“Luke…what is this?” you ask him, a cold feeling washing over you.

Luke furrows his brows at you, peeking over your shoulder from his spot behind you. “The food you asked me to get? Is this a trick question?”

You dropped the flimsy lid, condensation from the hot dish flying everywhere.

When you were thinking about what food you wanted to have for the party, you knew it would be in the off-season, the Devils losing their playoff spot pretty early this season. So, you figured it would be a good time to order a few pans of his favorite dishes from his favorite Italian restaurant.

You ordered a pan of their lasagna, chicken parm, and a large pan of a steak and pasta dish specific to the restaurant. You had called them to confirm this morning, which is how you found out it was marked as pick up instead of delivery, causing Luke to have to drive forty-five minutes one way in order to grab the food.

What you were unaware of, however, is the fact that this restaurant, apparently, also caters an array of vegan options.

When you opened the three pans, you were met with a large pan of what looked like roasted cauliflower with tomato sauce, eggplant boats covered in pesto, and what looked like breaded and baked zucchini. 

You had no issue with vegan food, some of it being some of the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten, but this is not at all what you envisioned surprising Nico with.

“I ordered lasagna, chicken parm, and steak pasta. There is no chicken, parm, steak, or layered noodles in front of me right now,” you try to keep your tone even and calm, knowing it’s not Luke’s fault.

“I swear, they handed me the box of food that had your name on it. I even checked the receipt and everything,” Luke defended himself.

You can feel the tears welling up, despite your attempt at taking big, deep breaths to avoid your emotions getting the best of you.

When the first tear falls over, the rest come crashing out before you could even stop them. You bring your face to your hands and start sobbing, upset that you couldn’t have everything be perfect for such an important day for Nico.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Luke coos as he wraps you in a hug, your face still hidden by your hands. “You’re going to ruin your make-up. You don’t want to greet Nico while looking like a little raccoon, do you?” you let out a chuckle at Luke’s words, his attempt at cheering you up working for a quick moment.

You bring your hands away from your face, sniffling and trying to carefully wipe your eyes. Luke keeps you trapped in a hug, giving you a few moments to collect yourself before stepping back, rubbing your arms instead.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted Nico to walk in here and see all of his friends here, ready to celebrate him. I wanted to surprise him with his favorite meal and his favorite cake from his favorite bakery, since he doesn’t ever get this stuff during the season. But instead he gets an orange cake and a vegan dinner,” you huff, gesturing to the food in front of you.

“Well, he’ll definitely be surprised,” Luke attempts another joke, this one earning a sarcastic laugh instead of a genuine one. “Listen, we can fix it, okay? We’ll call the place and get a refund then order a few pizzas, alright? It’ll be fine. Everyone likes pizza.”

He bends his knees so he’s eye level with you, trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

You look over to the food on the counter, bringing a sliver of your bottom lip in-between your teeth, mulling the idea over in your head.

“Yeah, we can do that. Everyone does like pizza, don’t they?” you try to convince yourself pizza will be fine, you could just take Nico out to dinner for his Italian food later this week.

“They sure do. And lucky for you, I have the best pizzeria in Hoboken on speed dial. I’ll make them do a rush order for their favorite customer,” Luke winks down at you, stepping away to pull out his phone and make the last-minute order.

You cover the food in front of you back up, picking up each tray and tossing them in the trash can at the end of your island, knowing that a group of hungry hockey players wouldn’t want three trays worth of vegetables to eat for party food.

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, trying to compose yourself and wipe away any mascara residue when Jack comes running through the open doorway, frantic eyes landing on you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve been crying? Jesper just texted and said they’re on the elevator on their way up,” he rushes out, walking towards you to make sure you’re alright.

“Catering mishap, Luke’s ordering pizza now. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Go grab him, quick,” you suddenly perk up, nerves bubbling in your stomach.

As you follow Jack out of the kitchen and make your way to the front of the small crowd at the end of your entry way, all you can think about is hoping Nico likes what you’ve done. You hope he doesn’t think the decorations are too tacky, or that the shirts are weird. You hope he’s okay with eating greasy pizza and orange cake. You hope he likes the custom Halifax and Devils split jersey you plan to gift him later to represent where he started and where he is now. Overall, you just hope he understands how proud you are of him.

You see Jack and Luke walk up beside you out of the corner of your eye, matching with the rest of their teammates that are surrounding you. Luke leans down to whisper “Pizza’s ordered, it’ll be here in twenty,” into your ear before standing back to his original height and facing forward, waiting on his captain to walk through the door.

You’re suddenly hit with a thought about how thankful you are for the people surrounding you. For Jack and Luke who dealt with your demanding and crazy self today, talking you off of ledges and running around doing your bidding all day long. You’re thankful for the teammates that showed up today, ready to celebrate the captain they love almost as much as you do. You’re thankful for Timo and Jesper, making sure Nico stays in the dark about the surprise, doing everything in their power to keep him out of your hair until this moment.

You’re so incredibly thankful that the universe has allowed you to not only love someone as kind, loving, and special as Nico, but that he loves you back just as much. You also gained an entire family through Nico, his teammates treating you like one of their own, showing you just as much love and care as they do him. You’ve found some of your best friends through him, Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper being four of the best people you’ve ever had in your life.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your sentimental thoughts. You see Jesper enter first, his Nico shirt looking a little out of place paired with his golf pants. Nico follows him in, blindfolded. You have to stop a snort from making its way out, not knowing Timo and Jesper were going to resort to blindfolding him. Timo follows a step behind Nico, hands on his shoulders, guiding him and preventing him from bumping into anything.

Timo guides him to a few feet in front of you, stopping him before dropping his hands from his shoulders.

“Alright, Cap, you can take your blindfold off now,” Jesper tells him, him and Timo quickly stepping over to where you stand, joining the rest of their team.

Nico reaches up the untie the blindfold on his head. “I swear to god, if you guys did this just to mess with me and take me to another bar I’m going to kill both of you. I told you I just wanted to go home to Y/N-“ Nico stops mid-sentence when the cloth falls into his hands.

A loud, “Surprise!” rings out around the room, Nico’s eyes darting to each person, then down to their shirts.

You stand there, smiling at his shocked face.

“What-“ he starts, but stops, speechless at the scene in front of him.

You step forward the few feet to him, his gaze finally landing on you.

“Happy draft anniversary, baby,” you tell him, smiling up at him.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowing. You can tell he didn’t remember what day it was until this moment, his eyes looking around the room again, understanding settling in on the choice of shirts.

“You did all this? For me?” he asks, a smile taking over his face as he looks down on you.

“Well, duh,” you tell him. “Your seven-year draft anniversary is a big deal, you know?”

He beams down at you, the amount of love in his eyes enough to nearly knock you down.

“I love you, you know that?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body close to his.

“I think you’ve told me once or twice,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes at you, bringing his lips down to meet yours. The kiss is innocent and sweet, considering most of his team is stood behind you, but it was enough to cause a feeling of warmth to wash over you, all the way down to your toes.

When you pull back from the kiss you can’t help but to keep smiling at him. “Alright, go greet your teammates now. I’ll find you later,” you tell him, patting him on the chest as you step back.

Nico gives you a wink before he walks over to his friends and teammates, making his way through hugs and handshakes.

You mostly sit back and observe for most of the night, splitting off from the festivities when the pizza was delivered, placing it in the kitchen and announcing everyone to just serve themselves.

You make your way around your apartment, conversing with Nico’s various coworkers. You cross paths with Nico a few times, each time he tried to whisk you away to your shared bedroom, but you insisted he have a good time with his friends, there’ll be plenty of time for the two of you later. You stick around Jack and Luke some, but finding yourself in a corner talking to Nicole, Jesper’s girlfriend towards the end of the night.

“Y/N, seriously, this is great. I wish I would have thought of something like this for Jesper. Nico hit the jackpot with you,” Nicole compliments.

Your cheeks redden. “He deserves it. I mean, he left everything he’d ever known in Switzerland to come here and pursue this. And look how well he did for himself,” you turn to look over at him standing with Jonas and Erik, Jonas attempting his turn at pinning the devil horns on the large poster of Nico on the wall.

You’ve always been amazed at Nico’s bravery and determination to pursue this dream, knowing how hard it was for you to move just a few states away from your family, much less halfway across the world. He proved every single person that told him he wouldn’t make it wrong, not only getting drafted, but being the first overall pick. And now he earned his captaincy on top of that, proving he’s not only a phenomenal player, but an even better teammate and leader.

“I think he did very well for himself, and not just in reference to hockey, either,” she tells you, leaning over and placing a hand on your leg to emphasize her point.

You look down, not particularly knowing how to respond to her compliments.

“Hey, Y/N, want us to stick around and help clean up,” you hear a voice ask you, turning around to see only Jack, Luke, Jesper and Timo remaining.

Nico walks over to you as Nicole stands and joins Jesper.

“Nah, you guys head out. We’ll call you tomorrow if we need any help,” Nico answers for you, standing behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

“That’s code for ‘get out you goons, I’m trying to be alone with my girl right now,’” Jack says, earning a chuckle from the group.

You and Nico walk everyone to the door, saying your goodbyes before shutting the apartment door and turning around to observe the state of your apartment.

“Don’t even think about trying to clean anything up tonight. You’re not lifting a finger for the rest of the night,” Nico threatens, slipping his arms around your torso from behind, burying his face in your neck.

“C’mon, at least let me clean up the cups your lazy teammates didn’t throw away,” you pat his hands, starting to walk him over to start picking up the red, plastic cups.

“Alright, but after that we’re going to the bedroom and aren’t leaving until this time tomorrow,” Nico points a finger at you as he separates from your body.

The two of you gather all of the stray cups, bringing them into the kitchen to throw them away. You notice the empty pizza boxes, breaking a few of them down while asking Nico to put the leftovers in your fridge so they don’t ruin.

“What’s in the box?” he asks, grabbing the white cake box and dragging it out of the fridge.

“Oh no! I totally forgot about the cake!” you exclaim.

“You bought me a cake?” Nico opens the box.

He looks up at you, amusement in his eyes. “Schatz, why did you get me an orange Devils cake?”

You groan, bringing your hands up to rake them down your face.

“It was supposed to be red, but the bakery fucked it up and I didn’t know until they delivered it,” you explained, walking over to stand next to him as he looks between the cake and you.

“The catering was messed up too,” you continued. “I tried to order your favorite dishes from that Italian place you like, but they sent a bunch of vegan dishes instead, so Luke had to order pizza last minute.”

Nico lets out a laugh at your confession. “So, you threw me a draft anniversary party with an orange cake and vegan food?” he teases, closing the lid to the cake box and turning his body to face you.

You give him a pout. “Don’t make fun of me, I was trying to be nice to you.”

This earns another laugh, Nico placing his hands on either side of your pouting face.

“You could have thrown me a party with water soup as the entrée and ice cubes as appetizers and I would still think it’s the best party I’ve ever been to, simply because you planned it,” he tells you, looking down into your eyes.

“You meant it? You enjoyed yourself tonight?” you ask him earnestly, that small seed of worry making its way back into your brain.

Nico doesn’t answer, he leans down to kiss you for the second time that night. This time, though, he wasn’t as slow and sweet as he was when you had an audience.

His kiss isn’t rushed, but with his tongue slipping its way into your mouth, it quickly turns into a partial make-out session in your kitchen.

He pulls back once the two of you need to come up for air, resting his forehead against yours.

“I had a blast tonight. The shirts were a nice touch, by the way,” he smirks at you.

You let out a giggle, thinking of how funny it was when he registered all of his teammates were wearing his face on their chest.

“Thank you, seriously,” his tone turns serious. “I can’t even begin to explain to you what this means to me. I just wish I could’ve had you by my side from the start.”

You look at him through his long lashes, not being able to think about anything except for how much you love him at this moment.

“Well, you’ll have me until the end of it. Or until you get sick of me, whichever comes first,” you joke, causing Nico to pull his forehead back from yours.

He uses his hands that are still on your face to tilt your head up to look at him. “Not possible. If anyone gets sick of anyone around here it’s going to be you getting sick of me, because I never want to be anywhere but by your side.”

You just stare up at him, shaking your head in a no motion, the intensity of his stare taking any words from the tip of your tongue.

You both just stand there, staring at each other for what feels like hours, but was really just a few moments.

“Enough of us just standing in the kitchen, I think it’s time we take this little party to our bedroom so I can really show you how thankful I am,” he breaks the silence, his eyes going from love to lust before you could even blink.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, just throwing you over his shoulder while you squeal, carrying you to your bedroom. As you pass all of the decorations on the hallway walls on your way to the bedroom, you’re already thinking of how you can make year eight’s anniversary even better, especially if Nico is as thankful next year as he proves to be this year, thanking you over and over and over again once you reach your bedroom.

[nameless-jamie]

And they were Roommates...

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

9 pm. The knocking at Y/N's door was loud. Too loud. And too persistent for it to be anyone but Jamie Tartt.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the coffee table as she made her way to the door. She was so close to ignoring it but knowing Jamie, he’d either stand out there all night or start texting her ridiculous things like I’ve been kidnapped or What if I perish in the hallway?

With an exhausted huff, Y/N pulled the door open. Personal assistant is a 24/7 job after all.

There he stood, his signature pout firmly in place, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and his hoodie damp like he’d just run through a car wash. His normally perfect hair was sticking up in odd places, and the scent of chlorine and something vaguely metallic clung to him.

She blinked. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

Jamie exhaled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Fucking pipes burst, didn’t they? Whole place’s flooded.”

She turned to watch as he plopped his duffel bag on her floor and immediately started toeing off his sneakers right in the middle of the hallway like he lived here.

“Okay… but why are you here?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Maybe a hotel? You can literally afford to stay at The Savoy.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, but that ain’t as fun as annoyin’ ya in your own home.”

She stared at him, unimpressed.

“‘Sides,” he added, flashing a more genuine smile, “you’re my PA, love. Pretty sure takin’ care of me is in your contract somewhere.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue—but technically, he wasn’t wrong. Managing Jamie Tartt’s life was literally her job. His schedule, his bookings, his diet, and sometimes even making sure he remembered to do laundry like a normal human being.

She groaned. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as breathe weird, you’re out.”

Jamie smirked. “Knew ya couldn’t resist me.”

Day One: And the chaos begins...

Her mistake was thinking Jamie would behave.

Within an hour, her flat had transformed into a disaster zone.

His boots? Dumped haphazardly by the door. His duffel bag? Exploded across the living room. And somehow—somehow—he had already managed to use every single clean glass in her kitchen.

“Jamie,” she groaned, stepping over a random sock, “I didn’t realize letting you stay here meant signing up for a full-time babysitting gig.”

Jamie, currently sprawled across her couch under her blanket, flashed her a lazy grin. “This is what ya signed up for when ya decided to work for me, love.”

“I work for you, not live with you.”

“Semantics.” He waved a hand. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Kinda nice, though, yeah? Like a married couple an’ that.”

She shot him a glare.

He only cackled.

Day Two: The Naked Incident™

She woke up way too early the next morning.

It took her a moment to remember why her flat felt off—why there was an extra presence in her space, why she could hear the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Jamie. Right.

With a groggy sigh, she stumbled out of bed and padded toward the kitchen. Her brain was not functioning yet. She just needed coffee. Nothing else mattered.

Except—

She stopped. Dead.

Jamie was standing by the counter, casually buttering a piece of toast. Shirt on top. Nothing else.

Her soul left her body.

“JAMIE.”

He looked up, completely unfazed. “Mornin’, love.”

She slapped a hand over her face. “What. The fuck.”

Jamie blinked. “What?”

She gestured wildly at all of him. “Why are you NAKED in my kitchen?!”

He snorted. “Not naked. Got me top on.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“‘Course it does,” he argued, taking a massively casual bite of toast. “Top half’s covered. Bottom half’s—y’know—free. I get hot at night an— ”

She made a strangled noise. “Jamie. Put. Some. Pants. On.”

He smirked. “Why? You peekin’?”

She almost threw a dish towel at him.

Instead, she turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. “This is exactly why you should be at a hotel.”

Jamie called after her, still grinning. “Oi, if we were married, ya wouldn’t be so uptight about seein’ your husband in his natural state.”

She grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head.

Idiot.... His ass is fuckin' phenomenal, though.

Day Three: The Honeymoon

She had no idea how this happened.

One moment, they were watching a movie. The next, Jamie was close. Way too close.

He was draped across the couch, arm along the back, body turned toward her in a way that made the air feel different. His knee bumped against hers, and his stupid cologne was messing with her ability to think straight. They were freaking cuddling on the couch aka Jamie's current bed.

Then, he turned his head toward her, voice softer than usual. “This is nice.”

She swallowed, face beet-red. “Yeah. Kinda cozy.”

Jamie’s gaze flickered down to her lips, and suddenly, the air shifted.

Thick. Heavy. Loaded with something unspoken.

His eyes searched hers. Daring. Waiting.

And then—he smirked.

“Kinda romantic, yeah?” he teased. “Like it's our honeymoon, just without the sex. I mean doesn't have to be—”

The moment shattered.

She groaned, shoving him away. “Oh my God, GO TO BED.”

Jamie cackled. “Sweet dreams, missus Tartt.”

She threw a pillow at him. Again.

Day Four: Maybe, just maybe…it ain't so bad.

By the time Day Four rolled around, she had officially lost control of her own flat.

Jamie had taken over every inch of her space—his socks scattered around the floor, his duffel bag still wide open, and somehow, his ridiculous number of protein bars had migrated into her kitchen cabinets like they belonged there.

She could handle all of that. She could even handle the way he walked around half-naked and left his stupid expensive (sexy) cologne smell lingering on her couch.

But what she couldn’t handle was the way he was making it too easy.

Too easy to get used to. Too easy to imagine him sticking around.

And that thought? That was dangerous.

Because Jamie Tartt wasn’t hers.

She was his assistant. This was temporary.

Right?

So why did it feel like something was shifting?

Jamie was still a slob. A slob that cared... He can't seem to pick up his socks but does the dishes every night. He's so bad at cooking, but he makes her the best damn coffee every morning.

That night, everything came to a head.

It started with an argument.

A stupid one.

She’d been exhausted, running on fumes after a long day of sorting out his schedule, making calls, and handling things she probably should’ve let him deal with himself.

So when she got back to the flat and saw Jamie sprawled on the couch, feet kicked up like he didn’t have a single care in the world, something inside her snapped.

“Do you ever clean up after yourself?” she blurted, tossing her bag onto the table.

Jamie blinked up at her. “What?”

She gestured wildly. “This! All of this! Your boots, your socks, your ridiculous protein bars in my cabinets—Jamie, you’ve turned my flat into your personal playground.”

Jamie sat up, frowning now. “Alright, what’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head. “You ain’t mad about the boots. You’re mad about somethin’ else.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m mad that you act like this is normal. Like we—like you’re supposed to be here.”

Jamie stared at her for a long moment.

Then, his voice softened. “And what if I enjoy being here with you?”

Her stomach flipped.

She shook her head. “Jamie—”

“I really like bein’ here,” he admitted, standing now, his expression serious in a way that made her breath hitch. “I like wakin’ up in the morning and seein’ you walk out all grumpy ‘cause you ain’t had coffee yet. I like makin’ you laugh when you’re tryin’ real hard to be pissed off at me.”

She swallowed. “That’s—”

He stepped closer. “And I like sittin’ on that couch with you, watchin’ shite movies, even when you’re yellin’ at me for leavin’ crumbs everywhere.”

Her heart was pounding.

Jamie reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Gentle. Careful.

“I don't know, feels right, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “Like I belong here. With you. Near you.”

Her breath caught.

She could feel it—the moment balancing on a knife’s edge.

The air was thick with something dangerous. Something inevitable.

She could step back. Laugh it off. Pretend like this wasn’t happening.

Or—

Jamie’s fingers traced down her jaw, his eyes locked on hers.

“Tell me I’m wrong Y/N and I'll be out that door, no more socks on the floor, no more coffee in the mornin',” he whispered.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she did the only thing she could—

She closed the gap and kissed him.

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[pearlzier]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝜗℘ㆍ nerd.ᐟmatt ☆ nerd.ᐟreader ，✿

"POPULAR, YOU'RE GONNA BE POPULAR," you'd sing when you were doing absolutely anything. it was no shock to anyone that you adore musicals, you're an absolute theatre fiend. since you were a little kid, it's been your form of escapism, being able to transform into a different person on stage instead of how sheepish you usually are. matt personally loved how confident you were infront of an audience and so passionately speaking the lines you'd worked so hard to perfect.

after the inarguable disaster that was the mean girls adaptation (you'd quite literally sobbed into his arms about how bad it was) you two were pretty sceptical about a wicked movie adaptation.

"you really like uh.." matt's watching you, as best as he can, anyway, considering the fact that he's driving the two of you towards the cinema. his eyes flutter back to the road, hand working over the wheel as he holds onto it. "uh.. what's her name, the woman who played glinda on broadway—" he drums his fingers against the wheel in thought.

you adored the original wicked on broadway, you'd practically learnt the entire score, and you were so serious when it came to elphaba and glinda. literally, you and your bestfriend had gone as them one time for halloween before it was trendy to do so—the 'og's, shall we say. you loved many musicals, but wicked would always have a soft spot in your heart. having gone to see it live, it was a memory you'd never forget.

you were like, the most qualified ever to judge whether a wicked movie adapation was actually as good as it should be.

well, matt thought you were, anyway. he held you in extremely high regard.

he doesn't even get to finish before you're interjecting, "kristin chenoweth!" causing a smile to spread across his lips. there you go again, so eager to talk about musicals. he only ever sees you this happy when you're talking about the things you like or when you're with him.

"kristin chenoweth," he agrees quietly, watching the way the gleam in your eyes twinkles as you speak. he's in awe, pure awe, at how perfect you are. he'll get better at voicing it, he's sure of it. he's just.. a little overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

"she's amazing, matt," you insist, adjusting the tote bag sat in your lap. nothing could describe the amount of energy you have right now, you're practically bouncing off the inside of the car with joy right now. this might be one of the best moments of your life if you're completely honest with yourself.

"this is gonna be amazing, 'm sure of it. the marketing team are working overtime for this." matt might actually cry if he has to drink down another glinda themed robinsons drink—he won't, he'll brave it for you, but still.

matt isn't exactly into musicals the way you are, he usually plays video games, watches movies, and gets so hype over them it's crazy. though, you get it, your interests make you just as feral. but this is a movie musical, so you think he'll be into it as well. wicked was inescapable, his entire for you page was just glinda and elphaba and he wasn't even mad about it. couldn't be, especially with how happy it made you.

it was like when hamilton was trending, oh, god, you'd performed like seven one woman performances of the musical that he's sure he can quote the entire thing by now.

the two of you are quiet for a little more, the original broadway cast singing away in the background as it plays through the car speaker from your phone, 'till the car comes to a stop outside of the cinema. "we're here," he murmurs, killing the engine once he makes sure his parking's perfect.

"oh my god, matt! we're here. what if i faint? what if i vomit? oh god, i won't get to see the movie if i faint or vomit, will i? oh no, uh, okay, i need, uh.. oh—"

"hey, hey, relax," matt says, gently, wanting you to chill out a little. he offers a sheepish little smile and he murmurs, "uh.. we can go get the themed popcorn buckets and you can throw up in there if you want to.. in style.." that makes you giggle and you nod, practically ripping off your seatbelt so that the two of you don't waste any more time inside the car. he has to quickly get out to join you, making sure that you don't run off on your own.

as the two of you walk, his fingers awkwardly twitch at his side as he wishes to hold your hand, but he's a little apprehensive to. though, he doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about it, the two of you are dating, holding hands is a simple thing. but.. he is.

"wicked's real popular," he murmurs, glancing around. "it's real amazing," you add in return. the two of you make your way inside the cinema together, and you glance at eachother for a moment. he smiles, you smile, and it sends a surge of warmth through both of you. leaning against his shoulder, you watch as he pays for the two tickets, and even more heat surges through you at the fact you're one hundred percent going to be seeing wicked now. matt likes how happy it makes you. it makes him almost as happy, he's sure.

and you notice this, after a little. there's a bit of a queue—wicked was so popular—and you end up interlacing your fingers with his own. it makes a heat flush to his cheeks and he offers a smile to you, shuffling closer to you and pressing by your side a little just to make sure you don't get too cold considering it's getting colder out.

"line's pretty long," he notes quietly, glancing up. you guys are near the front, so it's okay. "mmh, yeah, but we're almost in," you agree, swinging your interlaced hands as you stand beside eachother.

"popcorn buckets?"

"popcorn buckets."

you're a mess when you get out of there. literally, he's got stains on his hoodie from your tears, not that he minded all that much. he'd be a hypocrite otherwise, he's feeling a little teary eyed himself. thrusted against his chest are the various popcorn buckets that you'd bought, as you're currently trying to compose yourself and make sure your pink makeup doesn't run. you'd dressed up in full glinda gear, as best as you could, and he'd gone as elphaba. in your words, he'd given you total wicked witch of the west energy, in the best way.

he mumbles a soft, "you're okay," switching the popcorn buckets to one arm so he could gently rub your arm as the two of you made your way out. a soft smile settles on his lips, just watching you. everyday he's reminded in little moments why he loves you so much. this is definitely one of them. matt quietly leads you out of the screening room, giving smiles to the people working at the cinema, ones who are quiet heartwarmed by your reaction to the movie and how much it clearly meant to you.

"that was just.." matt sighs softly, shaking his head as heat flushes to his cheeks. he shifts his weight a little, gently tugging on you for you to stop. it's just outside of the screening, his eyes meeting yours. your eyes are glossy, gleaming beneath the pink and green lights illuminating you both. "perfect," you finish for him, words wavering a little as you speak. god, you've never enjoyed a movie more. definitely a top ten movie. maybe even for matt, too. he couldn't deny how good it was.

matt nods his head at your words, adding a quiet, "really perfect," you'd one hundred percent be watching the movie a gazillion times after, probably in cinemas, but also definitely on some illegal websites when you got back home. matt'd be joining you, totally. he may not have been a complete musical fan, but he'd get into it for you, definitely.

"i'm like.. a new person after that," you tell him, shuffling closer to him and leaning your head up against his chest. he places the buckets down on the ground beside you two and he tentatively wraps an arm around your middle to bring you up against his chest.

"me too.. might be a musical fan.." a laugh slips past his lips ³and in return you giggle too. a soft sigh escapes you afterwards, head tilting to the side a little. he blinks when you look up at him like that, and the heat floods his cheeks a little more. he's getting warm from all the attention, really. but you're looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, and it makes him feel so unbelievably special. his heart's pounding against his chest, literally.

"i.. wanna kiss you," you find yourself saying before you even realise, and matt practically splutters and stammers over his words in return. "oh, uh.. you do? oh," he swallows thickly, glancing down at the ground a moment before he meets your gaze again, nodding his head. he'd been thinking the same exact thing, since.. right now, your lips look like they're coated in pure sugar, all shiny and glossy.

"you can kiss me. i wanna.. wanna kiss you," he mumbles, slowly easing his hand upwards on your back, his lips parting.

you're the one who goes for it, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. he brings you as close as possible with his hand, a dreamy sigh slipping past his lips against your own. you let your hands come up and cradle his jaw, both of your eyes shutting together as you take in the bliss that is the kiss you're sharing. when the two of you part, he's breathless, eyes gleaming in a similar way to yours. "you taste like candy," accurate, considering all the candy you'd been eating during the movie, but he loves it.

you feel a heat come to your face at that, and you glance at the floor sheepishly. "i do?"

matt nods, because yeah, you do. he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness that you'd left there in the kiss. he's incredibly intoxicated by you, how you taste, how you feel, just.. you. "yeah.." he really wants to do it again, but the realisation that you two had just kissed in public hits him and he ends up burying his head in your hair to try hide himself in some way. "oh my god, we just kissed, in public," you say in realisation.

he's got absolutely no clue where all of this confidence comes from, but he murmurs a breathy, "y'know what's not public?" that makes your eyebrows raise in interest, lashes fluttering a little bit. matt relishes in that expression on your face, just for a moment.

"what is?" you soon ask, brows furrowing now.

"my bedroom," matt wiggles his eyebrows instinctively, and despite your surprise at his forwardness, you laugh. a genuine, soft, laugh. god, you adore him. enough to the point you quickly run behind him as he practically drags you back to the car.

ִ ֹ ★ @deansbite i hope you and our 120+ kids are proud o'me for writin' consistently :3

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @sarosfilms, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasgirl, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @cayleeuhithinknott, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @beausling, @lovesickgrlsrh0t , @cupiidk1lls, @sofiassaturn ִ ꒱

[astaroth1357]

So. As something of a connoisseur of depictions of the 7 Deadly Sins in media, I was just mulling over FMAB and thought, “I don’t know if anyone as crossed this over with OM before, but that would actually be kinda fire though.”

Like, imagine each of the brothers with the destructive powers of their respective Homunculi.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer coming off as the most normal at first, until MC catches how his shadow bends and curves to avoid harsh light. They swear they sometimes hear him chuckling in the dark corners of the House, but they never actually find him anything there when they check. Red eyes reveal themselves in unlit rooms and follow them through the halls, all the while they keep wondering how he always seems to know where they are whenever he's away…

Mammon hardening his skin to be tougher than diamond, then using it to reinforce his claws and smoothly cut a perfect circle into glass display case. Him letting himself get punched when things don’t matter, but instantly hardening his cheek to break the assailant's hand whenever he starts getting serious. Or literally using his body to protect MC from harm as their first man and loyal shield.

Leviathan having a MASSIVE aquatic beast form that he shoves into a normal sized body, making him feel even more distant to others. Using transformations to regularly make himself look like his favorite anime characters/idols since he can’t stand the thought of looking at his true form. Yet, he still has that conservation of mass going, so he can simultaneously look like a 12 year-old girl and kick a car down the street like a soccerball.

Satan using his gifted sight to become an absolute force of nature. Not just a mere brute, but a sophisticated and effective killing machine with the wit and reflexes to mow down entire armies before breaking a sweat. Never blinded by fury, but harnessing his rage behind every inescapable strike. Him silently vowing that any threat to MC or his family will barely get to finish a thought before he's cut them down with precision and grace.

Asmodeus mostly using his extending nails for glorious manicures, but not being afraid to pierce the heart or lungs of anyone he doesn’t much like. He hears an incubus talking shit from a few tables down and stabs a hole through the jerk's skull while never looking away from his milkshake. His fights with Mammon getting 1000 times more destructive as his razor sharp claws bounce off his brother's skin and dig into the walls and furniture. The only thing he hates about them are how long it takes to scrub the blood off his nails afterwards.

*silently contemplates the possibility of Beel ripping himself in half to reveal a nightmarish second “stomach” capable of sucking anything into a blood-filled pocket dimension of which there is no light, hope, or escape* … Okay, moving on.

And of course, for those unaware FMAB Sloth could run at like the speed of sound which was threatening because he was also a behemoth. However, Belphie probably weights 125 pounds when wet, so… I admittedly get a giggle at the idea of him giving Lucifer a speed-of-light drop kick from across the House. That is probably all he would use it for, too. Him just getting those horns out and going into ramming speed… What a menace

Bonus: Wonder what kind of alchemist Solomon would be? 🤔

[anon-sect]

As requested by @gangesqueen for a Part Two

Lial was in a sweaty prison around Trey, the team captain's waist. He could hear the team celebrate their victory on the bus ride home. He could even hear their coach joining in on the celebration. He so wanted to scream for help for the coach to convince the team captain to let him go. But as an article of clothing, he couldn't do anything but cradle the waistline of who wore him. The sweaty prison was a nightmare. He was completely saturated by Trey's sweat and started to smell like the musky odor he was attached to.

After a two hour drive back, Trey got to his car and drove home. It was then he realized the sentient underwear he was wearing. They were enjoying the celebration so much he had forgotten about the special trophy the losing team gifted them. "Sorry to say, but your old life is over, buddy. My team and I get to have all the fun with you." He gloated over his transformed underwear.

Once home, Trey decided to let his transformed underwear know just how much of an object he was. He got undressed with just only his underwear on. He went to his computer desk and put on a porn video. As the action in the video intensified, so did his dick. He stroke and stroked it through his underwear until his load spilled on the inside. The release felt so wonderful. He gained a sense of superiority as he saw the underwear front wet with hot cum. The thought that he just did that to a former human actually felt great to him.

Lial felt so disgusted at his face being rubbed around Trey's dick. Feeling the warm cum wet his face made his feelings even worse. The guy literally ejaculated in him as though he was a simple object, a simple article of clothing on his body. He no longer felt human anymore. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, underwear bitch. I think I will sleep in you as well. You need to truly realize what your teammates did to you." He heard Trey laugh at him. Trey took a shower and put him back on his body, much to his disagreement.

The next day, Lial found himself turned back human again. He still smelled horrible from the musk from being Trey's underwear. He looked up at another of Trey's teammates. "I want a pair of bitch socks, Trey" Antoine spoke to his team captain. Lial thought being underwear was bad enough, but being socks on the jock's feet didn't sound pleasant. "Please, just let me go, I promise I won't say a word about what you have done to me" Lial pleaded, only to see Trey flash a light at him from his TF phone. He didn't have a chance to say another word.

Antoine picked up the Nike socks off the floor. "You have him for one day, then another person gets to play with him next." Trey spoke as he left Lial with Antoine to use as he pleased. He really was looking forward to this. He quickly slips him on his feet. It felt wonderful on feet, unlike normal socks. The former human was super comfortable to wear. Antoine decided to go on a five-mile jog for good measure on the transformed human. He didn't even get the guy's name, but that really didn't matter. He was socks now and socks don't need to have a name.

Lial saw this new experience was far worse than being wrapped around Trey's waist. Each step brought on levels of pain he never thought was possible. He mentally screamed in agony as Antoine started his jog. The pain seemed never ending. The pain wasn't the only thing he had to contend with. The sneakers he was shoved in smelled so bad, he wished he could have passed out just so that he didn't have to smell the foul stench. He mentally begged that he was having a bad nightmare and could wake up from it. After twenty minutes, he saw his nightmarish hell go from bad to worse. He was now tasting the foot sweat that was saturating his sock bodies. Being a transformed object heighted his senses 500% beyond normal. Every smell, touch and taste made his hell a place of torment. The jog seemed never ending.

Antoine returned from his jog to relax. His feet didn't hurt one bit. In fact, they have never felt better. He knew it was all due to his current socks. He wanted to thank his socks for doing such a good job. He knew one special way to do just that. He took off one sock and placed it over his dick. While watching porn, he ejaculated in it for good pleasure. With the other sock, he used that to clean his dick off. He didn't formally thank his socks, because who really speaks to their socks as though it's a person.

For the next several months, Lial was treated to being an object for each member of the team as something that person wanted him to be. He had been shoes, socks, underwear, a dildo, a condom, insoles, boots. He just wanted his nightmare to end. He was finally given back to the team captain after everyone had their fun with him. He was so hoping he would at last be free. He found himself human once again, not sure what was going to happen next.

"I give you the option, I turn you into a permanent pair of Nike Air Jordans for my feet forever, or you can suck my cock and be set free afterwards. Your choice." Trey told Lial. What Lial didn't know was that Trey had a devious plan if he chose to suck his cock.

Lial saw this as his opportunity to return back to normal life, even if that meant he had to suck the jock's sausage to get it. He quickly put Trey's dick in his mouth and started sucking it. He wasn't paying any attention to what Trey was doing above him.

Trey had the setting on the TF phone and snapped his picture. Lial vanished before him. All that was left was an extra six inches to his dick. He laughed as he realized that the guy was permanently his cock now. There was no way to reverse what he had done to him. Yet, he didn't want to reverse it. The loser was given to his team, so they got to do whatever they wanted with him. He pulled up his underwear and pants, trapping his new cock in darkness. He promised he would give the guy some action soon enough. There would be plenty who would want to suck his new dick or an ass he could be shoved in. The thought of subjecting the former human to that made him laugh

Lial realized that Trey had lied to him as he now found himself as the man's dick. His fate was sealed; his humanity was permanently gone forever. He was now the jocks sex tool for the rest of his life. He could only weep and feel contempt for his former teammates, who put him in this predicament.

[sightseertrespasser]

We can ask for lore dumps?? color me intrigued. Ok, so one thing I noticed while reading your fics (specifically Odds of Survival) was “Other Aliens”. Prowl off handedly mentioned that other organic races either don’t like or are very afraid of Cybertronians. What’s the history there? From my human perspective, big robots seem cool, and with the whole Mecha thing going on there’s probably an even bigger subconscious association with Large Robots equaling safety or perhaps protection. Other aliens clearly don’t think that way and I wonder why.

Prowl mentioned he was so far in space because the Decepticons needed more allies, so they either have none, or very very few. Does the Functionalist Cybertron have alien allies or does the hate and fear towards Cybertronians run so deep that other species won’t even consider allying with any of them? Something I see commonly is Sci-Fi stories is some sort of alien council thing of like large groups of different species. Is that a thing in your world too? How are other species being affected by Quintessons? I’m very interested in what’s happening all around space.

The short version of why other alien species don’t like Cybertronians can be summed up as a consequence of ✨Colonialism.✨

Led by Sentinel Prime and the Functionalist Council, Cybertron is effectively an intergalactic colonist power. They show up to planets, determine their value and pretty much do whatever they want after the fact.

When Cybertronians first encountered organic life, there was a huge amount of debate over whether or not something organic could be considered “alive” or “deserving of rights”. And well, it benefited the cybertronians to define organics as not being people. You can’t steal from a lesser form of life, and those gentle sparked civilians who’ve never seen an organic in person can rest easy when the natives are exterminated from a prospective planet because they aren’t experiencing actual pain like what sentient beings can feel.

That narrative is strongly encouraged by the Senate and Prime. A lot of people know it’s mostly crap, but so what? Are you going to lose your job over the civil rights of goldfish?

If a planet has a fairly substantial population and infrastructure, the government might chose to offer cybertronian “protection” in exchange for favorable trade and commerce. At best, an alien species can expect to export to cybertronian space at a loss.

At worse? Those species aren’t relevant anymore.

Seriously. Flip through the Transformers wiki list of alien species and count how many have “endangered” or “extinct” attached to their descriptions.

The colonialism is a huge factor in how Cybertron is viewed. But even if you remove that from the equation, most people aren’t really that comfortable with the sudden presence of an alien that’s functionally impossible to stop from doing whatever they want.

One cybertronian having a bad day could completely destroy a small human town like a kid kicking over sandcastles. Your house? Gone. Your grocery store? Decimated. What can you do? Nothing. That shit is terrifying. Cybertronians are practically indestructible and organics are so unbelievably delicate by comparison.

That’s not to say it’s impossible for organics to win that kind of fight, but it always takes a shitload of fire power. Think about what it’d take to win a fight against a literal car, and then add in the factor that the car can stand up and shoot you in the face.

Now if you’re a human being, you’re probably thinking of high powered rifles, grenades and other forms of improvised explosives. If you think you can beat one in a straight fight, you are filled with hubris. They aren’t just walking walls of metal, cybertronians have access to all the same weaponry as you but scaled up by a factor of ten.

Killing a cybertronian is like killing a dragon. It’s the stuff of legends.

In short, Cybertronians aren’t well liked by the rest of the galactic community due to a combination of their government actively being a hostile condescending superpower and the general consensus that one on one, an organic can’t do shit to stop a cybertronian from hurting them.

There are alien civilizations allied with Functionalist Cybertron, especially since the emergence of the Quintesson invasion. It’s definitely uncomfortable but at least individually Cybertronians can be reasoned with, bribed, blackmailed etc. Even shitty people are still people.

Whereas the Quintessons are just unilaterally an all consuming force. They don’t talk, they don’t threaten, they don’t respond to anything other than violence and even then only with more extreme violence.

As it stands, the Functionalists have all of the “useful” alien civilizations taken in as allies in exchange for cybertronian protection. Since they’re pretty much the only ones with a powerful enough military to actually repel the Quintesson invasion. There probably is an intergalactic council of Cybertrons Allie’s but it’s purely performative. Sentinel and the Council are the ones who really decide things.

The Decepticons didn’t exactly found their revolution on giving organics similar rights either, with much of High Command openly hating organic life (cough, Starscream, cough) on top of that.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Prowls been arguing for awhile that they literally can’t afford to be picky anymore.

So Prowl, master of charm and diplomacy that he is, has been completely fucking up every offering of allyship he’s tried to initiate.

What’s making things worse is the sheer limitations he’s having to work with. The Decepticons physically do not have the manpower to offer dedicated support to any prospective allies. The one time Prowl did manage to Hard Logic his way into convincing a settlement into allying with them, it was with the promise that the Decepticons would send help in the event of an attack. When that eventually did happen, Prowl ran the numbers and worked out that the losses that’d be incurred were more than the economic benefit the settlement could provide, so no help was sent.

Of course, that story got out, and now the Decepticons are even more disliked by the galactic community than before. And the argument of “well they should have made themselves worth protecting” is not the thing potential allies want to hear, Decepticon Tactician Prowl.

Now as far as humanity goes, Cybertrons history of colonialism and “organic’s aren’t people” rhetoric hasn’t reached Earth yet so this is 100% the best possible chance any Cybertronian has ever had of actually being liked by aliens.

Especially given the current environment of earth in the mecha universe, most humans are already primed to look at a 30ft tall robot and think “big friend”. There’s a reason Prowl and Deadlock have been so flabbergasted by their humans showing zero fear around them. To these guys, it’s like a Disney Princess moment where wild song birds decide to perch on your shoulder.

Super weird and definitely not the norm, but far from an unwelcome experience.