#fury funnie scream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amourane · 10 months ago

Text

hate the way you smile

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, e2l + childhood enemies??

w/c: 4.7k

summary: from the second you met theodore nott you knew that your life would be torturous and that the boy would never leave you alone but maybe forever isn't so bad with theodore nott.

warnings: none just a lot of bickering

a/n: omg this one is a bit long but i finished it!

From the moment that you met Theodore Nott at the bright age of five you knew you would hate him forever. Maybe it was the way he would sneer at you with distaste or the way he would mock you for being a big crybaby whenever he took your toys. All you knew was that you simply loathed his presence.

Your families had been friends and they had initially thought that you and Theo would get along since you were both the same age. What they didn’t expect was the young boy to rip the heads of your dolls and proceed to mock you for crying your heart out. Yet even with all of your constant bickering your families still met up every holiday, bringing the demon child with them to torment your life.

Since that day your childhood was filled with cruel laughter and the mischievous eyes that would watch wherever you went. At age seven, Theodore Nott found it appropriate to fill your bathtub with toads causing you to shriek out in terror when you opened the bathroom door, and him, to run away with glee at your horrified face. At age nine, he thought it would’ve been funny to surprise you by dumping a bucket load of pumpkin juice all over you and he cackled at your expected screams of anger. What he didn’t expect was for you to retaliate by smashing a tray of cauldron cakes into his face.

Needless to say the war between you two started way back then and it had continued, the only difference being that now you both were more mature and civilised and there was no room for childish pranks.

“Suck my cock you mangled prat, I hope you trip and fall to your death you insignificant shit goblin!”

At least so you thought.

You made a move and lunged for Theodore Nott’s throat as anger flared in your eyes. No one paid mind to the scene that was unfolding before them afterall it was a common occurrence for the last six years.

“You enchanted my hair green!” You shrieked as you shook the brunette violently. “Are you out of your mind Nott? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mess with each other’s appearances, what happened to that?”

Theodore simply smirked and you felt your fury bubble inside you. He tilted his head to the right and acted as if he was actually pondering your question. If you could you would have been breathing flames as you felt yourself grow more livid as every second went by.

“Hmm…I like your hair L/n, really suits the whole vibe you’re going for, don't you think bella?” Theo flashed you a wicked grin as he reached out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. You slapped his hand away.

“And what vibe am I going for Nott? Please enlighten me since you apparently are the one making decisions for me.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should’ve just cursed him out and gone to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of remedy instead of staying and entertaining whatever shit-faced idea he had come up with. The moment you saw the smug smirk that spread across his face and the dangerous twinkle in his eyes you knew he was going to spew some absolute bullshit. And you were right.

“Well obviously it’s a statement declaring that you’re mine, why else would you dye your hair to match my house?” The Slythering feigned disbelief, clutching his hands to his chest innocently. “But Salazar, I didn’t know you would be so bold about your feelings towards me bella.”

You felt heat rise and settle on your cheeks as you tried to come up with a colourful comeback to wipe the stupid smirk off his face but the words die in your throat. It was against your will but you could feel your face growing hotter as he continued to stare at you with that flirty glint in his eyes. Your brain spluttered to a stop and you scrambled desperately for something to say.

“Fuck you Nott.” You seethed before storming away with your hands balled into fists. You could hear the whispers of students and you could feel their stares as you stomped to the infirmary, determined to find some way to get your hair back to normal.

Theodore Nott was the biggest pain in the arse you knew and he had never stopped being one. You still remembered when you had received your letter to Hogwarts and he had scoffed at the sight asking why Hogwarts would want a half-wit like you. Needless to say your parents weren’t surprised at the cries that erupted a second later from both you and him.

Throughout your years the two of you had become known for the obvious tension and pure hatred you harboured for each other though it did seem to lean on your side a bit more than it did to his. It had been the same for the first three years, bickering, pranks and whatnot. Then fourth year came and the scrawny boy you once knew had magically grown much taller and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat it once had. All at once Theodore Nott became one of the most sought after boys in Hogwarts and it only made you loathe him more. It made his ego triple in size and it made him much more flirty towards everyone but you seemed to be his number one target. All you wanted to do was to take your wand and puncture that bloated head of his.

Though his appearance changed he still was the boy you knew since you were a child and whenever he smiled you could see the same boyish grin he had way back when he was five. He had always been the same but now he just had a much more pretty face to disguise the fact he was a blithering idiot.

Theo watched as you stormed off, his smile never once leaving his face. He loved to mess with you purely to see the visceral anger that radiated off you every single time. The way you would try to stare him down but the action proved useless as he was much taller allowing him to simply look down smugly. It amused him to see how your reactions never changed.

Ever since you were five you held the same expressions: whenever you were mildly irritated by him you would chew on your bottom lip, whenever you were pissed your eyes would double in size and you’d look like a fire-breathing dragon, and whenever he made you upset you would stare blankly without a word. He’d only ever made you truly upset once and when seeing your face he knew he would never do it again because even if the two of you bickered and fought he would never hurt you.

“Sometimes I think you’re secretly dating because you should see the way you’re daydreaming hopelessly while staring at L/n’s retreating figure Nott, you look like a bloody imbecile.” Draco slapped Theo’s back startling him out of his own thoughts. He scoffed after realising what his friend was implying.

“Oh Salazar’s balls I think I’m going to regurgitate my breakfast. You’ve gone insane if you even think for a second there’s a chance I fancy that creature.”

Laughter erupted from his friends and they continued to mock and tease him obviously not being mature enough to handle the situation with grace.

“I would rather shag the giant squid than date L/n and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

Mattheo hummed to himself and smirked. He placed his arm on Theo’s shoulder. “Well then can I ask her out? She’s real hot and I think she’d be interested.”

“L/n might be stupid Riddle but she wouldn’t ever go out with you or even give you the time of day. So don’t even think about doing it.” And with that he left and his friends exchanged knowing glances before bursting into another fit of laughter at their friend’s own obliviousness.

This was so not your day.

Never in your life had you forgotten to hand in homework yet one silly slip up had cost you to spend your free afternoon in detention. It wasn’t your fault you had mixed up the dates on when the transfiguration homework was due.

You begrudgingly opened the classroom doors, finding a seat to sit down for the next hour. At least you were able to catch up on some other classes while you were in detention otherwise you thought you would’ve gone mad. You looked around the classroom save for Professor McGonagall who had already greeted you when you walked in there was no one else there.

It hadn’t even been a minute when the doors burst open to reveal a very tall and very smug Slytherin.

“Mr Nott, glad for you to join us, find a seat please.”

Theo's grin faltered as his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of confusion dancing across his features before it was swiftly replaced by his trademark smirk. He made his way toward you, closing the distance until there were mere centimetres separating you from him.

“Now L/n, Nott, I have important business to tend to so I assume the both of you are mature enough to sit through this detention. I hope that I don’t hear about any incidents when I am gone.”

It was as if your nightmare had all of a sudden come to life as you watched McGonagall leave the classroom. You tried to protest but it fell upon deaf ears as the professor had already left the room, leaving you stuck with your nemesis.

You whipped your head to face the brunette, irritation flashing in your eyes. Why had he chosen to sit next to you when there were plenty of other seats available? The classroom was far from crowded, yet here he was, invading your personal space with his mere presence

“Why are you sitting next to me Nott?”

“Why can’t I? Do you happen to own every seat in this classroom?” He teased. “I didn’t think you did, so I’m going to sit where I want.”

You grumbled under your breath at his stubbornness, getting up to pack your things. “Fine, but then I’m moving.”

Before you could make your move, Theo reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey slow down, I have a perfect seat right here.” Your irritation flared at his audacity, and you shot him a scathing glare as he gestured to his lap with a smug smirk. “Why don’t you-”

“Nott, if you seriously propose that I sit in your lap I will hex you to oblivion.”

“Okay!” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression feigning innocence as he cocked his head to the side, the smirk never once leaving his face. “Stay here, I won’t bother you, I swear.”

You eyed him cautiously, your scepticism evident. You weighed the options before you reluctantly sat back down. “Fine.”

A quiet hush befell the classroom and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment. That is until you were interrupted by a persistent poking sensation that disrupted your concentration, each jab of the quill more annoying than the last. You clenched your jaw as you tried to ignore Theo but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave him attention and there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of reacting. So he continued to poke and poke and poke.

His incessant poking finally pushed you over the edge, prompting a sharp hiss of irritation from your lips. "What?" You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer.

“What are you doing here?”

If there was a competition for incompetence Theodore Nott would sure have won first place.

“Detention obviously.”

“Oh you know what I meant, why are you in detention? Did you do something stupid? Wait, you do that all the time I forgot.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of your skull. "Tell me, bella," He continued, his voice laced with faux innocence. "I don't bite."

“Forgot my homework.” You reluctantly mumbled under your breath, feeling all too claustrophobic at how close he was to you. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh but it is.”

“What does that even mean, Nott?” Your eyes narrowed. Theo’s face twisted into a playful smirk and he was so close that you could practically hear his heart beating.

He chuckled, undeterred by your hostility. "But it's not like you to forget your homework," He teased, leaning in closer. "There must be something distracting you. Perhaps... thoughts of me?"

As if on instinct your hands reached out to push the unbearable boy away from you and you immediately got up at his incredulous words. You saw the way laughter bubbled and slipped from his lips, mocking you which only added more fuel to the evergrowing fire.

"In your dreams, Nott," You retorted, your voice laced with venom as you rose from your seat, your movements quick and determined. "I would sooner volunteer for a Dementor's kiss than waste a single thought on you."

Theo’s smirk only widened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual," He quipped, his voice dripping with amusement as he rested his chin on his palms, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You huffed out an angry breath before picking your stuff up and stalking to the opposite end of the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t follow and you were left in peace for the rest of the detention.

It had been a week and a half since your detention yet Theodore Nott hadn’t approached you once since. In fact, you hadn’t seen him around school a lot, not that you were paying attention of course. It was just weird. Usually his face would pop up in front of you multiple times a day yet he was nowhere to be found. You had even lingered around the Slytherin table at lunch to see if he would show up but he never did.

There was this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even though you did despise Theo you had known him since he was a kid and he never was one to skip lessons much less disappear for over a week. Even his Slytherin friends didn’t know where he went.

That is until today. The moment you had walked into the dungeons ready for your Potions lesson you spotted him. There was a part of you that hoped you would see him today, after all he was your Potions partner. But there was something wrong. His face looked gaunt, pale, sapped of life and his eyes were merely blank as he sat unmoving. His usual demeanour was replaced with one of hollow emptiness.

“Where have you been Nott?” No response. You frowned as you looked at him, he seemed to not even hear you. “Nott? Have you suddenly become deaf?”

“It’s none of your business.” He snapped voice obviously laced with malice as the words cut through the air. The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, a twinge of hurt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness despite the fact you both had said worse to each other.

You chose to ignore the fact that Theo was obviously in a sour mood and sat down beside him, unpacking your things. There was nothing special about the lesson, nothing that you needed to particularly pay attention to. Not that you did since you were too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with your partner. Theo didn’t look okay, not in the slightest. He seemed exhausted and his sluggish movements proved you correct as he diced the various ingredients.

You were in the middle of stirring the cauldron when Theo dropped a dandelion root in the mixture causing it to bubble and spit. The concoction spilled onto your hand and you shrieked at the sudden burning sensation that seemed to consume your hand in flames. The sensation is unbearable, a sharp, burning agony that seems to penetrate deep into your very bones. By now the whole class had stopped to look at you not fully registering what had happened. You turned to Theo, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the pain but he stood there frozen, an expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“Theo-”

"Fucking hell, L/n." He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Would it kill you to not be such a clumsy moron? You could've hurt me as well. How can you even call yourself a witch?"

His words were sharp and spiteful. Through the many years of knowing Theodore Nott he had never blamed you for something he did. He might have been an incorrigible prick but he would still apologise if he had ever hurt you genuinely. But as you looked at him you couldn’t recognise the cold harsh look he gave you and you bit back your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him.

Despite the fact your hand was in pain you felt something tighten around your chest and it made the air around you feel thick as if you couldn’t breathe. You stood up angrily, opening your mouth to snap back but your vision starts to fade, black spots invade your senses and that was the last thing you remember before you tumbled to the floor.

You woke up a few hours later as you felt the sun shine on your face. You blinked, disorientated, as you tried to get used to your surroundings. The familiar walls of the infirmary materialised and you felt some ease at knowing where you were. Confusion still gnawed at your mind as you struggled to piece together what had happened. How had you ended up in the infirmary? And why did everything feel so hazy, as if viewed through a foggy lens?

Your gaze drifted to your hand, the source of the searing pain. And there, wrapped in a pristine white bandage, lay the answer to at least one of your questions. The memory flooded back in fragments, disjointed and incomplete.

Theo's careless mistake, the scalding mixture splattering across your skin, the sharp cry of pain that had torn through the air, all of it came rushing back with startling clarity.

“Miss L/n you’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through your thoughts and you saw the woman make her way towards you hurriedly. “That was a terrible burn you had, lucky I had some burn-healing paste on me otherwise you would have had an ugly scar.”

You were still a bit dazed, trying to piece together how you even managed to make your way here. You distinctively remembered collapsing to the floor but that was where your memory stopped and it refused to give you any more.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey but do you know how I got here? I really can’t seem to remember.”

“Oh dear.” The nurse frowned at your condition. “Mr Nott brought you here. He’s been here the whole afternoon. He's only just popped to dinner. I'm sure he’ll be back. Merlin, the boy did look worried.”

You resisted the urge to scoff at her words. Theodore Nott, worried. Not a chance. He probably only brought you here because Slughorn insisted, and he couldn't risk getting on the professor's bad side. No, you highly doubted he cared about what had happened to you.

The memory of his harsh words repeated in your head like an echo that refused to go away, a reminder of his indifference to your situation. And yet, despite your efforts to brush it off, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Why were you even upset? After all, the two of you were experts at hurling mean insults at each other. It was practically a pastime.

Rather you should have been mad at the fact he was the one who caused you to get this injury anyway. If it wasn’t for his stupid mistake you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, you remembered his movements, how his usual nimble fingers were fumbling the ingredients, how he stared at the pages of his book as though they were in a foreign language. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re awake.”

The words startled you and you spotted the Slytherin boy approaching your bed as his face held the same blank expression as before. He sat down beside you and your eyes narrowed. You shuffled away, not wanting to be near him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly and the words caught you off guard. “These past few days just haven’t been the best and-”

“That’s your excuse?” You bristled at his pathetic apology, hoping that you had misheard what he had said. “You mess up our potion resulting in me getting hurt and then hurl insults my way trying to blame me for what happened. And you think simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough? Using the excuse of having a few bad days as your way out?”

He stayed silent allowing you to continue.

“Theodore Nott, you always were an idiot.” You spat, the words tinged with disappointment. “But I never expected you to be such a heartless prick.”

As the final syllable fell from your lips, a heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of your breath. You held Theo’s gaze and as you studied him you noticed something you had failed to notice before. The dark circles that marred the skin beneath his eyes, the redness that rimmed their edges. The weariness that had been etched into his features.

“I went home.” He finally said, breaking the silence with his words. “Father sent a letter saying it was urgent, that I needed to return home at once.”

You felt yourself deflate and your gaze softened. Theo and his father had never been on the best terms and ever since his mother died they drifted apart even more. Suddenly his attitude made sense and you felt the guilt seep into your senses.

“Turns out his urgent matter was that he found himself another potential wife. Some poor woman to endure his torture and he wanted to happily announce it to his son. He burnt all of my mother’s belongings and if I hadn’t stopped him he would’ve gotten rid of her grave as well.” Theo scoffed bitterly and you saw the way he was trying to stop the tears from falling. “That bastard calls himself my father but not once in his life has he ever cared about me.”

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you as you sat not uttering a word. You knew that he had always struggled with the strained relationship with his family. The death of his mother had resulted in Theo being distraught for weeks as he relived the nightmare whenever he closed his eyes.

“I’m not going back there. I’m never setting foot in that house ever again.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as you tried to offer some sort of comfort. His eyes locked with yours and you saw how his tears glistened as they fell silently. You felt ropes tighten around your heart and you squeezed his shoulder gently. It had been a long time since you saw Theodore Nott cry. It was a rare sight but that was what made it that much more painful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I honestly…I’m so sorry Theo. He really doesn’t deserve a son like you. You’re incredible, you know that? You might be irritating and loud and downright infuriating at times but he doesn’t deserve you because you’re amazing Theodore Nott. And, Merlin, if I’m saying that then it must mean a lot because we both know my word is golden.”

You offered him a small smile and your heart warms when you see one tug at his lips too. He looked away for a second and you saw his eyes land on your bandaged hand and he winced.

“I really am sorry for messing up our potion. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re a brilliant witch Y/n, you always have been. I was just being a prat, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s honestly nothing bad. My hand will probably already be back to normal, I heal quickly you know.” You paused as your smile faltered and you chose your next words carefully. “If…if you don’t want to return to your house, you can always go to someone else's.”

Theo chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is going to accept me into their house without turning me into my father.”

“I will.”

Silence. Theo looked at you, confusion clear on his face but your gaze was strong and he could tell you had meant what you had said. You felt yourself flush at his stare and you realised your hand was still on his shoulder and you quickly removed it.

“Accept you into my house I mean. My parents love you and you know they haven’t been on good terms with your father ever since what happened. We would be more than willing to take you in.” You watched as his face contorted into expressions that you couldn’t formulate. “That is if you promise not to fill my bathtub with toads again.”

Laughter fell from his lips, cascading like a melody. He lifted his hands to wipe away his tears that had been streaking down his face. His eyes no longer held the blank emotionless look but rather a certain warmth that you had missed seeing. Your grin widened upon hearing the sound and you found yourself joining in.

“At least you look pretty-”

Your words were cut off abruptly as Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden and unexpected kiss. You froze, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as disbelief rippled through your body. His hands found their way at the back of your neck and you feel his thumb caress your cheek tenderly. You were still in shock when he pulled away and the last few words of the sentence you were about to say tumbled out of your mouth.

“-when you cry…”

You blinked as your mind tried to grapple at what had just happened. Theodore Nott had just kissed you. Theodore Nott, the boy you had despised since you were five, had just kissed you. He kissed you. Kissed…you. Immediately, your body erupted into flames and you felt your face flush hot at how close the both of you were.

“Your body temperature has risen extremely quickly.” Theo teased and you felt yourself grow even hotter.

“Shut it.”

“Like you’re actually a human radiator.” He continued undeterred by your glare.

“Nott if you don’t want to lose your head I would advise you to shut up.”

Theo grinned and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. “Oh so now I’m back to being Nott? What happened to Theo?” He said his name in a high pitched croon in an attempt to mock your voice and you smacked the backside of his head which only encouraged his laughter.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me.” You groaned as you slumped back down the bed, pulling the covers over your face as a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the pretty Slytherin.

Theo poked your arm and you peeked out to find him staring at you with a bright grin on his face.

"Don't worry." He reassured you, his voice light and teasing. "I'll make sure to stay by your side forever and ever, like a blood-sucking parasite."

“How romantic.” You drawled as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance as you retreated under the covers once more.

“Aren’t I just?”

You ignored Theo’s playful whines for you to let him see your face. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. But even so, you were unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, forever wouldn't be so bad with Theodore Nott by your side.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

2K notes · View notes

vampstarkey · 1 month ago

Text

provocative mini skirt ୨୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧♡

Masterlist

warnings: pussy slapping, semi-public sex, hair pulling, dick sucking, ass slapping & degradation.

Note: English is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes in advance.

You and Rafe had been together for a few months, but the relationship seemed like a tightrope about to snap, full of possessiveness and arguments that seemed to have no end. He hated your sassy behavior sometimes, but at the same time, the idea of having to punish you later seemed exciting, and he made sure to make that clear at every opportunity.

The loud music from Topper's party echoed in the background, muffled by the walls of the house, but that didn't stop Rafe's cutting words from reverberating in your mind. You watched him from across the room, leaning against the doorframe, trying to process the weight of the look he was giving you, intense, but at the same time filled with fury, it made you wet.

Rafe paced back and forth, his fingers tightening his glass of whiskey as if he wanted to crush it. The reason for the fight was another of the usual absurdities: the short skirt you were wearing at the party.

— Next time, I'll rip that shit off you and make you change. — He growled, his blue eyes shining with an anger that seemed ready to explode. The sound of glass hitting the table accompanied him as he approached, his breathing heavy and the smell of alcohol already present.

— This is stupid. It's just a skirt, it's not like I'm walking around naked. — You replied a little frustrated, but deep down you found all that jealousy funny.

— You think it's fun to make me go through this, huh? Everyone was staring at your ass, damn it. — Rafe stopped, clenching his jaw.

The blond could feel his blood boiling with your air of indifference. It didn't take long for him to approach you. Rafe cornered you against the wall, not leaving you the slightest space.

— Honestly, I do find it fun. — Your eyes fixed on the lips of the boy in front of you, you were challenging him, after all you knew where this would lead.

— Oh, really? I want to see you find it funny when I fuck this little pussy right here without making you scream.

He ran his fingers up your thigh, massaging the area while he slowly moved his hands up. Your pussy could already throb just imagining all the things he would be able to do to you there in the room that was only occupied by the two of you at that party.

— What are you waiting for? — Your voice came out almost like a plea, he found it comical, the way you always seemed like a desperate whore for his cock, in fact it wasn't a lie. You loved the way your boyfriend fucked you so well, the environment only made you hornier, it was tempting.

Rafe quickly pulled up your skirt, playing with the elastic of your red lace panties. He pulled the thin fabric to the side, placing his fingers on your clit while rubbing it feeling your wetness.

— I didn't even have to try very hard, you're begging for me right here. — He slapped your pussy a few times and then laughed with satisfaction. Rafe could feel his cock almost exploding inside his pants. You were so ready, so wet for him. His fingers slid so easily inside you. It was killing you. It was torturous.

— I need your dick. — You bit your lip hard, then leaned against a small table.

— I'm going to play with you a little bit more. — Rafe quickly slid two fingers inside your soaked slit while his other hand was still caressing your swollen clit. His fingers went in and out inside you so deliciously that it made you hold back your moans, even though you wanted to make the scene he loved. One of your hands went to his wrist, squeezing it as you tilted your head back.

— My little slut is so desperate. — His hands went to your thigh once more, but this time giving it a hard slap on the outside. — Turn your back to me and lean on the table

Without thinking twice, you did exactly what he asked, like the good, obedient slut that you were. Then you turned around, placing both hands on the table while your ass was completely raised for him. Rafe slid your panties down your legs while he analyzed your body from behind, then slapped your ass. He loved doing that.

— You made me really angry today. Don't you understand that I'm the only one who can see this delicious body? — Another slap was given to your ass, this time harder than the last time.

— Fuck, Rafe… — With the tension in the air, your body was completely at his mercy. After the slap, a scream came from your lips.

— Shh, be quiet. — Your ass was turning all red thanks to him. The boy slapped you several times without caring about the pain he caused you. After all, he knew you wouldn't complain. You were a real slut to him. — I'm going to fuck you so good, baby..

Still with your back to him, he moved his hands up to your breasts, squeezing them over your bra and playing with them.

— Be a good girl now and suck your man. — That came out more like an order than a request, and of course you didn't refuse, so you turned to Rafe and got on your knees.

Your hands went to the older man's pants, unbuttoning them skillfully. He helped you unbuckle his belt without much patience. You looked at the large bulge formed in his black boxers as soon as his pants fell to the floor. You salivated just imagining sucking that damn delicious cock.

— Yes sir. — Your said as he touched his erection, groping his thick cock. Without delay, your hands pulled down Rafe's underwear, making his pink cock jump out. Your lips slowly went to his thickness, touching the sensitive head of his hard member.

— Oh, you damn slut, stop beating around the bush and put that cock in your mouth at once. — He grabbed your hair tightly, wrapping it in a tight ponytail.

You soon took Rafe in your mouth, putting every inch of him in your mouth. He was so big, but so tasty that whenever you gave him a blowjob, it seemed like a challenge, but exciting at the same time.

— That's it, good girl. Swallow that cock. — He pulled your hair and tilted your head back, feeling your tongue massage the entire length of his hardness. Rafe moved his hips back and forth, seeking more contact with his hot mouth. — Stick your tongue out.

— W-what? — You asked, a little confused, as you looked at him on his knees.

— Don't ask anything, just obey me. — He said, as he waited for you to do what he told you to do, and so it was done.

Your tongue was now out as you looked at your boyfriend. Rafe quickly put his cock in your mouth again, but this time fucking you. He fucked your mouth with everything he had, with anger and a mixture of lust. The sight of having you kneeling for him was surreal. He just wanted to put you on that table and fuck you until you couldn't walk. Well, since he took your virginity, you've become a thousand times hotter and there was no time or place to want to fuck. You coughed with the thickness that invaded your throat.

— Daddy's girl is so greedy, do a good job and I'll eat all that pussy that's begging for me. — Rafe pushed his hips harder into your mouth once more, your eyes started to water. Your eyes rolled back with each thrust into your throat, your hands were resting on his knees, your pussy was burning, you felt like you could cum just by sucking that dick, your face was all smeared with pre-cum.

— Do you like that? — You asked provocatively as you caressed his balls. Your hand masturbated the rest of Rafe's cock that didn't fit in your mouth as soon as he stopped moving his hips.

— You know I do. — Rafe laughed with that damned rogue smile full of evil. He let out small hoarse moans trying not to lose control completely. — But I need you to stop, I don't want to cum in your mouth.

You just nodded. Rafe pulled you up in a sudden movement, catching you by surprise, and placed you on the table, still facing him, spreading your legs.

— Rafe… — A murmur left your lips as you waited for any action.

Rafe pulled your skirt and fit between your legs, rubbing his hard member against your wet pussy.

— Damn bitch, I know you were crazy for this. — He rubbed his cock against your slit, making your skin shiver all over.

— Yes, yes, please. — Your legs wrapped around the boy’s hips. He soon held your legs tightly, letting himself be enveloped by you.

— I love it when you beg, it just shows what a real whore you are. — Rafe attacked your lips in a burning kiss as he rubbed against you, containing the naughty moans that came out of your mouth.

His tongue swirled around yours, losing each other. Without warning, Rafe thrust his cock inside you, which made you gasp in the middle of the kiss. Your fingers went to his back, scratching.

— Fuuuck — You cursed as you pressed him against you. Rafe broke the kiss as he moved skillfully. He had no mercy when it came to fucking you.

— What a hot pussy, fuck, I’ll never get tired of feeling how delicious you are. — Rafe groaned, looking at your expression of pleasure. He found you so hot, you were a temptation for him.

— Yes, yes, yes, just like that. — You said, feeling every inch of him touch your pussy, he went so deep that it left you in ecstasy.

— You like it like that, huh? You like it when daddy goes deep inside that greedy little pussy? — He slapped your clit as he thrust inside you.

Your body vibrated in small spasms, you could only nod as he fucked you faster and faster on top of that table. The fact that anyone could show up there made both of you even hornier. A loud moan left your lips, hard to hold back.

— Moan softly, you’ll get everyone’s attention outside moaning so deliciously like that. — Rafe pushed your body even further onto the table, making you lie completely on it while he grabbed your legs and fucked you like a dirty little bitch.

— I can't, you're fucking me so good. — The table creaked as it hit the wall, you grabbed onto the cold wood trying to find support. Your moans were muffled by the music echoing from the party outside.

Rafe covered your mouth with his hand as he thrust deeper and deeper into you, increasing the speed of his movements.

— Noisy slut. — A growl came out of his mouth. — This is to teach you not to be a very badly behaved little slut. — Deep down you like it, yeah?

You nodded, completely unable to say anything since his hand covered your lips. He slapped your clit again, making you twitch on his cock. Rafe pounded you deep, making your body writhe.

— Daddy wants to cum good inside you. — Rafe took his hand off your mouth, letting you moan freely now. — Tell me that's what you want, little slut.

— Yes, daddy, I want to feel your cum dripping inside my pussy. — You whimpered. The mascara from your eyes ran down your cheeks, edging the makeup on your face.

— Look at that, so mine, so delicious. — He hit you so deep now that a high-pitched scream left your lips. Rafe grabbed your neck, squeezing it with desire as he thrust his cock in a clumsy way, looking at your face, now not caring at all if anyone could hear your delicious moans. — You're close, aren't you?

— Yes, I need to cum so bad. — Your legs opened wider and wider for him, it was hard to control yourself.

— Then cum for me, you little bitch, cum really good on your man's dick. — He said as he played with your clit, still thrusting his cock inside you.

Your legs began to tremble, Rafe also felt that he was getting closer and closer to orgasm. He rolled his eyes back, moaning hoarsely, holding your soft thighs tightly.

— Fuck, I think I'm going to… — You couldn't finish the sentence, a great orgasm hit you, leaving you totally sensitive.

— That's it, like that, just like that. — Rafe kept pushing his cock into you, wanting to reach his peak. Your body was very soft and full of spasms, the feeling was delicious, you loved it.

Rafe pulled his cock out of you, rubbing it on your clit.

— It's delicious to cum like this, you know? — He kept rubbing his cock on your pussy, leaving you all goosebumps.

— Shit, Rafe, I'm so sensitive. — Your voice broke, but he didn't care, he had fucked you so well.

A hot jet of cum came out of Rafe's cock, smearing your slit. He grunted as he pressed you against him.

— Fuck, you're hot, girl. — He said right after, wiping the sweat from his face. He had finished you.

— You left me dead, Rafe. — You complained.

— It's not like you don't like it. — He laughed, lifting his boxers and pants again. — Let's go to the bathroom, you need to clean yourself.

You got up from the table, putting your clothes back on.

— Okay, I can't deny it. — You bit your lip mischievously.

— Don't think it's over, when we get home I'm going to make you cum again. — Rafe gave your ass a little slap and winked before going upstairs to the bathroom to clean himself.

304 notes · View notes

hoodielord · 1 year ago

Text

Green eyes in the fear fog.

For half a second, Steph thought today would be a decent day. But no, not in Gotham.

Steph's current events professor, who was also the head of student affairs, had offered extra credit to help give college tours. Look, she had to take the extra credit she had to, even if it meant that she had to be a tour guide. It wasn't hard, just annoying.

The group was small, only five people, but two of them stuck out. A brother and sister. The brother was the definition of adoption bait blue eyes, black hair, vigilante tendencies withholding. The sister was at least as tall as Jason. She had orange hair just like Babs, you'd think they were related.

Anyways, Steph's new mission was to make sure the kid and Dick never met. The kid would not stop making puns. Some of them earned him a laugh but some earned him a smack from his sister.

"Aw, come on, Jazz, it was funny."

"You can do better." she shrugged.

" Sounds like a challenge." A wicked smirk appeared on his face.

" Danny, please don't."

"Challenge accepted."

Yep, I'm definitely keeping him away from Dick.

But something was off about them other than looking at the crime capital's university. They could probably be metahumans. Their eyes seemed to slightly glow blue. They carried themselves as they had already expected danger. I mean, it pays to be prepared, especially in Gotham, but they aren't from here.

If the siblings weren't already on a list B has they should be now. Jazz had been almost ecstatic when we were moving through the psychology department. Danny was practically bouncing off the walls when it was time to go through the engineering and physics departments. Definitely should keep an eye on them.

It was reaching the end of the tour in the cafeteria. Another weird thing about the siblings was their reaction to food. They seemed to have this sort of optimistic curiosity like they were happy to have food to eat, but at the same time, they were poking to make sure it wouldn't attack or something.

Talking with the siblings was interesting too. Danny was buzzing about the engineering department. He went into a great rant about a project that Wayne Enterprises was working on in the aerospace engineering division. Maybe she should keep him away from Tim, too.

The conversation died quickly when a shriek rang out from down the hall. Steph turned quickly to see green fear toxin fill the cafeteria. Swarms of people ran for the exits knocking each over. She quickly dug through her bag and pulled out her gas masks, one for her and her backup.

"Jazz? Jazz, where did you go?" Danny called. They must have gotten separated.

Damn, she needed another one for the siblings. She shoved her spare into Danny's hands.

" Put the mask on and head for the exit."

"But I need to find Jazz."

"I'll find her. Put the mask on and go." Steph yelled as she went further into the fog. Quickly, she sent an alert to Oracle. Signal is on patrol right now, but more bats might show up.

It was dense she could barely see in front of her. There was some noise up ahead. Someone was screaming. The yelling grew louder as she rounded the corner.

"Stop! Get away!"

It was Jazz. She was practically growling. Her fist slammed into the concrete wall, leaving a deep impact. She was clearly affected by the Fear gas. A meta affected with fear gas, not good.

"Stop! Don't hurt him. He's not a monster! He's my little brother!" Jazz had gone from fury to sadness as she practically begged for her hallucination to stop haunting her.

If it wasn’t the meta thing it was whatever she was hallucinating that caught Steph’s attention. Definitely on B's list now.

"Isn't it interesting what fear does to the mind?"

Steph saw Scarecrow emerge from the fog.

"I saw you in the psychology department. Your eyes lit up like a fire. But now they are clouded with fear."

A chill went up Steph's spine. She quickly checked her mask for leaks but didn't have any. Turning her attention back to Jazz and Scarecrow, she saw something. Green eyes shifted inside the fog. They looked like a predator hunting its prey. For a second, they look like Jason's.

From behind Scarecrow, the eyes stopped, and a figure emerged. A baseball bat slammed into Scarecrow's face, knocking him to the floor. The figure came into full view now. It was Danny his eyes were glowing green.

He knelt down to Scarecrow.

"You really don't have any brains. Do you Scarecrow? If you did, you wouldn't have hurt my sister." His voice was downright, frigid.

He turned and rushed over to Jazz who was still trying to convince her hallucinations to stop.

"Jazz, it's okay. Come on, I'm fine. It's okay." His voice was soft and gentle as he helped her up. Jazz mumbled a little as she stumbled down the hall.

Steph quickly caught up to the siblings slinging Jazz's arm over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I couldn't help earlier," Steph spoke quietly.

"It's fine. Not everybody can be a hero."

Steph wanted to laugh at the irony of that statement, but she just nodded.

"Sorry about the tour too."

"It wasn't all bad."

" Oh, the rouge attack and poisoning wasn’t bad?" Steph asked sarcastically.

" Our hometown is haunted and our community college is funded by my godfather. And he is a rich fruit loop.”

‘Ghosts?’

“You know Gotham University is funded by Wayne Enterprises right?”

“Annoying crazy fruit loop or weird himbo? Hmmm. Yeah, I’m going to have to go with the himbo on this one.”

Steph laughed at that one. Bruce is going to want to hear about this but she’ll keep him away from these siblings for a little while.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #Danny and Jazz visit colleges #Steph is the relucent tour guide #Had a vivid image of Danny emerging from the fog to beat Scarecrow pop into my head it turned into this.#why does my brain get ideas when it is time for me to sleep why?

2K notes · View notes

fangdokja · 27 days ago

Text

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where love feels like a cage and loyalty is a loaded weapon, you must navigate the suffocating grip of those who claim to care—because sometimes, the ones who love you most are the ones who break you.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 12,333

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, social isolation, bullying, love bombing, explicit domestic violence and realistic depictions of abuse in the family, mature language, crime, unhealthy coping mechanisms, gaslighting, victim blaming

♡ A/N. It's kind of hilarious that I get comments from "Are you okay?" to "Why do you romanticize sexual abuse in glamorous ways". Yes, in that wording too. The dichotomy of comments. Of course, already putting it out there, I'm not the type of person to chat and waste time in internet arguments. If one doesn't obey RULES, immediate block, no questions asked. It's also to make sure these people don't get bothered by my content that disturbs them. So, it's a win-win. But, to me, it's funny. Like "Wow, thank you. It's so good that it felt so realistic, huh?". That makes me happy. A big turn-off for me as a writer (but I don't mind it when other authors do it) is "inaccurate world building and logic." I get genuinely irritated at myself. It's why when it comes to fandom characters, I make sure it's as accurate as a Yandere character can get. Same goes with anything world building. I like worlds that still have systems and logic involved, even in fantasy settings. And, by default, this also includes, controversies and taboos. Yeah, I talk a lot in these notes. But, honestly? Considering how fast you long form readers go through my work. Might as well chat, since I hardly talk anyway. And, if you read these notes. Thank you. :)) Also, I was supposed to put the NSFW until I realized it was reaching 13k+ words already...

The first thing you felt was pain.

It wasn’t the kind that built slowly, easing its way into your senses—it was sharp, sudden, and all-consuming. A brutal yank at your scalp wrenched you out of the fragile limbo between consciousness and exhaustion. Your head snapped back, the roots of your hair screaming as you were dragged from the mattress by an iron grip.

You hit the floor hard, the side of your head smacking against the cold tile. The sting of impact shot through your temple, and for a moment, everything blurred—the light filtering through the curtains, the outline of the woman looming above you.

Your mother.

Her face was twisted in rage, but there was something worse in her eyes—a hunger, a satisfaction in your helplessness.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing the soundproof room in its suffocating silence.

“You really thought you could hide from me?” Her voice was a low, venomous hiss, the kind of quiet that always preceded something worse. “You think I wouldn’t find you, huh? After everything I’ve done for you?”

You stumbled back, your body already trembling with an instinctive fear that seized your lungs and made it impossible to breathe.

“I—I wasn’t hiding—”

“Don’t you lie to me!” Her hand shot out, grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward so violently your head snapped back. Her face was so close to yours you could smell the acrid stench of cigarettes on her breath, could see the bloodshot fury in her eyes.

“You haven’t come home in weeks,” she snarled, her voice trembling with rage. “You think you can just disappear? Just run away? I had to come all the way to this shithole because of you. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is for me?”

She threw you down, and your back slammed into the edge of your desk. Pain radiated up your spine, sharp and paralyzing, but before you could catch your breath, her hand was on you again—this time in your hair, wrenching your head back so hard it felt like your scalp was on fire.

“Answer me, you little leech!” she screamed, shaking you violently. “Do you think I enjoy cleaning up your messes? Huh? Do you think I like chasing you down?”

She yanked you upward by your hair again, dragging you to your knees. Your scalp burned, and a whimper escaped your lips before you could swallow it down.

You whimpered, trying to pull away, but she yanked harder, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as you choked on a sob.

“I don’t have the money,” you gasped, the words spilling out in desperation. “I promise, I—”

The slap came so fast you didn’t even see it, just felt the explosive pain as her palm connected with your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

“Of course you don’t have the money,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’ve been too busy playing house here, haven’t you? Hiding away like a pathetic little coward, thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

Her hand released your hair, only to shove you backward. You hit the wall hard, the impact rattling your teeth, and before you could even think about moving, she was on you again.

“Please,” you choked out, your voice hoarse from the lack of sleep. “I—I’ll get the money. I just need more time—”

Another slap came fast, cracking across your cheek with enough force to whip your head to the side. The metallic tang of blood bloomed on your tongue, and your skin prickled with the sting of her hand.

“Time?” she barked, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Time doesn’t pay the fucking bills. Time doesn’t keep a roof over your head, you little parasite!”

Her words struck harder than the blow, each one carefully crafted to cut where it hurt most. You weren’t her child. You weren’t even a person in her eyes. Just a burden. A mistake.

She shoved you backward, and you scrambled to catch yourself, your palms scraping against the rough tile. The small, cramped dorm room felt even smaller, the walls closing in as her shadow loomed over you.

“I raised you,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “I fed you. Clothed you. And this is how you repay me? By acting like a selfish little bitch? By keeping what’s mine?”

Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Crying would only make it worse.

“I don’t have it,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I promise, I’ll—”

Her foot connected with your side, and pain exploded in your ribs. You crumpled, clutching your stomach as she kicked you again and again, each blow punctuated by her snarling words.

“You don’t have it? You don’t have it?” she repeated, mocking your desperate tone. “Then what the hell have you been doing all this time? Lying around, feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I had to come all the way here,” she hissed, dragging you across the room and throwing you onto the bed. The back of your head slammed into the wall, and your vision blurred. “Because you’re too much of a coward to face me like a damn adult!”

You tried to sit up, but she was faster, straddling your chest and pinning your arms down with her knees. Her fingers closed around your throat, nails biting into your skin.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is?” she spat, leaning in so close that her spit flecked your face. “Do you know how humiliating it is to have to track down my own child like some fucking runaway dog?”

Your airways constricted, panic surging through you as you choked, your nails scrabbling uselessly at her hands. Her grip was too strong, her weight crushing the breath from your lungs.

Tears streamed down your face, and the corners of your vision darkened.

She released you suddenly, and you gasped, coughing violently as your lungs screamed for air. Before you could recover, she slapped you across the face again—once, twice, three times. Each strike was sharp and deliberate, her rings tearing into your skin.

“You’ve been hiding at this university,” she said, her voice cold and measured now, as if she were recounting a list of your crimes. “Pretending you’re some poor little victim. Do you think anyone here gives a shit about you except me?”

Her hand closed around your arm, nails digging into the soft flesh as she yanked you off the bed and threw you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, pain shooting up your legs.

“Answer me!” she screamed, her booted foot colliding with your ribs.

The impact sent you sprawling, the air rushing from your lungs. You tried to crawl away, but her foot came down on your back, pressing you into the cold tile.

“You think you’re so clever,” she continued, her voice rising. “Hiding here, avoiding your responsibilities, avoiding me. But I know you, baby. I know every little secret, every little lie.”

She grabbed the back of your head, slamming your face into the floor. Blood spattered across the tile, warm and sticky as it seeped from your nose and split lip.

“You owe me,” she hissed, crouching beside you and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at her. Her nails dug into your cheeks, her breath hot and foul against your skin.

“Do you understand?” she said, shaking you violently. “You owe me. I don’t care if you have to steal, cheat, or whore yourself out—you will get me that money. Do you hear me?”

Your voice cracked as you sobbed, nodding frantically. “Y-Yes—”

The next slap sent your head snapping to the side.

“Louder,” she demanded.

“Yes!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’ll do it! I’ll get the money!”

———

The hand in your hair yanked with ferocious strength, pulling at your scalp until the roots screamed in agony. Your head snapped back, the sharp crack of vertebrae forced into an unnatural angle resonating in your ears. Before you could cry out, a fist collided with your cheekbone, the impact sending shockwaves through your skull. Your vision blurred with stars, and the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth as your lip split open.

Her voice was low and cold, slicing through the air like a blade. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you?” A sharp tug on your hair wrenched a pained gasp from your throat. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me?”

You tried to stammer out a response, but her fist collided with your cheek, the force sending you sprawling. “Shut up!” she hissed, towering over your trembling form. “Do you think I’m stupid? Running off to your little school, acting like you’re too good to come home.”

Your body was dragged across the floor like a rag doll, the rough texture of the tile scraping the skin from your knees and elbows. A boot slammed into your stomach with brutal force, driving the air from your lungs. The sensation was hollow, a sickening vacuum where breath should have been, your diaphragm spasming as you choked on nothing.

A boot slammed into your ribs, the sickening crunch of bone making your breath hitch. “You don’t even deserve this education. What have you done to earn it? Nothing!” Another kick landed against your stomach, and you doubled over, clutching yourself as the air left your lungs.

“Do you know what I’ve sacrificed for you?” Her voice rose, venom dripping from every word. “All the things I could’ve had if it weren’t for you? And you have the nerve to ignore me, to avoid your responsibilities?”

Before you could even attempt to rise, another kick landed squarely against your ribs, the crack unmistakable this time. A sharp, jagged pain bloomed in your chest, each shallow gasp of air accompanied by the fiery agony of bone grinding against bone. You curled in on yourself instinctively, arms shielding your head, but it offered no protection.

A hard-soled shoe came down against your forearm, the force bending it at an unnatural angle. A white-hot flash of pain exploded in your vision, your own muffled scream echoing in your ears as the limb gave way. You clutched it to your chest, trembling, only to feel fingers clawing at your shoulders, wrenching you upright.

You whimpered, curling into yourself, but she wasn’t done. She grabbed your arm, twisting it cruelly as you yelped in pain. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She dragged you upright, slamming you against the wall. Your head hit the plaster with a dull thud. “You think I’m blind? You think I don’t know about the money you owe me? About the favors you’re dodging?”

Her nails dug into your shoulders as she leaned in, her breath hot and acrid against your face. “I should’ve left you to rot,” she snarled. “Ungrateful little bitch.”

The shove against the wall was unrelenting, the back of your skull slamming into the unforgiving surface with enough force to make the plaster crack behind you. Your head swam, the room spinning violently as nausea roiled in your stomach. Her nails raked down your arm, leaving red welts in their wake, and the dull thud of another punch to your abdomen left your knees buckling beneath you.

She didn’t let you fall.

Your body was dragged upright again, only to be shoved forward. You crashed onto the floor, your face bouncing off the tiles. The sharp edge of your jaw hit first, sending another sharp stab of pain radiating through your skull. You tasted more blood, hot and metallic, as it spilled from your mouth, pooling beneath your chin.

You flinched as she slapped you across the face, the sting blooming into a sharp, fiery pain. “Do you think the world cares about you? Do you think anyone at that school will protect you when I’m done?”

You tried to pull away, desperation overtaking your fear. “Please, I—”

“Please?” She mocked your voice with a cruel sneer. “Please, please, please,” she repeated, punctuating each word with a punch to your side. “That’s all you ever do. Begging like a worthless rat.”

She pressed you to the ground, her foot pressing into the small of your back. “Get up,” she spat. When you didn’t move fast enough, she grabbed your hair again, yanking you upright. “I said get up!”

You sobbed, choking on the blood pooling in your mouth. “I’ll get the money, I promise. Just give me time—”

“Time?” she interrupted, laughing bitterly. “Time is for people who deserve it. You think you’re entitled to my patience?” She slammed your head down against the floor, the impact making you see stars. “You’re nothing but a burden. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

A foot pressed onto the small of your back, grinding down with her full weight. The force flattened you against the floor, your bruised ribs screaming in protest as you struggled for breath. The heel twisted, grinding into your flesh, and you bit down on your own lip to keep from screaming, the already tender flesh splitting further.

Your good arm instinctively reached out to crawl, but she stepped on your hand with calculated precision, the heel of her shoe crushing your knuckles into the hard tile. The popping sensation was sickening, each joint folding under the pressure, and the pain was enough to make your vision go black for a moment.

Her grip returned to your hair, yanking your head up and slamming it down once more. The impact jarred your entire body, the sound of your skull cracking against the floor echoing in the small room. Blood smeared the surface where your face had been, a sickening trail that blurred with your tears.

There was no reprieve. No pause between strikes. Each hit, each blow, felt calculated—designed to hurt, to maim, to leave a mark that would ache for days, weeks. Your body was a canvas for her violence, every bruise and laceration a testament to her fury.

The world faded in and out, each moment marked by a new wave of pain. When her hands finally released you, your body crumpled onto the cold, blood-slick tiles. Every breath was a struggle, every twitch of your limbs a reminder of the damage inflicted.

The room was silent now, save for the ragged sound of your own breathing and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

———

After a while, the barrage stopped, and you dared to glance up, only to find her crouched in front of you. Her face was close—too close—and her breath reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

Her voice softened suddenly, a terrifying shift that sent chills down your spine. “You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out yet,” she murmured, crouching down to meet your tearful gaze. “But keep this up, and you’ll find yourself with nowhere to go. Understand?”

You nodded weakly, trembling beneath her cold, predatory stare. She patted your cheek almost mockingly, smearing your blood across your face. “Good girl,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “Now clean this mess up. I don’t want to see a single drop of blood when I get back.”

Her voice mellowed, sickly sweet, as she reached out to cup your bruised cheek.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, her tone dripping with soft tenderness. “You know I don’t want to hurt you. But you make me do this. You make me.”

You flinched as her thumb brushed over your split lip, and her smile widened.

“Don’t cry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me feel bad, okay? You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You’ll fix this. You’ll find a way to make it right.”

Her other hand clamped down on your shoulder, nails biting into your skin.

“You will, won’t you?” she pressed, her voice hardening just enough to make it clear that this wasn’t a question.

You nodded, the motion jerky and desperate. Anything to make it stop.

Her smile returned, and she stood, brushing her hands off as if you were nothing more than dirt she’d stepped in.

“That’s my girl,” she said, turning toward the door. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

She didn’t slam the door when she left. She didn’t have to. The sound of her calm, measured footsteps receding down the hall was worse than any explosion of anger. It meant she was satisfied—for now.

You lay there on the floor, the silence in the room broken only by your ragged breathing. Your body ached, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold back the sobs clawing their way up your throat.

The phone on your desk buzzed once, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet. You didn’t need to look to know it was another message. Probably him. The bully. Or maybe someone else who wanted to mess with you.

It didn’t matter.

You were the weak link, and everyone knew it.

────────────

The lie came easily—too easily. It dripped from your lips like oil, slick and poisonous, just like the makeup covering your face, as you stared at Domo’s face on the screen. “She’s been gone for so long, you know? And she just… wants to spend time with me.” You hated yourself for the waver in your voice, the hesitance that made it sound true. Domo smiled, her usual warmth softening her features. “Of course. Family comes first. We can always reschedule.”

Her kindness twisted the knife in your chest, but you nodded anyway. “Thanks. I’ll text you.” And then you ended the call before you could hear more, before her care could claw any deeper into the fragile parts of you that you were barely holding together.

The truth? There was no family bonding. No heartfelt reunion. Just you, sitting alone in your dorm as the hours stretched long and suffocating. You stared at the laptop glowing before you, the dim blue light washing over your battered face. The bruises on your cheek and ribs throbbed in unison with your pulse, each beat a reminder of what waited if you didn’t produce the money fast enough.

You clenched your teeth, flexing your fingers before placing them on the keyboard. This was the part of yourself you never wanted anyone to see. The part you shoved into the shadows because it didn’t fit the quiet, awkward nothingness that defined you.

But it was the only thing you had.

The screen filled with lines of code, flashing in rapid succession as your fingers moved. You had always been good at this—too good. The exhilaration of bending firewalls to your will, of slipping through systems unnoticed, had once been a guilty thrill. Now, it was a survival mechanism.

You rationalized it as you worked, forcing the bile down in your throat. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone. This isn’t stealing. It’s… repurposing. The rationalizations tumbled over themselves like dominoes, each lie shoring up the fragile structure of your conscience. You weren’t hacking major accounts or wiping people out. Just skimming from places that wouldn’t notice a few hundred dollars gone. Universities, minor corporate accounts, underused funds in bloated systems.

The screen flickered, the transfer confirmed. You leaned back, chest heaving as though you’d run a marathon. Two hundred dollars here, fifty there. It wasn’t much, but it would add up. It had to.

You glanced at the clock: 3:42 a.m. Only a few more hours until she comes back. The thought sent a fresh spike of panic through you, and you dove back in. Another account. Another breach. Every keystroke felt like a confession, a sin piling atop an already crumbling foundation.

This wasn’t the first time you’d done it. The bruises lining your arms and the faint scar under your lip reminded you of how long this had been your reality. She leaves. You buy time. She comes back. You pay her off. A cycle that never ended, no matter how desperately you wished it would.

When the hacking was done, you stared at the balances displayed on the screen. Enough. For now. Your head thudded against the back of the chair, exhaustion wrapping around you like chains. The room was cold, empty, suffocating in its silence. You wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything to break the hollow ache gnawing at your chest.

But instead, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from your side. You shuffled to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer out into the quiet campus. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, you swore you saw movement. A flicker of something—someone—watching.

You yanked the curtain shut, heart pounding in your chest. Just your imagination. Nothing’s there. You repeated the words like a mantra, though the uneasy weight of a presence lingered, settling into the corners of your mind.

When morning came, you’d transfer the money to her. When she left, you’d breathe again—for a little while. But tonight, you had no time to think about Domo, or bullies, or the terrifying fragility of the life you’d cobbled together.

Tonight, survival was all that mattered.

────────────

The air in the dorm room felt heavier, as if the walls themselves anticipated her arrival. You’d barely slept, the dark circles under your eyes deep enough to make your hollow face look corpse-like. The money was ready, stacked in an envelope on the small table near the door. A meager offering to stave off her wrath.

It’s enough this time, isn’t it? It has to be.

When the knock came, sharp and deliberate, your stomach twisted into knots. The sound echoed through your chest, each rap like a nail driven into your ribcage. You didn’t hesitate. Hesitation would only make things worse.

Opening the door, you saw her—your mother, standing tall in the hallway, her tailored coat spotless, her hair perfectly styled. She looked out of place in the dingy dormitory, like a predator descending on prey. Her painted lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.

“Sweetheart,” she greeted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The smell of her expensive perfume suffocated the room. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me. You’re cutting it close this time.”

“I-I have it,” you stammered, pointing to the envelope. She clicked her tongue, her heels sharp against the floor as she approached the table.

Picking up the envelope, she weighed it in her hand like a predator inspecting its meal. “All of it?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

“Yes. I promise.”

Her nails were painted crimson, as though dipped in fresh blood, and they grazed the edge of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes scanned the money, the movements slow and deliberate. “Hmm. This isn’t as much as I expected.”

“It’s everything I could—”

The slap came so fast, so sudden, you barely registered the sting on your cheek until you were stumbling back, your head snapping to the side. Her handprint burned into your skin, but you didn’t dare cry out.

Her voice was cold, the venom behind it more terrifying than her strike. “You think this is enough? Do you think I go through all this trouble for crumbs?”

“I—I can get more!” you blurted, your chest heaving as panic clawed at your throat. “Just give me a little more time!”

She closed the envelope, tucking it into her purse with an air of calm so calculated it made your blood run cold. Then, without warning, her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You screamed, but the sound barely escaped before she yanked you down, dragging you toward the center of the room. Pain exploded across your scalp, blinding and raw.

“Do you think I have time for your excuses?” she hissed, her grip tightening. “You’ve always been pathetic. Always needing someone to clean up your messes.”

Her knee collided with your stomach, and the air rushed from your lungs in a broken wheeze. She released your hair, letting you crumple to the floor like a discarded rag doll.

“I should’ve known you’d be useless.” Her voice was low, deliberate, and each word sliced through you like a scalpel. “It’s embarrassing, really. How you can’t even manage something as simple as this.”

You tried to push yourself up, but her foot slammed down on your back, forcing you flat against the floor. “Stay down,” she ordered. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. Crying would only make it worse.

“Do you know how humiliating it is for me to come here?” she continued, pressing harder until your ribs screamed in protest. “To see the pathetic little hole you’ve buried yourself in? You’re lucky I even bother with you.”

She released you, and you gasped, curling into yourself on the cold floor. Her heels clicked as she walked to the door, her purse swinging at her side.

“Don’t make me come back for this again,” she warned, her tone sickeningly sweet once more. “You wouldn’t like what happens if I do.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence. You didn’t move for a long time, your body trembling with the aftermath of pain and fear. The room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of your laptop.

You stared at it, the temptation gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Just one more time. I’ll take a little more. I’ll make it back somehow.

It was the only way to survive.

────────────

The room was dimly lit by the pale glow of your computer screen, the soft hum of the CPU your only companion through the relentless hours. Your fingers ached, stiff from the endless tapping and coding, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you moving. You’d done it. After days of sleepless nights, tense calculations, and hacking sessions that pushed the boundaries of legality, the number on the screen made your chest swell with something foreign: triumph.

It was the largest sum you’d ever seen in your life. Enough to keep your mother at bay for a long time, maybe even the rest of the year if you played it smart.

You leaned back in your chair, your head lolling against the worn cushion. Exhaustion clawed at you, but a smile—real, genuine—curved your lips. For once, there was no immediate shadow of fear, no sharp pang of dread in your stomach. You felt... safe.

Your gaze drifted to the photo frame sitting on the cluttered desk, the only piece of decoration in your otherwise bleak dorm. It was your high school graduation photo. Your father, with his immaculate suit and confident smile, stood tall beside your mother, who clung to his arm, her makeup flawless, her pride radiating through the glass. And there you were, sandwiched between them, holding your diploma with trembling hands.

Back then, you thought things would stay like that forever. A perfect picture. A perfect family.

Your smile faltered as your eyes lingered on your mother’s face in the photo. She looked happy then—truly happy. Not the brittle, strained version of her that had emerged after your father’s departure. The moment he left, everything broke.

You closed your eyes, memories creeping in like unwelcome guests. The screaming matches, the shattered glass, her tear-streaked face twisted in anguish as she begged him to stay. And then the silence, the unbearable silence that followed his departure, her love curdling into something sharp and possessive, clinging to you like a drowning woman to a lifeline.

“She only has me,” you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in the quiet room. The words felt like a mantra, a justification for everything you endured. “She needs me.”

The screen in front of you flickered as you finalized the transfer. The money was secure, broken into portions just as you’d planned. You wouldn’t give it to her all at once—that would only end in disaster. No, you’d ration it out, let it trickle through her fingers slowly. Enough to keep her satisfied, to keep her from asking questions, from demanding more.

A wave of relief washed over you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were ahead of the game. You could breathe.

The thought of handing over the first envelope filled you with a strange kind of hope. Maybe this time, she’d smile like she did in the photo. Maybe she’d thank you, even hug you. Maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they were.

You stood, stretching your aching limbs, and crossed the room to the mirror. Your reflection stared back, hollow-eyed and pale, but there was a spark of pride in your gaze. You’d done something good—for her, for yourself. It wasn’t legal, no, but it was necessary.

Your fingers brushed against the photo frame as you returned to the desk, the cold glass grounding you. No matter how much she hurt you, no matter how much fear she instilled, you still loved her. She was your mother.

And you’d do anything to keep her happy.

———

The knock on the door was soft, almost tentative, but it still sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system. You clutched the envelope tightly in your hand, its weight heavier than the sum it carried. This was it. You smoothed your hair, tried to compose yourself, and opened the door.

She stood there, a vision of maternal grace, her sharp edges carefully filed away. Her lips curled into a warm smile, one that lit her face in a way you hadn’t seen in years. For a moment, she looked just like the mother in the graduation photo—loving, proud, whole.

“There you are, sweetheart,” she said, stepping inside and brushing a hand over your hair. Her touch was light, affectionate, as if the hands that had dragged you out of bed days ago had never known violence.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Hi, Mom.”

Her eyes flicked to the envelope in your hand, but she didn’t reach for it. Not yet. Instead, she guided you to the small couch in your dorm room and sat down beside you, her perfume a familiar cloud of roses and nostalgia.

“You’ve been working so hard,” she said, her voice tender. “I’ve been so worried about you. You look tired, baby.” Her hand cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against the dark circles under your eyes. “Have you been eating enough? Sleeping?”

You nodded, unsure of what else to do. The words caught in your throat, tangled in the weight of her presence.

“I brought your favorite,” she said, producing a neatly packed box from her bag. Inside were homemade cookies, perfectly golden, still warm as if she’d baked them just for you. She broke one in half and held it to your lips, her eyes soft with an affection that made your chest ache. “Here, eat. You need your strength.”

You bit into the cookie, its sweetness almost overwhelming. She watched you with such intensity, as though every crumb you swallowed was a testament to your gratitude, your obedience.

Finally, you held out the envelope. “I—uh—I managed to save some money,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For you.”

Her eyes widened, shimmering with what looked like genuine pride. She took the envelope delicately, as though it were a fragile gift. Opening it, she flipped through the bills, her expression melting into something softer, more radiant.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” she breathed, pulling you into a sudden, crushing hug. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

Her words were honeyed, dripping with adoration, and yet they stung. You closed your eyes, leaning into her embrace, the warmth of her body erasing the bruises she’d left days before.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured, her hand stroking your hair. “You’re all I have, you know that? Just you and me against the world.”

Her grip tightened, just for a moment, but then she pulled back, holding your face in her hands. “Promise me you’ll always take care of yourself, for me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

The tears in her eyes looked so real, so heartbreakingly sincere, that for a moment, you believed her. You wanted to believe her.

“I promise,” you said, the words feeling like a chain coiling tighter around your chest.

“Good girl.” She kissed your forehead, a gesture so tender it left you dizzy. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, your throat burning with unspoken words.

The rest of the evening passed in a surreal haze of domestic bliss. She stayed for hours, tidying your dorm, chatting about mundane things, laughing at old memories as though nothing had ever been wrong. It felt like stepping back in time, to when your world was still intact, when her love wasn’t a weapon but a shield.

And yet, beneath the surface, something gnawed at you. A shadow of doubt, a whisper of fear. Because you knew—deep down—that this wasn’t love. It was something darker, something that wrapped itself around your heart and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe.

But for tonight, you let it happen. You let her smile and laugh and hold you close. You let yourself believe, just for a little while, that everything could be okay.

———

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air, a biting reminder of the wounds she was carefully tending. Her touch was impossibly gentle, almost reverent, as though the same hands hadn’t carved those injuries into your skin just hours ago. She hummed softly, a melody you vaguely recognized from childhood, her voice smooth and warm like a lullaby meant to soothe your fears.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” she murmured, her fingers brushing your cheek as she dabbed at a cut near your temple. “This might sting a little.”

It did. The pain flared, bright and hot, but her other hand stroked your hair, grounding you in the surreal tenderness of the moment.

“You’ve always been so brave,” she said, her eyes meeting yours with a depth of sincerity that made your stomach churn. “Taking everything life throws at you with your head held high. I don’t know how you do it, baby.”

Her smile was soft, motherly, and the juxtaposition of her words against the still-healing bruises on your arms made your throat tighten.

She leaned closer, inspecting her work, her breath warm against your skin. “There. Good as new,” she said, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. Her hand lingered on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “You really scared me, you know. You’ve been so distant lately.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse and small.

She tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated concern. “Oh, sweetheart, no. You don’t need to apologize. You’ve just… been through so much, haven’t you?” Her hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with an intimacy that felt suffocating.

“I’ve been so hard on you,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly as though she might cry. “I hate seeing you like this, so beaten down. You deserve so much better.”

Your chest tightened, a knot of confusion and unease tangling with the faint, desperate hope that this time—this time—she meant it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my baby, my whole world. I just want to see you happy.”

She stood and moved to the kitchen, her movements fluid, almost cheerful. “You must be starving,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll make your favorite. Just sit there and relax, okay? You need to rest.”

Her back was to you now, and for a moment, you could almost pretend this was normal. The hum of the stove, the faint sizzle as she prepared the food—it all felt so mundane, so safe.

But the memory of her voice—razor-sharp and dripping with venom—echoed in the back of your mind.

"Don’t make me come back here for nothing, you useless little brat."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought. She was different now. She was kind. Loving. She hadn’t been like this in years, not since before everything fell apart.

The meal she placed before you was perfect, a careful recreation of a childhood favorite. She watched you with expectant eyes as you took the first bite, her smile widening when you nodded in approval.

“See? Mommy knows what you need,” she said, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your knee. “We’ll be okay, won’t we? As long as we have each other.”

You forced a smile, the words catching in your throat.

The warmth of her affection was almost worse than her anger. It wrapped around you like a blanket, smothering you under the weight of its expectations. But you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t risk breaking this fragile illusion, not when the alternative was so much worse.

So you nodded, swallowing down the fear and confusion and guilt. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, you could almost believe it.

────────────

The halls were quiet, the chaotic din of the usual school day replaced by an unusual calm. It was as though the entire campus had been wrapped in a fragile layer of peace, everyone too preoccupied with the looming end-of-year celebrations to pay you any mind. You walked alone, the fluorescent lights overhead flickering faintly, your shadow stretching and shrinking against the scuffed linoleum floor.

For the first time in what felt like ages, your chest felt lighter. The suffocating weight of constant vigilance had lifted, even if only for a moment. Domo was away, too busy with her responsibilities to hover protectively over you, but her absence didn’t feel like a loss. It felt like freedom.

You passed clusters of students bustling about, their faces flushed with excitement and stress as they carried props and decorations for the Christmas program. No one spared you a glance, not even the cliques that usually whispered behind your back or the bullies who made a sport of finding new ways to humiliate you. They were too wrapped up in their own lives, their own dramas.

The solitude was soothing.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you stepped out into the courtyard. The winter air was crisp, biting gently at your cheeks and nose. The skeletal trees stood silent, their barren branches reaching towards the pale gray sky. You sat on one of the cold metal benches, pulling your coat tighter around you, and watched the world move on without you.

It was better this way.

The distant sound of carols drifted through the air, mingling with the faint chatter of students. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and soak it in—the peace, the simplicity. No shouting. No biting words. No stifling fear clawing at your throat.

For the first time in months, you felt something like happiness. At least for a while.

———

The air was crisp and still as you crept through the dimly lit campus grounds, the cold biting at your exposed skin. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach knotting tighter with each reluctant movement. The text from him sat unread but seared into your mind, its bluntness coiled around your thoughts like barbed wire: "My dorm. Tonight. Don’t make me wait."

It wasn’t the first time. His demands always came with the same suffocating inevitability, a choice between the humiliations he’d orchestrate and the unspeakable consequences of defying him.

You kept your head low, your heart pounding as you slipped into the shadows, avoiding the few lingering students rushing to finish end-of-year preparations. The warmth of the day had been fleeting—Domo’s absence notwithstanding. You’d almost dared to hope the universe might grant you a reprieve. But he’d reminded you, as always, that peace wasn’t for people like you.

His dorm building loomed ahead, its sharp, modern edges cutting against the pale moonlight. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the door, the sterile chill of the metal handle grounding you in the moment. Inside, the fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly, the hallways deserted and eerily quiet.

Room 312. You knew it by heart. You had never asked to learn this intimately, but circumstance—and his persistence—left you with little choice.

The door was ajar when you arrived, as though he’d been expecting you.

“Come in,” his voice called, low and casual, from somewhere inside. It grated against your nerves, setting off alarm bells in the recesses of your mind.

You stepped inside, the warmth of his room almost suffocating after the cold outside. He was seated at his desk, leaning back lazily in his chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. His gaze met yours, sharp and assessing, and the faint smirk playing at his lips sent a chill down your spine.

“Right on time,” he drawled, gesturing for you to close the door. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You said nothing, your throat dry as you complied.

The tension in the room was palpable as he stood, his movements unhurried, his towering presence swallowing the space between you. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he remarked, his tone light but laced with something darker. “Almost like you thought you could avoid me.”

“I wasn’t—” you began, your voice shaky, but he silenced you with a sharp laugh.

“Save it,” he said, stepping closer until you could feel the oppressive heat radiating off him. “I don’t care what excuses you’ve been telling yourself. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

His hand shot out, gripping your chin with bruising force as he tilted your face upward. His expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning you like you were something to be dissected. “You look happy,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “What’s got you in such a good mood, huh?”

The question was rhetorical, his fingers tightening painfully as he leaned in closer. “You know,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your cheek, “I don’t like it when you forget your place.”

You swallowed hard, the fear clawing its way up your throat as his grip shifted to your shoulder, shoving you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Sit,” he commanded, and you obeyed, your limbs stiff and trembling.

He loomed over you, his shadow stretching long and menacing under the harsh light. “We’re going to play a little game,” he said, a cruel glint in his eyes. “You’re going to listen very carefully, and if you’re good—well, let’s see if you remember what happens when you’re not.”

The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. You didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, as his gaze pinned you in place.

And just like that, the fleeting warmth of the day was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding reality you couldn’t escape.

———

He leaned against the desk in his dorm, his expression dripping with smug satisfaction, as if he had already won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. His phone rested in his hand, the glow from the screen casting shadows on his face.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His tone was light, almost amused, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. “All this time, I thought you were just pathetic. Turns out, you’re also a little criminal. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Your stomach dropped, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, pushing off the desk and stepping closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered, tilting his head as he studied your wide-eyed panic. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just go around doing… that and no one would notice?”

He held up his phone, the screen flashing with what could only be described as evidence—screenshots, transaction logs, even security footage. Your heart pounded in your chest, a sickening rhythm that drowned out everything else.

“You’re so damn stupid,” he said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Leaving a digital trail like that? Rookie mistake. But I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from someone like you. After all, you’ve never been anything but a useless, desperate little nothing, right?”

The insult stung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His grin widened at your silence, his enjoyment of your fear palpable.

“Let me spell it out for you,” he said, stepping even closer until you were forced to back up against the wall. “I’ve got everything I need to ruin you. Everything. Those little stunts you pulled to get your precious mommy her money? Yeah, I’ve got it all. And trust me, it’s enough to get you expelled, arrested… maybe even worse.”

You shook your head frantically, your voice trembling as you tried to protest. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, save it,” he snapped, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t give a shit about your sob story. You think anyone else will? You’re nothing, sweetheart. Just a sad little loser with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.”

The tears burned at the corners of your eyes, frustration from everything welling up as if ready to pour out; but you blinked them back, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. He noticed, of course, and his smirk turned cruel.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he mocked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You wouldn’t want Mommy Dearest to find out, would you? Imagine how disappointed she’d be. Or worse—imagine what she’d do if she found out her little cash cow has been hiding things from her.”

His words were a dagger to your chest, twisting with every syllable. He knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to exploit your deepest fears and vulnerabilities.

“But don’t worry,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost sweet. “I’m not a monster. I’m willing to keep this between us… for a price.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. “W-What do you want?”

His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “Oh, nothing too crazy,” he said, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. “Just a little obedience. A little gratitude. Maybe even a little fun. After all, we’ve got such a good thing going, don’t we?”

His hand reached up to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Or, you can try to run. Try to fight. But let’s be real—you don’t have the guts. You’ve never had the guts. So why don’t you just be a good little slave and play along? It’ll be so much easier for both of us.”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His words wrapped around you like a noose, tightening with every passing second. There was no escape, no way out. He had you, and he knew it.

———

The air in the room felt oppressive, suffocating, as his words dripped into your ears like poison. His grin was wide, vicious, a predator toying with its prey, knowing there was no escape. He perched on the edge of the bed, his presence overwhelming even as he leaned in casually, as though you were equals in this twisted game.

“You really think she doesn’t know?” he murmured, his voice a low, mocking purr. His eyes glittered with malice, reflecting your panic like a mirror. “Domo. Your precious, perfect Domo. She’s not stupid, you know. I mean, come on, you’ve been sloppy, haven’t you? Or did you think you could actually hide all this?”

You flinched at his words, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You had been careful. Meticulous, even. But now, doubt began to claw its way into your mind. His smirk widened at the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“That’s the thing about people like her,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “She’s got this shiny, righteous exterior. Strong sense of justice, doesn’t she? Loves tearing people like you apart. The frauds, the liars, the criminals. Do you even know what she’d do if she found out?”

Your stomach churned. You’d seen it yourself—how Domo could rip someone’s reputation to shreds with a single exposé, how her ruthless sense of morality left no room for gray areas. And you, with your secrets, your crimes…

────────────

The first time you saw Domo’s sense of justice in action, it left a deep impression—one that you didn’t know whether to admire or fear. It was a cold, rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky seemed to weep with an intensity that felt personal. Most students had already gone home, but you stayed late in the library, hunched over a stack of outdated textbooks you couldn’t afford to replace.

That was when you heard it—low, vicious laughter echoing from the stairwell. Curious, you crept closer, peeking from behind a bookshelf.

There she was. Domo.

And in front of her, trembling like a trapped animal, was a senior. He was taller, broader, someone who carried himself like he owned the place—until that moment. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a look of sheer panic.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far!” he stammered, his hands raised as if to shield himself from her words. “I was just messing around—”

“Messing around?” Domo’s voice was calm, almost too calm. It carried no heat, no anger, only an icy precision that made your blood run cold. “So stealing exam papers and selling them to desperate students counts as ‘messing around’ now?”

She took a step closer, her shadow looming over him despite her slightly smaller frame. The rain continued to pour outside, its rhythm punctuating her words.

“I have the screenshots, the emails, the recordings. Every lie you told, every bribe you took—it’s all here.” She held up her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. “It would only take one click for this to reach the dean’s office.”

The senior’s face paled. He stumbled backward, his bravado crumbling into a pitiful mess. “Please, Domo. Don’t ruin me. I’ll do anything—just don’t—”

“Ruin you?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “You ruined yourself the moment you decided your greed was worth more than the futures of those you exploited.”

There was no room for argument in her tone, no opening for negotiation. She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t emotional. She was just. And that made it worse.

When the senior finally broke down into sobs, begging on his knees, Domo didn’t gloat. She didn’t smile. She simply pressed send.

You didn’t need to stick around to know what happened next. The senior was expelled within a week, his disgrace plastered across every whispering clique in the halls.

———

Another time, you saw her in action during a group project. It was supposed to be simple—divide the workload evenly, finish on time, get a decent grade. But one of your teammates, a quiet girl with a perpetually nervous expression, confessed to Domo that someone had been stealing her ideas and presenting them as his own in front of the professor.

Domo didn’t hesitate.

She called the guy out during the next class, her voice ringing clear across the room. “I think it’s only fair to credit the person who actually did the work, don’t you?”

The guy laughed nervously, brushing her off. “What are you talking about, Domo? We all worked on it together.”

“Really?” she said, tilting her head slightly. Her eyes glittered like shards of broken glass. “Because I have the timestamps on her drafts and the plagiarism report showing your presentation is word-for-word identical. Care to explain how that’s a coincidence?”

The classroom went silent. The professor frowned, leaning forward in his chair.

“Domo, I—” the guy started, but she cut him off with a single, raised hand.

“I don’t want your excuses,” she said firmly. “I want you to admit what you did, apologize to her, and redo the work properly. Or we can take this up with the academic board. Your choice.”

You could almost hear the sound of his pride shattering. He mumbled something that vaguely resembled an apology, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and spent the rest of the term walking on eggshells around her.

———

Domo’s sense of justice wasn’t loud or flashy. It didn’t rely on intimidation or physical strength. It was quiet, methodical, and utterly terrifying.

She didn’t give second chances. She didn’t forgive dishonesty.

And that was why you could never let her find out. Not about your hacking. Not about the money. Not about how you had initially planned to use her kindness for your own survival.

Because if she ever did…

She wouldn’t just hate you.

She’d destroy you.

────────────

“I mean, it’s almost funny,” he said, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Here you are, pretending to be this innocent little thing, latching onto her like a leech. But let’s be real—this friendship of yours? It’s built on lies. You used her.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice trembling. “That’s not true. I—”

“Oh, but it is,” he cut you off, his tone sharp and biting. “You needed her, didn’t you? Not for who she is, but for what she could give you. Money. Protection. A shield to hide behind. You’re pathetic.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I care about her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Care about her? Don’t make me laugh. If you really cared, you’d have told her the truth by now. But you won’t, will you? Because deep down, you know she’d drop you in a heartbeat. She’d see you for what you really are—a selfish, manipulative little rat.”

The words hit like a slap, and you recoiled, your heart pounding. “I didn’t—”

“Save it,” he sneered, cutting you off again. “You think she’s going to believe you over me? I’ve got proof, sweetheart. I’ve seen what you do. All those late nights, the hacking, the money you’ve been funneling. You really thought you’d get away with it?”

You opened your mouth to protest, to deny, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Don’t bother,” he said, his tone softening to something almost tender. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell her… yet. But imagine how she’d look at you if I did. Imagine the betrayal in her eyes when she realizes her best friend is nothing but a criminal.”

His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of affection. You flinched but didn’t pull away, too frozen by fear. “But I’m not the bad guy here,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m giving you a chance. A way out. All you have to do is listen to me. Do what I say. It’s not that hard, is it?”

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you tried to stand your ground. “I won’t let you manipulate me.”

His grin widened, his eyes dark with amusement. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to manipulate you. I just have to tell the truth. And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? You’ve already done all the hard work for me. All I have to do is hand her the evidence, and you’re done.”

His hand slid down to your wrist, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince. “So here’s the deal,” he said, his tone cold and commanding. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, when I say it. No questions, no hesitation. Because if you don’t…”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make sure she knows everything. And when she does, she’ll hate you. She’ll destroy you. And I’ll be right here to watch.”

You shuddered, the weight of his words crushing down on you. He pulled back, his grin as smug as ever. “So, what’s it going to be?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery. “Are you going to be a good little girl and play along? Or do I need to make a few phone calls?”

The silence stretched between you, suffocating, as he waited for your answer. And in that moment, you realized there was no way out. Not without losing everything.

———

His lips crashed against yours again, rough and demanding, his fingers curling into the nape of your neck with enough pressure to make your scalp burn. You didn’t resist—not because you wanted this, but because resisting would only escalate things. His breath was hot and suffocating, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to punish you for every shudder of disgust you couldn’t suppress.

Your mind spun in chaotic circles, desperately searching for an escape even as his body pressed you further into the mattress. His weight pinned you down, his hands wandering in a way that felt more like a claim than an embrace.

You closed your eyes, trying to block him out, but that only made your thoughts louder. They roared with a single name: Domo.

Domo, who would never forgive you. Domo, who could never know.

The thought of her was a knife in your chest, sharp and twisting. You didn’t fear her anger—you feared her disappointment. Domo wasn’t just a friend. She was the only light you had, the only one who ever made you feel like maybe you weren’t completely worthless. But Domo had a sense of justice as unforgiving as the universe itself.

You had seen her at her most ruthless. She wasn’t the type to scream or cry when betrayed. No, Domo dissected you with precision, unraveling every thread of your lies until you were nothing but a tangle of shame and regret. You had watched her dismantle people who thought they could outwit her, her sharp words leaving them gutted in ways they never recovered from.

If she found out about the hacking… the money…

Your stomach twisted. You’d seen it happen before. The way her eyes hardened, the way her voice turned cold, like steel slicing through flesh. Domo didn’t just destroy people—she erased them, made them into cautionary tales.

And she’d do the same to you.

But more than that, you’d lose her. She wouldn’t see the circumstances. She wouldn’t see your desperation, your mother, your empty dorm room filled with shadows. She’d only see the crime, the betrayal, the weakness.

The bully’s lips moved to your neck, and you bit your tongue to suppress a gasp. His hands slid lower, possessive and mocking, as if to remind you of the power he held over you.

“Thinking about her again, aren’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and cruel. “Your precious Domo. Wondering what she’d say if she saw you like this.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you couldn’t let her see. You couldn’t let her know how far you’d fallen, how much you’d compromised. If she knew—if she even suspected—she’d leave you.

And your mother…

The thought of her sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. If Domo’s judgment was cold and calculated, your mother’s was visceral and brutal. She wouldn’t just be disappointed. She’d punish you, grind you down until there was nothing left. You’d seen it in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled into fists, in the way her voice dropped to a low, venomous growl when she was angry.

The money wasn’t just a lifeline—it was the leash she held you on. It was the only thing keeping her rage at bay.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not even here, are you? Too busy thinking about how to keep all your little secrets.”

He kissed you again, his hands tightening their grip, and your mind screamed at you to focus. But all you could think about was Domo’s face—her sharp, piercing eyes, her unwavering sense of right and wrong.

And the cold, hard truth that if she ever knew the real you, she wouldn’t just walk away. She’d destroy you.

Just like he would.

“Go ahead,” he taunted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His smirk was razor-sharp, his gaze dark with amusement. “Keep pretending you’re innocent. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You’re just as dirty as the rest of us. And the best part? No one’s going to save you.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.

Because he was right.

———

Your head swam with the weight of his words, the dark intensity behind them burrowing under your skin like thorns. His breath was hot against your lips as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with an almost tender care, a stark contrast to the bruises you knew he’d left on your body before. The room spun with his presence, suffocating, inescapable, and yet something in you was too tired to resist.

“You think anyone else could love you like this?” he whispered, his voice low and raw, each word an anchor pulling you deeper into his orbit. His lips found the corner of your mouth, teasing, brushing, and when you didn’t pull away, he took that as a surrender.

“I see you,” he murmured, his hands trailing down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “The real you. The one who’s scared, pathetic, desperate. I see it, and I still love you for it. No one else does. Not Domo, not your mother, no one. They only see what you pretend to be.”

He kissed you hard then, his mouth consuming yours, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The edge of his teeth scraped against your lower lip as he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes sharp and burning with something primal.

“It’s always been the two of us,” he growled, his voice thick with possession as he gripped your hips, grinding against you in slow, deliberate movements that left no room for misinterpretation. “Even when you ran to Domo, even when you tried to leave me behind, you always came back. You’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.”

Your chest tightened as his words drilled into you, his logic cutting through every feeble protest you might have had. No one else cared. Not like this. Not with this twisted, obsessive devotion that terrified you as much as it made you feel alive.

“You think Domo will stay if she finds out who you really are?” he sneered, his lips ghosting over your jawline before nipping at your ear. “She’ll throw you away like everyone else. But me?” His voice softened, his tone almost reverent. “I don’t care what you do. Cheat, lie, betray me—hell, run back to her if you want. I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here.”

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Your lips pressed against his, hesitant, shy, but it was enough to spark something dangerous in him. He growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, his movements aggressive but laced with a desperate kind of love.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming, gripping, owning. “You’re starting to get it now, aren’t you? You’re mine. No one else gives a shit about you like I do. No one else knows you like I do. And no one else ever will.”

His words were a mantra, a binding spell, as he kissed you again, his love a suffocating force, overwhelming and inescapable. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t kind, but it was real in a way that twisted something deep inside you.

“You and me, baby,” he said, his voice a promise and a threat all at once. “Always.”

———

The hesitation lingered in your body, a faint tremor in your hands, a fleeting flicker in your gaze that he picked up on like a predator scenting blood. His grip on your waist tightened as his lips hovered over yours, smirking just slightly at the way you tensed under his touch.

“Still fighting me, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and rich with amusement, a dangerous edge beneath his tone. “You don’t have to say anything. I know that little head of yours is spinning, trying to figure out what to do. But we both know the truth, don’t we? You can’t afford to push me away.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, deliberate and suffocating, drawing out every second as if savoring his victory. “Not like this is new for us,” he whispered against your lips, his tone almost tender, like a lover’s. “You remember, don’t you? Or are you gonna pretend you don’t? It’s been a while, sure—probably because you’ve been too busy drooling over that bitch Domo. But this? This has always been us.”

The words landed like blows, each one calculated to chip away at your defenses. You stiffened at the mention of Domo, your mind spiraling into the familiar maze of fear and guilt. He laughed softly, sensing your weakness, and tilted your chin up so your eyes met his.

“There it is,” he said, his grin widening as his fingers brushed your cheek with mock tenderness. “That little look of guilt. You don’t want her to know, do you? Don’t want her to see the real you. The one who cheats and lies and does whatever it takes to survive. Guess what? I already know all of that, and I’m still here. Isn’t that funny?”

You stayed silent, your breath shaky as his hands roamed with purpose, drawing you closer, forcing you to feel every inch of his control. “She’d never forgive you,” he continued, his voice a soft hum of poison. “If she found out, she’d drop you like you were nothing. And your mom? Oh, let’s not even start on her.”

He chuckled, low and dark, the vibration of it sinking into your chest. “But me?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth before stealing another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what you are. I’ve always loved you for it. Your pathetic, broken little self is mine.”

You knew he was pushing you, pressing all the right buttons to ensure you bent to his will. Your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight, but the weight of everything he had over you—the photos, the proof, the cruel knowledge of your worst secrets—held you firmly in place.

“That’s right,” he whispered as you finally stopped resisting, your body going limp under his hold. He kissed you again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, possessive and firm. “You’re getting it now. This is where you belong. With me. Submitting to me, just like you always have, just like you always will.”

He didn’t stop, even as your compliance became evident. Instead, he pressed harder, his kisses more demanding, his touch bolder, his words laced with a dangerous, almost intoxicating affection.

“I don’t just own your body,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands pulled you even closer. “I own your heart, your mind, your fucking soul. Domo doesn’t get that, and she never will. This? This is ours. Always has been.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight as the reality of his hold on you settled like chains around your chest.

Every word, every touch, every calculated smile of his reminded you of the truth—you were his, and fighting back only tightened his grip.

———

His hands moved with an infuriating blend of precision and fervor, peeling away layers of your clothing as if removing barriers to what he believed was already his. Each brush of his fingers was rough, each kiss an assault, his lips crushing against yours like he was trying to consume you entirely. He growled low in his throat, a predatory sound that sent a shiver of both fear and shameful heat down your spine.

"That’s it," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils blown wide with a dangerous mix of lust and obsession. His breath fanned hot against your skin as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer. “My little masochist. You like this, don’t you? Pretending to fight me, pretending you have some kind of choice. But deep down, you love it. You love me.”

The words dripped with mockery, but underneath the venom, there was something softer—something that felt almost genuine in its twisted way. He leaned down, his teeth grazing your neck, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “Yeah, that’s the sound I want. None of that quiet, boring little act you pull for everyone else. Show me what you really are, hmm? Weak, needy, desperate. Mine.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to pull away. He noticed, of course he noticed, and his smirk widened, his movements growing bolder. His hands roamed over you with a hunger that bordered on savage, but there was a calculated restraint in his grip, like he was savoring every moment of your submission.

“You know,” he whispered, his voice rough and husky as his fingers slipped beneath the last layer of fabric, “I could ruin you, completely destroy that pathetic little life of yours. But I don’t. You know why?” He kissed you hard, swallowing your unsteady breaths before pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips. “Because I love you. No one else gives a damn about you, not your saintly Domo, not even your precious mother. Just me.”

His movements grew rougher, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pushed you back onto the bed. He hovered over you, his gaze dark and feral, his smirk curling into something more primal. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he said, his voice almost a growl as he pressed his body against yours. “Careless, weak, a complete mess. But you’re my mess. And no matter how much you screw up, no matter how much you betray me, I’m the one who’s always going to pick you up, fix you, keep you safe.”

Each word came with another bruising kiss, another searing touch that left you reeling. He whispered sweet poison into your ear, promises wrapped in degradation, affection laced with humiliation. “You’ll never find anyone else who loves you like this,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Who knows you like this. You’d be nothing without me, and you know it.”

His real personality was fully unleashed now—raw, unfiltered, and terrifyingly familiar. The mask of control slipped just enough to reveal the primal, obsessive hunger beneath. Every movement, every word, every calculated act was designed to remind you of one thing: he owned you. Body, mind, and soul.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach

390 notes · View notes

revelboo · 4 months ago

Text

Everything is Alright pt 6

Starscream x Reader- angry

•What does it say about you that you’re starting to look forward to your daily conversations? Besides the screamingly obvious conclusion that you have a bad case of Stockholm’s, anyway. For a giant, probably evil, alien robot, Starscream isn’t exactly awful. Snarky, insecure, and narcissistic, but not awful. And honestly, those flustered, little wing fidgets or startled silences when you play along or agree with him are kind of adorable.

• You’re definitely losing it. The big mech has become a confusing tangle of emotions in your chest. He’s your captor. He’s funny and surprisingly almost kind when he wants to be. He’s dramatic. He’s… a friend? Because, yeah, maybe you are getting a bit protective of the giant alien keeping you prisoner and maybe your heart aches every time he’s surprised or thrown off kilter by a tiny bit of kindness or compassion. Like it’s something he rarely gets.

• So when the door to his quarters slides open, you stand with a genuine smile, hand lifting in greeting only to freeze. That’s not your giant alien. Breath locking in your lungs, you slowly back away to the far side of your enclosure as two robots remarkably similar except in color to your robot enter his space. Sure, you’d realized that there had to be others as terrifying as the thought was, but he kept you hidden away like a secret.

• “We shouldn’t be in here,” the blue one grumbles, optics scanning the room with what sounded like trepidation. Or guilt. “He’s been weird lately. Keeping to himself.” The purple and black one starts opening drawers to root through the contents while you pray that they don’t turn, because your stupid, clear cage is right at their eye level.

• You’re still backing away when you step on the edge of your blanket, the material sliding under your heel as you yelp and fall. No, no, no. Don’t look. Don’t- crap. Both of them turn at the same time and stare right at you.

• “Is that… a human?” Blue alien is frowning as the purple one shoulders past him to stare at you as you do an undignified crab walk to scoot away to the other side of your prison until your back hits the wall. The purple one is grinning now as he reaches to hook a servo over the top edge of your box and tilt it. You go sliding to thump against the hard surface, heart racing as he tilts the cube further until you’re looking almost straight down at the floor below. Does he realize a fall from the height will kill you? Does he care?

• You’ve seen that cruel, amused glint in Skywarp’s optics before. If he’d been human, he’d have been one of those boys merrily hunting down ants to incinerate with a magnifying glass. And now you’re the ant. “Cut it out, Skywarp,” the blue one growls, but he doesn’t move to intervene.

• Instead of stopping, Skywarp reaches his free hand in and you fling yourself back to try and avoid being snatched. That only makes him flatten you against the far wall hard enough your head smacks the surface, stunning you. And then he’s grabbing you in a much too tight grip, lifting your limp, unresisting body free.

• You wonder if he’ll crush you or drop you. Ribs screaming at how tight his grip is, you can’t get a clean breath. Maybe he is going to just crush you slowly. Behind him, the door opens and you catch a glimpse of red armor, relief nearly making you sob. Starscream.

• Freezing just inside his quarters, Starscream’s optics narrow on his trine before alarm jangles through him. Skywarp has the human, its face ruddy as it weakly struggles against his grip. Anger spills through him in a dark tide as he bares his denta. “You dare?”

• “What?” Skywarp demands, voice all cruel amusement as he tosses the human up to catch in his hand. You scream, the sharp sound choking off suddenly. “Why do you even care? It’s only human.”

• You’ve seen Starscream angry before. At least, you thought you had, but this? As he charges at Skywarp, his face twisted in savage fury, you don’t recognize him. He drives Skywarp back, one of his hands seizing the other mech’s wrist and squeezing until he yelps. His other hand prying you free from Skywarp’s grip. It’s not gentle when he snatches you and there’s going to be bruises, but you’re too shocked as he snacks the muzzle of the weapon on his forearm into Skywarp’s face in a very obvious threat.

• Then the other one is there, trying to calm them both down as Starscream presses you to his chassis. You can hear him venting, the rough sound ending on soft growls. You feel like you’re in a fog, aware of the three arguing, but unable to focus on the words. How hard had you hit your head when Skywarp had pinned you? Exhausted, you lay your cheek against Starscream, soaking in the warmth and trying to shut everything else out.

Previous Next

#transformers #starscream x reader #idw starscream

332 notes · View notes

bugfail · 1 year ago

Text

This has been on my mind recently I oughta say it. Shipping culture is soooo annoying sometimes. Sometimes pairings can be damn funny, right? But most of the time it's obnoxious!! Instead of exploring any interesting dynamic people decide to turn two characters into the same cookie cutter cis-het (even with gay shit they give it cis-het feel I GUESS) runs a coffee shop together bullshit. Not fully but it has that vibe?? After a fandom ship machine is turned on the characters go from like. Neon to beige. If that makes any fucking sense. And maybe they fuck. Whatever. Fine. But it's all sooooo annoying to me. "durrrr I don't care about the beauty of nuance and complexity of human relationships I want them to have 5 kids and a dog and a white picketed fence!" I'm going to lift you up from the ankles and shake you til your lunch money falls out. YOU'RE LAMMMEEEE!!!!! NOT EVERYTHING IS A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP OR DIE ALONE CIRCUMSTANCE YOU ARE LAME AND BEIGE!!!!!!!

#fury funnie scream #bonus if you want me to vomit MORE:#it's even worse if it's an established platonic guy/girl friendship #anyway this form of shipping culture makes me want to brush my teeth and gargle mouthwash every time this happens #I feel petty for being annoyed by something that does not fucking matter in the grand scheme of things but like #I'm not the only one here right??? hello can anyone here me??

16 notes · View notes

sturn777 · 3 months ago

Note

how would fb!chris react if someone roofied dealer!r's drink???

fb!chris' reaction to somebody lacing dealer!r's drink . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

꒰ა " some things you just can't explain, like the way you're stuck in my brain . " ໒꒱

the music is too loud, bass shaking the walls of the frat house like it’s trying to knock the place down. red solo cups litter the floor, a mix of spilled beer and sticky jungle juice making the place reek. you're leaned up against the kitchen counter, your usual spot for scoping the scene, your eyes scanning the crowd. a few familiar faces nod your way, a silent acknowledgment of what you're there for.

chris is on the other side of the kitchen, nursing a beer and cracking jokes with nate and tyler, two of his closest boys. he’s got that lazy smirk on, the one that makes girls linger a little too long, leaning in for a brush of his arm or a laugh at something he said that wasn’t even funny. but his eyes keep darting back to you, watching the way you keep your head on a swivel, how you don't smile at anyone unless it’s to close a deal.

you've got your cup in hand, the bright red plastic clashing against your dark nails. you aren't drinking much, just taking a sip here and there, yiur other hand in your pocket like you're waiting for the right buyer to make their move.

"yo," tyler nudges chris, pointing toward the living room where a group of freshmen are trying and failing to get a keg stand going. "you think we should step in before someone breaks their neck, or nah?"

"let 'em," chris mutters, but he’s only half paying attention. his eyes flick to you again, narrowing when he notices some guy standing too close. it’s luke, one of the guys from the frat. he’s leaning in, saying something to you, but you're not laughing or smiling. your face is blank, uninterested. typical.

“you know her or something?” nate asks, following chris’ line of sight. “nah,” chris lies, taking a swig of his beer. “just watchin’.”

watching turns into glaring when luke reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm as he hands you a fresh cup. you hesitate before taking it, your eyes narrowing just slightly. chris catches the shift in yiur expression, the way you sniff the drink before taking a sip.

something feels off. he doesn’t know what it is, but his gut is screaming at him. he pushes off the counter, walking toward you just as you sway slightly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"yo, you good?" he asks, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of the party. you blink up at him, your eyes glassy, and shake your head like you're trying to clear it. "i— i’m fine," you mutter, but your words slur, and that’s when he knows.

his jaw tightens, his eyes snapping to luke, who’s standing there with that smug, lazy grin like he didn’t just cross a line. “what the fuck did you put in her drink?” chris growls, stepping in front of you like a shield. luke’s grin falters, but he shrugs, trying to play it off. “man, chill. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal?" chris barks, and then he’s swinging before anyone can stop him. his fist connects with luke’s jaw, the crack echoing even over the music. luke stumbles back, clutching his face, and then it’s chaos. the other frat boys rush in, trying to separate them as chris lunges again, his eyes wild with fury.

“chill, bro! he’s not worth it!” nate shouts, grabbing chris by the shoulders and dragging him back as luke scrambles to his feet, his lip bleeding. “get the fuck out,” chris spits, pointing at luke, his chest heaving. “now.”

luke hesitates, but the look in chris’ eyes makes him backpedal, shoving his way through the crowd and out the front door. the room’s still buzzing, everyone whispering and watching as chris turns back to you. you're sitting on the counter now, your head in your hands, trying to steady yourself.

“hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping closer. “you good?” you look up at him, your eyes clearing just a little. “i’m fine. just... dizzy.”

“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “c’mon. you’re not staying here.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the house, ignoring the stares and whispers. when you get to his car, he opens the door for you, watching as you sink into the passenger seat.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky. he glances at you through low eyes. “yeah, i did. and if that asshole shows his face again, he’s done.”

you don’t respond, just lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering shut. and for once, you don't argue or push back. you just let him take care of you.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

#sturn777☆#anons☆#chris☆#fratboy!chris #dealer!reader

157 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 21 days ago

Note

Can you do a Jason todd x half dragon reader? (As in, she has wings and a tail, and personally, I imagine that her wings and tail are like a Night Fury's.)

With tooth rotting fluff and wholesome cuddles. And maybe a sun and moon dynamic, but Jason is the sun, and she's the moon? Also, if at all possible, I love it if she acts like a literal cat. Cat eyes and all.

Thank you for your consideration! ❤️

(This is going to become a common opening for me now) Sorry I took so long! I really hope this is what you're looking for! I only realised after I'd finished it that I'd put in a bit of a slow burn instead of an overload of cuddles and fluff, but I think that's because I was focusing more on the sun and moon dynamic 😅. Anyway, if you're not happy with it, just let me know and I can always try again 😅.

Jason Todd x Half-dragon!Reader

Warnings: none.

----------------------------------------------------------

The Red Hood perched on a rooftop, surveying the darkened alley for any hints of a shady deal. Thankfully, the drug dealers in the area seemed to have taken his threats seriously and stayed away from the routes he knew the teenagers in Gotham frequented on their way to and from the usual hangout spots in the city. Jason pushed himself to his feet, ready to call it a night and head home, but then he spotted something unexpected. He crouched down and watched curiously as something dark and elegant flew through the air, its outline barely illuminated by the moonlight that shone down on … scales?

Jason straightened, utterly confused by what he was seeing … but that only drew the strange creature’s attention to him. Jason stepped back as the creature flew towards him, but he knew he was much too slow to escape it if it intended on attacking him. So, he reached for his holster, ready to defend himself if it came to it. But then the creature stepped into the light and Jason found himself even more confused by the sight before him.

She stepped forward and studied the strange man curiously. He was wearing some sort of … helmet? A bright red one with little indentations for his eyes, it seemed. It looked quite ridiculous, really, but she supposed that only someone not entirely in his right mind would have been bounding across the rooftops of the city this late at night.

Holy shit, she was beautiful! With her (dark/light) and (curly/silky) hair, her smooth and (fair/tanned) skin and her long and toned limbs. And those stunning wings he’d caught a glimpse of before she’d folded them into her back? Wide and dark with just a hint of a shimmer as the moonlight reflected off of her scales. He abandoned his grip on the handle of his gun and clasped his hands behind his back instead, rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried to figure out what to say.

“Funny, I … I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight.” Jason chuckled awkwardly, then immediately berated himself mentally. F*ck. What an idiot! ‘I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight’? Ugh, she was probably going to set him on fire now and honestly? He completely deserved it.

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his relaxed demeanour: people - if they ever managed to catch a glimpse of her in her true form - didn’t usually react in such a manner when they saw her. Usually, they’d start screaming in fear and begging for their lives. Or they’d try to shoot her down and hurt her with any sort of weapon they could find. Both options were horrible in their own way. But this man … He’d … made a joke?

Jason folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the ground, growing more nervous with each second of silence that passed. He was just about to open his mouth to let another idiotic sentence spill out when thankfully, she decided to fill in the silence instead.

“I don’t remember the forecast calling for little matchsticks running around in the middle of the night,” she retorted calmly, her intense gaze still suspicious. Jason let out a short bark of laughter - much to his own surprise - and relaxed slightly before striding slowly over to her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the strange man chuckled softly, causing an unexpected shiver to run down her spine. “I can assure you: I am not little.”

Her eyes widened with surprise at his crude comment, but she couldn’t deny the curious warmth that bloomed in her stomach at his suggestion. She took a step back, nervous to be confronted by such an unfamiliar feeling, and stumbled when her foot met nothing but air. She reached out, her arms flailing desperately as she tried to catch her balance, then she found herself pressed up against a broad chest, her fingers grazing hard muscles as the strange man held her close to him. She held her breath as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, her body heating up with excitement at their sudden proximity, then she ducked out from beneath his grasp, putting some much needed distance between them.

“I-I … T-Thank you,” she stammered out, studiously avoiding his gaze, “but … you know I can fly, right?”

He grinned beneath his helmet, delighted by how flustered he seemed to have made her, but his own breath caught in his throat when she finally looked up at him again with wide eyes. Shit, she was gorgeous.

“Oh, I know that,” he reassured her, his arms still folded across his chest so she wouldn’t forget how large and strong they were, “but you looked like you forgot that for a second there.”

He took a step towards her, bringing them close to each other again, then he bent over to murmur softly to her. “Unless … you were just looking for an excuse to get me closer to you?”

She sucked in a breath and clenched her fists by her sides, outraged by the accusation. But damn, she looked cute, a soft little blush colouring her cheeks without her even realising it. Jason snickered softly, thrilled by her adorable and unwitting reaction, but suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in the back of his head.

“Ow!” the man exclaimed, clutching the back of his helmet where she’d just smacked him with her tail. He straightened and spread his arms wide, shooting her what she could only imagine was an incredulous look beneath his helmet. “This is the thanks I get for helping you out? Shit. What the hell do you do to people who actually try to hurt you, princess?”

She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by how rude she’d been - but the hint of laughter in his tone let her know that he wasn’t really bothered by her reaction.

“Sorry,” she apologised, reaching out to curl her fingers around his bicep and rub her thumb against his arm. Jason held his breath, terrified that even the slightest movement might cause her to pull away again. But thankfully, his easy demeanour seemed to have put her at ease. “I … I’m just not used to … to people … being nice to me.”

Jason swallowed down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“That’s all right,” he reassured softly, his voice so gentle and understanding. Then he bent over again slightly, leaning towards her like he was about to share a secret with her. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what that’s like either.”

She lowered her head as a snort of amusement escaped her mouth and Jason felt his heart melt at the sight of the cute little smile that lit up her face. She bit her lip, barely suppressing her smile, then let her fingers drift down to his forearm as she considered her next words.

“Well …” she began slowly, hesitating before speaking the words out loud. “Maybe … we could … figure it out … together?”

Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest as she waited for his answer. She didn’t know why, but something about this man just made her feel … comfortable. And that wasn’t a feeling she’d felt … ever? She dug her fingers into his arm as she chewed on her lip nervously, then she quickly released her grip on him, dropping her hand back to her side. “I mean-”

“I’d like that!” Jason replied quickly, not giving her the chance to take it back. He knew how out of character it was for him to let someone in so quickly, but … there was just something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was just that she knew what it was like to be outcast by society; to be forced into the darkness where no one would ever be able to hurt her. But whatever it was, he found himself curious to find out.

“I …” Jason began, trying to figure out how to contact her again. He scanned his surroundings, searching for some sort of idea, then it struck him. “Do you know that old bookshop on the corner of Apple and Kyle? The one run by that old man who’s just, like, somehow immune to every crazy thing that goes on in Gotham?”

She let out a soft laugh at his description and again, his heart melted into a warm puddle.

“I know the place,” she replied, doing her best to dampen the wide smile tugging on the corners of her lips. He was cute, but … she didn’t really know anything about him, so it was probably best if she continued to keep her guard up. At least until they got to know each other a little better. And besides, what if he turned out to be absolutely hideous beneath that helmet of his?!

“Great!” the man exclaimed, his enthusiasm starting to rub off on her. And he had such a nice voice - surely someone with such a smooth and buttery voice couldn’t be that hideous, right? “I’ll meet you there tomorrow night? Say … ten pm?”

It was late enough that most people would be off the streets, but not so late that she wouldn’t be able to get some rest before whatever she had planned for the next day. She flushed at his thoughtfulness and holy f*ck, that smile was going to lead him to some bad decisions someday soon.

“Sure,” she agreed, her tail flicking back and forth behind her with what he could only assume was excitement. Jason’s chest warmed at the thought and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

Her tail flicked lazily over the sofa, occasionally brushing against Jason while they watched a movie on his television. It had turned into a weekly ritual - making popcorn and putting on an old movie from a list they’d found online. They’d been hanging out for a few weeks now and X had gradually allowed herself to become comfortable in his presence, letting more and more of her dragon traits show around and interact with him. He’d never bring it up for the fear that she might change her mind and retract into herself again, but he knew how important it was that she was willing to share that part of her with him.

“Okay, but, why is he building a death ray on a boat?” Jason asked, lifting one arm from where he’d slung it over the back of the sofa to gesture to the TV in confusion. “Is he planning to, like, kill the ocean or something?” X bit down on a smile, refusing to encourage his embarrassingly cringy sense of humour, and took a moment to smooth her features back into a neutral expression before replying.

“Killing the ocean is quite a serious crime,” X pointed out calmly. “You would destroy entire ecosystems and cause massive damage to the Earth. It is quite a brutally vicious plan, I must admit.” Jason narrowed his eyes at the hint of approval he thought he could hear in her otherwise emotionless tone. But he knew she was just teasing him: he could see the tiny curl at the ends of her lips as she chewed gracefully on her popcorn and the way she kept trailing the tip of her tail across the back of his neck and shoulders was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t being serious. It was something she’d started doing quite often lately, but she never seemed to notice when she was doing it - like it was some involuntary reflex she wasn’t aware of or something. But that only made it all the more torturous; how she didn’t even seem to realise the effect she was having on him. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom numerous times on multiple occasions and she probably thought he had some bladder infection or something by now.

“Careful, princess,” Jason warned her, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl she’d perched carefully on her lap, “you’re starting to sound like you’re impressed by him.”

X lowered her head as the smile overtook her features entirely. She still wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he genuinely had no idea what effect it had on her whenever he made his voice all low and breathy like that. Surely a man as large and confident as him had to know how attractive he was! But … X snuck a glance at Jason, his attention back on the movie now, and recalled all the things he’d told her about what he’d been through so far. He probably didn’t have the room to think about shallow things like that. X cleared her throat, pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of her mind, and shuffled a little closer to her friend, closing the minute sliver of distance that remained between them.

“Well, his plan is rather creative,” she admitted, always so thoughtful with her words. “If it truly even is his plan anyway. It’s a rather intelligent one, capable of causing great damage. I must applaud him for it.”

Jason curled his fingers around her wrist immediately - like she was actually going to raise her hands and start clapping for him - and X’s breath hitched in her throat when she turned to face him and saw how close his beautiful moss-green eyes suddenly were to hers. “Mmm, you really don’t have to, princess. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t applaud a mass murderer for, well, mass murdering. Or trying to, anyway. I promise!”

And she laughed - a full-on cackle that started in her belly and poured out of her mouth and into his ears. Jason grinned at the sound, always so happy whenever he managed to provoke the rare reaction out of her. She was always so serious - so carefully composed - and he loved it when he managed to fluster her enough to make her take an even longer pause between her sentences or just lose control entirely.

She glanced up at him and stopped suddenly when she saw that he was watching her. She quickly settled back into her seat, focusing her attention on her popcorn so he wouldn’t see the blush she could feel lighting up her cheeks. But when she slid her gaze over to him, he was still looking at her with that admittedly handsome smile on his rugged features.

She picked up a kernel of popcorn and popped it into her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the shy little smile tugging insistently on her lips. Shit, she was so! Cute! He wished she’d just hurry up and make a move on him already. He was pretty sure that she liked him in the same way that he liked her, but he’d come to know her well enough to know that any attempts to initiate a … more intimate relationship on his part would only end up scaring her off. But he could be patient - it wasn’t like he’d ever met anyone who’d made him feel so … comfortable before, so at ease with himself. X pulled her legs back up onto the sofa, resuming her straight-backed, cross-legged position. But her tail continued to run across his body and the grin continued to stay stretched across his face as they watched the rest of the movie.

Jason moved fluidly between the large metallic crates of the docks, taking out thugs left and right. They’d gotten a tip about one of Falcone’s new shipments coming in that night and he, Dick and Tim had volunteered to go after it.

“All that money and this is the best Falcone could get?” Jason joked, easily knocking out yet another goon. “I could take these guys out in my sleep!”

“Careful what you wish for, Hood,” Tim warned him, tossing aside another two goons trying to stop them on their way to their target. He clapped his hands together, dusting them off, then joined up with Jason when he turned the corner.

“Yeah, this seems a little … underwhelming,” Dick pointed out, still holding onto his escrima sticks as they approached the containers they’d been looking for. Jason shrugged, already thinking about what he and X could do with the extra few hours he had now that their mission had ended so early. Maybe they could watch another movie? But they always watched movies. She liked watching movies though. And he liked the quiet moments with her, their bodies brushing up against each other as they cuddled up together on his sofa - yes, they’d reached the cuddling stage. But she still wouldn’t confess her feelings to him!

“Ah, shit,” Tim sighed suddenly, breaking into Jason’s thoughts. Jason looked up and let out a tired huff when he found more than a dozen thugs slipping out of the shadows and surrounding them: ‘shit’ was right. He glanced over at his brothers, a moment of silent understanding passing between them, then the three of them dove into the fray.

“Did Falcone … get a cloning machine … or something?!” Dick yelled as he tried to stave off a seemingly never-ending stream of thugs. Jason didn’t respond, too focused on trying to defend himself from the group swarming him. But his efforts were futile and he soon found himself struggling to stay on his feet.

“What the f*ck?!” one of the goons yelled, dropping his baton as he stared at the sky in shock. The others turned to follow his gaze and panicked when they saw a strange creature swooping through the sky towards them. It blocked out the night sky with its large, bat-like wings and flicked goons away from them with its long, agile tail.

“What the hell is that?!” Tim screeched, trying to come up with a plan to deal with the terrifyingly powerful creature after they’d managed to overpower the army of thugs. It was official: Hell was empty and all the demons were in Gotham.

“That’s my friend!” Jason yelled back quickly, fighting to get to X’s side before either of his brothers could even think about hurting her. Dick nodded in understanding, convinced by the relief evident in Jason’s voice, and finally allowed himself to turn his back to X. Jason brought the handle of his gun down on the last goon standing between him and his friend, then he rushed forward to help her. “Took you long enough, princess. I was worried you weren’t going to show up this time.”

X felt her cheeks heat up at his mischievous tone as she swiped her tail at the last few stragglers of the pack, easily knocking them off their feet, and her eyes widened with horror when she heard a giggle escape her own mouth - a giggle! What was the world coming to?! She cleared her throat quickly, hoping Jason hadn’t heard it, and smoothed her expression before turning around to face him. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted down to her slightly, and she just knew that he was wearing one of those smug grins he’d flash her every time he managed to provoke such unseemly reactions out of her. She rolled her eyes and cast her gaze to the ground as she waited for the flush to dissipate from her cheeks … but now she’d gotten the image of his smile stuck in her head! And Gods, he always looked so handsome when he smiled.

Jason’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he watched her try to hide her adorable reaction to him. She’d started joining him on his missions a few weeks ago, swooping out of nowhere just when he thought he was going to be overpowered by whichever lowlives he was fighting that night, and he couldn’t not look into it, right? Look into what it meant that she’d fly around the city, keeping an eye on him even when he’d told her they wouldn’t be able to hang out that night because he’d gotten stuck on another mission? Always saving his skin exactly when he needed her?

“Hey,” Dick greeted X cheerfully, holding a hand out to her in greeting. “Nice to meet you, friend of Jason! I’m Dick - his insufferably-better-than-him-in-every-way older brother.”

X studied his hand carefully as Jason punched his brother in the arm, still cautious about interacting so closely with anyone. But Jason seemed to trust him, so she was sure that she could too. She reached out and hesitantly took hold of his hand, shaking it gently before releasing it and burying herself into Jason’s side.

Jason grinned happily beneath his mask as he reached an arm around her waist and ran his fingers along her reassuringly. She’d been so averse to human touch when they’d first started hanging out, always so careful to keep at least an inch of space between them. He’d respected her boundaries though, silently reassuring her that she could trust him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable with him, and soon, she’d be seeking him out, quietly sauntering over to him and curling up against his side no matter what he might have been doing right then. He’d jumped at the opportunity at first, eagerly wrapping his arm around her and running his fingers along her surprisingly soft body, but she’d practically hissed at him the first time it had happened and he’d quickly learned that she had to be the one to ask for it first. Honestly, she was more like a cat than a dragon, sometimes.

“I’m Tim!” Tim introduced himself, coming up beside Dick. “The objectively best brother out of us all.” X let out a little snort at his declaration and Jason narrowed his eyes at his brother beneath his helmet, suddenly overcome with a wave of jealousy. But then X pressed herself deeper into his side and that victorious smirk returned to his lips.

“So, we done for the night? Great. See you tomorrow.” Jason waved them off as he spun X around to where he’d parked his bike and X snickered softly when she heard Tim and Dick’s exclamations of confused outrage behind them.

“So,” Jason began, getting onto his motorcycle, “you wanna get some ice cream, princess? As a thank you for saving my life? Again?”

X fiddled with the helmet he’d handed her, taking a moment to examine the rush of delight that swept through her at the thought of laughing over ice cream with him. She liked spending time with him - loved it, in fact - but she still couldn’t figure out why he seemed to enjoy it so much too. She didn’t have much to offer him, after all, with her strange build and her serious demeanour and her quiet nature. But he always seemed so happy when he was with her; so relaxed, like there was something about her that made him feel comfortable enough to just be himself. “Is there anywhere that sells ice cream this late?”

Jason sucked in a breath as her hands travelled up his body, running along his chest before landing on his shoulders and gripping onto them. Then he shook his head and forced himself back down to reality. “Uh, yeah! McDonald’s is open twenty four hours, right?”

X squeezed his shoulders gently in agreement and the two of them sped off into the night.

X tucked her wings tightly against her back as she took a careful step into the darkened warehouse. Jason had sent her a text earlier cancelling their usual movie date and asking her to meet him at one of his secret warehouses by the docks instead. His message had been vague, so she didn’t know what to expect once she’d arrived, but … she trusted him. X stopped just inside the entrance and was about to shift her eyes so she could look into the darkness, but then a light ‘click’ sounded and suddenly, the room was illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped elegantly from the rafters and around the beams. X smiled as she surveyed the wide, open space, and her delight only grew when she saw a cosy little nook in the corner decorated with piles of pillows and blankets and a projector set up to display movies on a blank wall.

“So, what do you think?” Jason asked from behind her. X turned around to face him and found him rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for her reaction.

“What is this, Jay?” she breathed, that adorable little smile still stretched across her normally stoic features. Shit, he loved her smile.

“I-” he paused to clear his throat, trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy running through his veins: he’d never done such a big gesture for anyone before. But he’d never liked anyone as much as he liked her! Ugh! “I made it. For you. So you wouldn’t need to worry about people spotting you anymore anytime you wanted a flight.”

Oh Gods. She wasn’t completely certain, having never experienced such an emotion before, but she was quite sure that she was in love with him. He was just so sweet and so thoughtful, always so patient and gentle with her. X reached up to wipe away a stray tear before it could fall down her cheek, then she clutched her hands close to her chest and took a step towards him.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly, unused to the adoring look on her face. It wasn’t that she’d never hinted to him how she might have felt about him, it was just that she always kept such a tight hold on her emotions, never letting anything she felt show on her face. He waited patiently as she continued to walk slowly to him, until finally, she’d buried herself in his chest, snuggling up against him and waiting expectantly for him to slide his arms around her. Jason chuckled softly and did as she wanted, wrapping her up comfortably against him.

“Why …” X pulled back from him slightly, a little confused, but still with that smile lighting up her face. “Why would you do all this for me, Jason?”

“Because I like seeing you happy,” he replied easily, as if the answer was as simple as that. “It makes me happy.”

“But …” X paused to giggle softly and Jason’s heart swelled at the way she let it linger instead of quickly swallowing it down like she usually did. “But that’s so silly!”

“Why is it silly?” Jason asked, bending over to brush his nose lightly against hers. X laughed again and slid her arms around his neck, letting the front of her body brush up against his.

“Because … Because it’s not fair,” she pointed out, stretching onto her toes to rest her head on his shoulder. “How can I make you so happy when I don’t even do anything?! I’m just … I’m so boring!”

She pulled back to look at him, her lips pushed out into a cute little pout, and Jason let out another soft chuckle. “You are not boring, X. You like the same music as me, the same movies as me, you’re killer at bowling and you fight even better than Dick!”

Her chest warmed at the face that he hadn’t mentioned her dragon abilities at all: he liked her. Half-dragon or not, he would have liked her anyway, it seemed. X lowered her head as her cheeks flushed with happiness then, before she could second guess herself, she bounced up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Jason let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, caught off guard by the sudden action. Then he bent over to make it easier for her to reach his mouth. X giggled softly as she kissed him and he didn’t know how much time had passed when they finally pulled away from one another.

“So … you wanna watch a movie?” Jason suggested, gesturing to the cosy corner he’d set up for them. X nodded eagerly and pulled him over to the pile of pillows before pushing him down and settling herself in his arms.

“Should we watch a romcom tonight?” she asked, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. Jason grinned and leaned forward to give her a few quick pecks on the lips.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

121 notes · View notes

amirasainz · 10 months ago

Note

Hello I am a huge fan of this fanfic your doing, but can I please request, the grid watching a spicy scene of her show? Or her in a body suit type like the picture below? I think Carlos reaction would be funny

Of couse! I had so much fun writing this! My request are OPEN and feedback is always welcome.

-XoXo

The unexpected red-flag

The conference room fell into stunned silence as the rain drummed relentlessly against the windows. The TV murmured in the background, its volume turned low, but it was the soft, melodic voice of Amira Sainz that cut through the quiet.

News had spread like wildfire: Baby!Sainz, the beloved sister of Carlos, would grace the third season of the renowned Netflix series “Narcos”. The drivers, usually a rowdy bunch, now sat in hushed anticipation. For Carlos, this was more than just excitement; it was a lifeline. His sister’s return to the family was long overdue, and the chance to witness her artistic brilliance on screen made his heart swell.

Yet, their busy lives as racers left little room for leisure. Days blurred into nights, filled with data analysis and the adrenaline rush of the track. But fate intervened during the red flag at Spa, where the heavens unleashed torrents of rain. The perfect opportunity arose: why not start watching “Narcos” during this unexpected break?

Surprisingly, it was Yuki who suggested it. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he proposed the idea, met with a chorus of enthusiastic “yeah’s” and “omg, yes!” from the other drivers. Carlos and Oscar, absent at the moment, would soon join the impromptu viewing party.

And so, they embarked on their journey into the world of drug cartels, corruption, and intrigue. They skipped scenes where Amira wasn’t present, eager to witness her talent firsthand. But little did they know that the next scene would unravel secrets and twists they never anticipated.

Let's just say Amira Sainz looked good with and without clothes. Throughout her spicy scene, the drivers were so silent. They all looked at her dreamily on the TV when she kissed the guy and started taking of her clothes and-

"¡Eh, estúpidos idiotas! ¿Qué demonios estáis haciendo? ¡¿Por qué demonios estáis viendo a mi hermana desvestirse?!" questioned an angry Carlos. As soon as he saw his little sister on the TV he went into full overprotective big brother mode.

Instantly, Logan shot back, “It’s not what it looks like,” while Fernando chimed in with a soothing “Hermano, you have to calm down.” Meanwhile, Lance attempted diplomacy: “Carlos Boy, we can talk like adults.”

The other drivers rallied, attempting to quell the hot-blooded Spanish driver. But amidst the chaos, Oscar slipped away, drawn by curiosity. He cornered Lando, who was practically bursting with excitement.

“I can’t believe I missed this. How was it?” Oscar leaned in, eager for details.

Lando’s eyes sparkled. “Oscar, you should have heard her speak Spanish. And her hair—oh, her hair falls down her back like—” His words were cut short.

“LANDO NORRIS! STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER, YOU CREEP!” Carlos’s voice thundered across the room, drowning out the rain and the TV.

From the commentator box outside, a muffled sound reached their ears—a high-pitched scream. Lando Norris, usually unflappable on the track, had met his match in Carlos’s protective fury.

#carlos sainz x sister!reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #lance stroll x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #baby!sainz!sister

471 notes · View notes

mxtxfanatic · 4 months ago

Text

When Wei Wuxian Stops Giving a Fuck

Wei Wuxian spends 95% of the novel being so polite and charming and funny and kind that I think people honestly forget how terrifying and decisive he can be once you exhaust his patience. These are some of my favorite moments when Wei Wuxian stops being nice to people who absolutely never deserved it:

Wei Wuxian found the scene unbearable. “After so many years, the Lan family is still like this,” he thought to himself. “They’re still affecting that stupid, undying self-restraint. Hmph. Watch this!” He spat at Lady Mo and said, “Who the hell do you think you’re screaming at? Do you think they’re your servants? These people traveled through half the country in order to help you for free. What exactly do they owe you? How old is your honorable son? He should be at least seventeen this year, right? And he’s still ‘a child?’ How old does he have to be to understand human speech? Yesterday, didn’t these cultivators say several times not to touch anything or approach the western courtyard? Because your son couldn’t stop himself from pilfering what isn’t his, as though he were a starving dog stealing chickens in the night, you’re blaming me? You’re blaming them?”

—Chapt. 4: Feral III, fanyiyi

[Jin Zixuan's] blood grew hot and he blurted out, “If she’s unhappy, then let her break off the engagement! I certainly don’t cherish your wonderful shijie. If you cherish her so much, why don't you take it up with your father? Doesn’t he love you more than his own son?” After hearing the last sentence, Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Wei Wuxian was no longer able to contain his own fury. He flew at Jin Zixuan, his fist raised. Though Jin Zixuan had been prepared to defend himself, he hadn’t expected Wei Wuxian to hit back so quickly. The attack started before he had even finished speaking, and when the fist struck him it immediately caused half his face to go numb.

—Chapt. 18: Elegance VIII, fanyiyi

Wen Chao’s complexion switched between red and white. Wei WuXian added, “Right, what was the accusation given to those who insult famous cultivators of the Wen Sect again? How should they be punished? I remember that it was execution, right? Yes, very well, you can go die now.” Wen Chao couldn’t hold himself back any longer, unsheathing his sword and lunging at Wei WuXian. With that, he lunged out of Wen ZhuLiu’s range of protection. Wen ZhuLiu had always been used to defending against the attacks of others. He had never expected Wen Chao to leave by his own will. Facing the sudden difficulty, he somehow couldn’t react in time. On the other hand, as Wei WuXian provoked Wen Chao, he was precisely waiting for the moment of uncontrollable rage. The smile by his lips didn’t falter at all as he attacked with the speed of lightning. In a split second, he had snatched the sword and reversed the situation, subduing Wen Chao with just one move!

—Chapt. 53: Courage, exr

After he said a few harsh words to her, standing where she was, Jiang YanLi had burst into tears. When Wei WuXian returned, this happened to be the scene that he saw. Although his shijie had an easy temper, except for how they cuddled and cried together the day the three of them reunited after Lotus Pier was destroyed, she hadn’t really shed many tears in front of others, much less cry so loudly, so pitifully in front of so many people. Wei WuXian was filled with panic. As he tried to ask her, Jiang YanLi was crying so badly that she couldn’t even speak properly. Then, when he saw Jin ZiXuan standing on the side, astonished, he fumed with anger, wondering to himself why it was the dog of a person again. With a kick, he pounced on Jin ZiXuan. The fight between the two would have alerted the Heavens. All of the cultivators around the base came to break up their fight. Amid the ruckus, he finally understood what was the cause of all this, and became even more angered. He spread his tough talk, saying that one day he’d definitely make Jin ZiXuan die in his hands, he told people to drag out the cultivator woman. A round of questions later, the truth emerged, and Jin ZiXuan’s entire body was frozen. No matter how much Wei WuXian continued to curse at him, he returned neither words nor fists, his face dark.

—Chapt. 69: Departure, exr

Hearing this, Wei WuXian’s smile disappeared at once. He asked, “Discipline?” He turned his head slowly, “A crooked path?” Lan WangJi’s voice was low, “Wei Ying.” Jin ZiXun and the others noticed the unusual atmosphere as well. Holding their breaths, they looked at him. Wei WuXian smiled again, “Do you know why I’m not carrying my sword? It wouldn’t make a difference if I told you anyways.” He turned around, stating one word at a time, “Because I want you to know that even if I don’t use my sword, with nothing but what you call a ‘crooked path’, I will still rise unparalleled and leave all of you staring at me from behind.” With his words, all of the people present were shocked speechless.

—Chapt. 70: Departure, exr

Wei WuXian, “Cut the nonsense. I’m sure everyone knows that my patience is limited. Where is he? With so much time wasted on you, I’ll give you three. Three!” Jin ZiXun wanted to resist, but when he saw Jin GuangShan’s face, he felt his heart shiver. Wei WuXian began again, “Two!” Jin ZiXun finally yelled, “... Fine! Fine! It’s just a few Wen- dogs. Take them if you want to. I’m not fooling around with you any longer! Go find them at Qiongqi Path on your own!” Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “If only you said it sooner.”

...

The group felt their scalps tingle and their blood run cold. The head inspector stammered, “The YunmengJiang Sect and the LanlingJin Sect have been getting along with each other. You mustn’t...” Hearing this, Wei WuXian glanced at him, his tone amused, “You’re quite brave. Are you threatening me?” The head inspector hurried, “Of course not, of course not.” Wei WuXian, “Congratulations to you for successfully draining all my patience. Since you don’t want to speak up, let’s let him answer on his own.” As though it’d been waiting for his words for a long time, Wen Ning’s frozen corpse suddenly moved, raising its head. Before the two nearest inspectors could even scream, each of their throats was clenched by a hand as firm as iron. ... He suddenly spun around, putting his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder before shouting, “Wen QiongLin!” As if a reply, Wen Ning let out a long, thundering roar. The ears of everyone within the valley ached. Wei WuXian spoke one word at a time, “Whoever caused all of you to be like this, let them meet the same end. I give you the right to do so. Settle everything!” Hearing this, Wen Ning immediately crashed the two inspectors that he was holding together. Like exploding watermelons, the two heads immediately let out a loud bang, sending red and white flying everywhere.

—Chapt. 72: Recklessness, exr

He walked beside the person whose words were the harshest and ground his foot against the person’s face, laughing, “Talk. Why aren’t you talking anymore? Mr. Hero, just what are you going to do to me?!” The person’s nasal bones had broken from the force, bleeding and screaming uncontrollably. Many cultivators were watching from on top of the city gate. They wanted to help, but they didn’t dare approach the scene. One of them shouted from afar, “Wei... Wei Ying! If you’re really that strong, why don’t you go find those sect leaders participating in the pledge conference? What could you prove by picking on us low-level cultivators with no power to fight back?” Wei WuXian let out another short whistle. The cultivator who shouted felt as a hand suddenly tugged him down. He fell off the city gate, breaking both of his legs, and began to scream. Amid the wails, Wei WuXian’s expression didn’t change at all, “Low-level cultivators? Do I have to tolerate you, just because you’re low-level cultivators? If you dared say those things, you had to dare shoulder the consequences. If you knew that you were insignificant pieces of scum as filthy as ants, how come you didn’t know to think before you speak?!” Everyone was as pale as ash, making not a single noise. A moment later, when Wei WuXian didn’t hear any more chatter, he continued in satisfaction, “Yes, that’s the spirit.”

—Chapt. 77: Nightfall, exr

One of the cultivators who stood in the front rows of one of the arrays commented bitterly, “Wei Ying, you disappoint me so much. There used to be a time when I admired you and said that at least you were someone who founded your own sect. Now that I think about it, it’s almost repulsive. From this moment on, I’ll forever stand on the opposite side of you!” Hearing this, Wei WuXian first paused, but soon exploded with laughter, “Hahahaha...” He laughed so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe, “You admired me? You said you admired me, but why haven’t I ever seen you when you admired me? And as soon as I’m loathed by everyone, you jump out and wave your little flag?” Tears of laughter seeped from the corners of Wei WuXian’s eyes, “Your admiration as a bit too cheap, isn’t it? You said that you’ll forever stand on the opposite side of me. Very well. Does the fact that you’re standing on the opposite side of me affect me at all? Both your admiration and your hatred are so, so insignificant. How could you be so shameless as to flaunt them in front of others?”

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

Just because a person is kind does not mean that they are unconditionally kind. Nobody is obligated to tolerate bullshit forever, and I am really glad that mxtx wrote Wei Wuxian as a character with clear boundaries, limits, and an understanding of when he needs to remind people who tf he is.

#xiantober #mdzs #human metas mxtx #happy bday wwx from me 💝#there are probably a lot more scenes #but these are the ones that live rent free in my head #don’t cry that you’ve been burned after sticking your hands in the fire #wwx may have a great temper but it is not inexhaustible #and it shouldn’t be! that’s why i love mxtx protags!#it’s always ‘fuck around and find out’ with them!

217 notes · View notes

oatmealdoodles · 3 months ago

Text

My messy thoughts on the new episode

(spoilers for Ghostf**kers)

tldr I LOVED this one the animation saw POPING OFF the writing was great, it was well paced, everything. I just wanted to ramble so here i am talking to no one:

Ok right off the bat i had to pause this like 7 times in the first five minutes because the beginning of this is just packed with insane jokes, glass to see they havent forgotten about being a comedy show

It’s so sad to see Blitzo in this state, especially that it’s been over a month. Like look at this guy he is GOING THROUGH IT.

also this was uncalled for how can you do me like this?

ok like my one problem i don’t like this little Scooby-doo reference with old people. I just skipped it and lost nothing, i don’t know why this is here.

the fight between Blitzo and Millie in the vents was also really well done im so glad Millie is putting up boundaries on dealing with everybody elses Bullshit.

I also don’t hear anyone talking about this but Vivinie Williams (Millie’s VA) did so well in this. Like all the voice acting in this show is peak but I’ve only really heard praise for Brendon and Bryce. Their argument here specifically, the fury in her voice was so well done, bravo.

JESUS CHRIST THEY DID NOT NEED TO GO THIS HARD this scene has been stuck in my head for the past two days, Brandon killed it in he recording booth, the animation is also just so VICERAL. Also the way the fire starts from his hands because he blames himself for it, like Viv went too far with this one. That was not ok.

Bitzo’s panic attack was also done so well. Little detail but i love that when Blitzo screams “Don’t touch me!”, Millie respects this and doesnt, instead comforting him with words. They only touch when he’s calm and ready. Love that.

Bro i was NOT expecting a flashback on how Millie met Blitz, also Millies design slays so hard

the way I gasped.

I also didn’t realize how much I needed an episode focusing on these twos friendship until now. Like FINALLY a Millie episode that doesn’t suck!

Little thing i realized but notice how Blitzo doesn’t make a sex joke at this. Blitzo. Not making a provocative joke. Really just goes to show how UNCOMFORTABLE and SCARED he is. I physically recoil every time I see this it’s gross

Those flashback scenes were also just so brutal. Like chaining his horns so he’s FORCED to watch is so psychotic I can’t.

its kinda sad that Blitzo’s whole motivation for doing this is to distract himself from his feelings, when that’s what he’s literally forced to confront by Ronaldo.

Love a possession story. I can really appreciate how Millie does not believe Ronaldo for a second, she knows that Blitzo would never think that of her and she trusts him enough to be confident in it. Nice subversion, you go girl.

This was so needlessly brutal and funny, they really went all out with this one

Yeah I think that’s all I wanted to day, just again i loved this one and it was definantly worth the multiple-month wait. Though my Hyperfixation has mostly died im hopeful that it will resurrect soon. We’ll have to wait and see.

#helluva boss blitz #helluva boss millie #ghostf**kers #helluva boss ghostfuckers #helluva boss #show analysis #hyperfixation #helluva boss ronaldo #ranting into the void

162 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 11 months ago

Text

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together.

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around.

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.”

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army.

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms.

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.”

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better.

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you.

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

455 notes · View notes