#i think. they wrote themselves in a corner with that one.
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Hold Me When I Stand
Pairing: Cross/Epic
Rating: Teen
Synopsis: Inspired by the Drabble idea I wrote a while back and the GORGEOUS art @toffeebrews made, Epic finally reveals why Cross had never seen his hands bare before, until now.
CW: None I can think of, but do let me know if there should be one
Part 1 of 3: Wuh Oh, Trauma
Word Count: 5, 490
Best friends notice everything about each other.
Everything, from blatant details like disliking ketchup (except when mixed with chocolate)--
Crossâs face scrunched up as Delta and Color knocked their bottles of ketchup together before they tilted their skulls back and chugged. âYou guys are gross.â They laughed at his âskrunklyâ expression, as Epic called it.
âto bright, bubbly laughter tumbling out in jubilant âmwehsâ when truly relaxed.
Epic watched as Cross laughed, breath catching in his throat as Cross laughed so hard he cried, mirthful tears welling in the edges of his sockets and mana painted his cheekbones like lilac flower kisses.
To preferring bandanas over ascots because bandanas âare cooler âcause theyâre like badass mini scarvesâ.
Epic kept track of it all. Whenever he discovered chocolate with a(n) unusual ingredient(s), a delighted smile on a cherished face would enter his mind, and the now unimportant cost was promptly brushed aside. That bright laughter his friend was ashamed of made Epic swear he glowed with the light of his Soul. And occasionally, heâd sew matching bandanas that Cross would wear on his neck while Epic adorned his own atop his skull.
But Epic was not the only one who adored his best friend.
Along with observing and noting the more obvious details, there were also more subtle nuances, like despising grass stains due to constant difficulty with clothesâ
Epic holds up a pair of tan lace up boots now decorated in murky green splotches. âLook Color, I like hanginâ with ya, but if I gotta get a new pair of boots from one more hike Iâm gonna lose it man.â
âand channeling that annoyance into an insult.
âDelta you grass stain you keep that battery acid out of my cookie dough right the flip now or Iâm gonna snick snack paddywhack kick yoâ sorry sunny d ass!â Epic warned. He kept the bowl of his precious cookie dough out of reach from his friend with one hand and smacking Deltaâs offending claw with the other.
Or always wearing gloves no matter the occasion.
Were his hands covered in nicks and scars like Crossâs claws? Did he simply enjoy the feeling of smooth leather on his bones? Was it a comfort like his bandanas were for him?
Or staring at mirrors with phalanges gripping the socket edges of a rarely opened scarred left eye, expression so dark and twisted and in startlingly contrast to the usual bright and playful grin that adorned those pretty bones.
Best friends notice everything about each other.
Cross watches as Epic rubs his eyes when he thinks Cross isnât looking. His hands fall from his exhausted face, tired shadows painting his hooded eyes mauve, adding an alluring, faux smokey look that makes his snow white and electric violet eyelights pop.
Epic makes crippling exhaustion look hauntingly beautiful, like the ghost of sleep is forever trying to sink its claws in, success held so high out of reach the spirit never managed to grasp it. The way the shadows dance and light cradles Epicâs face, draping themselves over the contours of smooth ivory bone is like he's a painting come to life, of exhausted reverie so beautiful Cross knows without doubt the sight will haunt him for all the nights to come.
And when Epic glances over at him and his scarred Eye closes but his smile brightens, Crossâs chest floods with affectionate warmth as his best friendâs eyes glitter, terribly fond and enviably beautiful in its endearing glow. Cross quickly turns away, his smile strangely quirked at the corners and Soulbeat just a little faster to have been caught staring.
Itâs only a matter of time before they learn everything about each other, too.
âAh shit,â Epic cursed. He turned off the stove and glared at the offending sauce pan that had the audacity of bubbling and splattering itself, now coating the countertop, his sweater, and leather gloves in a greasy disaster zone of oil. âThat was my last clean pairâŚâ
âHere,â Cross picked up the towel and started to scrub the mess on the counter. âI can clean up while you change.â
âAlright, thanks bruh.â Epic was about to offer his fist for a bump before he reconsidered and sheepishly tilted his head to the side instead. Luckily Cross understood and leaned forward to softly bonk their skulls together.
âNo worries dude.â
While Epic changed, Cross went ahead and threw out the oil. Heâd burned his cooking enough times to realize that it had been burned beyond salvation and tossed it out. Scrubbing the pan and letting it soak while he wiped down the countertop was menial, almost relaxing as he methodically wiped and washed off the sullied kitchen area.
By the time Epic returned Cross was scrubbing his claws dry. He leaned back on the counter behind him while he waited for him to finish. âTy man, oil spills are so annoying to clean up.â
Eh, not really. Out of all the things heâs had to clean, oil splatters on a countertop was nothing, in his opinion. Nowhere near as difficult as, say, getting chocolate stains or gunpowder out of his clothes. âDe nada.â
Epic made a little noise of protest and reached out to him.
âHere lemme get that.â He held out his hand.
Cross handed him the towel. âThanks. By the way, do you wanna go out later andââ he trailed off, noticing that Epic was wearing the same leather gloves.
As Epic put the towel in the laundry, Cross gave his best friend a quick, perplexed once-over. Heâd changed out of his cable-knit sweater and now wore a new, form-fitting turtleneck that hugged his lush curves. He had the hood up (as usual) but now wore his long-sleeved jacket instead of trenchcoat. His lovely friend was dressed as pleasingly as ever, nothing odd there.
What was odd was that Epic still had on the same pair of leather gloves. That covered the leather in greasy splotches that made Crossâs own claws itch in sympathy.
Cross quirked a brow. âForget something parce?â
âUh,â Epic tilted his skull to the side. âOh!â
He leaned forward suddenly, but Cross is used to them sharing each otherâs personal bubbles and doesnât react. Itâs only when Epicâs throat vibrates in a low, rising hum and he presses a quick, appreciative peck on Crossâs cheek that the soldier shivers while his cheekbones burn with lilac mana and his Soul flutters.
âMmmmwah!â Epic pulled back with cheeks dusted indigo. His unscarred eye crinkles into an upturned crescent when he smiles. âThanks for cleaning.â
âÂżQuĂŠ estĂĄs haciendoââ Cross sputtered ââyour gloves, dude!â
âWhat about âem?â
âWhat about â they're dirty!â
âYuh, anâ Iâll change âem later, no worries,â Epic dismissed. âI need to do laundry so Iâll change âem later.â
âOkay?â Epic was no slob. He showered daily, always used those scented soaps that made Cross forcibly resist the urge to noticeably inhale his scent, usually wore some kind of floral perfume or cologne, and always changed his gloves whenever they were dirty. Sure Cross never saw him do that, but heâd always seen Epic return with a new pair. So, why was he being so hesitant now?
âŚCome to think of it, had Cross ever seen Epic take his gloves off?
âYouâre not gonna change them?â
âNaaaah.â
Flummoxed, Cross watched Epic step pass him and wash his hands, gloves and all, in the sink. Epic shook his hands off and patted them dry on a new towel. âSee? All clean now.â
Epic popped the fridge door open and rummaged through it. Cross stood beside him, increasingly confused as Epic planned aloud. âI messed up the sauce and haveta start from scratch but Iâm still cravinâ souped up ramen. How âbout you?â
âYeah sure whichever â whatâre you doing dude?â
Cradling bundles of food Epic deposited them down on the kitchen counter. Cross shut the door behind him and followed closely as Epic started to prep. His soaked gloves glistened.
âWell I burned the OG so now I gotta make anotherââ
Cross put his hand over Epicâs, stopping him from peeling the garlic. Epic lets go of the peeler to hold Crossâs hand in his, and Cross warms at how readily Epic dismisses his previous task in favor of Cross holding him.
âHere,â Cross curls his distal phalanx in to catch at the end of the glove. âLetâs take thisââ the moment his phalanx caught on the leather rim Epic jolted, roughly yanking his hand away like Cross had burned him.
Crossâs chest grew tight and his hand felt empty but Epic ignored the flash of hurt that flew across his face and kept his face hidden so Cross couldnât see the guilt and regret and fear. Avoiding his gaze, he kept his back turned to Cross as he resumed his meal prep.
âI told you itâs fine. Itâll dry off in no time.â
What the hell?
The rejection stung. Epic might as well have stabbed him in the chest, his Soul ached like he had.
Frustration bubbles amid the hurt he hates that his first response when heâs hurt is to be angry, heâs never liked it especially when he knows he wasnât always an angry man and Crossâs previously soft eyelights narrow into sharp slits.
âCome on dude just take it off.â
Epicâs shoulders were hunched as he chopped the garlic and ginger. His magic illuminated the kettle, setting the water to boil with a flick.
âNo, I donât want to. Itâs fine.â Cross tried to reach for his hand but Epic side-stepped him, gracefully dodging just out of reach as he reached for the soy sauce. âDonât stress it.â
But Cross was a persistent bastard. âDude, come on.â
This time when Epic started to pour the boiling water he glared at Crossâs missed swipe, beginning to feel irritated himself.
âAgain, just drop it.â
Cross grabbed the instant noodles before Epic could. His best friend stared, unimpressed, with a pursed frown. âReally?â
âYes really,â Crossâs frown deepened.
âBrah, itâs fine. Iâll change âem later, okay?â Epic poked Cross right where he knew the other was ticklish, surprising him enough to snatch the noodles back and add them to the broth. âJusâ not now.â
âYouâre acting weird.â
âIâm not!â Epic protested.
Cross quirked a brow. âYouâre being weird right now,â he retorted.
The two locked gazes. Epicâs phalanges drummed against the countertop. Cross held the block of cheddar he needed to shred within his crossed arms. The soldier counted on time; Epic needed to get the cheese in before the noodles softened or else they would be too mushy (Epic taught him that).
Like Cross expected, Epic relented first. He sighed and closed his eye. âOK, fine. Iâll go change them.â
He could just do it here? But at least it was something.
Pleased, Cross nodded, uncrossing his arms to swiftly shred the cheese and throw it into the pan. âThank you.â
âKeep an eye on the broth?â
âAnd Iâll throw in the seasonings too, I got it.â Cross opened the packets. Epic nodded gratefully.
He vanished in a spark of magic.
Cross cracked a couple eggs to add to the broth and closed the lid, setting it to a medium low slimmer to slow cook the eggs. He didnât mind if it was overcooked or not, but he remembered that Epicâs favorite way to eat them was when the yolks were runny. When Epic returned a few minutes later, this time wearing long, rubber gloves that he often wore for washing the dishes, Cross contemplated whacking him with the pan.
âÂżHablas en serio?â
âSinabi ko na sayo,â Epic chirped, his smug little grin annoyingly charming. He set out two bowls for them both, carefully pouring the ramen into each, the eggs jiggling but remaining unbroken atop the noodles. âItâs not a big deal, I just like wearing gloves.â
Cross knew his best friend. There was something more to this. His Soul could feel it. He accepted the chopsticks Epic handed him to softly set them down. âEpic,â his best friend pauses mid-scoop of his dish, âseriously, why are you being so cagey about this?â
A horrible, gnawing thought. âDid I make you uncomfortable?â
There. Right there.
Epicâs face was the same, heâd always had an impeccable poker face, but it was his eye. The beautiful glow of that ivory orb dimmed.
Epic fidgeted. Slowly taking a single, small bite and chewing without reaching for more.
âAre you okay? Did you hurt your hands or something?â
âNo, no,â Epic murmured, âIâm not hurt.â
Okay, good. He was being more open.
Cross continued his gentle questioning. âIs it a tattoo?â
That got a little snort out of Epic. He covered his mouth to hide it, but Cross had heard the bubbly laugh and his own chest felt lighter. âCross, come on. Yâknow the only tats Iâve gotten are the silly temp ones.â
Delighted that his dear friend was cheering up, the soldier persisted. âIt canât be that bad.â Cross hummed in thought. âWhat? You got drunk and got a tramp stamp but itâs in your hand? WaitâŚâ Cross paused. âDo you have a tramp stamp?â
Epic guffawed. âStars, no. Maybe a temp one as a joke but nah. Definitely no tats on this guy, sorry bud.â
A smile quirked at Crossâs mouth. He was glad Epic had relaxed. But he knew he had to keep trying. Softly, he keeps his voice as neutral but gentle as he can when he inquires âIs it a scar?â
âI,â Epic faltered. âHuh. IDK, actually,â he admitted. He sets the chopsticks down and sighs, wiping his mouth off with a napkin. Finally, he meets Crossâs eyes. Carefully, he murmured, âTechnically, might be more of a mutilation than a scar.â
âOkay?â Epic wasnât missing any digits and his hands looked intact. âAnything like my gaps from my scars? Those arenât that bad,â Cross reassured.
Epic smiled, but it was sad and empty.
Cross wanted to cradle his face and hold him until the light returned to his eye.
âI think youâd hate it if you saw it.â
Finally, things started to make a little more sense. âAnd thatâs why you wonât take off your gloves in front of people? In front of me?â Cross guessed. âBecause you think itâs something horrible enough to be hated?â
Epic winced. âEspecially if you saw, yeah, man, and I donâtââ he stopped, a flicker of fear passing in his eye before he turned away. âI donât want you to see me differently. T-to hate me,â he confessed, his voice silencing to a whisper at the end.
At once, Cross felt himself soften, his Soul impossibly warm and affectionate. âOh, mi mejor amigo,â Cross placed his claw over Epicâs hand. âI could never hate you.â
Epic slowly lifts his gaze. â...â
âYou donât have to show me, or say why.â He squeezed his hand before he let go, missing how Epic curled the touched hand inward into the wooden table when he picked up his chopsticks. âItâs deep personal stuff. You donât have to talk about any of that, I get it. I was just worried about you, but I get it now. Iâm just glad youâre okay.â
Epic stared at his ramen, expression indecipherable while his thoughts warred inside his mind. âThanks.â
Epic was unnaturally quiet for the duration of their meal. They sat in companionable silence and enjoyed their comfort food. While Epic mulled over his thoughts, his gloved hand idly rubbing over the other, Cross was grateful his best friend had opened up to him, and kept his word, letting Epic have his space.
When they finished, Epicâs body moved on autopilot and followed Cross to the sink. There, he washed the dishes for the dayâhe had on the rubber gloves for it anyway, hehâand Cross washed his claws before taking the place on his other side with a towel in hand. Epic would scrub them clean, then rinse off the soap, and hand off the wet dish to Cross, whoâd dry them off and put them back in their place.
There wasnât a lot to go through, and in hardly any time at all, thereâs only one plate left. Epic stares at it, gaze far off and distant. After a few moments have passed, Cross is about to regain Epicâs attention and ask for the plate. Only for Epic to speak and inquire something at the same time.
âHey, do you want me to get thaââ
âDo you still wanna see?â
They both stare. Heh, whoops.
Cross cleared his false throat. âSorry, what was that?â
Epic handed him the plate. He dried it off. As his back is turned while he sets it back in the cupboard, Epic repeats his earlier question.
âI asked if you still wanna see.â
âOh,â Cross closes the cabinet door and turns to look at him. âI am curious,â he professed, âbut youâre not obligated to tell me or show me anything, man.â
âSamesies, bruh, but I,â Epic wished he had some gum or jolly rancher or something to chew on. His Soul beat quicker as his eye darted away from Crossâs face and back. âIâŚif anyone ever saw, or, or knewâŚIâd want it to be you, Cross.â
HeâŚdoesnât know how to react to that, really, what could he say? What should he say?
All he can do is stare at an unusually demure Epic, the way Epic looked at him, eyelight soft with ardor and glittering pearlescent under the phosphorescent light.
It wasnât uncommon that he found himself like this because of Epic: breathless and lost while his Soul batted insistently beneath his ribs.
Tongue-tied, he nods. âOh, thanks. You too.â
Stars, he was such a dumbass.
Glancing at the front door, Epic squeezed his hand over the other. âIs it okay if we do this in my room? I donât want Delta or Color or someone âporting in and seeing. Or hearing,â he added.
Cross nodded in understanding. âYeah dude, whateverâs more comfy for you.â
He followed Epic up the familiar path of stairs to his room. Everything is mostly clean and tidy from when they last hung out here, and he settled comfortably atop the bed. Heâd always appreciated how Epic kept his bedroom neat for his sake, especially the bed.
One of his pet peeves was untidy beds, but Epicâs blankets and pillows â along with a few plushies â were arranged in an aesthetic way, pleasantly scratching that itch of despising unkempt habitude.
After double checking to make sure the door was shut and locked, Epic soon joined him, plopping down beside him with a sigh. He leaned back to rest his skull and back against the wall.
ââKay. So, uh,â Epic fiddled with his rubber covered digits. âI guess I ought just get it outta the way, yeah?â Crossâs eyelights flit from the rubber material to his tired eye as he spoke. ââŚPromise youâll try not to hate me?â
Slowly, digits curled around the top of the glove.
Exasperated and a little irked that Epix would think Cross would ever hate his best friend, he opened his mouth to replyâ
âonly to freeze when the glove is peeled back and Cross sees Epicâs uncovered palms for the first time.
He was expecting a gash or two, maybe something long and big since most people disliked scars, but he dumbly realized Epic had been right to describe it as a âmutilationâ. There, in the center, it was justâŚgone.
The other glove came off, joining the other somewhere off to the side of the bed. Cross paid it no mind, gaze zeroed in on the holes.
His palms were hollowed. But how could it have happened? The circles were too neat, too precise to have been accidental.
The only other skeleton heâd known with holes in their palms was Gaster, and it was because of his experimentsâoh.
With increasing clarity, Crossâs eyes trailed up Epicâs hands to his face. His expression was carefully blank as he waited, observing Crossâs reaction with fearful intensity.
âDid he?â He canât bring himself to say it.
A slow nod. âYeah. Both of âem.â His hands rubbed over the other, fist clenching and unclenching as Epic glanced away. âFirst time was to make theâmake something. Second time was to try to get the first failure to work better. It didnât. So, now Iâve got these two âdonut holesâ, but all hole and no donut.â
Cross missed his joke, too focused on his hands. âDo they hurt?â Epic shook his head.
âNah, I donât feel anything. Kinda sensitive if theyâre touched but otherwise I try to ignore them if I can.â
Cross holds out his claws. âCan I?â
His friend stared at his claws, then him. After a pause, Epic slowly blinked, and then he nodded. âOkay.â
Cross gently takes Epicâs hand in his. Ungloved, it feels strange to hold him but not unwelcome. Thereâs a hum of magic around the cored palm. Not unwelcome, per say, but it made it easier to feel Epicâs Intent. More concentrated maybe? He circled the rim with a claw and Epic shuddered, mouth parting in a low gasp.
âDoes it hurt?â
He shook his head. His cheekbones were dusted indigo. âItâs justâŚstrange? Touch and Intent is uh. More potent around it, I guess?â Epicâs brows furrowed in thought. âHuh. Like, just that feels like youâre hugging me.â
âReally?â Intrigued, Cross pressed more firmly on the rim, pressing into the textured but no less smooth bone, purposefully pouring in more of his Intent in the fond touch.
Okay?/Okay?/Feel okay/Youâre still the same/Still mine/Okay?
His hand jolted within Crossâs grasp, Epicâs breath stuttered and ragged, the small, surprised noise he made caught in his throat. Cross looked up, worried heâd hurt him, and Epicâs eye was wide with unshed tears.
He immediately pulled away from the hole to lace their fingers together instead. A comforting handhold to hopefully soothe and amend his misstep. âShit, Iâm sorry, are you alright?â
âY-yeah, Iâm good, Iâm good. Itâs just soâŚintense,â Epic husks, âThat time it. Uh, maybe leave âem alone, I think. âs not bad,â he quickly reassured. âJust a lot.â
Hearing Epicâs deep voice so utterly breathless and dazed sends a thrill down his spine and he shoves that feeling deep down and refuses to acknowledge it maybe later when heâs alone he can process how and why he feels like that.
âO-okay. Like what?â
His hand absentmindedly squeezes Crossâs as he thought. âI guess them being exposed is like, hmm.â Epic paused. âOkay, you ever summoned your body?â
He often did it for training, fighting, whatever. Cross nodded. âYeah?â
âRight, and you know when the magic is still connected to the inner mana networks on the inside, but is also starting to form and spread from that mainframe to your external body?â
âUh huh.â
âIt feels like you're touching that.â
âOh.â He slowly nodded, trying to imagine experiencing it himself. âOkay.â
Epicâs voice gentles into something unbearably soft that it coaxes his own mana out to burn lilac on his zygomas. âAnd you put your kind Intent in that, might as well have been sent right to my Soul.â
âOh. Well, I meant it, and you feel what I mean, right?â Epic nods, and Crossâ
âYeah, I get it. Iâm always gonna be your best friend too, Cross.â His thumb caressed the back of his claw. âI feel and know it.â
Lungs without function shudder around an unnecessary breath.
It's impossible to ever tire of hearing those words. That heâd always be Epicâs best friend, that Epic would always care for him no matter what. Despite everything that had happened, despite losing his memories and rebuilding their friendship anew, Epic never once stopped caring, never once gave up on Cross.
All his life, heâd been a failure. A disappointment. Never something worth carrying for because he didnât live up to whatever expectation or use someone had for him.
Not as a son, not as an older brother, not as a friend, and not even as a weapon.
Always, Epic was exactly what he needed and wanted and he wanted to pull him close and tasteâ
Cross cleared his throat. âSame, dude.â He bonked his skull with Epicâs. âAlways.â
Epic seemed to be ruminating on something else, the hand not held by Crossâs was stroking his scarred eye, distal phalanges trailing the line.
âThereâs probably one more thing you oughta know, Cross.â
The soldier nodded. âWhatever it is, it changes nothing between us,â determined, his hold tightened on Epic. âI promise,â he vowed.
Epic stared at him, his carpals and metacarpals covering his scarred eye. He took a deep, slow breath. âStars, I hope so,â he murmured so quietly he almost missed it.
When Epicâs hand left his face, both his eyes were open.
White and violet orbs stared into Crossâs own orbs.
âYouâve seen me open it when I fight,â Cross nodded silently, âbut otherwise I try to keep it hidden.â
Why? He still looked fine as ever to Cross.
âThatâs why I always keep it closed if I can or never let anyone see me without gloves. âCause everytime I see this Eye, see my hands,â his best friendâs face contorts, burning with a hatred so cold and dark that a shiver travels down his spine. âIâm reminded of that, that putang ina,â Epic cursed. Everytime I look at myself or look at my stupid hands, all I see is him.â
âEpic, youââ
âYou donât get it. He ruined me, Cross.â
He'd always been a failure. But he made him into an abomination.
Tears well in Epicâs sockets and Cross was certain he must have a physical heart because he could feel it break. âI canât sleep. No, literally. I literally donât sleep.â
His bed was always so neat and tidyâŚ
Like it was hardly (or never) used.
Epic trembles, his voice shaking but now that heâs started he canât stop. âEvery single damn time I fall unconscious, the Eye channels magic from the Void and creates these creatures, horrible demons that if I donât kill them first they kill me. Every. Single. Time.â
But then, that would mean⌠âIs that how you have LV?â Epic nods, his shadowed face riddled with exhaustion.
âYeah. But if I donât do it, I die. And dying doesnât even take me out of that place. My body has to wake up.â
âIâve gotten better at it,â he admitted. âI hardly die anymore, now. But Iâm always tired, and thereâs nothing I can do to feel totally good and awake. But Iâm so done,â the tears finally fall, glistening as they travel down porcelain bone. âIâm so, so tired, Cross. Sometimes,â Epic falters. âSometimesâŚI just want it to end. And just lay down and never wake up again, if it meant it would finally stop.â
There are too many times where he said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing even when he had the best intentions at heart.
Always Sometimes, it feels like all Cross is good at is hurting.
His friends.
âFrisk! What have you done, you idiot?!â
âIâll Reset the world and make things right.â
His family.
âB-BrotherâŚâ
âMy name is Cross!"
The ones he loved.
âLong time no see bruh! I barely recognized you in that weird outfit!â
âBACK OFF!â
If he wasnât used for someone elseâs convenience, all he could do was hurt.Â
But this time,Â
Epic lifts his head up when Cross gently pulls the hand tugging at his scarred socket out.Â
He wonât.Â
He was full of DETERMINATION.Â
âDyingâs easy for us, huh?â Epic laughed bitterly.Â
âIâll say.âÂ
âItâd be so easy,â Cross continued. âTo kill for you, to die for you.â
Epicâs hand is cold in his burning claws. But together they are warm.
âIn a Soulbeat.â Epic agreed.Â
âBut I want to live for you, too.âÂ
âLiving is grief, and we die anyway,â Epic pointed out. His lovely eyes are dim, glow duller than their usual brilliant light.Â
He didnât disagree. âAlways mourning what couldâve been, what wonât be, what we canât save.â
âItâll never stop.â Epic closed his eyes. âNo matter how hard we try or want it to.â
But there were so many reasons to keep trying anyway, so many little reasons to keep going.Â
âAt the very least,â Epic sighed. âIâve got used to dealing with it after two decades.â He glared down at his hollowed palms. âI just wish I didnât look like him, too.â He seemed to deflate, shoulders hunching in as heâs unable to meet Crossâs gaze. âItâs why I thought youâd freak out or hate mâhate it, âcause it looks like Gaster and I know he was just as shitty to you, too, a-and I didnât want you to see him when you look at meââ
His self-depreciative tirade slows when Cross gently takes his hands in his and turns them over, slowly running his phalanges around and over his cored palms phalanges while Epic anxiously waits for his reaction.Â
And Cross just looks at him, soft and sweet, humming as he replies. âI donât see Gaster. I only see you.â And he lances their hands together and brings Epicâs palm to his mouth.Â
His eyes watch Epicâs as he purposefully presses the tip of the hollowed crevice to his teeth in a gentle kiss, mindful of his Intent and force of his touch. âAnd my best friend is beautiful.â
âEven my Eye?â Cross nods, reaching out to cup his face and stroke his zygomatic arch with his thumb.Â
âDid I ever tell you, purpleâs my favorite color?â Epic shakes his head. âItâs because of you.â
Epic stared at him in disbelief. âNo, really. I used to hate it, hate my ecto, because it was always red until XGaster overwrote me, and it never went back.â
But now he matches his best friend, who to him, has the loveliest shade of purple heâs ever seen. A vibrant, vivacious violet, glittering like a twilight sky and brighter than all the cosmos.
âIâm your favorite?â Epic softly bumped his head with his, and Cross nuzzled him back, smiling softly into his eyes.Â
âAlways. Like cookies and chocolate.â
âSugar and spice.â
âPeanut butter and jelly.â
âSushi and soy sauce.âÂ
âHeheh,â he chuckles under his breath. âJust two peas in a pod,â Epic quips. His grin falls slightly at the corner. âBut you mean it? I donât look like him?â
âI only see you, Epic.â He promised. âMi mejor amigo.â
The tired but dazzling smile that flutters then blooms across Epicâs expression reminds him of the field of lilacs from his AU, of the savory sweet taste of pimplom pie baked with love, of violet butterflies' graceful wings unfurling above the flowers like paint across a canvas. The picture it paints is bright and beautiful, of home and safety and peace so deep that he yearns with all his heart and Soul. A true work of art, it brightens the room and melts his fluttering Soul that blooms with warmth, like blooming flowers and fluttering butterflies.Â
Theyâre so close that Epic had only to tilt his skull to the side and gently press closer to set Cross ablaze, the point of contact sparking and shooting out through his body with electric bursts of magic.Â
The kiss was brief, only a tiny moment of time where Epic had nuzzled against him, but it was a euphoric eternity to his jubilant Soul.
When Epic broke away to rest into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapping around him, Cross was grateful he couldnât see the way his entire skull flushed soft, luminous lilac.Â
âThank you.â Itâs whispered like a secret. And Cross knows heâs been entrusted with more than a secret.Â
For once, he didnât hurt.
For once, he lovâcared for someone, and he didnât hurt them.Â
When he returned his embrace, it was with the comfort that he held his world in his arms, safe and adored.
Itâs gradual, but Cross noticed when Epic began to keep his gloves off. Whenever they were alone, heâd take them off without a word. Only reaching out for Crossâs hand and finding his unanswered plea accepted without a moment of hesitance. And soon it grew from an occasional happenstance to a daily occurrence.Â
It wonât be until several weeks later that Epic would feel safe and comfortable enough to do the same around Delta and Color.Â
And he wouldâve never been able to without the courage all of Crossâs love and support had given him.
Cross watched Epic chat with Color, animatedly waving the hand not laced with the soldierâs in the air as he emphasized his point. The conversation went unheard, lost to him, as he focused only on a bright smile and hands openly displaying hollowed palms.
One down, he thought, unaware of the besotted smile he wore as he stared at Epicâs closed, scarred Eye. One to go.
Shoutout to my lovely moot @sirsquidsalot for help writing how hauntingly beautiful Epic is! I just couldn't phrase the paragraph quite right and they were so helpful to get that final revision. Please check out their lovely writing!
Translations:
De nada -- Spanish for "no problem"/"you're welcome"
parce -- Spanish for "buddy"/"friend"
Mi mejor amigo -- Spanish for "My best friend"
ÂżQuĂŠ estĂĄs haciendo -- Spanish for "What are you doing?"
âÂżHablas en serio?â -- Spanish for "Are you serious?"
Sinabi ko na sayo â Tagalog for âI already told youâ
Putang ina â Tagalog for âSon of a bitch/bastardâ
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Hard agree on what you said about DH1's success and the gameplay being the main thing that made it a hit. I do like DH1's story, for what it's worth, but you can definitely tell that it was mechanics and gameplay first and foremost, with the narrative following the gameplay, but it worked.
Second hard agree on DH2 Emily basically being "female Corvo." I previously touched on the topic in a different response here, but the bulk of Emily and Corvo's lines in DH2 largely felt flat and interchangeable, but with only slight modifications to align with the chosen player character.
I'm also really glad to see there are other people who hated the fact Delilah was brought back for the sequel, because she felt like such a fucking pompous one-dimensional cartoon villain throughout the entirety of the story, and the sob-story background lore and class themes didn't really change that. I saw another post that essentially described her as "swaggering, puppy-kicking evil," and that's basically how I felt about her as a whole in DH2. It might have worked for Burrows in the first game, but Delilah in DH2 felt like one of the most obnoxiously one-dimensional characters in the entire cast, imo.
I differ somewhat in that I actually liked Jindosh and the Outsider, and I still find the Outsider fascinating in his own right, but I think his appearance in DOTO was probably my least favorite incarnation of him. Yes, in DOTO he's still cryptic and randomly appears to grant the protag supernatural powers and make comments on the player's choices, but with the removal of the chaos system, the gameplay as a whole felt a lot more hollow. I feel like the Outsider works best as a character when he's acting as a cryptic spectator to the player. I think he still works fine when you interact with him directly in short bursts (like on the island in the Void) because it's still mainly him commenting on the game's events and the choices you'll be faced with without forcing anything on to you, but also felt like the scene where he grabs Billie and presses the supernatural arm on to her to be really jarring and out of pocket, and it felt like such a far cry from how we've seen him act in general.
I also agree that Billie was a good choice for DOTO as a protagonist to end the Kaldwin arc, but she still suffers because so much of DOTO feels half-baked compared to the prior games.
>i want a new cast. we can see them, visit them & maybe ally with them, but i never want to CANONICALLY play as corvo or emily again. Maybe Billie bc she's just fucking based as shit idk sue me.
If they ever got around to making a DH3, I'd rather it take place in an entirely new setting and with new characters as well. I could also roll with DH3 if it took place in a new universe with similar game mechanics, but functioned as more of a spiritual successor to Dishonored instead of a formal sequel in the same world/timeline. Like you said, revisiting Emily and Corvo as bonus content or NG+ content would be fine and cool to do for funsies, but as much as I enjoy those characters, I also feel like they wrote themselves into a corner and they've already done everything they could possibly do with the Kaldwin storyline at this point, imo.
I'll always have a soft spot for Dishonored 2, but I still occasionally wonder what kind of game we could have gotten if it had been allowed to focus solely on Emily instead of trying to accommodate two playable main characters.
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i finally finished all the shb role quests and follow up storyline and uh. how are they going to integrate that in 6.5 when it requires you to have 4 jobs at 80 and finish the optional warring triad questline??? but it would make no sense if they donât???
#i think. they wrote themselves in a corner with that one.#the only way would be a catch up quest i guess??
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the simple answer is that it's never gonna feel like buck got off the hamster wheel of uncertainty until he's with eddie, and it's never gonna feel like eddie can stop tucking pieces of himself into neat little boxes and hiding them away until he's with buck.
#like when we say they wrote themselves into a corner with buddie. its never been more real.#anything else would be a disservice to the characters at this point#AND THEY CANT BE MAD ABOUT IT. BC THEY DID THAT. NO ONE ASKED THEM TO DO THAT.#buddie#once again its so far past my bedtime and i cant sleep bc im thinking about Them#mood stabilizers save me. save me mood stabilizers
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Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings
#love the show. love it a lot. about to be a bitch in the tags anyways#it was. so so messy. they needed another season so bad. the alaska trip took up so much of the comics#and that was with the previously established cast#in the show they introduced a million new characters. gave us no time to get to know them before they were thrown head first into the plot#and condensed an arc that was almost half of the comics into the span of like 5 episodes#my boy singh. oh how they massacred by boy#i mean. okay. in the context of the show the arc wasn't horrible for him.#but i think his survival in the comic and his dedication of his life to making up for the mistakes of his past by helping people and hybrids#would've been so much more powerful than his random self sacrifice at the end of the show.#bc honestly it just seems like another impulsive act in his moral flip flop he'd been having for the last few episodes#rather than active choice to be better#and honestly i wanted to see his delusional paranoid religious breakdown from the comics put to screen so bad#it would've been great#i do like that he turned against zhang the second she started trying to talk about rani. that shit slapped#the several fake outs about Jepp's death were so stupid and unnecessary and repetitive#why are you baiting everyone. you're going to piss off the hardcore comic fans waiting for his death and confuse the show fans#either commit to killing him or stop pretending like you're brave enough to do it#why did they flip back so hard into the mystical vaguely eco fascist backstory and outcome of the comic#after spending two seasons trying to build a more scientific and less 'humanity must end' story for two seasons straight#they tried to make it seem less 'humanity must die' again at the end by ending the virus#which i guess might've been the best outcome available considering the source material and the limitations of it's ending#but idk. it felt weird#the writing this season was so much less subtle. it felt like the characters were constantly monologing directly at the camera#nothing could be left unsaid everyone had to say exactly what they meant#and it was all moral lessons the writers were trying to feed directly to the audience#i feel like they wrote themselves into a corner at the end of the last season#and they expected to have at least one more season to write themselves out of it before the ending#and if not. if this was the plan since the beginning. literally what. WHAT.#can not imagine the people who wrote the last two seasons sitting down and writing this#it won't let me add more tags but i have more thoughts. many more. tumblr is silencing me for speaking the truth /j
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Madness
I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didnât know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldnât find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.
Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.
In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.
It was utterly maddening.
She was utterly maddening.
How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?
Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lordâs existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/Nâs indifference.
Maddening.
He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.
But not Y/N.
Never Y/N.
With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.
A queen holding court, indeed.
Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/Nâs attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/Nâs attention was focused on Benedict.
Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.
Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.
Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.
âI see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.â
Benedictâs head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didnât like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.
Still, as a gentleman, he couldnât very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.
He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. âYou think all those men enamored with her?â
âI think they think themselves enamored by her,â Lady Danbury said. âShe is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?â
He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between themâŚ
âWe are familiar with one another.â
Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didnât seem a little bit forced. âYour brothers seem friendly with her. Why arenât you?â
Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didnât know how to keep his damn mouth shut, thatâs why.
But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. âWe are familiar with each other.â He repeated, voice tight.
Lady Danburyâs eyes flickered. âI seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.â
Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didnât want to talk about his and Y/Nâs falling out, especially not with her.
He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. âOh, I believe I hear someone calling me.â
No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.
Lady Danbury harrumphed. âI may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.â
âDefinitely hear someone calling me.â Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, âIâll be right there!â He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. âLady Danbury, if youâll excuse me.â
The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.
He ducked into the crowd towards⌠bloody hell he couldnât find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didnât feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.
He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.
Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. âWhy do you look as if youâre expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.â
âCanât I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?âBenedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.
Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.
Eloise rolled her eyes at him. âWhat do you want?â
âTo ask you why youâre sulking in a corner instead of dancing despiteââ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. âDid you put fake names in your dance card?â
Eloise snatched her wrist back. âYes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.â
Benedict turned to Penelope. âHow many approached her?â
âSix,â Penelope smirked, âand those six quickly turned right back around.â
âWell with a full dance card, Iâm not at all surprised.â
Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. âSpare me the lecture, brother. Iâm sure Iâll hear enough from mother tonight.â
âShe caught you?â
âAfter Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,â Penelope explained.
Benedict grinned. âWhen have you known me to lecture you?â
She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. âArenât you meant to be fawning over Y/N? Youâd done it most of our life.â
He bristled at her words.
Penelope shot them a curious look. âYou never told me you were acquainted with the lady?â
âHadnât I?â Eloise frowned. âLady Y/L/Nâs family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadnât been for her fatherâs recent passing she wouldnât have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.â She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedictâs ears. âPersonally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.â
Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for oneâs sisters.
âSo, well acquainted then,â Penelope said with a slight smile.
âI do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,â Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedictâs mood soured. âYou never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estrangedâ
âNot that itâs any of your business.â He grumbled.
Eloise batted eyes innocently. âIrritable today, arenât you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/Nâs footsteps?â
âI have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.â
âI love you too, Benedict,â she all but grinned.
He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.
âSheâs in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,â Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.
âWhat gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?â He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.
Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelopeâs arm. âWith Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.â And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.
He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.
The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.
He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. âGood sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be alââ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. âOh. Itâs you.â
She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.
âWhat do you want, Benedict,â Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.
âTo apologize.â
She shook her head. âThere is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.â
âUnder false pretenses?â He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. âYou think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?â
âI did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.â
Oh.
Oh.
He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.
âPropose to her,â Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.
âI am not even courting her, mama,â he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his motherâs insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. Sheâd pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.
But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.
âWhat does it matter that you are not courting?â Violet demanded. âYou have known her since you were both children. Youâve been courting her all your life.â
âMama, please leave it well enough alone.â
âWhat is it that you do not like about her?â She insisted. âShe is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.â
âI never said anything that would imply otherwise.â
âThen why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.â And then she had gasped in indignation. âOr is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!â
Bloody hell. âI am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!â
âThen what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.â
Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his motherâs hullabaloo.
Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.
âAnd how is it I look at her, mother?â He drawled.
âThe same way your father used to look at me.â
At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadnât known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.
Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.
âAsking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,â Benedict relented. âI was simply waiting for the perfect moment.â
Violet smiled at her son kindly. âThere are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.â
She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.
Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. âWell, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.â
That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.
Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.
Y/Nâs eyes flickered as she regarded him. âI do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.â She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedictâs hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.
His hands were gloved and even Y/Nâs arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.
The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.
Always so distracting.
Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. âDo you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.â
Y/Nâs brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. âIt is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.â
Benedict frowned at her. âWhy do you continue to insist that I do not love you?â
âBecause you do not!â She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. âIf you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pityââ She choked, eyes widening as if she didnât mean to say the things sheâd said.
âYou love me?â He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/Nâs confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.
Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. âForgive me, I shouldnât have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.â
But Benedict did no such thing.
Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.
Y/Nâs eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. âBenedict, what are you doing?â
âBegging you for forgiveness.â
âWhat? Benedict, get up.â
But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. âForgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.â
âBenedict, get up. This is madnessââ
âYou are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I donât ever wish to be sane.â
Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. âB-But that morning, the day you proposedââ
âI did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.â
She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. âAsk me again.â
His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. âY/N, will you marry me?â
âYes.â
#bridgerton#bridgerton netflix#king george#violet bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton oneshot#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton oneshot#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton one shot#bridgerton season 2#bridgerton season 1#bridgerton series#lady danbury#regency era fic#colin bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#gregory bridgerton
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Lapdog
đŠstaring: NerdMiguel x QueenBee Reader
đ preview: âDamn, sounds like you want a lapdog.â Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.
âIt doesâŚdoesn't it?
đ¸Summary: You, Queen Bee, have been desiring a little assistant for a whileâsomeone who can fetch you things, do your work, assist you in any way possible, and just make life much easier. However, after witnessing a surprising occurrence with one of the lamest students on campus, Miguel O'Hara, you believe you've found just that, and maybe something even better...
đrating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I
đŠtw/cw. Blackmail, Caught in the act, College AU, Demeaning, Desperation, Dirty talk, Dominance, Handjob, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Ownership, Public Masturbation, Power Differences, Praising, Public, Sex toys, Vibrator, etcâŚ
đ¸Word count: 9k
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
Small, quiet whimpers escaped the lips of the burly man to your left. His head lowered in an attempt to hide as he diligently tackled your college work. His large, left hand trembled while he solved long math equations, expressions, logarithms, and whatever else the packet held. You shifted your gaze from the four-eyed male to two others seated at your booth.
Peter B. Parker, the captain of the football team and the golden boy of the school, sat across from you, alongside his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, or MJ, who was the editor of the college newspaper. They cuddled up against each other, with MJ on his chest and his arm wrapped around her.
The two were considered your "friends" at the university, forming the famous clique that instilled fear and envy in the entire student body. However, between the adored football jock and the news girl, you, on the other hand, were a much bigger deal.Â
Everyone knew your name, and if they didn't, you were seen as an utter disgrace due to your cluelessness.
You were known as the university's queen bee.
Everyone loved or hated you; you didn't care. Any attention was welcome. You were the leader of the notorious sorority house of baddies, with a rich family that could drop and sue anyone with the drop of a hat. You could control the student body in masses with just a word, and had everyone, even the staff, wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger.Â
Whatever you said went, and don't you fucking dare think otherwise; you'd be an idiot to challenge the queen. Having the ability to turn any person into a complete nobody, withering away in debts and charges, kept everyone in their place.
But you wouldn't exactly say Peter and MJ were your friends, just students at college who possessed a certain kind of power that was highly useful to have in your corner.
Peter and his kind, sweet persona solidified bonds with other universities and the dean themselves. He was the face of your campus and was hella popular.
MJ headed the media, and whatever she said or wrote in the newspaper or the college blog was believed by everyone on campus, even if it was false.
Not that anyone would know...
Peter, MJ, and you were at the top of the food chain at your university; no one else mattered and was worth the time.
So why the hell was this lowlife sitting at your booth?
Miguel O'Hara, known as the nerdiest of the nerds on your college campus, sat beside you at your usual booth in Mama's diner, your clique's hangout spot.
To be fair, you didn't classify Miguel as such; more of a loner because he didn't look like a nerd. His body was covered in bulging muscles that contrasted greatly with his quiet persona. He had a towering height that rose above most of the football team, and he got attention from girls.
Or, well...
Girls gave him attention, not like the guy minded them.
He kept to himself, always having his nose stuck in a book. To make him even more of a dork, he worked at the school library. Due to his elusive nature and how hard he was to categorize, the loner had gained a distasteful reputation; many students on campus hated him as a result.Â
Was he a jock due to his bulging muscles, a bad boy due to his mysteriousness and constant desire for solitude, or was he a nerd for always being found reading, and whenever he spoke, only intellectual things came out?
He was a tricky case.
And not one you cared about until todayâŚ
You never would have paid the introverted male any attention if it weren't for you, this morning, stumbling into the library in search of someone to do your homework. Instead of finding a lowlife in waiting, you found something much betterâŚ
You found Miguel in his office, located at the far back of the library, moaning and jerking off under his desk. To make matters worse, AirPods adorned his ears, blocking out any awareness of your presence. You even leaned over his shoulder to discover that he was clearly watching porn.
He was definitely an amateur...
But a needy little thing he was...
The sight before you was an honest gold mine, something that would be perfect for MJ to post on the school blog as you captured a video of the surprising occurrence.
It was hard to fathom how much his reputation, if he had one, would plummet once the entire school got a look at this. But then, being the cunning queen you were, you had a better idea for that videoâŚ
You decided to use it as a means to have an around-the-clock assistant that would come running at your every beck and call, at any given time. It was a great idea, especially with the lowlife not being unpleasant to the eyes.Â
So now here he was, being a good little puppy for you and doing your homework, except...
It didn't seem like your associates were too pleased with your puppyâs presence.
You met Peter's gaze, his amber eyes furrowed in confusion as he glanced from you to the muscular loner and back again. "Okay, why the hell is he here?" he finally asked after a while of just staring at the two of you. A smirk spread across your lips at his question. "I believe you have eyes, Peter. He's doing my homework," you simply said with a sly grin, continuing your subtle movements under the table, which only made the geek clench his pencil even more.
Peter and MJ recognized that look on you, that sneaky smile you wore whenever you were up to no good. But this time, they couldn't quite put a finger on what it was and how it involved the four-eyed freak.
MJ looked between you and Miguel as well, her cherry lips pursing. "Why here, though?" she asked, her head still resting against Peter's chest. "Most of the time when we meet at Mama's diner, we gossip, we talk about deep stuff. We can't do that with him here," she acknowledged, motioning to Miguel in the corner, who seemed very focused on solving a long ass math problem.
You couldn't help but look over at him as well, taking in the sight of his heavy breathing and faintly red cheeks, before looking back at your associates, who still wore expressions of confusion and discomfort. You huffed, giving them a fake pout. âCome on, Miguel won't utter a single word to anyone...
Now, would you?â
You asked, turning to look at the large Latino, his amber orbs covered with a pair of black eyeglasses as he remained silent, adamantly trying to avoid eye contact. You scowled, giving him a tight squeeze, followed by a deep stroke making him jolt. His eyes briefly rolled, his mouth stammering, trying to find his words. âNo⌠I won't.â He said so low and deep you had to lean in to hear him.
You could visibly see him struggling, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried painstakingly to control his breathing. You grinned, watching him return to work on your math packet like a good little puppy. âSee? He can be trusted.â You explained with a smile, continuing your tantalizing play on the nerd, which only made the Latino male suck in a breath and grip his pencil tighter.
You swore you thought the wooden tool would snap in two any second nowâŚ
âFine, but what made you want to bring him of all people?â Peter asked next, turning your gaze onto him. âHe holds no power at our Uni. Heâs useless to us.â He said with a chuckle, running his fingers through his girlfriend's red hair. You chuckled at his belief that the four-eyed male was âuselessâ;Â
Currently, he was everything butâŚ
âYou know how much I wanted my own little assistant for some time.â You replied with a smirk, tracing Miguel under the table, feeling your fingers begin to become further coated in his essence. âAs in someone who can fetch me things, do my work,
Satisfy my every needâŚâ
You abruptly squeezed Miguel once more, a sudden audible groan passing his lips, gaining everyone's attention. Peter and MJ glanced over at Miguel with raised eyebrows before just brushing it off as the geek having one of his weird moments.Â
Subtly, you shot the dweeb a glare, making his ears redden and clear his throat. He flicked his pencil around in his thick fingers, beginning to erase a mistake he made due to your harsh grip before you turned back to your associates with a nonchalant smile.
âDamn, sounds like you want a lapdog.â Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.
âIt doesâŚdoesn't it?â
You whispered, glancing over at Miguel, who was trying not to acknowledge your gaze, seeming to be very interested in the ways of Calculus II.Â
âAww⌠Peter, you know me so well.â You thought with a small grin, continuing to stroke the trembling male. You could feel the dweeb strain underneath his black jeans, enjoying how greatly he was trying to hide his pleasure. With your thumb, you brushed over his sensitive tip, making him whimper loudly, despite his effort to suppress it by biting his lip.
You shot him another stern look, slightly relieved to hear a groan of annoyance from MJ at the same time. At her outburst, it drew your attention over to her to see she was looking over at the workers in Mama's diner who were diligently working in the kitchen area of the diner. âGosh, we've been sitting here for 20 minutes, and our order still isn't here.â She whined, crossing her arms over her chest like a pouty child in the grocery store.Â
âCome on, baby, it should be out in a little bit,â Peter whispered, trying to comfort her. You couldnât help rolling your eyes at her dramatics. MJ always did this to get attention, Peterâs attention in particular, who youâve noticed was staring at you a lot more than usual upon entering Mamaâs diner today.
You met MJâs blue eyes, giving her a tight-lipped smile. âActually, why don't you two go check it out? See what's the hold-up?â You proposed, glancing over at Miguel to see his defined Adam's apple bob at your words, his nervousness only exciting you further.
Oblivious to your proposal and the fact that you, the queen, said it, Peter and MJ nodded and slid out of the booth. You watched in the corner of your eye as they walked away from your table and towards the front of the diner.Â
âNow the fun can beginâŚâ
You thought, a wicked grin spreading across your glossy lips. With them gone, you wanted nothing more than to have some fun with your new puppy. You turned in your seat to finally make eye contact with the panting male, and you couldnât help but snicker at the sight.
The dweebâs coffee-brown curls were plastered to his sweaty forehead, his amber orbs hooded behind his glasses while his grip on his pencil was slowly loosening. Breathy moans escaped his parted lips as his hips thrust softly into your hand, his eyes rolling with each of his movements.
Upon the two leaving the table, it seemed the nerd had completely dropped his facade, showing just how needy he was.
You laughed, glancing down to see the mess he was making in his black jeans. A small wet patch gradually soaked the zipper and crotch of the denim. âI knew you didn't finish in the library.â You teased, continuing to stroke him. He grunted, shifting in the booth to better angle himself into your clenched palm. âI couldn'tâŚYou interrupted me.â He replied hoarsely, making you raise an eyebrow. You abruptly gripped his cock at his response, making him whine.
âI interrupted you?â
You scoffed, not believing the balls on this nerd. âYou have more mouth than I thought, Miguel O'Hara.â You hissed, releasing him and drawing down his pants, exposing his huge member fully. His hooded eyes instantly snapped open, deep pants passing his lips. âWhat are youâwhat are you doing? Someone could see.â He exclaimed through stammers, his amber eyes blown in a mixture of lust and worry as they looked all around in fear of someone being near.
You rolled your eyes at the nerdâs empty concerns. Your clique's favorite booth was positioned in the back of the diner, completely secluded. Of course, youâll take precautions; you wouldnât want someone to capture the sight of you having fun with a loser like him, so the idiot was fine.
Not that you cared at the moment...
âI honestly don't know what you're so worried about. You didn't seem concerned about someone seeing you when you were jerking off this morning.â You taunted, earning an angry growl from him, his cock twitching a little at that recollection. âMierda, I didn't know anyone was there. The library is always empty in the mornings.â He said in a low voice, his tone rough and holding so much spite in it.
You couldn't help but chuckle at his anger, as if he could do anything about it. His massive body was stuck on the inside of your booth, his well-endowed cock and balls out on display.
He was completely vulnerable to youâŚ
Your eyes trailed him, taking him in slowly, and to your surprise, you found yourself licking your lips at the sight.
Even though the dork was a lowly peasant at your school, carrying his stupid little textbooks and allowing the jocks to beat on him when he had the muscles and height to beat their asses ten-fold.
He had an impressive cockâŚ
It was fully erect, sticking straight up into the air with a small patch of dark brown, coarse hair sitting atop his dark shaft, trailing an irresistible line up under his beige sweater. His cock was long, girthy, and definitely above average, with a brown, angry tip dripping with precum, begging to be tasted and played with.
During your moment of ogling, his large, veiny hand hastily covered the oddly magnificent sight, snapping you from your trance. You glared up at him, taking in his flushed cheeks, coffee-brown curls that hung over his framed eyes, and his attempt to cover his enormity between his legs with his hand.
âMove.â You sternly said, your tone showing just how annoyed and furious you were. You crossed your arms over your white-clad chest, awaiting the loser to obey, but surprisingly, he did no such thing. Miguel simply clenched his jaw, averted his gaze from you, not at all listening to the order youâve just given him.
Your glossy lips pulled into a snarl, not remembering the last time someone would dare be defiant towards you, but it seemed this nerd, loner, whatever the hell he classified as, was something differentâŚ
He knew who you were, yet he was disobeying you, talking back, and worst of allâŚ
Not submitting.
Youâve met many infuriating individuals, but he had to take the cake.
Your jaw clenched, trying to keep your composure and remind yourself that you needed him around because you were a hair's breadth from reaching into your bag and grabbing your phone to do the unthinkable. You cleared your throat, sliding so close to him that you could feel the heat of his bare, thick thighs against yours under the short, expensive pink skirt you adorned.
You brushed a strand of his coffee-brown hair behind his ear, noticing how he flinched slightly before leaning in close.
 âMove your hand, or I'll make sure to send that little video of you jerking off to MJ. I think sheâll enjoy posting that onto her little blog for the whole college to see.â
You whispered into his ear, the threat striking the nerd greatly. A wave of satisfaction rushed through your being when he turned to face you, his amber eyes narrowed in rage, but a hint of fear evident in them as well. âYou wouldn't,â he said, calling your bluff in a rough, breathless voice which only made you laugh.
âYou must really be living under a rock on campus if you think Iâm bluffing,â you chuckled darkly as the nerd gulped. âNowâŚâ you began, glancing down at his shielded hand over what you desired. âUnless you want the entire college to know how much of a needy little puppy you are, you will move your damn hand and allow me to do whatever I please.â You sternly said, looking down at his trembling hand and then up at him.
You found it utterly adorable how he tried to keep your hardened gaze, but he would learn that when you want something, youâll get it no matter what.
He cursed softly, running a frustrated hand through his messy coffee-brown curls. He captured his bottom lip in his teeth and reluctantly moved his hands, placing them on either side of him on the boothâs cushions. You smirked at his obedience. âGood boy,â you praised in a teasing voice, patting his head like the doggy he was; however, he yanked away. You scoffed at his defiance.
âIt seems my puppy needs more training. No worries; heâll submit if he likes it or not.â
You thought, casting your eyes down to meet his painfully hard and erect cock. Biting your lip, you wrapped a hand around his base, feeling how brick and sticky it was in your palm.
But before granting your puppy the sweet release he desired, he had a lesson to learnâŚ
You harshly gripped his shaft, earning a loud groan to escape his throat. âI'm very pissed at you. Want to know why?â You asked, squeezing his cock even more, making him hiss. He clutched the cushion of the booth in his large hands, clenching his jaw once more. âWhy?â He said through gritted teeth.
"Why? You nearly got us caught with those outbursts, idiot," you spat, finding a rhythm and stroking him roughly under the table. His abundant precum allowed you to smoothly run your fist along him. He groaned, his head falling back against the booth.
"Maybe... you should f-fucking stop then," he said through pants, which only made you giggle. "Oh, I'm just finishing what you started in the library, puppy," you said with a fake pout.
"And here I thought you liked getting off in public places."
Miguel moaned softly at your words, his cock twitching in your hand in response. You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? Don't tell me that's the truth," you teased with a soft chuckle, knowing you'll surely have some fun with that hidden kink of his in the future.
However, no response was heard from him, defending nor agreeing with your proposal; only the occasional low moans and groans escaped his lips. You snarled, pressing your thumb into the crown of his tip, eliciting a rewarding jolt and a Spanish curse to fall from his lips.
"If you won't respond to that, then answer this," you hissed, nose scrunched up in disgust as you continued your stroking. "You act all big and tough when you're alone with me, yet you curl up into a little ball when others are around," you stated with a smirk. "Why is that?"
"Because you don't fucking scare me," he said angrily with a steady voice. You scoffed in amusement, your eyes roaming over his bulging muscles through the sleeves of his beige sweaterâthe fabric appearing strained. "And others do?" you retorted with a snicker, causing him to growl in annoyance and look away. "It's not like that."
"Oh yeah, then what is it?" you inquired, purposely quickening your pace on his shaft, stroking him faster and pressing your palm into his length, the desire to see him lose control driving you. He whined and whimpered uncontrollably, his large hand landing on your thigh, gripping it tightly through your skirt, urging you to slow down.
You sighed heavily; Miguel was so frustrating. The dweeb's mouth constantly spoke of defiance and disrespect, while his body contradicted him each timeâhis hips steadily moved in sync with your palm, and his member twitched in your hand. It seemed even he was confused about what he wanted, but being the sweet master you were, you'd assist him in discovering his true desires.
But first, he had to be taught to fix his attitude because he was really pissing you off.
You brushed the pad of your thumb over his tip, intensifying his pleasure with every jerk of your hand. "I don't like your attitude with me," you said angrily, smacking his hand off your thigh and grabbing his chin.
You roughly turned him to look at you, his eyes dazed behind his black glasses, and his lips parted. "I hold the power of your entire reputation in my hands. I can get your big ass kicked out of this damn college just by showing the dean that video of you," you warned, looking at his face in complete rage.
"Do you fucking understand me!?" you exclaimed, your nails piercing into the underside of his chin. Your eyes glared daggers at him as you continued to slide your hand up and down his trembling shaft.
He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as his hand landed on your wrist, deep groans continuing to pass his lips at your movement. "Y-yes, fuck," he moaned, biting his lip. "Yes to what?" you demanded, seeking clarity. With your thumb, you caressed in small circles around the crown of his tip, a smirk spreading across your glossy lips when his grip on your wrist tightened. "Yes, I-I... understand," he said, his deep voice sounding rather airy and breathless.
"Good boy," you whispered, tilting your head at him and glancing down to see more pre-cum sprouting from his tip, dripping down his shaft and coating your hand. Miguel growled. "What do you even want from me?" he asked through trembles of pleasure, his cock twitching in your fist. Your smirk broadened, turning your attention from his cock to the four-eyed male, his chin still resting between your manicured fingers.
"You heard that conversation between Peter, MJ, and me, did you not?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow, making him heave a trembling sigh. "Lapdog, right? That's what you want?"Â
"Indeed," you chuckled, releasing him. He whimpered, his thighs quivering, as heavy pants passed his lips. He rubbed his chin, pressing his backside into the leather cushions and breathing heavily. You reached over him, grabbing a few napkins from its container to clean your hands, feeling Miguel's eyes on you all the while.
When you met his gaze, you weren't surprised to see the sight of anger and irritation, but what did surprise you was the hint of curiosity found in his intense gaze.
'Was the dork interested in being your puppy?'
"Why?" he finally asked after catching his breath. You laughed, turning to him with a wicked grin. "The better question is...Â
Why not?"
You replied with a snicker. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed once more. "And you want me to be your damn lapdog?" he asked, full of spite and rage, his amber eyes appeared redder than usual, but it didn't faze you. "Yes, or that video goes out to everyone," you said with a grin, your eyes lingering along his body. "And I think everyone would be rather shocked to see what you've been hiding under all that ugly clothing," you chuckled, motioning down at his massive and still very hard cock.
He snarled, looking away from you and out the window beside him. A silence fell upon the two of you as you simply took him inâhis defined cheekbones, broad nose, thick neck, and massive body covered in a hideous beige sweater, black jeans, and white Converse.
'Goodness, this is going to be fun. The most fun I've probably had in years.'
You thought, faking a pout and leaning towards him to press your plush lips against his ear. He jumped slightly at your closeness, making you giggle as you ran a hand over his chest, tracing his defined pecs and abs through his sweater.
"Come on, puppy. Don't be so mad; you might even enjoy it."
You teased, and to your anticipation, his cock throbbed in response. He groaned lowly, your chest covered in a white crop top pressing into his arm. "Itâs not like I have a damn choice," he retorted, his voice still resonating with fury.Â
"Well⌠get used to it."
You uttered, licking a stripe across his sharp jawline and enjoying how he shuddered at the feeling. You then pulled away, his amber eyes following you like the needy puppy he was.
"Now, every doggy needs a collar," you uttered with a smile, causing him to scowl. "Iâm not wearing a damn collar."
"So quick to assume, puppy," you laughed, only seeming to enrage the geek even more. "Stop calling me that," he growled, causing you to sigh, finding it rather annoying how he still believed he held some type of control here.Â
He'll learn sooner or later.
"Youâll grow to love it, puppy," you emphasized, turning from his faltering glare to rummage in your $500 Prada bag, fishing out a toy you purchased just for your little doggy. When you acquired it, you turned to him, twirling the dark blue and red crystallized ring in your fingers. Miguel's eyes followed it, his chest heaving in confusion and disdain, but his cock pulsated in desire and curiosity.
He could scowl and glare at you all he wanted, but his body gave him away, every single time.
âWhat the fuck is that?â He snapped, once he regained his composure, his amber eyes looking from the ring to you through his black eyeglasses. You chuckled, running your fingers along the ring. âAfter our little run-in at the library this morning, I bought my new puppy something special.â You explained, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The geek looked perplexed for the first time.
 It was a cute look on himâŚ
âOh, donât worry, itâll be fun. I promise...â You giggled, glancing down at his dark cock, still twitching in desire. You then held your hand out to him, the large ring resting in your palm.
âNowâŚshow me how much of a good doggy you can be and put this onâŚâ
âUgh, they are saying it's another 20 minutes.â MJ groaned, climbing into the booth right after Peter. You heaved a sigh in irritation; Mama's diner was never this backed up. It was rather annoying to think you all would have to wait just for three measly milkshakes.
âSo, whatâs the two of you been doing? He looks like heâs about to fucking faint.â Peter joked, glancing over at Miguel, whose bronze face was covered in beads of sweat. His amber eyes trained on the packet of math work once more. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. âI donât know. The math problem must be stressing him out.â You said with a smile, subtly glancing over at your phone that rested beside you on the booth, the vibrator app pulled up on the screen that was already at level 2.
The ring that you had bought for your new puppy was nestled around the base of his cock, right over his balls, stimulating both of his sensitive areas. You gave him the benefit of the doubt to cover himself; you werenât a total meanie.
You just needed him to know his place, as it seemed he kept forgetting.
So you decided to seat him in front of two of the most popular students at your college with a pulsating vibrator around his cock.Â
What better way for him to learn...?
"OkayâŚ" MJ trailed off, brushing off the situation as nothing. "Umm, what even is his name?" She asked, talking about Miguel as if he wasn't even there. At her inquiry, you turned to your puppy, giving him a soft pat on the head. "Tell her your name," you said sweetly, noticing the subtle glare from him. "Miguel," he responded in a gruff voice without looking up from the packet.
"Your full name," you added with a smirk, wishing to further annoy him. The dweebâs jaw clenched at your persistence. "Miguel OâHara," he growled, hastily returning to solving question 24 of your math packet. MJ looked between the two of you, taking in the interaction before leaning across the table, her blue eyes set on you.
âSeriously, what are you up to with him?âÂ
She asked in a hushed tone like no one at the table could hear her as her red eyebrows furrowed in concern. You scoffed, not believing that she would dare to ask you such a thing.
âWhy the hell are you questioning anything that I do?â You spat angrily. âThe fucking dweeb is just doing my damn homework,â you said, your eyes glaring into hers.
Perhaps, the load of hair upon MJ's head was the cause of her forgetfulness. Regardless of the culprit, the redhead better keep in mind how much you love fixing her mistakes and kicking her back into line if she oversteps.
You've done it to so many others, she'll be no differentâŚ
âHey, hey, settle down,â Peter said, trying to calm the situation between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick, it could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.
âThere's nothing wrong with what Y/N is doing,â Peter said, placing a hand on MJâs shoulder and pulling her back towards his chest. MJ sighed, giving you an apologetic look. âYeah, Iâm sorry.â You rolled your eyes, dismissing her as you met Peterâs eyes that also looked between Miguel and you. âAlthough, I must sayâŚâ He began, and to your surprise, settled his amber eyes onto Miguel.
You smirked, loving to see how the aroused geek would handle this, your eyes trained on him. Miguel, noticing the lack of conversation, hesitantly looked up to be met with six eyes staring back at him.
âHow the hell are you soâŚmassive?â Peter asked with a chuckle. âYou donât do shit except read, play chess, or whatever else you nerds do.â Peter jested, causing everyone, except Miguel, to laugh. Your eyes were trained on Miguel as he glanced over at you and back at Peter before clearing his throat. âGenetics.â He mumbled, returning back to writing out the parametric formula to solve the equations he was on.
Peterâs eyebrows furrowed, the introverted maleâs words not seeming to have reached his ears. âWhat did you say? Speak up, man.â He laughed, causing Miguel to clench his jaw once more. His pencil halted upon the paper as he casted his amber eyes up to the jock. âGenetics. That's all it is.â He repeated in a louder tone.
âSo, you are telling me, you do not work out?â MJ asked in surprise and awe, her blue eyes roaming over his body. You were certain she was checking your new puppy out.
You growled, oddly, shooting a glare at her.
You didnât know what was with her today, but MJ was working your last nerve.
MJ, thankfully, shut up after your look, but your puppy answered anyway. âA little,â he replied, twirling the pencil in his thick fingers nervously. You couldnât help but gaze at himâhis massive musculature snug under his beige sweater that seemed to hug him in all the right places.
His biceps bulging, his hardened pecs defined, and you could even sneak a peek at his abdominal muscles pressing against the warm fabric. You bit your lip, the desire to get him out of that ugly sweater filling your being until you shook off the thought.
The damn dweeb was making you forget your title and your reputationâŚ
But you couldnât lie.Â
The geek was exceeding your expectationsâŚ
Not only was he impressive for being at the very bottom of the student hierarchy and having the ability to make you feel all hot and bothered, but despite his cock being heavily stimulated by the vibrating ring, his voice didn't waver or falter.
Your puppy was tougher than you thoughtâŚ
âWeâll see about that.â
With a click of your phone, you raised the vibrations from a mere 2 to a 5. Instantly at the change, Miguel jolted in his seat. You watched with a look of pure innocence on your face as Peterâs eyebrows furrowed.
He snickered, eyeing the glasses-wearing male across from him at the table. âMan, you are weird as heck, but Iâll let it slide,â he said with a smile, glancing over at you, his eyes full of admiration. âIf the queen here can put up with your presence, which is rare,â Peter snickered, âIâll be willing to open a spot on the team to see how you do,â he proposed, which shocked you.
It was hard to get on Peterâs football team, yet he was practically giving it to Miguel, the most disliked male at school, on a silver platter.
You couldnât help but feel a little angry at that, slowly becoming a bit possessive over your new puppy.
But thankfully, Miguel said the words for you. âI-Iâm not interested,â he uttered, clearing his throat and clenching the pencil tightly in his large hand. You smirked, watching Peterâs eyebrows rise in shock. He glanced over at MJ, who had become quiet after your glare.
âThis dude is really turning down my offer, babe,â he said, nudging MJ, who snapped out of her trance to turn her blue eyes onto Miguel. âThatâs unfortunate.â
âActuallyâŚâ you said, instantly drawing their eyes on you. âItâs better if he didnât. Iâll lose my new lapdog, and we wouldnât want that⌠Isnât that right?â You asked, running your manicured fingers through Miguelâs coffee-brown hair. You watched his jaw clench and a subtle blush spread across his lips.
Seems as if he's starting to like the name or you claiming himâŚ
Indeed, Miguel was a naughty oneâŚ
Peterâs stunned expression instantly changed at your words. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. âOf course, but the offer still stands,â he offered once more, looking over at you as he said it.
You gave him a small smile before MJ sat up in her chair with a grin, the color restoring back into her being after you rightfully snuffed it out. âSince the workers are taking so long, letâs play a game. Never Have I Ever, anyone?!â she exclaimed, a smile adorning her cherry lips.
You grinned, liking the idea, before a thought came to your head, causing you to heave a sigh. âNormally drinks are involved. We donât have any,â you commented, instantly MJ reached into the pocket of Peterâs red and blue varsity jacket, pulling out his metal flask. His eyes widened in shock before he laughed, shaking his head. âDamn, I thought you didnât know about that.â
âI know everything, baby.â MJ giggled, placing the metal flask in the center of the table. You smirked, glancing over at Miguel, who had his arms crossed upon the table, his head lowered over the math packet. He was panting, and his thighs were trembling next to your own. He wasnât writing anything as he seemed like he was just sitting there.
But you knew what your needy puppy was up toâŚ
He was enjoying himself, relishing in the sensation from the vibrator ring you had bought him. You couldnât help but smile at the sight.
While Peter and MJ discussed the rules of the game, you leaned in close to Miguel, pressing your glossy lips against his ear. âAre you enjoying your little toy, puppy?â you inquired, causing him to suck in a breath. âAy cono, turn it off,â he panted, whispering to you in desperation. He turned his hooded eyes onto you, and you met his gaze with a sly grin. âWhy? You like it,â you whispered back with a small giggle, watching his ears redden and a vein bulge from his forehead as he tried to suppress his anger.
âSo no, itâs not coming off anytime soon,â you told him. âNow, you'll play this game with us and finish my work later.â
âI donât want to fucking play,â he growled, making your forced smile falter. You subtly reached over to your phone, turning the vibrations up from level 5 to 7. Miguel's voice caught in his throat, his hand landing on your thigh once more. You could even faintly hear the buzzing in his jeans that was slowly making the geek lose his composure.
His large palm covered your smooth skin as he gripped it tightly while he quivered. He cursed under his breath, beginning to softly pat your thigh to call a truce. You watched him with a smirk, loving how he was writhing and squirming in his seat, knowing you were the sole cause of it. âI-Iâll play,â he whined, lowering his head to hide, his amber eyes on you over his arm. You smiled, lowering it back to a mere 5.
âDonât piss me off,â you mouthed, turning back to Peter and MJ to find they were, thankfully, still talking.Â
You didnât want to hear what any of them had to say when it came to Miguel and you, especially from MJ.
âThe dweeb is going to play too,â you said, hastily gaining everyoneâs attention. âAwesome, do you want to go around as ages? Whoever is the youngest goes first?â MJ suggested. âI think the oldest should go first,â you said with a wicked grin, knowing everyone would choose the latter since you, the queen bee, said so.
If your intuition was correct, which it always was, you sensed Miguel was older than the rest of you. His demeanor and rough look showed his maturity, and you couldnât help but become a little aroused at the assumption.
âFine. Iâm 23,â MJ said, glancing over at Peter next. â25,â he replied, soon looking at you. â24,â you smiled before finally setting your eyes on the trembling male. His amber eyes shifted from all of your eager gazes. He cleared his throat, tanned cheeks a soft red. â26.â His voice, like usual, was deep and rather low, but you heard his answer loud and clear.
You were right...
The muscular geek was not only a disobedient lowlife, but he was older than you. âHow fun?â you thought, looking him up and down beside you. It made everything even sweeter.
âWell, you go first,â Peter said, motioning to Miguel with his head, his dark brown hair swaying with his slight movement. The dweeb gulped, merely sitting there for a while. It was for so long that you pondered if he had even played the common game before until he finally spoke.
âNever have I ever fallen asleep during a movie,â he muttered, keeping his gaze on the table.
'Of course, a boring one, like I thought.â You groaned, nudging his arm. âCome on, that shit blows,â you said with an eye roll. âWe want something steamy, hotâŚâ You whispered, reaching over to caress his thigh under the table. He gulped, clenching his jaw and landing his large, calloused hand on yours to cease your movement. âFineâŚâ he said, turning to look at you in particular.
âNever have I ever walked in on someone without knocking.â
Miguel asked with a sly grin that surprised you greatly, and left you angry as hell. You growled, hearing Peter and MJ begin to discuss their answers. âGosh, I walked in on one of the guys with their girlfriends in the locker room,â Peter sighed as MJ didnât have an unfortunate occurrence happen to her, but not like you cared about either of them at the moment.
You glared at Miguel, his taunting smirk and stupid glasses adorning his face, the desire to slap them both off overwhelming your being.
You turned to see Peter already taking a swig of the metal flask, a grimace on his face after the drink. âShit, I knew I shouldnât have chosen the strong stuff,â he commented, glancing up at you. âNow, what about the Queen bee? Walked in on one of those baddies at your sorority house?â He inquired with a chuckle. You looked over at Miguel, his eyes narrowing as he watched you take the flask, gulping down a large mouthful of the liquor.
As Peter said, the shit was strong, and it took everything in you not to cough, suppressing the urge by clearing your throat. âNoâŚâ You replied, placing the flask back on the table and subtly looking over at Miguel before meeting your two associates' curious gazes. âThen what happened then?â MJ asked, deeply intrigued.
âWell, I walked in on someone jerking off.â
You noticed beside you, Miguelâs entire body became rigid on the booth; his hand squeezed yours under the table in a rather desperate way. He was begging you with the slight touch to cease any further words.
How cuteâŚ
You smirked at the feeling, loving how you had the dweeb filled with anxiety and nervousness about whether you'll spill his deep secret or not.
But you're only a bitch when you want to beâŚ
âThatâs all you get, though.â You laughed, causing cries of frustration to erupt, although you didnât miss the sigh of relief that passed Miguelâs lips even though he was the one who called your bluff and dug his own grave.
âFirst round, and it seems Queen Bee and I are tied on whoâs paying for our order.â Peter laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. âIf it ever gets here,â MJ added with a groan.
âEven more of a reason to continue playing,â Peter said with a smirk. âBut it seems as if itâs my turn, being 25 and all.â He said, sitting back against the cushions of the booth, humming in thought. âAh, got one.â He commented with a grin.
âNever had I ever used a mirror during romantic intercourse.â He asked, his amber eyes looking around the table.
Of course, being the fun queen bee you were, you took the flask. âI mean, if you havenât, you are missing out.â You grinned, taking another swig of the strong liquor, feeling the satisfying sting in the back of your throat when you placed the container back on the table. You could feel the heat radiating from Miguelâs body at the mention of you doing something so naughty.
You wouldnât mind doing something like that with him only when he was readyâŚ
A small blush spread across MJâs cheeks at the erotic question. âIâve always wanted to do it.â She said, bringing a smile to Peter's lips. He snaked an arm around her, caressing her arm as he spoke in a sultry and seductive voice. âOh really? We can always try it after-
âOh my gosh. Get a fucking room already.â You interrupted with a snicker, eyeing the two lovebirds. âOkay, okay,â MJ said with a giggle, eyes turning to Miguel who hastily dismissed it with a head shake.
Of course, the fucking dweeb doesnât know how to have fun.
With you, heâll know nothing else; youâll make sure of it.
âWell, itâs your turn now,â MJ smiled. Finally, it was your turn, instantly thinking of a proposition that could really reveal some deep secrets about Miguel.
Something he's been hidingâŚ
You sat back in your seat, pondering your answer when your eyes met Miguel. Just the sight of the massive male was making your brain sprout with ideas. Who knew how helpful he could be with just his mere presence?
Why not reward him for the assistance?
Subtly, you sat up, turning the vibrations up to a 7 while starting your round.
âNever have I ever had a sexual encounter in a public place and secretly liked it.â
You proposed, glancing over at Miguel, who was losing it. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head to try to hide his fluttering eyes and heavy pants, but your associatesâ words surprised you. âGosh, both of us,â you heard them say, drawing your attention from your puppy.
âYeah, we did a vibrator challenge on each other, and we went to a mall,â Peter said with a smile and a head shake. âIt wasnât enjoyable with the many people around at the sudden bursts of pleasure, but overallâŚit was fun,â MJ added, snuggling into Peterâs chest.
You slowly nodded, retaining the idea for further use and glancing back at Miguel, who was shaking. You felt his hand on your thigh once more and soon his soft pats, as if he was a wrestler trying to tap out of the ring.
But you werenât a merciful referee; he could endure it a little longerâŚ
You leaned in close to him, pretending to reach down to pick up the pencil that had accidentally rolled off the table due to his squirming. âLift your head and play the damn game,â you spat harshly into his ear as he frantically shook his head. âFuck, I-I canât,â he whined breathlessly. âMierda, Iâm close. I-I canât,â he repeated, only making you smirk.
âBe a good puppy, hold it, and play the game, or Iâll raise it to the highest level,â you told him sternly, your fingers finding the pencil in the leather cushions. You soon rose, a smile on your lips as you placed the wooden tool onto the table. âMiguel, how about you?â you inquired in a sweet voice, the lovebirds finishing their swigs of the flask. âDone anything fun in public and secretly enjoyed it?â you asked, curious about how he'd answer and respond.
Like a good doggy, he lifted his head as you commanded. His dark, hazy eyes looked between the three of you before simply reaching over and taking a swig of the flask.
âFucking hell!? The nerd knows fun!â Peter commented with a laugh, while the rest of you looked on in astonishment. Miguel placed the flask down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. âExplain,â you urged, nudging him with a kick under the table. He jolted, shooting you a subtle glare, causing you to raise an eyebrow, reaching over for your phone when Miguel gave you a gentle squeeze of desperation. âOkayâŚâ he began, exhaling and trying to regain his composure while holding back his release and being heavily stimulated.
âI was getting a-a handjob under the tableâŚi-in a diner similar to this,â he said, making you smile, knowing exactly what he was referring to. âT-The girl was fucking rude and mean, but h-had skilled hands. Very skilled hands.â He gulped, avoiding your eyes while he spoke. âBut t-thatâs pretty much it. I liked it...Who wouldn't," Miguel said, looking down at his lap and leaving the table speechless.
You didnât know whether to be flattered, angry at his description of you, or apathetic. A burning desire in your gut to simply drag him to the bathroom of Mamaâs diner and see just how good his cock would feel inside of you.
But overall, the geek had surprised you with his answer, this being the only time he had spoken his mind and said his true thoughts since he sat down at this fucking booth.
âDamn, sounds hot,â MJ said, making you turn your attention from your loyal puppy to her. âWish I had the guts like that rude girl you described. I could never.â She said lowly, bringing a wave of pride over you. Her compliment only fueled your already replete ego.
After the steamy encounter that Miguel explained to the group, it was now MJâs turn. However, just when she was about to speak, her phone pinged with a message. She glanced down at the glowing screen, her eyebrows instantly furrowing. âOh my gosh, babe, we have to go. Iâm needed at the university.â She quaked, turning her blue eyes upon you. âIâm so sorry to pause the game and leave so early.â She apologized, hastily standing up from the booth alongside her ride, and boyfriend, Peter.
âI can only assume it's for the newspaper, so Iâll let it slide,â you told her as she thanked you, swiftly scurrying past and exiting Mamaâs diner. Peter watched with a chuckle, tucking his hands into his red varsity jacket, standing beside you at the table.
âWell, I guess weâll be seeing you around, Queen Bee,â he smirked, suddenly taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You raised an eyebrow, a smile forming upon your glossy lips. Prior to pulling away, he held his soft lips upon your skin for a moment longer and gave your knuckles an affectionate caress with his thumb, meeting your eyes. âCall me anytime.â He whispered, giving you his signature charming smile and wink that made every person on campus faint and die on the spot before leaving behind his girlfriend.
You couldnât lie; you were a little shocked at Peterâs forwardness.
Youâve noticed his interest in the great Queen Beeâwho isnâtâbut he had a girlfriend, and unfortunately for himâŚ
You donât like to shareâŚ
Many whiny groans and the sound of loud buzzing brought you from your thoughts as you turned to look at Miguel in the corner to see something even more astonishing than Peterâs previous advances.
Miguel was panting, breathing heavily with his head pressed against the back of the leather booth. His black denims were drawn down, revealing his strained cock and the beautiful red and blue vibrator ring around his base. His eyes rolled uncontrollably behind his glasses, his mouth agape while he rambled in a blend of Spanish and English.
You could only make out the English phrases and words he uttered, which mostly were pleas and begs, all desiring one thing and one thing only.
âPleaseâay cono. Let me cum. Please, let me cum."
He implored incessantly, his words so full of need and desperation. You could tell he was slowly losing it; the pleasure was blinding him, and he was only at level 7. You were hoping to try the highest level on him, but maybe another timeâŚ
You didnât want to completely ruin your new puppyâŚ
You leaned towards him, running a finger over his sticky tip, tracing patterns across it. He whined and squirmed in his seat at your touch. âAww, you want to stop playing already? I wanted to try level 10.â You told him with a fake pout. He frantically shook his head, gasps of air passing his parted lips. âGoodness, no. Please, I-I canât take any more.â He begged so perfectly that you almost allowed him to.
Well,
AlmostâŚ
âIâll let you cum on one condition,â you proposed, taking his chin in your fingers and turning him to meet your eyes. His eyes fluttered, his hands found your wrist, grabbing on tightly to stabilize himself. His face was flushed, his defined cheeks a rosy red, and his forehead covered with beads of sweat. He looked adorable, practically begging you with his hooded doe eyes to allow him to cum. You smirked, caressing his chin.
âTell me you are my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark.â
You giggled, eliciting a growl that came out more like a groan. âA-Are you serious?â he panted, making your smile only broaden. âVery, and Iâll only raise the level of the vibrator if you donât,â you said with a grin, loving the look of defeat that covered his face. âShit,â he cursed, looking away.
âNo, eyes on me.â
You sternly said, hastily yanking his chin back towards you. He clenched his jaw, making eye contact with you once more. His amber orbs were full of anger, but his desire to be relieved of the vibrator and finally be granted his satisfying release led him to speak what you wanted.
âI-Iâm your⌠l-littleâŚÂ
Puppy.â
He uttered reluctantly through shaky moans as you waited patiently for the best part of his whole confession. He growled, shaking his head. âIâm not barking.â
You huffed, giving him a stern look. âDo I have to threaten you again about that video? How about I take that little vibrator and give it to the dean instead?â you said with an evil grin. âIt has your⌠essence all over it. Wouldnât be hard to discover itâs yours.â You cackled. He scowled, gazing up at you through breathy moans. âYou are s-such a bitch.â
âAre you sure? You are looking more like a bitch than me right now,â you spat with a laugh, piercing your nails into his chin. âNow be my good little puppy and bark.â You demanded once more, eyes trained on his furious and flushed face.
You watched Miguel resist you as hard as he could. He put up such a fight, remaining silent to disobey for a good while, but just like any wild dog, they break, they snap...
They submit.
So, it didnât take long before the most satisfying sounds filled your ears.
âWoofâŚWoof.â
A wave of satisfaction overcame you, akin to taking a refreshing sip of a chocolate milkshake on a hot day. Your glossy lips pulled into a smile, feeling completely overjoyed as you stared at your official new lapdog. âGosh, Iâm going to have so much fun with you,â you promised, caressing his chin affectionately. Miguelâs eyebrows rose in surprise, and his entire face turned red; even his cock frantically throbbed around the pulsating ring.
Like a dog wagging his tail, he seemed to like that idea very much...
You wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking him at a fast pace while the ring continued to buzz against him. âBe a good boy and cum for me,â you whispered. âMake me proud, puppy,â you told him, kissing along his jawline and earning a loud groan to erupt from his throat. His hips left the seat, meeting your fist with each thrust upwards. âOh yes. Fuck,â he cried through closed eyes.
The leather booth began to creak loudly at his frenzied movement, his cock sliding in and out of your palm, completely slick with his precum. You could feel how powerful the vibrations were on his sensitive shaft whilst he continued to fuck your fist.
âShit, shit, Iâm cumming,â he groaned, before a loud guttural, deep moan erupted from deep within his chest, his thick, muscular thighs quivering. Veins bulge along the underside of his abdomen upon his climax, and with one final thrust into your hand, he shot his white, creamy load.
And the four-eyed male just kept impressing you over and over again.
His release seemed to be endless. More and more of his seed dripped from his slit, coating your hand and the buzzing toy. The vibrating ring and your fisting only seemed to milk him completely, causing him to whimper and whine uncontrollably, continuing to paint his shaft, your hand, his beige sweater, and the leather seats in his essence.
When he was finished, you took in the huge mess heâd made with a grin. âLook at what youâve done,â you purred, grabbing a few napkins to clean your hands. Miguel didnât respond, only babbling softly, his words unintelligible.
You laughed at his thoroughly satisfied expression, finding it utterly adorable how fucked-out he looked. You relieved him of the vibrator, turning it off and removing it from his swollen shaft, the toy completely coated with his sticky fluids.Â
You smirked, eyeing the white-coated ring; it was so enticing that you couldn't help but bring the toy to your mouth to give it a taste. Like savoring the sweetness of honey on a wand, you ran your tongue along the vobrator, humming in ecstasy.
Your eyes fluttered at the taste. His seed was differentâsomething you couldn't quite put into words, but an essence you'd definitely want more of in the future, something you had to taste straight from the source.
After sucking the ring clean, you placed it into your bag and slid closer to Miguel. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving up and down while his body spasmedâsmall tremors spreading through his massive being.
You turned his face towards you, a finger resting under his chin. His eyes fluttered open to meet your satisfied gaze. âIâm happy you enjoyed yourself, puppy,â you whispered, an airy chuckle passing his lips at your words. âI had no choiceâŚÂ
So I might as well enjoy it,âÂ
He muttered breathlessly, his response made you even prouder. Your little puppy was understanding the gameâthe fun. You couldnât help but love the dork even more.
You leaned closer to him, your nose brushing against his.Â
âFinally⌠you are starting to get it,â you uttered, pressing a rough and searing kiss to his mouth. Miguel, completely exhausted and shocked, instantly lost the fight, giving you control.
You devoured his mouth hungrily, his plush lips feeling just right and tasting even better as your tongue entered his parted lips. He groaned, kissing you back, but not enough to dominate nor challenge you, which you adored so much.
You kissed him until you were satisfied, sucking his lips until they were pink and swollen, and tasting his mouth with your tongue. You then pulled away from his enticing lips, both of you panting heavily. You looked him over with a smirk, patting his head and running your manicured fingers through his coffee-brown hair, and to your satisfaction, he didnât pull awayâeither from weariness or pure enjoyment, it seemed your puppy had accepted his role.Â
But you couldnât be so sureâŚ
You smiled, sliding out of the booth and picking up your $500 Prada bag from the seat. His amber eyes were full of confusion as he looked you over. You met your adorable lapdogâs gaze, standing before him in your lavish clothesâa white crop top, pink Gucci jacket, skirt, and heels.
You gave him a sly grin, slinging your purse over your shoulder. âClean yourself up and have my homework done by 10.Â
I want you at my sorority house tonight,âÂ
You smirked, watching his tanned cheeks turn a deep red. Your eyes took him in one last time, taking in his little mess, his flustered and stunned expression, softened cock, massive body, and those dorky glasses.
 All of that and so much more was yours now.
All yoursâŚ
âSee you then,â you giggled, blowing him a kiss, and turning on your pink high heels, leaving the dork flabbergasted.
You swung open the door of Mamaâs diner, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the bustling streets of Nueva York. You put on your pink heart-shaped shades, the evening sun beaming upon your face, as an unshakeable smile adorned your glossy lips.
You were excited, no, delighted.Â
You had discovered something better than a measly assistant that you had desired before.Â
You had a permanent peasant, a puppy who was none other than the outcast of your collegeâthe student at the bottom of the student hierarchy and hated by all was officially yours.Â
And you couldnât wait to have so much more fun with your little bitch boy, Miguel OâHara.
Your new lapdog...
A/N: I enjoyed writing this soo much!! đ
I hope u guys enjoyed it as well, I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 but...idk đ¤đ
But hope u guys liked!! đđ
P.S: Part 3 of 'A Fate Worse Than Death' would be up next week, my apologies, I just had to write this one. đ
<3 Taglist:
~@oscarissac2099
~@powerful-niya
(Let me know in the comments if you'll like to become a part of the taglist! â¤ď¸)
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
#miguel o'hara#spider man 2099#across the spiderverse#the blue panther#miguel ohara#miguel#miguel smut#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel x fem!reader#miguel atsv smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x you#nerd miguel#sub miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x reader
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Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall
Harry James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: Slowly throughout your years of Hogwarts, and if the other person looks at the same time, you see your soulmateâs image in the mirror.
Warnings: Mention of Dementors? And kissing- thatâs all??
Note: Wrote a soulmate one for Draco, now itâs Harryâs turn!
Masterlist
Request Requirements
[Story ends at Fifth Year]
First Year (Age: 11)
-
âThis is stupid, Ron.â Harry found himself muttering, staring at his untidy hair in the mirror. His reflection seemed to be mocking the boy, each second making him want to look away.
âNo itâs not.â Ron insisted, staring at his bright red hair, freckles and all. He looked just like the rest of his family: flame-like hair and freckles scattering his cheeks.
âIt kinda is, especially since weâve been looking at ourselves for 10 minutes. I think I look okay, but I swear I saw my nose change form and I donât know what it actually looks like anymore.â
Ron finally tore his eyes off the mirror, turning towards Harry. He titled his head, scanning his friend for a split second. He shrugged. âLooks like your nose to me. Not that I stare at your nose when I talk to you.â
âYouâre doing it right now.â Harry replied instantly, unable to stop the grin pulling at his lips.
âShove off, will ya? You asked.â Ron answered. Harry laughed.
Ron ended the daily mirror session with crossed arms, a grumble forming on his mouth as he sat on his bed in a dramatic way. âNever gonna see her.â He muttered.
Harry shrugged, and, with one last hopeful look in the mirror, joined Ron on his bed, legs dangling off it.
âSure itâs fine- we just have to look at the same time.â
Ron scoffed at Harryâs attempt at assurance. âYeah, like thatâs ever gonna happen. Youâd really think girls stare at themselves in the mirror all day.â
Harry once again shrugged, not really educated on the behavior of girls. When he saw a pretty one heâd stare for a while and go pink in the ears, but look away before she could notice.
âI couldnât know, Ron.â
âWhatever. Come on, we have to go see what Hermonieâs up to. Reading a a ten million paged book I âspect.â
Second Year (Age: 12)
-
âI think I look about normal now, how about you?â
Harry was looking at himself in the mirror, watching the last of the transformation from one of Dracoâs disgusting friends back to his normal self. Ronâs ear was still a little big but they both watched it slowly shrink.
ââBout back to normal. That was weird.â
Harry couldnât help but agree, but he also couldnât help but look at his normal face for a bit longer than usual, trying to catch a glance at her.
âLookinâ for her again?â Ron figured, raising a brow as he looked at Harry from the corner of his eye, now looking at the mirror too.
âYeah⌠but itâs no use.â Harry decided, looking away. Ron went up to the stall Hermione was in, and letâs just say what was happening definitely distracted Harry from the mirror.
Third Year (Age: 13)
-
âWeâll bring you lots of sweets, Harry.â Hermione promised, looking pitiful at the boy while her and Ron got ready to head to Hogsmeade. Ron nodded, eager to leave but still look like he felt bad.
âYeah,â he confirmed. âLoads.â
Harry bid them goodbye and started to wander around the castle, the Marurders map in his hands as he looked at where everyone was. The dots moved frantically as people made their way about, each labeled with a name so Harry could see everyone on the grounds.
He went to his dormitory first, setting the map down temporarily before glancing at the mirror recklessly. He knew she was probably at Hogsmeade right now, giggling with friends as they shopped for candy after candy so looking at a mirror was the last thing on her mind. He wondered what she looked like, and the more he stared at himself instead of her the more he wanted to know.
âCome on,â he muttered, watching his lips move in the reflection. âJust look in the mirror.â
Oh but she was. Just never at the same time as he.
Forth Year (Age: 14)
-
âHarry Potter.â
Harry wanted the ground to swallow him. Every pair of eyes were on him, his cheeks turning a soft red. Hermione shoving him brought him out of his trance, encouraging him to go up to Dumbledore.
He stood up in wobbly legs, making his way to the Headmaster. The man handed him the piece of paper that had âHarry Potterâ written on it, and gestured Harry to go to the back room with the rest of the champions.
The boy did so, meeting Cedric, Fleur, and Krumâs confused gazes, their eyebrows furrowed.
He stood there hopelessly, watching as people around him decided what they should do.
The dread news of having to compete was high, so high that he didnât notice the mirror on the other side of the room. If he looked into it, for just a glance of time, he wouldâve noticed sparkling eyes and bit lips, longing for a glimpse of him.
-
âGood luck, Harry.â
Harry turned around, the sweat on his hand almost causing his wand to slip out onto the ground. The girl stood in front of him, twiddling with her fingers but she still had a kind hopeful smile on her lips.
Harry couldnât help but smile back even though he didnât know her.
âI hope you do well.â She added. Harryâs smile stayed the same, constant and genuine. âThanks,â he replied. âIâm gonna need all the luck I can get.â
She smiled a little wider, making straight eye contact for the first time in their conversation, since she was too nervous before so she avoided his gaze. His bright green eyes connected with her soft ones, and Harry didnât fail to notice the gentle flush that spread on her cheeks. What he did fail to notice was that her eyes would be vaguely familiar if he just looked in the mirror .
Fifth Year (Age: 15)
-
âOkay, everybody. Today weâre gonna learn about the Patronus Charm, which fights off a Dementor. In order to cast it, you have to think of a happy memory. Very powerful and strong. Think of the happiest moment in your life, and keep it clear in your mind.â Harry instructed, watching everyone wave their wands, happy moments in time flooding their thoughts.
The girl, far in the back, thought back to when she met Harryâs eyes, longing for the reflection of herself in them, hoping theyâd be meant to be. It was too bright outside that day to tell, but the moment burned in her mind every day since then, the beauty green in his eyes taking the time to look at her, the moment she felt special.
The picture of him alone and his bright eyes was pictured in her mind, just like every day, but clearer for this moment.
âExpecto Patronum!â
A mighty clever fox whispered out of her wand tip, legs taking a stretch as it ran around her, causing a soft giggle to escape her lips.
âFantastic!â
His voice rang in her ears, and she looked at him, the blurry whip of the silver fox being ignored as she scanned the room for the acknowledgement. Her shoulders sank a little when she found out he was talking to Neville instead, eyes leaving him and landing back on her fox who was still running in circles around her.
-
âThanks for helping me clean.â Hermione told Harry, some things around them knocked over after the practice of the Accio Charm, a charm casted to bring a desired object to the wand owners hand.
âOf course.â Harry responded, watching Hermione leave as she soon said she had to use the restroom.
âHave you seen her yet?â
Harry flinched at the second voice, turning to see the girl who wished him luck before the First Task, staring hopelessly in the mirror.
He walked over to her, watching her eyes scan the mirror, noticing how she was biting her lip. Her eyes were sparkling despite the emotion that seemed to be crowding them.
âNope; been trying since First Year, in fact.â
Harry looked into the mirror at the exact moment she turned away and looked at him in disbelief. âReally? First Year? I thought I was the only one.â
Harry chuckled, glancing at her face.âWell I didnât know about it until my friend Ron told me.â
It was then it was silent, Harry not seeming to be able to look away from her eyes. She then smiled tightly, looking back at the mirror. He followed suit, looking at the same reflective surface as her, behind her shoulder.
He then saw no one but himself despite her looking too, then her face clear next to him, every detail but she seemed clear as a ghost, present but not. The boy blinked, making sure he wasnât just seeing things, and he wasnât. She was there, and he was there too in her vision because they both gasped at the same time, soft and surprising.
She looked at him, and he at her.
âAll this timeâŚâ
âWeâve already knew each otherâŚâ he finished.
âThatâs crazy.â She muttered, this time looking at him instead of the mirror.
He cleared his throat but didnât make an effort to look away nonetheless. âSo, did you accomplish the Accio Charm?â
âYeahâŚâ she muttered, more like whispered, her eyes moving down to his lips but looked back up to his eyes, her own swirling with something but Harry couldnât tell what it was.
âGoodâŚâ Harry whispered back, taking a step closer.
âDid the Patronus Charm as well.â She added for conversation, since in this moment she couldnât stand the silence. Harry nodded in acknowledgment, a sign to let her know he heard her, but they both knew he was half listening, his gaze on her mouth as well.
âWhyâd you ask?â She found herself asking, not having the courage to lean in first, though if she could make any wish in the world at the moment it would be for the courage to do so.
âJust wonderingâŚ..â Harry muttered, breaking the space between them, soft lips touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his lips and face against hers surrounding her being and thoughts. His lips were smooth and soft, like pillows that she was laying on.
He broke apart first though, but only to turn his head to get a better angle, leaning in again as they found a soft gentle rhythm.
She dropped her wand, the clatter startling neither of them as her hands went up to his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, fingers diving into his hair, a soft sigh escaping him at the sensation.
They came apart for air, their lips still brushing against each other as they longed for the long lasting contact. She licked her lips, her tongue accidentally touching his briefly, another soft sigh coming out of his mouth.
This moment didnât feel real to her, someone so special didnât deserve her, but he was there and that was his choice; she could hardly believe it.
âWe should go to the Common RoomâŚâ
Harry muttered against her mouth.
âYeah⌠we shouldâŚâ she replied, but neither of them made an effort to move away from each other, in fact their lips connected again, moving in softer movements than before, but the strong feeling in her chest was all the same.
#imagines#stories#x reader#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#harry james potter x reader#harry james potter x you#harry james x reader#harry x reader#harry p x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#harry imagine#harry pottah#harry james potter#harry potter#harry#harry x you#harry x y/n#harry potter x y/n
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About An Official Spiderverse Artist...
Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.
If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.
But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:
I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.
So here I am.
And I got something to say about a certain "artist".
There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.
Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).
There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.
If you have seen this:
Then you have seen this artist before.
His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.
He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.
Yes. Former.
Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.
You may have also seen this character before:
Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".
Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.
I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.
BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:
Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).
13. year. old. child.
This man only sees east asian women this way.
He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--
and young.
Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:
Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.
Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.
And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -
His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.
His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.
They look as creepy as they are.
But the scariest part?
While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.
And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.
And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.
So yeah.
I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.
My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.
Keep away.
Do not support this man.
But the decision is ultimately yours.
Stay awake, yall.
-------
(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):
scary.
#have your truth but do not go harass this guy#jodido pedazo de mierda.#alberto mielgo#reblog to spread the word#likes dont do a lot#stay awake.#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse fanart#into the spider verse#ATSV#ITSV#spiderman#spiderverse#concept art#art#psa#artists to block#marvel#sony#animation#pinkman_himself#love death and robots#netflix#im fucking tired of this shit.#dont miss this man for his artstyle - just take his artstyle for yourself and make it your own.#if you are a decent human being#you are already leagues better than this shite could ever be.#just take his technique and make it better by making it your own. thats it.#we wont miss you mielgo.#bai.
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Daylight |1|
Amber Freeman to Eventual Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader
Chapter one: It's Nice to Have a Friend
Summary: You are enjoying a pleasant evening with Tara when things escalate for the worse when you answer a phone call from your girlfriend, Amber. There's only one person who can get your day back on track
Warning(s): Swearing, toxic!amber x reader, arguing, & implied anxiety
Notes: first chapter out. finally.
Masterlist|Next Part
You were currently napping at your desk, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your trigonometry teacher drowned on aboutâsomething, you couldnât really think right now. You were up until three in the morning preparing for your physics exam. You would be risking your spot on the football team if you got anything that wasnât passing.
So here you were, knocked out in the middle of math, when all of a sudden something smacks the side of your face. Itâs enough to get your attention, waking you up before you look around with a puzzled expression. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the folded piece of paper that had hit you.
you drool when you sleep, the note read. You peaked to your left, glancing at the girl who sat one over from you. A smile began to graze your face when you realized who had thrown you the note. You wrote a reply on the corner of the paper before swiftly passing it back to the girl.
When she looked over to you, you were already looking up ahead as if nothing. She read the note; at least i dont watch people while theyâre sleeping creep. She couldnât help but smirk down at the note, playfully rolling her eyes before ripping off another piece of paper from her notebook to roll into a ball and throw it at you. You narrow your eyes at her but sheâs imitating a confused look.
Then the sound of your teacher clearing his throat could be heard. âAhem. Tara and Y/N, is there something you would like to share?â
You and Tara make eye contact before looking back at the teacher.Â
âNo, Mr. Quinn,â Tara said before you followed with, âNo, sir.â
After a second he nodded, âAlright thenâas I was saying.â He turned back around, continuing the lesson.Â
When the class was over, Tara walked over as you were packing your things. You could hear her impatience as you did so which caused you to roll your eyes. âYou donât have to wait for me,â you told her while zipping up your bag.Â
âAnd you donât have to be the slowest person alive, but here we are,â she countered as you both began to walk out of the classroom.
âWhateverâdamn it these halls,â you grunt after somebody slams into you. âWeâre doomed if the schoolâs ever set on fire.â
âI donât care what the code or whatever is, if the schoolâs set on fire itâs every student for themselves,â Tara replies.
âYou do know that means right?â
âWhat?â She knitted her eyebrows, looking up at you as the two of you continued to walk in the schoolâs halls.
âTiniest people go first,â you answerâimmediately making Tara shove your arm.
âShut the fuck up,â she laughed, her dimples showing as she lightly shook her head. Taraâs hand was still gripping your sleeve, an action that neither of you took notice of. Sheâs been your friend, your best friend, since you were six years old; a bit of physical touch was not uncommon in your friendship, never questioned.Â
Both of you were now leaning against a vacant wall, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, another arm slipped around your waist, causing Tara to let go of your arm. It didnât take long for this person to practically be clinging off of youâher arm around your waist, the index finger of her other hand hooked in one of your belt loops.Â
Of course, who else could this person be than none other than your girlfriend; Amber Freeman.Â
âOh, hey Tara. Didnât see you,â Amber backhandedly greeted without even looking at Tara. Amber had always been passive aggressive towards Tara. The Carpenter couldnât explain it well if you asked her, but ever since they metâseventh gradeâitâs like she has this vendetta against her. You were having lunch with Tara when Amber met you, and it didnât take long for her to take a liking to you. She had developed a crush on you throughout middle school, it wasnât until the summer before sophomore year that you and her got together.
And that is how the three of you were now in this hallway, Amber with her arm around your waist, your own arm around her shoulder, while Tara resisted the urge to gag at the PDA.
âI actually have to get going, but Iâll see you later?â Tara says as she starts to make a subtle exit. She no longer saw a reason to stay.
âOf course, see you around,â you send her a smile that she doesnât hesitate to send back. That was something you could always count on her for.Â
Your eyes donât leave Tara until they lose track of her in the crowded hallway. Just seconds later you felt a tug on your belt loop and you looked down to see Amber.
âAre you coming to the party tonight? Marcyâs throwing it since her parents are out of town for the next few days,â your girlfriend explained.Â
âSorry, canât tonight. I have to watch my little brother. Some other time?â Your tone was apologetic as you gently rubbed her lower back, hoping she wouldnât be too upset you couldnât make it to Marcyâs party.Â
âWhatever. Itâs fine,â was all she saidâher voice monotone and dismissiveâwhile she began to pull away. Your eyebrows furrowed at her actions and a pressure starts to envelop your chest. She started to turn to walk away from you and thatâs when you reached for her hands.
âHey,â you murmured loud enough for her to hear while you turned her back around to face you. âIâll try and get the next one, okay?â You try to hold eye contact with her but she seems to find the ground more interesting. âIâm sorry, Ambs.âÂ
She finally looks up, sighing. âItâs okay. Next time.â
âNext time,â you nod as you bite the inside of your cheek.
Amber looked at you, letting out another sigh before saying, âIâm fine, Y/Nâreally. Youâll get the next one.â That tightening feeling in your chest begins to loosen at her reassurance. âI have to go,â she gives you a kiss, deepening it just before pulling away. âIâll text you this weekend?â
You hummed in response, and the two of you shared another kiss before you both set off for the day.
After making sure you had everything, you began to walk towards the main entranceâleaving the building before making your way to the spot where you and Tara meet up everyday after school. You always walk home together, pretty much since you first started becoming friends.Â
You leaned against the pillar as you waited for Tara; itâs not like you didnât see her just a few minutes earlier, so she shouldnât be too long. You look out ahead, blankly staring at the patches of ice that covered the ground; it was windy out, so much in fact you felt as though you couldnât go without five seconds of blinking or else you would start tearing up. Thank goodness for eyelidsâ
ââBoo!â You heard someone shout; you immediately jumped back, startled, your hands were raised and ready to swing at whoever or whatever. But any thoughts of fighting vanish when you look over to see the culprit. âJesus fuck, Tara,â you suspired.
Sheâs laughing her ass off, both hands over her mouth. You let out a dramatic exhale before saying, âIâm gonna get you for this. Just wait.â
âOh yeah?â She replied between giggles, âWhat are you gonna do? Throw a football at me?â
âYouâll see,â you warned while narrowing your eyes at her.
Tara was finally able to get herself to stop laughing. âOf course you will, tough guy.â
âWhatever,â you mumbled as the two of you began to walk. âSo, got any plans on this incredibly dull Friday evening?â You inquired while digging through your pocket for your gloves.
âMmm not really,â Tara answered. Her arms always had a slight sway to them as she walked; itâs something youâve always noticed, itâs one of the things thatâs never changed about her.
âThen are you free to come over? My parents are out of town and Iâm still gonna be watching my brother, but heâs probably just gonna be playing video games with his friends the whole time anyway,â you said; your hands were still digging around in your pockets.
âYeah, Iâm down.â Tara looked at you with raised eyebrows before saying, âUm, you looking for something?â
You suddenly groaned when you realized, âShit. I left my gloves at home.â You roll your eyes at your own forgetfulness before stuffing your hands back in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.
âYou can take mine,â Tara tells you. Without hesitation, she stops and begins to take off her own gloves but you put your hand over her own to stop her.
âTara, donât be ridiculous. Iâll be fine,â you try to reassure her.Â
At this point, you both have stopped walking. Tara shook her head at you, âDonât be so stubborn. Just take them.â
âWhat about your hands?â
âIâll survive.â
âNow whoâs being stubborn?â Ugh, you were so annoying. How dare you use her own words against her.
âFine. How about this, you take one glove and I keep the other one.â She looked at the hesitant look on your face before sighing, âIf you donât take it then Iâll just refuse to wear my gloves at all and then weâll both freeze our hands off.â
âFine,â you finally gave in, taking the other glove from Tara and putting it on. You slipped on only half of the glove before you realized something. âWait. You donât have pockets.âÂ
âOkay?â Tara looked at you confused.
âWhere are you gonna put your ungloved hand?â
âOh my God, Iâll be okay. I haveââ
ââWarm blood? Yeah, Iâve heard that one before,â you chuckled.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Tara asked in a defensive tone.
âYou said the same thing when we went to see No Way Home but all I could hear was your teeth clattering.â
âThat is not true!â
âPeople complained!â
After a few moments of silence of seeing who would break first, you finally spoke up. âOkay. How about this, you use one of my pockets. Deal?â
âItâs not that deep,â Tara protested.
â...Deal?â
Tara rolled her eyes, shutting them as she sighed before looking at you again. âDeal.â
She got closer to you before you wrapped your arm around her, giving her right hand access to your right pocket. A smile grazed your face, âSee now was that so hard, shortstack?â You teased as you lightly noogied her with your free hand.Â
âYou are such an ass and a half for that,â you heard her bitterly say.
âYet you stay,â you said as you were both turning the corner to where your house was.
âI shouldâve left you on that street corner where you were standing.â
âBut you didnât,â you remark while getting your key out of your pocket.
âJust shut up and open the door. Itâs freezing and my feet still hurt from gym,â Tara complained, never dropping her hand from your pocket.
âOh? I thought you wereâwhat was it? âWarm bloodedâ you said?â You smirked, beginning to turn the front doorâs lock with your key. Tara started shoving you as soon as you unlocked the door.
âHush,â she scolded you while taking off her shoes.
âNo need to shove.â You kick off your shoes before placing them to the side. You and Tara make your way to the kitchen, placing your stuff down on the way in.
âYour parents already left?â Tara asked as you rummaged through your refrigerator.
âYeah, they had to go to some funeral. Nobody I was close with thoughâI think it was a distant uncle,â you filled her in as you gave her one of the gatorades you pulled out of the fridge. âThey should be back by tomorrow night,â you continued.
âAnd Iâm assuming thatâs your brother upstairs?â
Your little brother and his friends were currently yelling at each other over voice chat, you werenât really sure what about but you knew it was video game related.
âOf course,â you said after taking a sip of your own gatorade, âWanna head to my room or the basement?â
âEitherâs fine, Iâm honestly just beat. Anywhere I can lay down Iâm totally open to,â Tara said while stretching out her arms.
âMy room it is.â
â
âSo,â Tara started; you were both on your bed, her legs on your lap as you both watched a show on your laptop, âwhat did the ice queen want when I left earlier?â The use of the nickname Tara had for Amber caused you to glance at her.
âTara,â you said, giving her a look that matched your scolding tone. She mumbled something under her breath before you continued. âShe just wanted to know if I could make it to a party tonight. I just said I couldnât, and that was that.â
âAh,â she replied in a monotone voice.
âWhat?â You asked, raising an eyebrow.
âNothing, that was just a normal âah.ââ
âIf you say soâŚâ You both turn back to screen, Tara reaches over you to grab one of the snacks before you feel a buzz in your pocket; you looked down to see you got a message from Mindy.
âWho is it?â asked Tara, followed by her shoving a few gummy bears in her mouth.
âYour sister,â you replied without hesitation as you typed.Â
She shoved you with her foot, glaring at you for your comment.
âNah, just Mindy asking if Iâll be at the partyâoh, and apparently Wes too.â Tara immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved her face against it, her loud groaning muffled. You laughed at her actions before continuing, âMaybe itâs not as bad as you think. Maybe he really is just curiânevermind, I canât even lie.âÂ
She let out an even louder groan. After a few more seconds, she finally picked up her head as she sighed.Â
âWe dated for like five minutes. Thatâs it.â
âYou canât blame the boy for being so obsessed with you. I mean, look at that face,â you teased as you pinched her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, harshly letting her head fall against your bedâs headboard.Â
âOw,â she winced.Â
â14 year-old you just had to be polite,â you said while also moving your head to rest against your bedâs headboard. You tilted your head to face her, now looking at each other as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.
âThat isnât âŚexactly what happened,â her eyes trailed down to her lap.
âItâs exactly what happened. You wouldâve felt too guilty to say no because his pet hamster had just died.â
âUgh.â
âHow come youâre never that nice to me?â You feigned a pout while reaching for your phone that was now vibrating in your back pocket. âUh. I gotta take this. Gimme a sec.â
Tara didnât have to ask who it was. She already knew from the shift in your demeanor and attitude.
âHeyâŚâ Tara heard you trail off as you left the room. You closed the door, going off to the side and leaning against the wall.
âHey.â Amberâs greeting was curt and monotone. Nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say next.Â
âWhatâs up babe?â You hoped that your voice didnât show how nervous you were.
âDonât âbabeâ me. What is this Iâm hearing about you and Anika?â Shit. You know you shouldâve told her sooner, you still wouldâve gotten heat for it but at least it wouldâve came from you and not a gossiping cheerleader just trying to stir up trouble.
âItâs nothing badâI just need some help in physics and she agreed to tutor me,â you tried to explain as straight-forward as you could.Â
âHow do you conveniently fail to mention this? We saw each other not long ago, yeah? So how come I have to hear about this from Daphne?âÂ
âThereâs nothing else going on other than studying. She justââ
âShe just what?!â
âShe just offered! She overheard me talking to Chad about needing to get my grade up!âÂ
âYeah right, Y/N! Everyone knows she has a thing for you, donât be so naive,â she scolded as if you were a troublesome child. âI bet this is why you didnât want to come to the party tonight.â
âAre you kidding? I told you, I have to watch my brother tonight. And Anika does not have a thing for me. Why canât people just be nice to me without you freaking out?â Now you were pacing back and forth.
âMaybe I wouldnât have to freak out if you would just tell me these things beforehand!â She shouted.
A familiar tightness in your chest grew with each word she threw at you, and your tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of your mouth. What could you possibly say when you knew it wouldnât suffice? You knew nothing you said would matter. You knew she wouldnât have any of it.
âAnd you fail to notice half the school wants youâbut once again, youâre just being naive! But Iâm just your lame girlfriend, right? I donât matter?â
You manage a scoff at her words. âWhoâwhen did I say that?â
âYeah go ahead, act like Iâm insane. That Iâm just making it all up in my head,â Amber went on as you rubbed the bridge of your nose.Â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying at all. Iâm sorry, I justââ
âSo youâre saying Iâm not making this all up in my head? That I should worry about this?â This remark only made you even more exasperated from how insane it all sounded. This is insane, right? Youâre not losing it? There really is no winning with this woman.Â
âWhat? No! Of course not. Please just tell me what the right thing to say is.â
Then there was a pause that lasted a little over five seconds, but it felt longer. After the pause, you could hear Amber sigh over the phone. âI just need space right now.â
âI feel like⌠I feel like you always need space,â you confessed, aggravation at the tip of your voice.Â
âHave you ever considered this is why? Maybe I wouldnât need so much space if you would actually learn to listen to me for once,â she sourly shot back. Although she was no longer shouting, you could feel her burning frustration through the phone. You were all too familiar with her pattern of emotions when it came to disagreements with her.Â
âI am listening butââ
âClearly youâre not if thereâs a âbutâ to that.â Amber let out a dry laugh. âThis is exactly why I need space; why we need space. When you wanna start acting like my girlfriendâyou know where to reach me.â
She didnât give you a chance to plead your case any further, hanging up the phone just as she spoke her last words.
You let your head hit the nearby wall as you slumped down to sit on the floor, groaning out. You tucked in your knees close to your chest before dropping your head to rest on them.
God, how could you be so stupid? You should know better by nowâright? Itâs not like you haven't had the same argument with Amber over and over again. It was routine at this point. Literally all your fights go about the same.Â
You picked at your jeans, silently murmuring to yourself as you replayed the argument in your head.Â
âFine. Take your space. I donât care.â Your chin rested on your free arm that laid on your knees as your other free hand continued to pick at your pants. âAre people not allowed to be nice to me? I donât say anything when she studies with other people. Whatâs so different about me? Iâve never given her a reason to think otherwiseâŚâÂ
Just then, the door opened. You looked over to your right, completely forgetting you were just outside your bedroom door. You looked up to see Tara staring down at you as she leaned against the door frame.
âHey,â she greeted, walking over to sit in the vacant spot next to you on the floor.Â
âHi.âÂ
"Talking to yourself?" She quipped, jokingly, as a way to lighten the mood.
"You know me," you said. But Tara saw through to your thrown attitude.
âYou okay?â She asked once she sat down.
âIâm⌠alright.â You responded, now looking at her. âJust the usual, you know.â There was a pause and a look that Tara was giving; you broke, sighing as you stared back down to your own fingers before speaking again. âShe, uh, found out about Anika tutoring me. I guess sheâs not Anikaâs biggest fan or something.â
Tara knew she should comfort you. No matter how much she wanted to tell you that Amber was terrible, no good, and a bitch, she knew that would do no good. Reassurance was the way to go in these situations with Amber, no matter how much she hated the taste of her own words. âSheâll come around. She always does.âÂ
âThanksâŚâÂ
A moment of silence passes before Tara gets up from her spot, your eyes tracking her movement. She reaches her hand out for you to grab before saying, âCome on, letâs play Mortal Combat or something. Iâm bored and feel like showing off.â
You laughed as you took her hand and stood up. When you stood up, your fingers interlocked with hers, almost like puzzle pieces. She rubbed her thumb over your hand for extra measure. A sense of warmth flew through you and the tension in your shoulders start to release.
"Thank you, Tara."
-----------
A/N: drama, commence
Taglist: @alyciaddict @tropicals-things @orignalpat @lilbitdepressed27 @nahnahnahwhat @fanboy7794
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x y/n#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x fem!reader#tara carpenter x female reader#tara x reader#tara carpenter#amber freeman x y/n#amber freeman x you#amber freeman x reader#amber freeman#scream fanfic#daylight au
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can i request the Obey me brothers and/or the datables reaction to you being jealous âşď¸
mc gets jealous
obey me x gn!reader
đ from the river to the sea, palestine will be free đľđ¸. this account stands with palestine, and soâ i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and/or support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. | credit đ
a/n: the intro is so long in comparison to what i wrote for the characters lmao
cw: the gender of the person flirting with the characters is not mentioned. they donât leave even after heâs told them to [belphieâs part]
.
The two of you have been spending less time together lately, your personal responsibilities keeping you apart longer than they usually would. But when you realised the both of you hadnât gone on a date in weeks, you decided to surprise them with one at a popular cafe in the human world.
Once seated at a comfortable corner, you kiss them on the cheek and tell them youâll be right back with your orders. The trip from the counter to your seats couldnât have taken more than 4 minutes but when you walk back, thereâs a stranger at your spot next to them. By their body language, itâs clear theyâre trying to snatch up your obviously irritated significant other.
Maybe itâs because today was finally a free day for the two of you, combined with not seeing them as much as you wouldâve likedâ but when you finally arrived at your table, you set down your orders with a little more force than necessary.
With eyes as cold as a storm as you possessively inserted yourself by your loverâs side, you asked the stranger in your seat, âDo you need something from us?â
lucifer
A smug little smirk makes its way to his handsome face when the stranger decides not to start anything and walks away.
And while a part of him doesnât even want to wait until theyâre out of earshotâ the same part of him that wants to kiss you senseless in front of the many suitors you haveâ he refrains from doing anything too rash in public.
If he was in his demon form, his wings would ruffle from how you pridefully claimed him to be your lover in front of this âthreatâ. Not that anyone has the potential to be one when youâre all he ever thinks about in the late hours of the night.
When you sit down next to him once more, still obviously slightly angry after the ordeal, he gently holds your hand and presses it to his lips.
Just in case it wasnât clear to anyone else in the cafe that the two of you are together.
âThereâs no need to be jealous, my dear. Iâm all yours.â
mammon
He gets a little flustered when youâre at his side but he soon gets over it and pulls you closer.
âIn case it wasnât obvious, Iâm taken. Now, scram.â
Unlike Lucifer, he doesnât even wait until the person leaves before he gets up to kiss you (on the cheek, he can only handle so much PDA).
âTook ya long enough! Seemed like you were takinâ forever.â âI was gone 5 minutes, Mams.â âSame thing.â
Heâs sweet. And needyâ but thatâs why you love him. Another kiss on the cheek and it seems like heâs already forgotten what happened.
He hasnât obviously. Heâs going to daydream about this for the next 4 months every night before he goes to sleep because it proves youâre just as greedy for him as he is for you.
Heâll tease you about it, of course. âYou must really love me if that got ya jealous.â Heâll stop if you ask him too but heâs still going to be giddy about it.
leviathan
Heâs so relieved once youâre here because he had no idea what to do. He doesnât even realise that heâs leaning towards you.
It isnât until the stranger leaves that he realises that heâs still extremely close to you while in a public cafe.
He instantly gets so embarrassed and wants to leave.
It doesnât take you long to put the pieces togetherâ so you take your orders to go and pull him outside the cafe and into a nearby park.
âS-Sorry⌠I know you really like that place.â Now heâs worried that you might hate him for getting embarrassed and potentially ruining the date for the two of you.
When you reassure him that itâs fine and that you can always go to some other place, he calms down enough and the situation completely dawns on himâ you got jealous because you thought someone else wanted his affections (which he still isnât completely sure of btw).
His face is flushed pink when he thinks about it. You love him enough to fight for him.
âWhat? Oh- uhm.. itâs nothingâ just thinking about how cool you looked back in the cafe when you got jealous, hehe.â < is imagining scenarios in his head and totally planning on telling Henry 2.0 about this exciting development in your relationship.
satan
He was about to commit a crime right before you came along.
Usually, he would be better at keeping his anger in check but this is your first date in a while and heâs not about to have some rando ruin it for the two of you.
âLeave.â is all he says to them with a glare sharper than Asmoâs heels.
He calms down as soon as he sees you seated next to him once more.
âTheyâre lucky you came when you did. The absolute nerve of some peopleââ he shuts up once you kiss him on the cheek.
While the two of you eat your food, he realises that your actions may have been caused by a spur of jealousy. Heâs quick to tease you about it.
âWas somebody jealous? Well, now you know how I feel whenever one of my brothers take you away.â
He thinks youâre so cute when youâre jealous, but he refrains from teasing too much lest you lightly make fun of him when heâs green with envy.
asmodeus
Donât get him wrong, he absolutely loves attentionâ but not at the expense of the two of you spending time together.
As soon as youâre next to him, he stands up and pulls you even closer than you already were.
âUgh, MC~ where were you? I was so bored.â
Heâs acting all whiny and needy, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and completely ignoring the other person.
Itâs not long before they turn red in the face and storm out of the cafe.
âFinally, theyâre gone,â he complains, checking underneath his nails like he was afraid some of their filth might have latched itself to him.
âYouâre adorable when youâre jealous, have I told you that?âÂ
Heâs so quick to tease, even though heâs 100x worse when heâs jealous.
Somehow, heâs even more clingy the rest of the date. He's holding your hand, kissing your cheek, pulling you close to him the entire timeâ his own way of telling you and everyone else that heâs yours and youâre his.
beelzebub
Heâs pretty clueless as to whatâs happening and what the strangerâs intentions areâ but when you come along, his passive face instantly lights up with a smile.
He is so in love with you, that youâd have to be blind to not see the way he looks at you, like your presence alone makes his heart full.
The stranger realises that they didnât have a chance from the beginning, and Beel doesnât even notice them leaving.
He notices that you seem angry at something, so he gently takes your hand and seats you beside him againâ handing the slightly ruined food to you.
âYou look angry. You should eat, itâll make you feel better.â
He was right, it did make you feel better. Along with him happily eating all the orders you got him.
He wonât bring up the stranger unless you bring it up, but if you do, heâll just shrug.
âThem? I donât know, they just came up to me and sat on our table. I donât mind when people do that but they were interrupting our date. I didnât want to get angry and make a scene.â
belphegor
Belphie is spoiled. And he is tired.
When someone comes and sits on your seat, trying to flirt when the two of you came in togetherâ he is instantly pissed off.
He wants nothing more than to âmakeâ them leave, but he canât (at least not in the way he wants to). So he just decides to be upfront instead.
âDo you mind? That seat is taken by my s/oâ the one who walked in with me, in case I need to remind you.â
When they still donât leave, heâs very seriously considering putting a curse on them.
But before he starts the incantation, you arrive in an equally bad mood.
Recognising that itâs two against one, they roll their eyes and leave, muttering something under their breath all the way.
âThat was so tiringâŚâ < (he spoke three sentences)
If you offer to go home, he refuses, saying that you both planned this already.
âIâll try my best to stay awake but I canât guarantee it. When we get back home, you owe me a nap.â
The sly little bitch managed to turn the whole thing in his favour.
#obey me#obey me fluff#obey me x reader#obey me x you#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x reader#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphegor x reader#obey me x mc#lucifer fluff#mammon fluff#leviathan fluff#satan fluff#asmodeus fluff#beelzebub fluff#belphegor fluff#obey me fanfic#om fluff#om x reader
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Royal Duties
I wrote three little one shots for the pole just in case lol so now I'm posting all three
Pairing: Gil Galad x Reader
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Morning light filters through the tall windows of the grand hall, glancing off the polished stone floors and casting a warm glow over the rows of nobility gathered to witness court proceedings. You sit beside Ereinion, the high-backed throne beneath you feeling almost too formal for the mood between you and the king. Ereinion leans forward slightly, face carefully composed, yet his eyes flick over to you with the faintest glint of mischief.
As a particularly haughty lord delivers a speech about his regionâs contribution to the realm, you barely manage to keep a straight face. Ereinion clears his throat softly, disguising a chuckle as he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, âI donât think thereâs a single person in this hall who doesnât already know how ânobleâ his house is.â
The corners of your mouth twitch, and you turn to him, casting a sidelong glance. âDo you think heâd notice if we slipped out the back?â
âNot if we leave the guards with a very good excuse,â he replies smoothly, casting you a look that suggests heâs half-serious. Then, with the practiced grace of a king whoâs held this position for centuries, he adjusts his expression to one of benevolent patience, looking for all the world as though heâs deeply engaged.
The lord finally finishes, and Ereinion, without missing a beat, offers him a solemn nod. âThank you for your⌠continued service,â he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as the lord bows himself out of the hall.
The moment heâs out of earshot, you lean toward Ereinion, unable to hold back your grin. âShall we give him a new title? Perhaps Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?â
He bites back a laugh, the sound escaping in a soft breath. âConsider it granted. Iâll have the scribes make note of it.â
The two of you exchange a look, and for a heartbeat, youâre just Ereinion and⌠well, not the queen, not here under the judgmental gaze of court. Just the two of you, sharing an inside joke.
After several more interactions with various lords and advisors â all of whom seem to be vying to one-up each other â you and Ereinion finally manage a brief escape. You slip into one of the palace gardens, hidden by high walls and leafy trees, where the murmur of court life fades into a distant hum.
He grins, glancing around to make sure no one followed, then gives you a low bow, offering his hand. âMy lady, might I steal a dance?â
You raise an eyebrow, taking his hand with mock formality. âI thought weâd save that for the next dreadfully dull council meeting. Just to keep them on their toes.â
âGood point,â he replies, spinning you under his arm in a quick flourish. He catches you in a mock-dramatic pose, his face so close that you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek. His eyes linger on yours, and the flirty banter fades for just a moment as he holds your gaze.
âShould we head back?â you murmur, aware that duty awaits â and that the more time you spend away from court, the more questions youâll face.
But Ereinion only shrugs, his smile unmistakably mischievous. âLet them wonder. The king and queen deserve a moment to themselves, donât you think?â
Ereinionâs hand is warm in yours as he spins you down the marble halls, your laughter mingling with his in the quiet, echoing corridors. The two of you move in perfect sync, each step lighter than the last. He dips you dramatically, and you stifle a laugh, whispering, âYou know, this isnât exactly dignified for the High King and Queen.â
âGood thing weâre in the far wing, then,â he replies, grinning as he pulls you upright again. âBesides, a little undignified behavior keeps things interesting.â
You can barely reply as he whirls you around, catching you just as youâre about to stumble. This side of Ereinion, so full of laughter, the sharp edge of command nowhere to be seenâitâs a rare thing, and you savor every second.
Just as heâs twirling you under his arm again, a figure appears at the end of the hall, stepping out from around a corner with raised eyebrows and a barely suppressed smile. Elrond crosses his arms, watching you both with an amused shake of his head.
âOh, how regal,â he drawls, a glint in his eyes. âThe High King and Queen, so tirelessly devoted to their duties, I see.â
You straighten, feigning the most queenly look you can manage despite the laughter bubbling up. âElrond,â you say sweetly, âdo you think I wouldnât relegate you to writing our correspondence for Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?â
At this, Ereinion throws his head back, his laughter filling the hall. Itâs deep, genuine, and utterly without restraint, echoing off the high ceilings as though he hasnât laughed this freely in an age. Elrond stares, visibly startled, as his kingâthe indomitable Gil-galad, ruler of the Noldorâdoubles over, still clutching your hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
You join him, feeling the tears gather in your eyes as you squeeze his hand tighter, both of you struggling to compose yourselves. Elrond looks between the two of you, his expression utterly dumbfounded.
âTruly,â Elrond finally says, âIâve seen many things over the years, but thisâŚâ He shakes his head in mock exasperation, trying and failing to hide a grin of his own. âIâll leave you to your⌠âroyal duties,â then.â
With a smirk, you give him a little wave. âWeâll leave you to your actual duties, Elrond. Someoneâs got to keep up the kingdomâs standards, after all.â
As he walks away, muttering under his breath about âgiggly rulers,â you turn to Ereinion, whose face is still lit up with laughter.
âShall we?â he asks, still a little breathless.
You both head down the hall, still snickering quietly, leaving a thoroughly shocked Elrond behind. And as you walk hand-in-hand, you canât help but feel that these momentsâthe ones stolen from duty, spent in laughterâare what make this life with him complete.
#gil galad x reader#gil galad x you#ereinion gil galad#high king gil galad#gilgadaddy#the rings of power#fanfiction
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Remembrance of Things Past
Hi!!
I actually wrote a Dean fic...like what? I hope you enjoy! Special shout out to all my bunker babes for the confidence boost!!
Warnings: Langauge, smut, a wee bit of heartbreak?
Summary: You and Dean find each other again.
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The motel door slammed shut behind Deanâs back, loud and heavy. He turned to face you; his eyes were emotionless, and his jaw tightened.Â
âSo youâre not coming?â He asked you.Â
âPlease, DeanâŚI canât,â You said softly.Â
He ran his hand down his face and nodded, looking at the wall before connecting his eyes to yours again.Â
âWell, thatâs just great, Y/N.â His voice was like venom.Â
âTry to understandâŚI justâŚI canât watchâŚâ Your voice betrayed you, breaking as the lump in your throat grew.Â
You stepped toward him, taking his leather jacket into your fists as you pressed your body against his. You leaned your forehead against his cheek, inhaling his intoxicating scent. He pushed your hands off him, shaking his head and stepping away.Â
âYou donât get to do that. You donât get to fuck with my head.â He spat.Â
âItâs too much.â You whispered, crossing your arms over your chest and squeezing yourself.Â
âAnd how the fuck do you think I feel? Itâs too much for you? Iâm the one who made the deal. Iâm the one who's gonna-â Dean stopped, leaning on the small desk in the corner and hanging his head.Â
You stepped toward him again, raising your hands to lay on his back. Dean instinctively moved away from you, jolting his body to the side to avoid your touch. You held your hands up for a moment before lowering them again, and this time, Dean let you touch him. Swallowing thickly, you ran your hands over his jacket, trying to calm the situation as best you could.Â
âIâm sorry.â You said finally, speaking loud enough to know he would hear you.Â
âI would stay for you.â He mumbled.Â
At that moment of rare fragility, you knew you had broken down at least one of his walls. The truth was, you didnât care about him opening up to you. You didnât need to hear him say how he would stick it out until the end or move heaven and earth to be by your side when the time came. You knew this. You knew he would extend a devotion to you that you weren't giving him, and you hated yourself for it. Your hands slipped under his jacket and the fabric of his shirt. His back was warm as you ran your touch over his freckled skin. A ragged and heavy breath left his lungs. He glanced up at you, making eye contact in the mirror. His body turned to face you, your hands now resting against his bare stomach. Placing his forehead against yours, he closed his eyes.Â
âPlease stay.â He whispered.Â
âI love youâŚso much. But I canât watch you die.â You answered, feeling him pull away again.Â
Dean took both of your hands into one of his, yanking them from under his shirt but keeping you close to him. He looked deep into your eyes, his sage ones glassy and red.Â
âThanks a lot, kid.â He said, his voice coming from low within his chest.Â
He walked away from you, pulled the door open, and stopped in the doorframe. You watched as his shoulders moved with heavy breaths before he turned back around. He crossed the motel room in three giant steps and grabbed your face between his hands. His lips attached themselves to yours before you could even breathe. His kiss was full of passion and fear. You could feel the vulnerability in every swipe of his tongue. He dug his hands into your hair, scratching your scalp with his fingertips. You wrapped yourself around him and clung onto the last thing you would carry of him. Committing every breath, taste, and moan to memory as you let yourself fall into him just one last time.Â
Suddenly, he stopped. Leaning his head against yours once again. You both held each other in the silent space momentarily before his broken, husky voice whispered.Â
âDonât forget me.âÂ
You nodded your head, feeling your chin begin to quiver. He was gone just as fast as he had come back to you. The door slammed on its hinges, and you were utterly alone.Â
Two Years Later
The warehouse was void of life as you expertly moved around the halls. You rounded the corner, pulling the gun closer to your chest and breathing. A soft shuffle made your hair stand on edge. Leaning against the wall, you ventured a peak into the next room. A tall man stood with a gun of his own, his brown jacket grazing against his jeans as he crept around toward the back of the room. You held in the gasp that filled your lungs, closing your eyes and mentally cursing yourself. You could run for it. Fly as fast as your feet could take you towards the exit. You could wait him out. Or you couldâŚand before you knew what you were doing, you walked into the room.
âSam?â You said, disbelief in your voice.Â
He whipped his head around, aiming his gun perfectly at you. A look of shock, confusion, and anger crossed his face.Â
âY/N?â He asked, lowering his gun quickly.Â
You smiled at him, feeling years worth of memories swarm you in an instant. Your eyes began to fill with water when you heard the cocking of a gun. A cold shiver ran down your spine, your palms suddenly getting clammy. You let out all the air in your lungs. Every fiber of your being told you not to turn around. Donât look. You held Samâs eyes with your wide stare for a beat too long. Donât you dare look. For the love of god, just run away. If you look at him, itâs all over. You turned slowly.Â
Deanâs chiseled face sat emotionless, his gun mere inches from your head. You felt your mouth go dry, desperately trying to swallow saliva to keep yourself from coughing. Sage eyes locking with yours for the first time in so long. You almost cried out in joy. Your mouth opened and closed again. Eyes blinking and heart racing, you wrapped your hand around the gun as well, stepping towards him as he lowered it to his side. You were so close to him, his face impassive as he looked down at you. Your chest was just a breath away from his. His body was stiff and unmoving. Slowly, you tilted your head back to look at him better. He glared down at you with hard eyes. Â
âDean.â You said, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.Â
âY/N.â His voice was low and rough.Â
You let go of the gun and stepped back, nervously scratching behind your ear. The awkward feeling settled over the three of you thickly.Â
âSoâŚyouâre also after the ghoul,â Sam said, shoving his hands into his pockets.Â
âYeah, been trailing it for a few days now,â You said, keeping your eyes on Sam.Â
You missed himâsweet and soft, Sammy. You missed how he would gently knock on your door in the morning. You missed his warm scent when he placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close after one too many beers. You missed how he always remembered to put precisely 2 and 1/2 teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. While researching, you would look up and swear you saw him sitting on the end of your bed with his nose in a book. You had almost forgotten how tall he was or how his dimpled smile could make you forget about the world momentarily. You missed your friend.Â
âWell, weâll take it from here. Thanks for the interruption.â His voice spoke. Your eyes slowly shifted to Dean. His angular face was stoic and harsh, the sporadic lighting of the warehouse casting shadows on the deep contours of his cheeks and nose.Â
To say that you had missed Dean in the same way that you had missed Sam would practically be an insult. It was more than just missing him. It was a deep and guttural longing that had you curled under the covers, unmoving and unfeeling for days after he left. There was no way to decide what you missed most. Was it his warm breath against your back on slow mornings after a hunt? Lips and hands drawing an absent pattern across your sore muscles and tired skin. Was it his long fingers intertwining through yours as the Impala tore down a dirt road, the sunlight bouncing off its black paint? Or perhaps it was how his expressive jade eyes would always find yours first. On every case. Every hunt. Every monster. Those earthy pools of warm waters full of lilypads and speckled flowers holding your gaze, reading your mind, and drowning your sorrows. Or it could be when he smiled with his eyesâsaying your name and touching your face with the tips of his fingers? Maybe it was the nights where you gave yourself to him and he you? Minds fold to the intensity of the body's pleasure. Arms and legs wrapped around each other so tight, as if the other person would explode into a thousand pieces at any moment. With hungry lips and a thirsty tongue. Allowing all to be explored. All to be sacrificed and exposed. Although you couldn't pinpoint it, you knew it was when he told you he loved you. When he dropped the act and let himself feel the world. In those moments, he could choose to feel the bad. The ache. The hurt. But he would choose to feel you. To tell you he loved you. The soft words in your ear, his breath playing with your hair gently. His hands circling your wrists, feeling your quickening pulse against his skin.Â
âI-â You started, not knowing where you were going with your sentence.Â
âYou what?â Dean cut you off. âYou wanna work this together? Like old times?â He asked, his voice full of anger and hurt.Â
âDeanâŚâ Sam tried to calm his brother down.Â
âNo, Sammy. I want to hear what she has to say after all this time.â Dean's voice shifted to one of controlled arrogance. But you knew him. You knew how much pain he was trying to mask.Â
âLook, I know you hate me. To be honest, I hate me too sometimesâŚI had no idea you were going to be here. Honest.â You said, holding up your hands and stepping back when Dean approached you.Â
âRight. So, like I said, weâll take it from here.â Dean said, pointing his finger between him and Sam.Â
Suddenly, you felt angry. You didn't know where it was coming from, but you saw red, and your âcalm, cool, and collectedâ attitude began slipping away.Â
âWhat? No! I was here first. I was the one who found this place by myself, might I add. The only reason I even got distracted was because of Samâs huge, clunking feet.â You argued.Â
Sam tilted his head, letting his face fall into one you had seen so many times before. The bitch face.Â
âYou know, you could always be a brat when you wanted to,â Dean said, stepping towards you.Â
âI recall you liking that, Winchester.â You countered, stepping towards him, too.Â
âFunny.â He said, his voice dropping deep within his chest. âI donât recall much.âÂ
âNeither do I.â You practically whispered.Â
âI thought I told you not to forget.â He said with authority.Â
âAnd I thought you would have learned a long time ago. I donât always follow your orders.â You retorted.Â
In that moment, you saw something pass through his eyes. A memory long forgotten and put away resurfaced. His cheeks flushed slightly. His eyes lowered to your breasts, holding his gaze there for a beat before following the curves of your neck to your mouth. Your lips parted, allowing a small breath to escape. Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the plump flesh before it popped back out. Pink and wet.Â
âCome on, Sam. I could use the sleep anyway.â And with that, they were gone again.Â
Because of your little production with Dean, the ghoul was long gone by the time you found its hideout. You repacked your car and slammed the trunk, throwing out every curse word you knew into the windshield as you drove away. You rolled your window down and let the night air cool your heated flesh. The moonlight couldn't hide the memories that saturated your mind. It was as if double doors opened, and everything you had put behind you came raging into focus. Hearing his thick voice say your name made your time with the Winchesters play out in front of your eyes. You and Sam reading over books at a diner table, plates and cups littering the space. You and Dean counting down before jumping into the swarm of vamps together. Samâs hair blowing in the passenger seat. Deanâs groggy voice in the morning. Dean holding Samâs shoulders as he has yet another vision. Dean smiling at you, a smear of blood covering his freckles. Dean clanking his beer against yours. Sam laughing over the jukebox of some dive bar. Dean pulling you close and burying his face into your hair after a particularly long hunt. Sam pushing you behind him as the wendigo approached. Dean slipping his fingers under your shirt, tickling your skin. Dean sneaking into the shower with you when you were trying to keep your relationship a secret. Dean whispering âI love youâ for the first time in an empty field under the stars. Dean running his fingers through your hair while a movie played on the T.V. Dean giving your hand a squeeze before charging at a ghost. Dean holding your face in his hands, blood spattered across your skin. Dean pulling you into him in his sleep. Dean stitching up your wounds in the motel room. Dean kissing you in the back of the impala. Dean. Dean. Dean.Â
Fuck! You slammed your car into park and charged into your motel room. Your fingers ran through your hair frantically as your heart rate picked up. Your feet paced quickly across the room, heavy breaths pulling in and out of your lungs. Just as you were about to collapse, a knock on the door stopped you. You knew it was him. You closed your eyes and swallowed down your anxieties.Â
You opened the door to his angry face.Â
âHow did you find me?â
âI remembered you liked the nicer things.â Dean pointed to the motel sign.Â
You nodded, pursing your lips together. Â
âTell me what happened,â Dean instructed.Â
âYou know what happened.â You said around a sigh.Â
âYa knowâŚI thought I did.â His arrogant voice was back. âBut the more I think about it, the more it doesn't make sense,â Dean said, coming close to you.Â
âI think you and I have had enough for one night.â You said, trying to close the door.Â
Deanâs open palm stopped the door from moving further, âIâll say when I have had enough.âÂ
âDean-â You began to protest again.Â
He pushed into the door, crowding your space and entering your room.Â
âCome on in.â You mumbled sarcastically.Â
âI donât know what you think you are going to solve by bothering me.â You tried to play annoyed.Â
âHow about the fact that it came out of fucking nowhere?â Dean said, holding his arms out to his sides. âI mean really. One day you are telling me you love me and that you canât imagine your life without me, and the next-â Dean stopped himself.Â
âIâm breaking your heart.â You filled in the rest. He nodded, holding your gaze as he did.Â
âItâs like I said, I couldnât watch you die.â You responded as emotionless as you could.Â
âBullshit. I gave you an out in Lincoln. I told you to go. I told you to get as far away from me as possible. To live your life and leave me to suffer the consequences of my actions. And you stayed. You said you would never leave me. And not two weeks laterâŚyour fucking gone.â He dropped the arrogance, his voice now full of confusion and anguish. Â
He was right. That is precisely how it played out.Â
âTell me what happened.â He asked again.Â
âI did.âÂ
âYou didnât,âÂ
âDeanâÂ
âY/N.â
There he goes again. Saying your name with that wicked tongue.Â
âPlease-â Your voice breaking.Â
âSo there is more?â Dean asked, stunned.Â
âI canât.â You whispered.Â
âYou can.â There was no anger now. His shoulders dropped, and his face was left full of despair.Â
Dean crossed over to you, took your wrists within his hands, and pinned you against the wall. He looked deeply into your eyes, searching for an answer.Â
âBaby, tell me what happened.â He said one last time.Â
âIt was the angels.â You finally relented.Â
âWhat?â His brow furrowed, and his eyes moved quickly between yours.Â
âWell, one angel. Zachariah. He spoke to me.â You felt the tears fill your eyes. âHe told me they would save you if I left. They said you would be spared from hell, but I had to leave. I had to get away from you.â You let the truth lay in front of him for the first time.Â
âThe angels? Why?â He was wide-eyed and horrified.Â
âI donât know. They said that if I left, you would be saved. I was so desperate, Dean. I was so scared you were going to die. I didnât know what to do. So I left. I left like a coward, and I knew the only way you wouldn't come after me was if I broke you.â You breathed. Although it killed you to tell him, there was a sense of relief finally telling the truth after all this time.Â
Dean stared at you, his face difficult to read. You let your eyes fall on his lips, plump and slightly agape. You felt his hands tighten around your wrists, and it shot you back to the last time he held you like this. You could hear the soft rain on the window and smell the coffee going cold on the nightstand. The skin of your neck tickled, remembering his hot breath groaning in your ear. Your fingers could practically feel the cheap comforter, his hands holding them down just like they were now. You bit down on your lip as you remembered the way he pushed into you, slow enough to tease but fast enough to make your legs shake.Â
âWhy didn't you come back after?â He finally asked, breaking you out of your memory.
âBecause they lied to me. You still went to hell. How could I ever face you? How could I ever expect you to look me in the eyes again after I abandoned you? I can barely look at myself. I left you, Dean. I loved you so much. You were the air that I breathed. And I just fucking left. I could never ask you to understand.â You explained, your voice sounded wet from the tears.Â
âY/NâŚâ He spoke, his body pressing into yours harder.Â
You inhaled sharply, arching your back and allowing your head to loll back on your shoulders. Dean licked his lips, leaving a wet sheen on them.Â
âI don't understand.â He said softly.Â
âUnderstand what?â
âWhy would they want you to leave? Why would it matter if you were with me or not?â He asked with a furrowed brow.Â
âBecause we knew you would never say âyesâ to Michael if you were clamored on to some chick.â A voice suddenly spoke.Â
You and Dean broke apart, both clenching when startled. A man with balding grey hair stood in a black suit, a smile that made your mouth curl sat on his face.Â
âZachariah,â Dean practically growled.Â
âGood to see you, Dean.âÂ
âWish I could say the same.âÂ
âWell, now you know the big secret.â He said, shrugging his shoulders and turning down the corners of his mouth.Â
âI always knew you were a son of a bitch, but now youâve gone too far.â Dean stepped toward him, you could feel the hate in his voice.Â
âYou lied to me! He died anyway!â You screamed, coming to stand next to Dean.Â
âNo. No. I never lied. I said we would save him from hell, which we did. You simply heard what you wanted.â He said nonchalantly, as if he was describing what he ate for breakfast.
âThatâs called manipulation, dick.â You shot back.
âOh! Fiesty.â He held up his hand, pretending it was a claw.Â
âI am going to say this one time.â Dean started, his arms pushed you slightly behind him as he moved toward Zachariah. âIf you ever step foot near her again, I am going to rain down a world of hurt on you that you cant even imagine. You do not come near her again, do you understand me? Whatever you want to do to me is fine, but you leave her alone. All this bullshit, Michael, Lucifer, angels, demons, thatâs your shit to clean. Not hers! And since Michael still wants to wear me like a fucking sock puppet, I suggest you listen to me and back the fuck off!â Dean thundered.Â
You stared with eide eyes as he got closer and closer to the angel. Your breathing quickened and you nervously swallowed. You sat in a silent panic for his safety.Â
âI may not have much in this world. Nothing but left overs from my father and his neverending crusade. But I have her. And I will die before I let you or any other winged bastard breathe near her again.â Deanâs voice was unnerving and low.Â
âJeez, give it a rest. When did we put on lifetime?â Zachariah asked without trying to hide his disdain.Â
âMake your jokes, but donât forget that I specialized in torture.â Dean practically whispered.Â
Your heart skipped a beat, what?Â
âWell, I do not pretend to know about coitus as I find it repulsive, but I have heard make up is the best!â Zachariah said with a gross mocking tone.Â
âDonât you fucking-âÂ
Zachariah was gone before Dean could finish his sentence.Â
âShit!â Dean yelled.Â
His back was still to you. The air in the room was so thick it felt difficult to breathe. Your skin warmed under the tension. Just as you were about to speak, he turned. His face was hard and determined. You both stared at each other for a moment, trying to read the other person's mind. Dean acted first. He practically flew across the room back to you. His hands dug into your hair harshly, pulling your head back as a shocked moan left your mouth. Your mouth opened to his before he even kissed you. All teeth and tongue. Both relinquishing control and fighting for it at the same time.Â
You and Dean had shared many kisses in your relationship: passionate, quick, raw, emotional, fast, and slow. This was different. It felt like an ache. It felt familiar and foreign at the same time. He kissed you like the ocean raged when a storm descended upon the land. His lips were out of rhythm and timing, but they still hit exactly where they needed to be. And like the warmed waters fueling the storm, you found yourself trying to grind your pelvis desperately into his, seeking any friction.Â
Keeping one hand on the back of your head, he hooked his other around your thigh, yanking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grabbing onto a fistful of his hair for yourself. He groaned into your mouth, twisting his tongue around yours.Â
âI missed you so much.â You mumbled against his lips.Â
âYouâre the only thing I want.â He answered, pushing your back against the wall.Â
His head dipped down. You squeezed your thighs around his waist as his teeth nipped at your neck and breasts. Using his hips and the wall to hold you in place, he undid the buttons of your shirt, opening it before taking your breasts in his hands. His thumbs stroked just above your bra while his mouth continued to suck and nip at your neck. He grabbed onto your hips again, his fingers digging into the globes of your ass. He threw you down on the bed, quickly crawling on top of you and reattaching his lips to yours. You undid the button on his jeans, hearing the sharp hiss as you palmed him through his boxers. He grabbed your hand and pulled it out of his pants, grabbing your other hand and pinning both above your head. His mouth found yours again, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip, pulling on it harshly.
âDonât move.â He commanded.Â
He left your hands above your head as his body lowered down yours. Teasing you by keeping his lips just hovering over your skin. His pointer finger dipped below the waist of your jeans, running it across your belly slowly. Your body was almost squirming as the anticipation built within your core. Your fingers twisted together when he opened the button on your jeans and yanked them down your legs. His mouth moved over your thighs, his hot breath fanning your skin. His teeth playfully pulled on your panties. His tongue teased you through the fabric. You lifted your head to look at him. God, you had missed this. That soft brown hair is just asking to be pulled. Those green eyes rolled back in his head as he decided he couldn't wait anymore, yanking your panties off you and taking you into his mouth. His freckled nose scrunched when he knew he had found a particularly good spot. And, of course, that mouth. Those lips and tongue, tasting every part of you. Dean ravaged you. Hooking your legs over his shoulders and lapping at your entrance, sucking and licking your clit. His breath was heavy, and his eyes closed. You were sure no one could paint a more beautiful image than Dean Winchester between your legs.Â
Your first orgasm came quickly, taking both of you by surprise. Dean held you down with one forearm across your hips as he continued. Your hands were wrung together. You wanted to touch him so badly. Your body rapidly built up another orgasm. Dean kept you on the edge for this one, extending the pleasure but building the tension. By the time he let you tumble, you were covered in sweat and practically begging him. You couldnât stand it anymore, and your hands flew to his head, yanking on his hair as your orgasm released throughout your body. He held you through it, moaning around your cries of pleasure.Â
He came back to you, face to face. âIâll let you have that one.â He said with a crooked smile.Â
The tone shifted then, and a new reality settled over the two of you. Deanâs eyes softened to your favorite shade of them, the green grass of the first cold morning in fall. Fresh dew lay in a wet blanket over young blades, their mossy color diffused by clouds against the low-hanging sun.Â
âYou know I never stopped loving you, right?â You asked, running your fingers over his arm.Â
âI do now.â He answered, pushing your hair away from your forehead to kiss your hairline.Â
âI love you, Y/N. Iâve always loved you. When you were gone, no matter how hard I tried to deny it or how much I shoved it down, it was always there. You were always my girl.â His voice was thick with need and emotion.Â
From that moment on, the night felt different. It was more than a reunion. It was more than hashing out old times. It was a vow. You both knew that marriage was not exactly in the cards for hunters, but this night was as close as the two of you would ever come. Words that should have been exchanged in a ceremony were written on each other's naked flesh with wet tongues and eager lips. Names that should have been signed on a document were inked onto each of your hearts through the whispered pleasure filling the air. And oaths that should have been pledged for all to hear were found in the dilating pupils of your locked eyes.Â
Slow and passionate kisses turned heavy and deep as you recommitted yourselves to each other and your relationship. Dean's hands touched every part of you, dipping into all your crevices, tracing every scar and freckle. You tasted him, feeling the thick drag of him through your mouth, holding onto his deep groans of ecstasy. He pushed into you, spreading your legs with his before looking you in the eye as he filled you completely. His perfect rhythm brought you to your peak, grasping at his back and shoulders. You found yourself on top, rolling your hips over his, watching his teeth bite into his tongue to keep himself from crying out. His eyes open, showing his blown-out pupils, all traces of morning dew gone. Deanâs hands pressed into your hips so hard, moving you with him as he neared his own peak. Face to face, his fingers dragging down your back, you both fell together.Â
Tangled in limbs and sheets, you let your beating heart slow to an average pace. Dean dreamily traced a pattern over your arm, occasionally kissing your forehead as dawn began to break. You didnât say it and he didnât ask, but you were never leaving his side again. Finally feeling safe in the arms of the man you loved, you let your eyes drift closed for a moment. You heard his breathing become slow and even, knowing he was also falling asleep. You smiled, healing yourself in the light of a new day before closing your eyes and sailing into a restful sleep.
Tagging: @thinkinghardhardlythinking @watermelonlipstick
#spn#i love dean winchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#spn fandom#dean#dean fanfiction#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#supernatural x reader#spn reader insert#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#spn fic
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So I saw your requests were open and that you do both x men and tfp, leading to me wondering how would the team prime and the cons react to a mutant reader? And could readers mutant ability be like Johny Storm from Fantastic 4? (Keep up the good work đ)
LOVE IT! ALSO YOU GET EXTRA POINTS FOR MIXING UP TFP AND X-MEN. I wrote this as platonic. Let me know if you want any romantic version
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How did you end up like this? No one knows, but they don't even know you're like this. Ecxept Miko, Raf and Jack, since you know that they're friends with huge fraggin robots. When you met the bots it wasn't the best situation, because you were enraged about the events that happened at home that day. Almost engulfed in flames you calm down when you spot Miko talk to a bit bulky bot behind an abandonded building. You saw the bots which resulted in you being brought to the base. You were amazed that you could forget the sorrow you have for being different. You grew close with the team really quick, even Ratchet took a liking to you. The moment the team sees your ability for the first time was when they were cornered by cons in a energon mine. Since there was no backup at the moment you ran out and light yourself up. At first the autobots thought you were an alien or something, but when they realize it's you they didn't believe it at first. The vehicons weren't so lucky since you almost melted some of their limbs. Once the fight was done they just stared at you. "Uhh..guys? Does anyone have some spare clothes?"
Optimus Prime
He would be confused. Like literally confused which is rare, but still you managed to achieve it.
You're human and fire should hurt you. How do you light yourself on fire?!
The moment you tell them that you're a mutant and your not the only one they start to do some research on these so called "mutants"
He would ask you what you can do and what your abilities are.
Doesn't like the idea of having you on the battlefield even if it means that the autobots have the upperhand
You're now his child. No objections.
The team needs help? You're there to melt them down and that earns you a big lecture from Optimus about how they can't risk human lives.
If he's wounded you would melt the metal gently and repair it.
Since he's made of metal some of his plating might be cold. So he absolutely loves how you work like an furnace.
Ratchet
Almost freaked out by your abilities.
"Y/N IS ON FIRE BY THE ALL SPARK WHY IS NO ONE DOING ANYTHING"
The moment he gets to know about your so called mutation he turns into a fragging scientist. Blood samples, dna samples and etc.
Anytime there's any need for repairs he just picks you up and points where repair is needed.
"Fix it, you're smaller, steadier and you're hot"
He wouldn't realize his mistake until you laugh straight into his face "what's so funny? Wha- NO NOT LIKE THAT"
He would love your help in the medbay since you can mold wounds.
Your now his favorite assistant in medbay and in the lab
Bumblebee
He thinks you're so awesome! A human who can light themselves on fire with no harm?!
He would ask you to fly or use any other abilities out or nowhere because he wants to see you as your true self
If you could understand him he would straight up just rant how cool you are. He also gave you a nickname which is Firefly
He loves giving you hugs since you're so warm.
He's in trouble? They're melted before he can even ask for backup
He's your big bro now and Raf your lil bro. You're the best sibling duo there is.
On cold nights he would just keep you on his shoulder so he could feel your warmth close to his face so he can relax
Arcee
Oh she would be speechless. You can melt vehicons, fly somehow and just in general use your abilities
You're now her favorite human (BYE JACK)
She would love to watch you make fireshows
Your warmth would comfort her since she's lonely sometimes
She would call you as backup anytime the team is struggling
â¨The sassy teamâ¨
Oh you two would be unstoppable. Cybertronian femme whose sassy and a mutant who is also sassy.
Bulkhead
Oh he would take you for a drive to ask you all kind of questions
First he thought the cons lit you on fire and panicked
After that he wants to see your abilities. That includes you having clothes on (of courseđ¤¨)
He would be so interested, but terrified about your ability to melt cybertronians
He's a wrecker! Of course your abilities will be useful.
He wouldn't like the idea of you in the battlefield, but still is amazed how well you handle it.
The big chunky guy is usually warm but won't mind some extra warmth from your body in the colder days.
He's bored? Be ready to fire up.
Wheeljack
Oh oh oh! You'll never hear the end of it. He's around every corner begging you to light up.
He's more chaotic than bulkhead so of course he's after you all the time and asking you to set things on fire.
Wouldn't actually mind going on patrol with you since you're so awesome
He would secretly carry you around on missions to have you melt the cons. I bet he would stare sadisticly.
But don't worry he wouldn't risk your life! If you want to stay safe he won't bother you anymore. (Maybe)
Any old enemy of his he managed to meet on earth would most likely be melted by his request to bring you along.
Ultra Magnus
He would not be happy about you breaking protocol and not staying in the base.
But he would be grateful about you saving the team
"Aaww you're worried about me" No teasing! Now you're in for a 1 hour long lecture
He would find your mutation interesting, but would let it be since he's a robot himself
He's always cold. Mentally. And! Physically so he wouldn't admit it but does love your body warmth.
Smokescreen
"YOU'RE ON FIRE?! COOL!" Wouldn't understand that isn't normal until he's back in his senses. "YOU'RE ON FIRE! AHH PRIMUS WHY ARE YOU ON FIRE!?"
Would absolutely love your abilities even if you would be insecure about being 'different'
If you ever would kick decepticon aft he's your 1# fan in the background
He finds beauty in fire so he thinks you and your abilities are absolutely stunning
If he's scared about succeeding or about the future you would be there on his shoulder warm like an oven which calms him down
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The team were in trouble. Why? There was a surprise attack by Megatron himself. You flew through the groundbridge so you could help the team. You were almost too late as Megatron had his servo/sword up and about to strike Optimus. Hurrying you catch on to his servo and start to heat up, melting his servo in the process. "GAHH! WHAT ARE YOU!?" Megatrons sword and blaster were both out of the game since you melted most of his servo. Having the upperhand, the cons give up and leave. There was one con left. Megatron. "This isn't over, Optimus. Not with you and your firey PET!" Oh oh, he was pissed!
Megatron
That little mutant dare to melt his servo!
He didn't even know you're a human with a mutation until soundwave found footage and info about you.
Would try to get revenge on you, but doesn't want to risk losing his servo again.
For once the warlord was worried about his opponent.
If you could melt his servo, could you melt your way through his whole frame?
He didn't show it, but the thought actually made him shudder.
He couldn't lose to a pathetic human who is 10 times smaller than him.
In short, he hates your guts but loves your abilities.
Soundwave
The moment Megatron asked to find information about you, a switch flipped in his processor.
Finally he found a human interesting. A extraordinary human to be specific
If he had time he would try to see you on cameras so he could catch you for Megatron
He wasn't scared or anything, but would be slightly worried could you melt his screen off?
He did almost catch you, but you lit up inside him so he had to drop you out before he would fall down from the sky.
Knew that you're stronger than anybot thinks. Wouldn't mess with you unless he has something to overpower you for example: some relics
Knockout
If he ever I MEAN EVER sees you in action he would definitely run away and protect his paintjob.
Fire + his beautiful plating/paint job did NOT go together.
If you would try to attack him, you won't see him after a while. He's AFRAID of you.
Would always seem busy when he heard lord Megatron talk about a mission where you could be involved.
"Knockout!" The cherry red medic saluted. "You have a mission to go an retrieve a relic. Y/N could be there, so be quick." "My Liege I'm in the middle of a medical check up I don't have t-time. Send breakdown. He's willing to do it."
If you're on the nemesis he would run away like from the bot zombies in season 3 of tfp xD
Shockwave
You're mutation was...illogical
A human shouldn't be able to light themselves on fire
Would ask permission from Megatron to take you as a test subject.
Be careful not to be caught by him! It would be worse than having others afraid of you and your freaky abilities.
He wanted to see how you could work with your abilities. How could he make them..Logical
Wouldn't be afraid of you. Oh no no no. He would be so so so interested about your abilities he wouldn't care if he would get melted at the same time.
Predaking
He would love your abilities to be on flames, but! Since he's a decepticon and a predacon ofcourse he has to attack you.
Would speak to you someway or another in his bipedal mode during a mission
If he need fire styled company, he would try to contact you. He doesn't care if you're part of the autobots. You're his friend
Frag Megatron and Shockwave. You're warm like him! You're now his grandchild!
You would joke around that he's your actual king! Since you both are fire themed basically.
#tfp x reader#optimus prime x reader#bumblebee x reader#ratchet x reader#arcee x reader#bulkhead x reader#wheeljack x reader#ultra magnus x reader#megatron x reader#soundwave x reader#knockout x reader#shockwave x reader#predaking x reader
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Nothing really matters.
Vampire Empire
Part 3
Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
A/N: Well this was depressing to write... Anyways, enjoy!
Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.
AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+
Summary: You feel numb, what does it matter anymore?
Word Count: 2.1k
Taglist: @thinking1bee
The next time either of them sees you is in one of Natashaâs business meetings a few weeks later.
Back in Carolâs possession, you kneel in the corner of the conference room while Carol raises her voice at anyone with a slight attitude toward her idiotic ideas.
After half an hour, the constant bickering between the blond woman and Natashaâs respective staff members had become background noise.
There is a crinkling of paper as Natasha scuffles her documents around for a moment while deep in thought. The paper is smooth and high quality, her golden rings glide against the white surface, and she traces black lines of information she can recite in her sleep.
To Natashaâs surprise, you had seemed indifferent to her presence, you didnât even glance at her once during the introduction to todayâs meeting.
Following the same line back and forth, the ink smudges and blurs after the seventh round of Natasha's thumb gliding gently on top of the unimportant details.
She had to give credit where credit was due. You were poised and unbothered.
She could not say the same for herself, however.
Ever since she could smell you getting in the elevator with blondie, she kept glancing toward the door, waiting for your arrival. And now, she continuously spares a glance in your direction when she thinks someone talks too loudly or expresses themselves with broad gestures.
It doesn't take long for her to understand you a little better.
Carol changes you.
Your eyes are cast downward, and you hold your head low in a display of obedience. You are sitting on your heels with your hands just out in front of your knees. Your back is strung tight to form a perfect line and the muzzle is only for show. But whereas your posture and attitude would be considered perfection, your eyes are empty.
Natashaâs chair creaks and groans as she rocks back and forth, the leather cushion softens the knockback as her leg bounces against the flooring, unfitting of her usual characteristics, she canât seem to keep her calm and collected demeanor.
Small tears and wrinkles form, as Natasha tightens her hands against some case report she wrote half-heartedly before bed the previous night. She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring.
You are still covered in bruises.
They are healing, and so are the once red and angry lines, they are now pinker and more muted. But itâs clear some of them were fresher, it had been close to a month since she had seen you last, yet the color of some were as fresh as a daisy.
Specifically, your face seemed to have been put through the gutter.
Though it was clear that whatever transpired that day hadnât been repeated, she could still sense in you that Carol wasnât very light-handed.
She tells herself it is because she pities you for having to go through the blondeâs rage, but there is also something about the two small puncture wounds on your neck that aggravates her.
Her fingers drum against the table in annoyance while she thinks it over, her nails clicking against the resin top of her newly polished conference table.
Pinching the skin between her eyebrows she sighs loudly. Enough so, that the man currently presenting stutters and has to loosen his tie before continuing with a slight tremor to his hands.
She canât figure it out.
She huffs and readjusts her posture to show she is listening.
Never mind, the little mystery you are, she has business to attend to. With one last glance, she emerges herself back in the matter at hand and makes sure to fix Carol with a hard glare whenever something becomes too heated.
You are sitting on an old wooden bench in the garden.
The flowers bloom around you and rustle in the fresh, spring, wind. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the rosebush across the tiny plot of land. The birds sing in a tune you are not familiar with, but itâs nice. Lilies hug your legs, all colorful and fresh, there are tiny little droplets atop their pedals, it must have rained before you got out here.
That would explain the chill that settles deep in your spine.
There are dogs around, you hear them bark and growl at each other on the other side of the fence, but you donât mind.
Because you are in the garden. With a fence between you and them.
Until one of them jumps the fence.
You have been staring at the ground with a slight tremor lacing your every move for the better part of an hour. She seems like a calm dog, but sheâs big, bigger than you, and there is this presence to her that you donât know what to do with.
She smells like the flowers around you, maybe thatâs why you donât flee. No matter how much you want to, you are frozen in your seat as the big hound stares at you.
She licks her snout and blinks slowly while you sit there. It feels like she is mocking you, almost as if daring you to move.
The wind picks up every now and then, the howling of the other dogs growing louder and more concerning, but the big dog doesnât bat an eye. She growls deeply, but you can tell it isnât directed at you, and then the other dogâs calm.
Maybe she is a nice dog, but it doesnât matter.
A dog is a dog.
The fence opens with a piercing screech. Even as you close your eyes in hope, the big dog does nothing. She doesnât run away, but she doesnât help either.
She just watches as Master drags you away. You donât know why you thought she would do anything else.
Master is right.
Master is always right.
No one will help.
You donât deserve it.
When the meeting commends, Carol drags you out of the room quickly, she has other matters to settle tonight, and she canât be bothered to stay here too long.
Your knuckles rasp against the expensive flooring of Mrs. Romanoff´s office. The tasteful tree-work makes your bones ache, and your tag jingles repeatedly as bone connects with fifty thousand dollars worth of Brazilian rosewood. The blond woman tugs at your leash impatiently.
âCarol. Wait a moment.â
Please donât.
Master halted her movements just before she passed through the elevator´s door, effectively also halting yours.
âThere is some paperwork James wants you to finish up before you leave.â
Natasha waves her hand around with a roll of her eyes, showcasing false annoyance she knows the blond will eat right up, âSomething about an unsettled bank record?â The redhead squints in the blondeâs direction, displeasure hidden not so greatly on the CEOâs face.
Natasha has to work extremely hard to not showcase how disgusting she finds the woman in front of her to be.
The woman beside you tenses up. She bunches her eyebrows and sighs before nodding slowly and releasing the tight clutch on your leash.
A pointed finger comes into view as Carol shifts her body towards you and tilts her head downward to face you. âStay here.â Her voice leaves no room for arguing, itâs a clear command, you know she only does it to showcase her power over you. You couldnât talk back even if you wanted to, the clinic made sure of that long before you even knew Masters hard angles.
Nonetheless, you bow your head and place your rump back onto the cruel flooring, somehow it feels even stiffer than the concrete inside your familiar slammer.
There is a long and rather awkward silence before Miss Romanoff clears her throat and breaks the stillness.
âAre you in pain?â Natasha gestures towards her own face as if you need a hint to understand what she means.
Just a few months ago, Romanoff acknowledging you in the slightest would send you through a rollercoaster of fear and wonder. Now you merely play dumb and tilt your head in confusion.
Of course, it hurts.
That was the point, wasnât it?
âYou smell different.â Carol scrutinizes you from afar.
If it werenât for the years of experience you have with this sort of thing you would give yourself away immediately by tensing up and begging for her mercy, instead, you remain impassive.
The blond woman studies you carefully, waiting for any telltale that you heard her.
Itâs easier than you thought.
Maybe itâs from the emotional drainage these days have been, but you barely feel anything as Carol looks you over. No matter how much she has hurt you, her eyes hold nothing compared to the power that the Maximoff clanâs leader has in hers.
You can hear the familiar crunch of rough concrete beneath a heavy army boot.
Master moves closer, but still, you feel nothing.
Itâs been three days since that day. The first night you sobbed your sorrows, your pain, your fear, everything that has been building up and suppressed throughout the years all expressed in a puddle of tears and blood.
You donât know what the women wanted, but something about them had made ancient wounds reopen, and the floodgates that followed were inevitable.
You donât even remember falling asleep, you find it more likely that you passed out from dehydration or exhaustion.
The other days had passed in a blur.
Itâs like you have been stuck in a trance where nothing really matters anymore.
Then the smashing of keys came back, and still, you were inconsolable. You didnât even acknowledge her when she ran her hands over your bare body. Didnât blink as her hands took a threatening hold of your collar.
She was testing this new side of yours; you could tell it angered her that she didnât affect you.
You ruined her little power trip of the day.
She grips the back of your neck and forces you to face her. âLook at me when I am talking to you!â Spit sprays on your face as she talks through gritted teeth.
You donât care, you just stare at her through hooded eyes, looking but not seeing.
Her hand connected hard with your face; you could feel the vibration inside your skull. And yet, all you could think about were them.
The feeling of concrete pouring through your veins wasnât so scary anymore.
*slap*
You wonder what would happen if she went all the wayâŚ
*slap*
Maybe it wouldnât be so bad if they killed you.
*slap*
âLOOK AT ME!â Carol screams into your ear, but it is fuzzy and unintelligible to you.
*slap*
âCANâT YOU TELL I AM TALKING TO YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH!?â
*slap*
âLook at me?â Her hand strokes your chin lightly, but you know herâŚ
*slap*
*slap*
Your head bounces against the pavement.
*slap*
Your vision becomes blurry and unfocused.
She hit you a total of twenty-four more times, before finally relenting and stomping away.
From that day forward you decided to play into it, pretend like what took place with the powerful women never happened to begin with. You were sure it would anger them.
If this is what Carol does when you ruin her little high.
Maybe, they will return and finish what they started if you ruin theirs.
Natasha scratches the nape of her neck as you sit there staring into nothingness. Your brows are slightly raised, and your eyes are wide, to Natasha, it seems like you are in a completely different world.
She leans against the wall, her shoulder squishing against the glass panel, and she crosses one leg over the other. Relying solely on her right leg to hold her up, she looks down at her dress shoes.
Her question was stupid, she knew as much, but what else was she supposed to say?
She wanted to talk to you.
Nat knows she should just leave you be and return back to her office, but when you were being led out of the room earlier your eyes had connected with her, it was a mere millisecond. But in that moment Natasha had felt a chill run down her spine.
Something was definitely wrong.
However, she didnât expect you to completely shut down after just one simple question.
You are unresponsive to any stimuli while you sit in the hallway with Natashaâs presence close by. The older redhead tries to tap her foot or grunt obnoxiously, just to get a response, but nothing.
Itâs not until you can hear Carolâs heavy footsteps that you quicken up and bow your head down.
Carol nods in Natashaâs direction before she passes her and collects you. Her gruff hands slide up and down the expanses of your leash until she finds the position that will yield her the most amount of control over your movements.
If the circumstances were different, Natasha would kill Carol on the spot.
Yet, as Carol takes ahold of your leash and steers you both into the elevator, Natasha lets you go.
Convincing herself itâs for the better. Again.
#wanda maximoff x reader#dark!wanda maximoff#natasha romanoff x reader#wandanat x reader#dark!natasha romanoff#vampire!natasha romanoff#vampire!wanda maximoff#dark!wandanat
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Day At The Pool
Yan Casino staff + G.N Reader blurb
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They've been staring at you all day....
Four members of the hotel staff you have the sneaking suspicion have been following you since you checked in. An extravagant and luxurious hotel spanning roughly the size of a small town - yet you saw their faces at nearly every corner.
It was reasonable to see them from time to time. Your first instance of meeting the group was on your travel to the floor you'd be spending the duration of your stay when you had returned a pendant one of them had dropped after you found it by your door during the confusion. They thanked you profusely as the other members of their team peaked outside the rooms they'd be searching to see the cause of their crewmate's tears.
A few words and hugs of gratitude, plus a few dessert to show how deep their appreciation ran and you thought that would be the end of your tale. You saw them a couple times when you ordered room service - then again when you went out to explore the rest of the resort. One worked behind the register of a gift shop you visited while another escorted you to your seat after you discovered free tickets to a show added on with your purchase of the room. There was always one to cheer you on with whatever recreational actives you indulged in and one to refill your drink.
Even now, as your vacant days drew to a close and you spent one of your final afternoons by the pool your little entourage wasn't far from sight. Two had taken up lawn chairs beside you and politely, but firmly told other guests this area of the pool was closed. Another swam by in a pool float as the last continued to sneak you items in between their stops at other table. Eating one of the snacks they left as hunger lapses your judgement - you shrink into your chair as the two at your shuffle closer.
"Um.... Is there something I can help you with?"
Their eyes grow wide. One mutters in the other's ear, waving the remaining two offer. Joined by their doubles - the four look between themselves and you. They huddle together, whispering to each other and sneaking the occasional glance at you. Ever so often, you hear a soft giggle.
"Are you always that cute?..."
"Or is it just the lighting."
"Your skin looks so soft...."
"Can we touch it?..."
You pull your towel over your legs as the one from the pool reaches out. "... Do you guys do this with all your guests?"
"Course not!"
"You're different - you helped us."
"Nobody ever does that around here - we like you!"
"Wanna keep you safe...."
"Safe? Safe from what?"
The quietest of them gasps, multiple hands shooting over their mouth. The quartet drop their voices to a whisper once more hushed to complete silence as they look at you. Holding a finger to each of their lips, they beckon you closer as they signal to remain quiet.
"Shhhh - not supposed to tell."
"You don't belong here. No human does."
"Boss tries real hard to make this a place for everyone, but not everyone wants that. Demons, angels, others - some don't like mortals treading their territory."
"Cute thing like you would get gobbled right up, but we won't let that happen. You'll our little secret."
Despite the grime tale - the group laugh to themselves at their teammate's final words. Something about the usage of the phrase "ours" tickled their brains. You, on the other hand were having none of it and wrote it off as some fucked prank while recognizing the terror of what it could really be. Examining the identical maids - you notice one of them are wearing name tags.
"Can you at least tell me who you are?"
Pointing at their faces, the group shouts in unison - "Ace!"
"Wait- so you're saying you're all named Ace?"
"Yes!"
Your head throbs. "I.. think I need to go lay down."
"Would you like one of us to carry you?"
"I'll manage, thanks." You squeeze past the maids and towards the elevator. Thay was strange, but you'll be out of here soon as it's not your problem. As soon as you leave, the closest to you pulls out your phone. They all shake hands for a job well done, crowding around your phone.
"Great job, Ace!- That was close."
"You said it Ace. Luckily I was able to watch them unlock their phone a few times so we should have access."
"Oh! Maybe they have more pictures of themselves!"
"Focus. We need to make sure nobody knows where they are.... but it couldn't hurt to check.
The demon in possession of your phone unlocks it on the first try and with the others scours the device for any little detail they could find.
"So cute~ I wanna kiss their cheeks."
"Think Boss will let us keep them?"
"Course they will! We've been good lately, and given all the stuff we do already - we can take care of them better than whatever their old life was like."
"They'll be so happy with us.... Let's go make them a gift basket to welcome them home~ âĄ"
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere blurb#yandere insert#yandere#yandere oc#Devil casino#The Aces#yandere harem#yandere drabble#yandere demon x reader
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