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whoopsyeahokay · 5 days ago

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October Moon

summary: things had been no less clear leading up to the homecoming dance. in fact, more questions had come up instead of having been answered...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

📯 i had to cut this part in 2 bc the wordcount was ridiculous. the next part is already posted so you don't have to wait for the much anticipated sexy times 🫶

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.3

You didn't know how you got there.

Alright. Fine. That was a lie.

As was the new routine, Aurora had dropped you off and feigned ignorance over Ajay. From there, Ajay had walked you to your locker like the ever vigilant watchdog he'd appointed himself as, then told you where to find Wally.

You'd gone to meet Wally at the day's designated out-of-the-way spot.

Bada bing, bada boom, you'd tripped and fallen into Wally's lap and now he had his hands on your ass and his mouth on your neck, whispering what sounded like a step-by-step guide on how to drive you insane. Your body was too hot, your clothes too constricting, your breathing too rough, and, Jesus, the sounds he made as he used his grip on your hips to grind you against him.

Needless to say, things had quickly escalated between you and Wally. His kisses had always been hungry, intense, turning you on to the point of self-combustion, but neither of you had had the time and space to explore where those kisses would go without interruption. Usually there was a school bell or a Group session or a clue come to light.

Not this morning. You had a free period; Group was postponed until next week due to the dance; and Simon and Maddie were occupied coercing Xavier to comply with Operation Claire.

Ugh.

Xavier would of course do it. He wanted so badly to help, to make things right, and if he had to manipulate his ex-mistress to redress the balance, so be it. You disagreed, but that was between the three of them, so you threw your hands up and turned a deaf ear to it, focusing instead on the Emerald Order, the symbols, and the tea.

Besides, Maddie and Simon would soon enough discover how miserable Xavier was at subterfuge. Compartmentalizing his relationships with Maddie and Claire took a whole different set of mental gymnastics. Back when it'd happened, had Maddie had an inkling that Xavier had been cheating and she'd confronted him about it? That boy would've cracked like an egg before she'd even finished asking the question.

"Where'd you go, baby?" Wally murmured, big hands sliding under your oversized hoodie to feel you, fingers splayed over your ribs, thumbs caressing the skin beneath the underwire of your bra.

Your brain was too soupy as a result to answer, "Hmm?"

Wally pulled back to give you an easy smile, lips red and kiss swollen. "There's my girl," he bumped the tip of his nose against yours, an affectionate boop, "You got away from me. What's wrong?"

Thinking of Xavier... You hadn't told Wally about the kiss. You needed to. You would. But did it have to be now? When he was rocking his hips against yours from below, movements slower and more subdued than before, but the effect nevertheless euphoric, heat binding tight in your belly. God, you could feel him, thick and hard against you through his sweatpants and your leggings. Pressed right there where you ached for him most.

You whimpered, a sound that Wally seemed to savor as he groaned and moved his hands back to your ass to grind you harder against him, "Fuck, I love the way you sound for me."

"You make it hard to think, Wally," You whined, drawing him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against yours.

"Yeah?" He breathed, sliding his hands under your hoodie and then into your leggings, skin to skin, "You like how I touch you?" He leaned in, nipping the sensitive spot below your ear, "Let me make you feel good, baby."

Jesus. Fuck. His voice. Heat flushed through you, pulsated between your thighs as he took you apart one syllable at a time. You gasped, keened, rolled your hips against his, fighting to disperse the fog that swaddled your thoughts. "I need to tell you something," you panted, head tipped back, eyes fluttering, "It's important."

Wally grazed his teeth over your pulse point, hummed, "You can tell me anything," and you could feel his smirk, "I'm listening."

Good. Great. Yep. You could do this.

Mustering your courage, you sat back, looked Wally in the eye, and tore off the band-aid, "Xavier tried to kiss me last night."

For a single, stressful beat, his grasp on you tightened, his body stiffened, and his eyes went dark and molten. Then, whoosh, he was himself again, hands smoothing up and down your thighs as if to reassure you, rendering an open expression of willingness.

A compassionate key, "What happened, baby?"

The question uncorked a rambling speech you had no control of. A history lesson and personality highlights to diminish the severity of Xavier's misguided actions. To explain his behavior to someone who didn't understand him and, worse, didn't seem keen to give Xavier a chance.

"Look, he's been through a lot. He has abandonment issues which makes sense if you've been there. Trust me!" Abort. Abort. Abort. But you couldn't, the words just kept coming, "I stopped it before it even started. He was emotional. He's never ever done anything like that before and I know he won't do it again. It was a mistake and he knows it. I think he's just confused because of Maddie and Claire and then there was everything with Aiden, and Zav is family, right, so it was just as bad for him to learn the truth as it was for me, and his head's a mess—"

Wally shushed you calmly, one thumb stroking your hipbone, the other your the arch of your cheek as he cradled your jaw, "Baby, hey, stop, it's okay."

A switch flipped and your spiel came to a screeching halt. Bewildered by his composure, "It is?" you wanted to be sure. You'd thought it would be a whole thing. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Wally cradled your jaw. Angled your face forward so he could stamp a kiss to your forehead. Gazed at you with such profound adoration, you had to relieve the overload of emotion that swelled inside you by expelling some of it in a pitiful whine. In response, Wally smiled tenderly, "Did you want to kiss Xavier?"

You shook your head, "No."

"And you stopped it?"

You nodded. "Immediately."

"So, why would I be pissed?" Wally rationalized. And he was acting way too cool about this. Even for him.

Narrowing your eyes, "You're sure?"

Wally chuckled, snatching your hips into his, smoldering at you with his eyes on your lips and a dirty promise in his tone, "I swear, baby." He claimed your mouth in another hot, possessive kiss as his fingers kneaded your ass. "Now, if you don't mind, I wanna make you moan my name again..."

That had been... ... ... ...too easy. You sensed there was something he wasn't telling you, but he was doing that thing with his teeth on your neck again, hands everywhere, hips hitching, and, swiftly, you couldn't have given less of a fuck.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier didn't know how you did it. How you masterfully played the part of an oblivious, non-ghost-seeing person when they were all around you. Quipping and commenting and cursing you out.

Okay. You'd probably never dealt with your ex-girlfriend's justifiably angry half-ghost haunting you throughout the day in order to ensure you were adhering to a terrible, horrible, extremely fallible plan to wheedle a body-snatching confession from the person you'd cheated on said half-ghost ex-girlfriend with. Gasping inhale.

Regardless, Xavier had seen Jumpsuit—Ajay, your voice supplied in Xavier's mind—report to you while you and Mathilda were having a conversation. While you'd acknowledged Ajay with an imperceptible gesture, you hadn't missed a beat. Had carried on with Mathilda like Ajay hadn't said a word. Not even a flicker, a stammer, a hesitation marker. Just giggly inside jokes and friend group gossip.

Meanwhile, Xavier twice had had to refill his ketchup over lunch because Nicole wasn't part of Team Parabnormal and Maddie had had a rolling commentary of opinions that Simon had graciously shared for Nicole's benefit. Maddie and Simon's perpetual canon had made Xavier want to tweeze his hair out. He hadn't known who to listen to, what to respond to, where to look.

You'd told Xavier on the way to the game last night about Wally and sophomore year; how Wally had tried to prove you could see him by pulling jump scares and babbling endlessly. Xavier respected the shit out of you in general, but that respect had grown significantly after spending lunch fighting for his life not to slip up and reveal the presence of Maddie's half-ghost to Nicole.

Nicole would probably have taken it well, too. She was awesome. She didn't criticize everything Xavier said, and took him seriously when he expressed concerns over his part in Operation Claire. Contrary to Maddie and Simon's belief, Xavier sucked at lying. To this day, he had no idea how he'd pulled off dating two people at once. But Maddie and Simon had snidely reminded him of that stain on his social resume and now Xavier was stuck in the middle of a heart to heart in the boy's locker room, praying for the ground to open as Claire stared into his soul.

"—I felt bad about the way I treated you, and it just—it took me awhile to press send." Keep going. Do better. "And I guess I... I miss you."

Claire teased, "Oh, you guess."

"I know I miss you," Xavier amended.

His heart nearly gave out when, after a daunting lull wherein Xavier saw his life flash before his eyes, Claire said, "Pick you up at seven tomorrow."

He'd done it. Holy~ shit. He'd done it. He'd successfully convinced Claire that he still wanted her. Sure, it wasn't entirely false. Their trysts had been fun if one didn't take into consideration the dishonesty and betrayal. But whatever attraction Xavier had had for Claire had simmered since Maddie's disappearance and now more closely resembled appreciation.

He couldn't wrap his head around it. Two and a half weeks ago, he'd been salivating over Claire, desperate for her, wagging his tongue like a 1930s cartoon hound in rut. And then, overnight, poof, all those hormones and feelings had fizzled out.

Claire was beautiful. No doubt about that. She carried herself like a queen, conducted herself like a Fortune 500 CEO, and curated herself like a priceless work of art. Yet, Xavier couldn't summon that need, that all-consuming desire that had drawn him to her in the first place.

He watched Claire walk away, strutting out of the boy's locker room, painted-on jeans hugging her curves. A sight that had once made Xavier walk into a wall. And now? Yeah, it was nice to look at, he was a guy, but he remained startlingly indifferent.

Xavier didn't have the chance to reflect on it before someone stepped into the space Claire had vacated. A tall, visibly unhappy someone whose jaw ticked and whose eyes drilled into Xavier the exact nature of this encounter. You know, in case he couldn't read the room. Wally Clark was indeed as thoughtful as you'd mentioned.

Behind Wally, Ajay leaned his back against the lockers, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles. Xavier recognized he wasn't there as backup. Alternatively, his presence was to make sure things didn't get out of hand. A buffer. A referee. Oh, Wally was mad mad.

The fact that Wally couldn't touch him was enough to keep Xavier from preparing his stance to defend himself. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention while the rumors of him being a murderer still circulated. Add hallucinations, and not even the fact that his dad was the Sheriff would keep him out of the suspect pool.

Wally loomed over Xavier with menace, the lights above him flickering as his anger permeated the air. Wally crowded Xavier into the lockers, so close that Xavier could smell his cologne and feel Wally's breath on his face.

Without a word, Wally punched the locker beside Xavier's head, the bang making Xavier flinch. There was a glint of satisfaction in Wally's eye before, to Xavier's horror and amazement, Wally shoved a digit into the center of Xavier's chest. Suddenly feeling like prey, Xavier whipped his head to Ajay who—not good—was standing at attention, the look on his face mirroring Xavier's shock.

"I can't hurt you because my girl, for whatever fucking reason, loves you." Wally pressed out between clenched teeth, glaring down his nose at Xavier. "I don't like you. I think you're a slimy piece of shit who deserves to have your face rearranged." And if that wasn't threatening enough, Wally pushed his finger harder into Xavier's chest, "Don't fucking do it again."

Xavier swallowed dry and nodded as subtly as he could before glancing down at Wally's finger. "How the fuck—?"

Wally obviously knew how the fuck, but he didn't share with the class. Instead, he backed off, turned on his heel and collected Ajay before exiting the locker room.

Xavier deflated against the lockers, taking in shaky breaths as he collected himself.

Eli appeared, clad only in his boxers, towel drying his hair, already rattling about going for pizza with the gang—Mathilda, Hana, Lucas, and, presumably, you—after the dance. When Xavier didn't answer him right away, Eli dropped the towel and looked at Xavier quizzically, "You okay, chief? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Xavier grimaced.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

At home, you were curled up on your desk chair, Aurora behind you wielding her hair curler, bobby pins poking out from the corner of her mouth as she styled your hair for the homecoming dance. Your dress hung on the back of your door. Emerald green satin and spaghetti straps, structured bodice and A-line skirt. It had pockets.

Aside from being your personal hair stylist and makeup artist, Aurora had also opened her closet to you and lent you a pair of tall, chunky heels that matched the color of your dress. You weren't much of a heels girlie, but Wally had height and you wanted to kiss him without folding him in half.

Unbeknownst to him (and everyone except Xavier who'd given you the keys to his truck), you had a plan. A plan that involved a blow up mattress and a pile of blankets to cover your body in the bed of the truck while your ghost made merry with Wally unhindered. Was it risky? Yeah. Was it worth it? Hell yes. You'd make appearances here and there as your living self—you had to, the band was scheduled to kick off the revelry—but, ultimately, you wanted spend a stress-free night in the arms of your very sexy date.

"You feel pink, little sister," Aurora commented around the bobby pins. "You excited to see Simon?"

Right. That.

Simon had agreed to meet you at the house and pose as your date. It had been a semi-awkward conversation throughout which he and Maddie had teased you. There'd been an item of negotiation. Namely, you'd had to take a folded up note from Maddie and pass it to Simon for a reason neither disclosed. But, in the end, Simon had been happy to be of service.

Nicole would drop him off in—you glanced at the boysenberry Kit-Kat Klock above your desk—twenty-five minutes; he'd say hi to Aurora and Ginny, act a little lovestruck, and then you'd drive to the school in Xavier's truck.

Everything was working out perfectly. Except the matter of Aurora's mug of tea sat on your desk, the nasty stench doing its level best to overtake your perfume. It wasn't as bad as being trapped in the confines of the car with it, your window open and your room much bigger. Still nauseating, though. You stared at her mug and deliberated whether or not to ask Aurora about Dave who also enjoyed a cup of sewer water with his breakfast.

Seeing Dave at the school last night, sneaking around the basement like he was on a mission, had made you uneasy and you realized you didn't know a damn thing about the guy who slept two stories below you.

Glancing at Aurora in the mirror, you ventured, "Rory...how'd you meet Dave?"

She seemed ecstatic that you'd finally asked, plucked the pins out of her mouth and giddily said, "Feeling romantic, huh? And you kept denying it when I called Simon your boyfriend!" After she'd seen you on the swings with him that night he'd found the money in Mr. Anderson's classroom.

You tried not to cringe, "Sure, let's go with that."

"Well," Aurora began, twirling a curl into a roll atop your head and pinning it in place, "We met when I was in New York. Obvi. I actually met him through Carol—" Xavier's mom "—when she was there for a realtor's mixer. They worked together."

"Dave's from Split River?" You were surprised. He didn't sound like he was from Wisconsin. He had a very proper way of speaking. Controlled. Crisp. More Big City Society than Small Town Midwestern. Perhaps it was something he'd learned to do in order to charm prospective investors.

"Born and raised," Aurora confirmed. "Anyway, I went to meet Carol for lunch and Dave tagged along. The rest is history."

"That's it? You ate lunch together?"

Aurora dismissed your cynicism with an eye roll, "No. We stayed in touch after he left. You know, texting and Skype. And then he transferred to the NYC branch of his company. We moved in together after two months," She sighed as if reliving that era of their relationship.

"If you know, you know." You muttered, not sure that Aurora had known, however that wasn't for you to say.

"Exactly."

Staring at the tea again. "Was he the one who brainwashed you into drinking that stuff?" You indicated to her mug.

Again, Aurora rolled her eyes, "You'd like it if you tried it," she insisted.

"I really wouldn't."

Answering your question, "No," Aurora said, "That was Carol. Same trip. She brought it with her. I think it was supposed to be a gag gift." Aurora pondered, "She gave it to me to help me manage my stress. Working where I was, I had enough of that to go around."

"Really?" You frowned at her reflection, "You always seemed so chill when we talked."

"I kept a lot of things to myself, Sissy May." Aurora said, not catching the way you went rigid at the nickname. She'd been the one to call you that first. Aiden had picked up on it and had never looked back. So, you couldn't blame her for letting it slip out despite the many late-night phone calls in which you'd pleaded with her not to use the nickname anymore, explained how it triggered you. She'd been so mindful of it until recently. Specifically, the last couple of months.

You stared intently at her mug. "So, it's for stress?" How that was possible, you couldn't fathom because the smell was enough to make the vein in your neck pop.

"Mhm. Calms me way the hell down."

Like a mild sedative, you didn't voice, thinking of the three teenagers on the altars.

There was one more thing you wanted to know, something that had been nagging at you since last night, "Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"When I snuck out last week...did you make Dave come find me?"

You watched her carefully in the mirror, saw the stages of shock-horror she went through as she processed what you'd asked. She was so stunned that she almost burned your hair, the curler on for too long.

"You did what?"

"I'll take that as a no." You said, turning to face her properly. "Oh, like you didn't do the same thing when you were a teenager."

Aurora gaped, "I absolutely didn't, are you crazy!?"

"Oh my god," You groaned. "Nothing happened. I'm not drinking or having sex or doing drugs, Jesus. I was just hanging out with friends." Kind of. "Can we please talk about how you didn't even know, but Dave came to find me, like, an hour later so he wasn't following me, and he said you not only knew, you were the one who told him to do it?"

Aurora went through the motions of unplugged and setting aside the hair curler, tidying up the unused bobby pins, and uncapping the hairspray before she said anything. Either she couldn't process what you'd said or she needed the time to come up with an excuse.

"He probably heard you," She started, "And he probably woke me up to tell me. I must've told him to go get you. You know how I am, I'm like a zombie when I have to wake up before I get my eight hours."

"Strange how you used to wake up when I'd breathe too loud in my room at the other end of the hall with the door closed..." You quipped and gave her a hard look.

Aurora scoffed, "You get to your thirties and tell me if you're the same as you were when you were younger."

"Where's Dave now?" Because he hadn't come home at half-past six as was his routine.

Visibly uncomfortable with receiving the third degree, Aurora shot back, "At the office; he has a meeting with clients on the West Coast. What the fuck? You think he's cheating on me or something?"

You hadn't realized that that's how it sounded, "Actually, no, I don't." But, "I think he's lying to you about something. He was at the school after the game last night. Did you know that?"

Aurora didn't answer, her eyes darting about, "Maybe he went to pick you up?"

"I didn't ask him to. You obviously didn't ask him to. And when has he ever done anything for me from the kindness of his heart?"

"Why are you being such a bitch!? Dave is a good man. I wouldn't have married him if he wasn't."

You got to your feet, gesturing to emphasize your point, "Good or not, Rory, he was sneaking around the basement at school last night."

"You followed him?" Aurora frowned at you, "Did you see anything?"

You chewed your lip before admitting, "I lost him. Which is why I'm asking you."

Aurora stepped back until her legs hit your bed and then she sat down, pushing her hair out of her face and mulling over what you'd exposed about her goody two shoes husband. You joined her, sat close, studying her expression as she struggled to piece together a plausible explanation that didn't make Dave the bad guy.

"I'll ask him," She finally said.

"You think he'll tell you the truth?"

She shrugged, "If he doesn't, I'll know." According to Aurora, lies were painted in shades of grey and smelt like burnt rubber.

You glanced at her mug again, "You sure Dave didn't introduce Carol to the tea?" You posited, and Aurora looked at you like you'd gone off the deep end.

"What's with you and the goddamned tea?"

As much as you wanted to tell her, you couldn't. Your intuition blared that it wasn't safe. That your sister, who you'd idolized and loved unconditionally, couldn't be trusted. Not yet, anyway. Not until you were sure she wasn't lying to you about what she knew of Dave's whereabouts and intentions.

You hesitated. Veered the subject onto a parallel track, "Look, could you do me a favor? You're home now, you've been home for awhile. You aren't in the big city working a demanding job that requires sedation." Aurora groaned, about to interrupt, but you pressed on, "Just. See how you feel after not drinking the tea for a couple of days?"

Aurora analyzed you, her features creased in proper, attitude-free concern. "Fine. If it'll make you feel better, I'll stop for a couple of days." And then, "You know it's tea, right? Not Xanax."

"Rory." You whined in the way little sisters do when their big sisters say something annoying.

Aurora threw her hands up in surrender, "Just saying."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Twenty minutes later, Simon rang the doorbell, shifting from foot to foot. He was nervous. He'd never been to your house, had never met your family—waving to your sister from a swing set while she yelled at you through an open window didn't count—and he wasn't sure what to expect.

To be clear, he wasn't sure what to expect from a family of, "we're not witches, Simon, stop."

In that case, a family of magical people whose abilities ranged from seeing ghosts to acute empathy to psychometry to, what the hell was it? Oh yeah, full-fledged divination.

You'd rattled off who would and wouldn't be there; your mom was visiting your uncle in Milwaukee for the night, your Nanna was minding the family flower shop on behalf of your sister who was home to assist you with your nails or lashes or whatever.

If Simon recalled correctly, that meant he had to be wary of your sister the empath and your great-aunt the astral traveler. He could do this. In the last two weeks, he'd been arrested, questioned by police, turned the tables and had his teacher arrested, manifested clairvoyance, embarked on a quest to dismantle a death cult that may or may not have resurfaced, and passed a history test on no hours of sleep. If he could overcome all that, this would be a cake walk.

When the door opened, he was greeted by an elderly woman who he identified easily to be your great-aunt. And, wow, she knew how to make an impression. Beautiful, looked younger than her age with rose gold hair and bright blue eyes, tiny frame swimming in satin. She smiled warmly at him, levering him into a hug before she ushered him inside.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Simon," She said, her voice rich and deep for a woman, at odds with her pixie-like appearance.

Politely, "It's nice to meet you, too, ma'am," he replied, trailing her into the living room where she gestured for him to take a seat at the corner of the couch.

She fell into an armchair beside him, legs crossed, eyes openly grazing up from his shoes to his hair. He felt his ears burn when she at last settled her gaze on his.

"Call me Ginny," She offered, "A friend of hers is family here."

Simon smiled, "Thanks." He liked her. There was something magnetic about her. Fun. Interesting. He wanted to sit with her over coffee and listen to her tell him her life story. Without knowing anything about Ginny, he could tell she'd lived an exciting life, probably filled with African safaris and cruises around the Mediterranean. She just had that aura about her.

As they chatted—Ginny posing the usual small-talk questions and Simon dutifully answering—he noticed the pendant on one of her necklaces. He wouldn't have been drawn to it had it not stood out against the long strings of bejeweled costume jewelry. In comparison, it was plain, understated, a very simple piece that didn't match the rest of Ginny's aesthetic.

A round piece of silver with a design that reminded Simon of the sun.

She must've noticed him staring because, "It's lovely isn't it?" she said, leaning forward and holding the pendant away from her collar for Simon to see. "An heirloom. Once part of a pair." At Simon's questioning gaze, she elaborated, "Earrings. But one of them wandered off somewhere along the line, so I strung this one on a chain. I simply couldn't part with it."

"It's beautiful." Simon said as he admired the pendant. "Does the symbol mean anything?"

Ginny nodded, "Actually, it does. The compass is to keep your soul on the right path, the sun beneath it represents clarity in this case, to ensure your vessel remains clean. And the flower," She used her Victory Red pinky nail to indicate, "is another layer of purity." She chuckled, "Essentially, it's to ward off any bad juju that tries to enter you."

Simon listened closely, curious if she wore it because she was a traveler, like you'd told him. Her soul could walk out of her body on a whim, which, to Simon, suggested something else could walk in. Including but not limited to bad juju as she'd put it. Was that possible? He really wanted to ask, but knew he couldn't.

The click-clack of heels on hardwood turned Simon's attention to the hall. He stood, smoothed his suit jacket and stepped around the couch, eyes widening and jaw going slack when he saw you descending the stairs.

"Wow."

You looked...gorgeous. Stunning. He'd never seen you done up like that before, makeup that enhanced your features rather than made a statement, hair in loose curls that fell down your back, a cocktail dress in a color that complimented your skin. He was, to put it lightly, gobsmacked.

Wally was a lucky guy, Simon thought.

Your sister giggled and whispered something to you that sounded like, "He's pink, too," which...did that make sense? Because he didn't understand. He'd have to ask you when you and he were safely alone in the truck.

Behind him, Ginny snickered to Simon, "We want her back in the same condition she's leaving in," to which Simon blushed to his roots.

Knowing something you didn't, he could only stammer, "I—yeah. I promise. No funny business."

Your sister seemed to disagree, squinting at him before she whispered to you again, this time telling you, "He's red now," then louder, for everyone to hear but directed at Simon, "Remember to keep room between you for the holy spirit."

Oh god. Simon's collar suddenly felt too tight. Ginny cackled and patted his shoulder, assuring him not to listen to your sister as she winked salaciously.

When he turned back to you, you had your hands over your face, grumbling, "I hate you both so much," to your sister and Ginny.

Grinning, Simon held out his arm to you, a charming, "Milady," as you banded your arm through his.

"Milord," You grinned back, "Let's go before they make us take pictures."

He agreed, wishing your sister and Ginny goodnight, and escorting you to the door. You grabbed a peacoat and a guitar case on your way out, waved to your family and bid them goodbye, groaning like the teenage girl you were at whatever, "You'd better still smell like jasmine tomorrow!" meant.

💀___________________________

PART TWO - PART FOUR

note: the smell of jasmine is said to represent purity. needless to say, no, Reader will not smell like jasmine on the morrow...

ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Kristian Ventura #Simon Elroy #Spencer MacPhearson #Xavier Baxter #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Moon

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just-a-strange-boy · 2 years ago

Text

experimenting for friends

part 1 - praise

part 2

An unawaited opportunity introduces you to the complicated and intriguing man named Sherlock Holmes. Harder to understand than most, you are not quite sure why he reacts peculiarly everytime you spare him a compliment. Well, not until you get wrapped up in one of his "experiments".

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), mentions of drug abuse/addiction, handjob, praise kink, hints at inexperienced/virgin Sherlock

A/N: listen, I'm so fond of submissive Sherlock and just want him to get the love he deserves :')

When you met Sherlock Holmes for the first time, he saw through you right away.

Straight away, he knew that you were raised by a single mum, who had always tried her hardest to ensure to the happy childhood you deserved, since your father had left the family early on.

That you were living with two cats, one Cornish Rex, one coming from mixed breeding, both awfully affectionate, apparently leaving traces over nearly everything you wore.

That you were ambidextrous, ink from pens on both hands, also indicating you were working an ordinary office job, usually taking down notes with your right hand, though whenever you took phone calls you tended to use your left to write things down – and that you took a lot of pride in your handwriting, which was why you had a knack for using pens with ink in the first place.

But that wasn't all.

He figured that you were short-sighted, working a desk job that included staring at a computer screen far too often, missing out the fact that you were also on your phone a lot.

That your glasses were an old model from the early 2010s, which also told him you didn't have the finances for purchasing new ones, money likely being the reason for you taking this new job in the first place (which however wasn't entirely true). And also that your glasses were, of course, entirely unsuited for your current sight, still making you have to squint an awful lot while looking at your surroundings.

He even found out that you used to take acting classes during your school years, obtaining a compassion for the old bards and newer works alike, but didn't continue playing theatre, settling for your ordinary, time consuming desk job instead in order to make a living in London, more so because you were never confident enough in your skills.

And damn, if he weren't right about that.

Needless to say, Sherlock had been right about everything, his gift of picking up any piece of information nothing short of amazing, his talent for deduction truly unmatched, though you were certain that he might have had a little help on one or two details. It had been impressive, regardless of whether he might have gone through your personal records at least once or not.

Considering that someone definitely had kept a close eye on you, presumably meant that there was a lovely file titled with your name on the desk of your new and well-paying employer, Sherlock's older brother and relentless watchdog, Mycroft Holmes. Who, as you understood, was doing secret government work, keeping the state upright and preventing international chaos from ensuing, when he wasn't busy tending to his slightly odd, self-proclaimed sociopathic brother from a distance.

You weren't sure whether you would have even tried applying for the job if you had known what it entailed. But you hadn't needed, nor planned, to apply at all.

Truth is, you had been approached out of nowhere, a plain call coming through on your work phone. After hearing the rather scarce explanation as to what you were meant to do and the large sum the older Holmes brother offered for this position, you had definitely not wanted to say No. You hadn't asked why you out of all people had been chosen – so you hadn't gotten an answer either.

But since Mycroft Holmes was thorough in all he did, you supposed he wouldn't have gone for someone as ordinary as you if he hadn't had a good reason for it.

And fairly enough, for that much money, the job description didn't sound too challenging – take care of Sherlock Holmes. Be his companion, keep an watchful eye on him, make sure he doesn't get back into a habit of using again. Three simple points.

It might not have sounded too challenging at first, but then you had gotten to meet Sherlock and words couldn't describe how peculiar, how unique, how utterly confusing this man was.

People didn't really get him. Sherlock didn't really get people, though clearly able of picking them apart with deductions or uncovering their motives for all kinds of crimes, having solved plenty of unusual cases in the past. Sometimes people's behaviour clearly struck Sherlock as odd and while he was exceptionally smart, there were some things in the world even he wasn't able to understand.

While you had been worrying you might not get along with each other at first – plenty of people had made it their mission to warn you about Sherlock having a dismissive stance on ordinary people – you quickly figured out the consulting detective was simply misunderstood by those around him and not that dismissive after all.

He was peculiar, unique and utterly confusing. He was thinking differently, behaving and acting by his own logic. It took a while to figure out, though finding yourself incapable of understanding Sherlock as whole, you started to catch glimpses of what he was truly like.

Sherlock Holmes was lonely.

Even though regularly solving cases with his best friend John Watson, he had also gotten significantly lonelier since the man had found himself a wife, a child following not long after, and was not living with him anymore. As a husband and father and doctor, case work was nothing more than a distraction from his ordinary life. His responsibilities often kept him from actively joining cases and therefore, more than once in the time you've gotten to know Sherlock, the detective was out solving them on his own.

While he loved the work and didn't seem too bothered, you figured it substantially dampened his mood when John couldn't be around.

You also learned that Sherlock was actually quite friendly with a few people – especially his very motherly and caring landlady Mrs Hudson (who got regularly annoyed by the ruckus he was making upstairs in his flat), DI Lestrade (who slipped him the cases, relying on his help all too often) and Molly from St Bart's morgue (who provided him with body parts for experiments).

But he never sought them out when feeling some sort of way, more so relying on the exchange – accepting their presence because he deemed them useful. This for that. Never unconditional.

Sherlock Holmes also got bored easily.

Casework and experiments, both sometimes of questionable importance or downright dangerous, could only keep him busy for so long. You figured that he lived for the thrill as much as trying to keep his brain constantly working – he needed the distraction for his mind, needed something to stimulate it or else it would get too loud, too dark, too insufferable in his head.

As soon as he got bored, he took to moaning and complaining and behaving unhinged, desperate for something, anything, to cure him from the boredom, to keep his mind busy.

Having him in a state like that was anything but good.

Because when he was lonely and bored, Sherlock Holmes had a tendency of substance abuse.

It started with a heightened craving for nicotine, especially in the form of cigarettes, which you sometimes gave in to, for the sake of preventing worse – even if it meant going on a walk in the middle of a night to have one, since Mrs Hudson would have strangled you both for even thinking about smoking at Baker Street.

When it wasn't cigarettes, it was something worse he desired. Mostly heroin, though Mycroft Holmes had made sure to slip you a full list of substances Sherlock had abused in the past.

It had been unsettlingly long.

So you tried your very best to keep Sherlock away from those things by simply keeping him busy and well, less lonely.

By the time you would have considered yourself and the odd detective being something like friends, you were also finally able see that Sherlock Holmes – even though not nursing relationships to others like normal people did – was in his own way very sweet.

He wasn't always cold or seemingly incapable of feeling things, just direct and less reliant on sentiment. He was absolutely not a cat person, but still accepted whenever your rather friendly pets decided to climb all over him.

And all the times you had happened to unexpectedly fall asleep after crashing on Sherlock's couch (that man wore you out with his ever changing temper and the way he sometimes talked constantly) while he would still be working on researching for cases or doing his fair share of experiments, you would always wake up covered by a blanket, your glasses perched on the table next to a water cup.

Sherlock Holmes didn't like a lot of people, he struggled with making strong connections and put off a lot of the people around him by the way he was. But that didn't apply to you.

Initially perceiving you an entirely obnoxious obstacle in his thinking process, he had soon noticed you weren't so distracting in a negative way at all and even found himself positively surprised how pleasant you were to have around, beginning to tolerate you in the same room.

For his standards, he seemed to like you plenty enough and appeared to be rather comfortable around you too, in a way seeking out the companionship you were meant to offer to him, even if it was just being around each other in complete silence.

While Sherlock worked best in silence, especially when he figured out a case in his mind, sitting and staring for hours, there were also moments when you couldn't stop him from talking and showing off his knowledge. Often times, he seemed so happy to share his thoughts with someone, even though he was likely aware you usually weren't really able to follow him.

Admittedly, you liked Sherlock too.

You knew a lot of people were blind to Sherlock's humanity and never got to know him well enough to truly discover how much there was to him. He didn't let most in, or at least never far enough for them to really see him. You knew though. It was there, no matter how hard Sherlock tried to prove otherwise with his resenting behaviour, and you caught plenty of glimpses of him being human.

So after a while of knowing Sherlock Holmes, there was this one thing that had caught your attention and remained to be uncovered.

Why he avoided words of praise.

It was something you had brushed off at first, thinking that Sherlock's odd reaction whenever you said something nice to him, his sudden quietness and slow blinking and urge to swiftly leave the room before awkward silence arose, was completely normal behaviour for him.

You doubted that the detective got to hear a lot of niceties or compliments. Obviously his work was impressive, but did most even consider thanking him for it? If they had the chance, that was.

One could have also gotten the impression that Sherlock didn't really know how to nor wanted to take a 'Thank you', or a compliment for that matter.

Therefore he was more likely to escape the situation than accept it with content.

One day, you had asked "Did you compose that yourself?" after having listened to Sherlock play the violin for what must have been a good twenty minutes, without the man even having taken note of you being in the room, though you had walked in and slumped down on the couch normally, like on any other day.

Sherlock had seemed startled hearing your question, only acknowledging you then, but had shaken his head in silence.

"Well, sounded very beautiful anyway. I love your playing. Could listen to it for hours", you had added then, "Always surprises me how bloody skilled your hands are with everything you do."

Much like you had offended him, Sherlock had placed down the violin and the bow immediately, turning to leave the room.

You had let him, knowing that if he needed space, it was best to leave him be. But you had immediately wondered if perhaps your compliment had made him uncomfortable and asked yourself why.

On another day, you had been asked to accompany him on a case – there was no other logical explanation to it than the fact that John was busy yet again and couldn't make it in time – so there you were, looking at different samples of dirt, trying to make yourself as useful as you could (which wasn't much, but you tried).

Sherlock didn't seem to mind that you had no idea what you were supposed to be looking for. Whereas he would have called another one in your stead stupid, small-brained or dull for only having an average mind, the detective had simply begun explaining the necessity of taking dirt samples and how much they could tell the human eye if looked at properly.

Well, what they could tell his eyes, at least – because you still had not an ounce of an idea what he was talking about, even after his explanations.

"How does your brain even work?", you had only muttered under your breath, staring at Sherlock in awe, "It's just...amazing. The fact that you can read people like a book was already pretty mind blowing, but now that you are doing it with something as mundane as dirt, words can't describe how amazing that is."

While usually so quick and rational in his responses, Sherlock had just blankly stared back at you, until continuing with his dirt samples, speechless, not saying another word about ground analysis.

Then another time, you had been flat on your couch for a good few days after catching a cold. While Sherlock had made sure to keep his distance, not wanting to contract anything, he had come by anyway. He had helped you with the cats, had brought you a bag of pills and goodies (that Mrs Hudson had packed, but it didn't matter since Sherlock was the one making time for you, bringing them over) and had chatted away about the latest case, trying to cheer you up while you sniffled into your tissues. Then he had made you tea and warmed up chicken soup for you, before deciding to take his leave again.

"Thanks, Sherl, you're a great friend. A true blessing when you get all domestic", you had sighed with a stuffed nose, trying to joke, although you knew joking around Sherlock was risky business, because... well... he didn't think like most people. That meant he didn't get jokes most of the time either, had problems trying to figure out whether you were actually serious about some of the comments you made or not, didn't know what to make of it.

You had thought that must have been the reason why Sherlock had left your flat in a hurry.

Honestly, you had begun to worry a little about Sherlock's behaviour by then.

Whenever you tended to say something nice, or gave him a compliment for that matter, the man simply went out of your way immediately. It was making him feel some sort of way, negatively you thought.

Maybe he really didn't know how to handle kind words and just couldn't show that he appreciated them. Maybe you had actually made him uncomfortable, but Sherlock never admitted to it, because he didn't want to put you off or hurt your feelings in return – you were friends after all.

Maybe it would take him a while to get used to someone being so unconditionally nice to him.

Things cleared up a little when Sherlock had approached you one day, deciding to start an 'experiment' in order to gain 'data' for his 'research' – he had something along those lines at least – which apparently included you as a test subject as well. He had specifically asked for your help, and though unmentioned you knew it was likely because of the bond and trust between you two.

Sherlock hadn't wanted to share what the point of his research was, but you had no opportunity to ask either after agreeing to it, because before you could open your mouth again, the detective had moved way too close into your personal space for his usual standards, cupped your cheeks and just leaned in to kiss you.

Short and sweet and... a little inexplicable.

"What was that for?", you wondered then, knowing that there always was an explanation to everything Sherlock did. You just didn't really know how he was going to explain this, overwhelmed with wrapping your head around what had just occurred, staring at him in an almost shock-like state and most definitely frozen to the spot.

"I told you, it's an experiment", Sherlock responded, "About... my own responses to... certain stimulus from certain...uh...people. I've decided to start with you, because we are significantly close, you have decided to pester me with your presence today once again and I figured you will not mind."

You only replied with a soft smile. How convenient you happened to be around right now, pestering him, just in time for his experiment. Though you had to admit, Sherlock wasn't wrong about his assumption either: you didn't mind. You were perfectly decent friends and being friends with Sherlock meant partaking in things out of the ordinary anyway. This was a way better experiment than lightening things on fire in the kitchen and causing the house to be contaminated with toxic smoke.

The kiss was tempting you. It made you curious. What was he trying to figure out?

"Alright, let's see what your experiment entails then", you agreed to partaking in Sherlock's personal studies, "Will you kiss me again, to get more data?"

"Likely", the detective mused, not wasting another moment before bending down to capture your lips in another and longer kiss, this time evidently unsure what to do with his hands as he didn't hold onto your face anymore, a little fidgety before eventually placing them on your waist, keeping you close.

He was a surprisingly sweet kisser. You adored the softness of his lips, the slight initial awkwardness, placing your hands on his shoulders, gently smoothing them over the material of his suit jacket, and returning the kiss with equal gentleness.

"Is that...to your liking?", Sherlock asked, upon parting for a moment.

You slid one hand to the nape of his neck, ready to pull him into another kiss, just to feel those lips on yours again. He was endearing and admittedly kind of addictive.

"I thought this experiment was about your responses, so why care what I'm thinking?”, you began, seeing a flicker of insecurity passing his face, since you avoided answering his question.

“Yeah, I love how tender and careful you are. Your lips feel great", you added in a whisper, hoping it would lift the worry from his brow.

An entirely different reaction followed. Now that you had just complimented him and Sherlock couldn't flee the situation like he usually did, you were more than surprised taking note of his reaction, a slight shudder, but not of discomfort.

Thus, you finally understood why he had wanted to avoid praise times and times again: It caused him to react.

"I honestly can't wait for you to touch me with those hands of yours", you added then, fingers carding upwards into Sherlock's curls, trying to push your own exploration to the limit, continuing to praise him with sweet words of affirmation, "Once we get there, I bet your touch will feel incredible. Just like you are."

Standing so close to the detective, you could hear his breath hitch, and there was no doubt his pulse was rapidly quickening too. Pupils blown wide with interest, lips parted, and oh, a little bit of red tainted his cheeks too. He definitely liked being praised.

"What do you want me to do with my hands?", Sherlock asked. He was still holding them placed on your waist and the unexpected question was more out of innocent curiosity, as blandly spoken as Sherlock usually talked, paired with the slight notion that he was perhaps truly a little clueless.

You wondered if he had ever done this with another person before – experimenting, kissing, touching – and came to the conclusion you couldn't quite imagine Sherlock being touchy and affectionate or sexual for that matter.

"I'm sure you know exactly what to do with those hands of yours", you chuckled, however trusting that Sherlock had to know at least a little bit about those things or else he wouldn't have dared to be so bold and just kiss you. Perhaps he had done a different kind of research beforehand.

"It's okay to touch me, I don't bite. There's no wrong and no right, go with what feels natural. Your deduction skills are unmatched, so why don't you just experiment and collect the necessary information?"

Blue eyes mustered your face, a slight look of confusion written all across his expression, and he still didn't move his hands, searching your face for something in return.

If you didn't know any better, you would have said that you might have broken Sherlock.

But then he came to life again, speaking up once more. "I've come to the conclusion that I like you. Being around you, usually at least, does not only calm my heart rate, it also quietens my brain. However being this close to you, I find my heart rate rising and my brain rattling. I just cannot figure out why your words cause me to feel the way I do."

"Well, if I might say so, I think that you're into it", you shrugged, fingers gently brushing through his thick curls, letting your other hand glide down the front of his shirt, feeling up his chest under it.

What would he look like under this? Would he enjoy being touched? How far was this experiment meant to go?

"I kind of enjoy how flustered you get when I praise you. Makes me think that no one has ever cherished you like you deserve it."

"I don't know if I am... interested in being cherished, but you do manage to make me feel like no one else has ever accomplished. I am tempted by your amenability", the detective admitted, finally catching the drift as he pulled you into a tighter embrace, arms sneaking around you, bowing down to capture your lips in a kiss again, this time with a lot more force.

As sweet and tender Sherlock was, you had simply known there was more passion, more curiosity, more hunger within him than suspected at first.

Saying you were amenable was also an understatement. You were more than compliant and sure let him know, responding to his advances with a passion, curiosity, hunger paralleling his.

So you began moving together, stumbling through the living room, careful not to trip over Sherlock's organized chaos on the floor, mouths busy with each other as you clung onto his neck, letting yourself be ushered all the way into the bedroom – a place you had only occasionally caught a glimpse of, neat and tidy compared to the rest of the flat, and while you had never expected you would ever end up in Sherlock's bed, you certainly weren't complaining about the opportunity.

Though technically, you were the one to shove the man down on his bed, wasting no time to climb onto his lap.

As much as you liked Sherlock for who he was, for his peculiarity, for the fact that he did not fit in with the rest of people, what he was being like right now definitely added onto the feelings you had for the man. Looking at him after pulling back from the kiss, you took note how beautiful Sherlock was in a moment of passion, his pretty dark curls, his sharp features, blue eyes watching you with interest, his luscious lips all swollen from kissing.

"You're such a pleasure to look at", you muttered, knowing that your praises would strike Sherlock where you wanted them too, "I've never known someone so graced by both intellect and beauty."

The man under you let out a soft sigh, wanton, perhaps a little aroused even. As you placed a hand on his pulse point, stroking along the curve of his jaw and the crook of his neck, you could very well feel that his heart was beating fast, just like his breathing got more intense, swallowing hard, even slightly squirming.

Sherlock's grip on your waist tightened a little, especially when you, perched on his thighs, slid forward in his lap, carefully pushing the suit jacket off the man's shoulders, before continuing to work on his shirt.

You were more than interested in discovering what Sherlock looked like under all those clothes, most certainly not disappointed, in awe as the man let you continue the quest to strip him off his shirt without a word of protest. You wondered what Sherlock was thinking, could never quite figure it out - because honestly, whoever managed to figure all of him out?

He was eyeing you curiously, occasionally brushing his large hands over your thighs, seemingly trying to take note of all affections given, but completely overwhelmed and unsure what to do.

"I usually don't like being touched", Sherlock spoke up eventually, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he seemed to swallow down a bit of nervousness yet again, "But I must admit that I want you to touch me."

"Good", you mused, sliding your hands over the man's pale skin, along his toned arms, back up to his shoulders, down the plane of his chest.

"Because I like touching you", you admitted, coaxing a moan out of Sherlock, as you just happened to brush your thumbs over his nipples. He seemed almost a little embarrassed after the sound had slipped past his lips, causing him to bite them in a try to repress any further noises.

And even more so, he was blushing a darker shade.

"Don't feel like you have to hold back", you assured him, trailing curious fingers over Sherlock's sensitive and delicate skin, flush with redness, since you had established that touch alone would get lovely reactions out of him, "You sound wonderful. I love how responsive you are."

Yet again, the words of praise caused Sherlock to shudder and he leant forward, asking for another kiss. You gave into it immediately, responding with eagerness as your hands moved over his slim belly, brushing far beyond his belt buckle, which startled the needy detective as he broke away for another moan, fingers squeezing into your thighs.

"Is this okay?", you took a moment of consideration, searching for uncertainty on Sherlock's face, who seemed oddly concentrated and focused on the situation, either of you unable to ignore that he was very aroused.

"I suppose this is a perfectly normal reaction to being touched so...thoroughly", the detective said oddly collected, a little out of breath, perfectly aware that he was responding and while the attention to his body certainly played a part, it undeniably were the words of praise that heightened the experience for him, "So yes, I would consider it okay."

"Do you want me to... go on?", you tried to assure yourself, wanting his consent before you went further, toying with the belt loops of his trousers, deciding to not give any more attention to his growing hardness until Sherlock confirmed that it was fine to continue.

"Yes", was the curt answer you received, rather eager, and you didn't want to deny him anything of what you were promising anymore. He wanted more. You were happy to give.

Opening the buckle of his belt with swift hands, it took a little bit of shuffling and changing positions for a moment to free him from his restraints, pulling his hardening cock out of his pants, wrapping a firm hand around him – no less sensitive, this caused Sherlock to take a deep breath, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

"Just focus on my touch. I'll take good care of you", you simply whispered, gently running your fingers along the warm skin of his throbbing cock as it was quite responsive to your touch, giving an interested twitch, trickle of precome leaking from the tip.

"Gorgeous. I love how hard you get for me", you started praising Sherlock, rubbing your thumb over the glistening head, and then gently going on to stroke him, his head slumping down onto your shoulder, another desperate moan slipping past his lips.

"I wish you could see how lovely you are", you continued murmuring, pressing your face into Sherlock's soft curls, smiling to yourself. He really was lovely, sweet, surprisingly needy.

You tightened and eased your grip around the weeping cock, changing the rhythm times and times again, sometimes firmly grasping him, sometimes barely applying any pressure.

"You're doing so good for me", another soft praise as you dragged out the sweetest sounds from him, the response a warm and breathy moan against the crook of your neck, "Beautiful, brilliant Sherlock."

It was a huge turn on for you, something about Sherlock being all needy and desperate, whimpering against your own skin, breathing hard, tensing up, even shuddering at times, surrendering to his own pleasure in a way that you had never thought would happen.

Who would have thought the cold, distant detective was so submissive at heart?

Being painfully aroused yourself – your body was craving to feel the same amount of pleasure and attention, because of course it was – you did want to make sure this was all about Sherlock though, pushing your own desperation and need aside.

The man clung onto you for dear life, too overstimulated by the sensations rushing in, not used to this sort of attention, too gone and weak at the knees by being praised and teased and touched.

"I bet you're going to look and sound so beautiful when you come", you muttered, your strokes quicker, more erratic, the man beneath you shaking, panting heavily, face still hidden in your shoulder. Sherlock was getting really vocal, groaning and whimpering, claiming that he was close, so close, that he didn't want you to stop, not now.

It wasn't a demand. It was a plea. A desperate request.

"Are you going to be good and come for me, Sherl?", you asked then, placing a gentle kiss into his curls, lucky to have such composure or else Sherlock's warmth, the smell and touch of his hair, his desperation, his neediness, the sounds he made might have caused you to throw all of your self-composure out of the window and ride him to your own ecstasy.

But this was enough for now. Good enough for you, because when Sherlock did come, it was all for you.

His body was trembling, squirming, bucking under you as he fell apart, his words getting lost in his panting, culminating into a moan of relief – he surrendered, spilled himself so wonderfully all over your torturous hand, guiding him all the way through his orgasm, and between your bodies.

Coming down from the high took him long, shaking and gasping for air as he went completely lax and fell back into the pillows.

It was the perfect moment for you to look at the mess you both had made. The detective's cheeks were glowing with red, before he went ahead to cover his own face in shame with his arm, his curls spread out on the pillow, skin flushed pink from arousal and perhaps a bit embarrassment, the flat of his stomach heaving, his hardness softening in your hand.

He looked downright ethereal.

And you would always make sure to let him know.

#k writes #bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock fandom #sherlock x gn reader #sherlock x male reader #sherlock x you #bbc sherlock smut #bbc sherlock fanfic #x male reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 1 year ago

Text

Slipping Through my Fingers (2)

Summary: When a married woman catches the eye of Bucky Barnes, he is determined to stop at nothing to get to know her better.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Summer 1941

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Steve groaned, massaging the sleep from his eyes. He had always been an early riser, so without checking the time, he knew it had to be before sunrise. The knocking became more insistent. Steve would have worried about the noise angering his neighbors had he not thought the person on the other side of the door was in danger. Shoving the thin sheet to his feet, Steve raced to the door. His drowsy state was long gone, adrenaline taking over. The second Steve opened the door, his eyes rolled, taking whatever adrenaline he had built up with them.

“You can't keep randomly showing up here whenever you think Y/N is going to drop by,” Steve complained.

Pillow in hand, Bucky pushed past his shorter friend, entering Steve’s space. The younger man sighed, shutting the door behind him. It had been nearly a year since Bucky met Y/N. Despite his claim to be friends that day, Bucky hardly saw her. Annoyed with Bucky’s constant nagging, Steve accidentally let it slip that her husband was shipped overseas during the colder months. He only had himself to blame for his best friend showing up at all hours of the day.

Bucky fluffed his pillow, tossing it on the worn-in couch across from the door. “Yeah, but this time, I have it on good authority that she will be here,” Bucky casually defended his invasion. Lying on the couch with his arms propped behind his head, he smiled at Steve who was leaning his back against the door. It was the perfect spot to watch the door if she showed up.

Steve crossed his arms, watching his friend get comfortable in his home. If there was one word Steve could use to describe Bucky, it was dedicated. Pushing himself off the door with a backward kick, Steve crossed the room. Stopping at the end of the couch, he asked, “How do you know?”

Bucky’s smile turned into a devilish grin. “I checked your cabinets last time I was here. You’re due for a refill on your medication.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t surprised. Bucky always looked after him. If Y/N didn’t bring his medicine, he knew Bucky would find a way to get it.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a watchdog in my home, I expect breakfast when I wake up,” Steve teased, heading the short distance to his bedroom.

When Bucky woke that morning, he started on breakfast. With the war on the rise, prices had been on a steady increase with no signs of stopping anytime soon. Regardless, Steve needed all of the protein he could get. Bucky decided he would work a double shift and replace the eggs he was cooking.

Bucky frowned as he nearly finished breakfast. Steve’s home was small enough to hear any noise inside the house. Steve had yet to make a sound from his bedroom and the thought startled Bucky. Sure, Steve was low on medicine, but he wasn’t empty. Setting the pan on the unlit stove, Bucky stalked toward the bedroom stopping in his tracks when the blonde’s laughter sounded in the opposite direction.

Yanking the front door open, Bucky’s lips parted. Standing next to his best friend was the very woman he had been dreaming of for the past year. Both sets of eyes on the other side of the door were wide, staring back at Bucky. One hand held the door handle; the other caressed the back of his neck as he spoke, “I uh, thought you were still sleeping.”

Steve shrugged. “I woke up early. Walked to get a paper.” He waved the newspaper in his hand. “I ran into Y/N on the way back.” He then waved the brown paper bag filled with his medication in his other hand. He turned to Y/N. “You remember Bucky don’t you.”

Her eyes skimmed Bucky from head to toe before meeting his gaze. “The baseball player, of course. Nice to see you again, Bucky.”

The brunette’s chest puffed up, satisfied she had remembered his performance. Before he could respond, Steve spoke, “Bucky’s just made us breakfast, you’ll join us, won’t you?”

Surprise crossed Y/N’s face. “Oh, I don’t know. I have a lot of things to do.”

“You still have to eat,” Bucky insisted, but he knew she wasn’t convinced. Bucky stepped outside, still towering over the two, but closer. “Look, the truth is, Steve’s not all that great at keeping the conversation going in the morning. He gets crabby in the heat. Sasses me around to the point where he’s got me cooking him breakfast in his home. I'm a hostage here, doll. You’d be doing me a big favor staying for breakfast. He remembers his manners around a pretty face.”

Y/N blushed, staring down at her feet. Had she been staring at either man, she would have noticed the intense stare-off going on, a silent argument.

“I’ll stay, but I really have to leave after we eat.”

Bucky grinned, stepping aside. His left hand extended to the open front door, his right hand froze palm up, an invitation to help Y/N up the small step into the house. She accepted it, missing the tongue Bucky poked out at Steve behind her back.

“No funny business, Buck. I mean it. She’s still married.” Steve warned lowly.

Without saying a word, Bucky waltzed into the house, pulling out a chair for Y/N.

“Oh, thank you,” she squeaked.

Bucky smiled, rushing to plate the food.

Steve deposited his medication in the bathroom cabinet before finding Y/N. Steve slumped into the chair beside her, wasting no time to catch up with his friend. He was also interested in learning about the war overseas. “How’s Harry?”

Her hands folded in her lap. “He’s about as good as any soldier preparing for a war, but he’s right where he wants to be. He’s doing the right thing. He’s protecting his country. Us.”

Her vacant stare told Steve she didn’t believe that. He wondered how much time she spent curating an answer to that question.

Bucky snorted, setting the plates down on the table. “Sounds like a fool to me.” He couldn’t keep the comment from slipping from his lips as he sat across from the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t comprehend how a man could willingly leave his new wife behind, especially alone. A yelp escaped Bucky bringing him back to the conversation. Steve’s glare was enough to know who had kicked him. Ignoring Steve, Bucky explained, “All I’m saying is, a man’s duty is to his wife first. Ya’ know? If I was married to someone as gorgeous as you, they’d have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming before I left my wife behind.”

Y/N wanted to scream. She wished Harry felt the way Bucky did.

Noticing Y/N’s fork had been playing with her food, Steve asked, “Are you okay? With Harry being gone this long?” He was genuinely concerned for the woman. He knew what it was like to be alone. He didn’t have any family, and he could count all of his friends by the number of seats occupied at his dinner table. Even when he had no one, he had Bucky.

She sent Steve a soft smile. “I manage. We write to each other, but it can take weeks, sometimes months to get a response. I started to keep a copy of the letters I’ve sent him just so I can remember what we talked about.” Now that she was saying it out loud, she realized how lonely it sounded, how lonely she was. “The girls at the volunteer center are kind, but there’s a lot going on. A lot of people need medicine, and with the war heading this way, resources are going to be harder to get.” She eyes Steve warily. She prayed it wouldn’t come down to that. “We’re all so busy, there isn’t much time to talk. I miss having someone to greet at home.” Her longing stare didn’t go unnoticed by either man.

Steve chewed slowly as the gears turned in his head. Bucky on the other hand was quick to respond. “What about taking care of the house?”

Y/N brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Harry makes sure the bills are paid every month. The neighbor's boy comes by sometimes and gives me a hand around the house, but he’s heading to his grandparents’ house for the summer. I was actually hoping to catch him today before he leaves.”

“Let the kid have his summer. I’ll help you.” Bucky offered, taking the last bite of his eggs.

Y/N cracked a smile in between bites of her food. “Are you sure? I missed the usual spring cleaning. It’s a lot of work. Surely, you’d rather spend your summer playing baseball or hanging out with Steve.”

“And leave a dame to clean her house alone? Absolutely not.” He pointed his fork at her. “You know you have to move the furniture to actually clean, you can’t just clean around it.”

She chuckled, “I’m well aware that you have to move the furniture.”

Bucky grinned leaning forward. “Well believe me when I say I’ll be much more help than a kid.”

He playfully flexed his bicep. “I’m also great company.”

Steve rolled his eyes hard. “You’re also a pain in the-”

“Wow,” Bucky held his hands up. “Forgetting your manners already, Steve?”

“I was going to say neck, but now I’m thinking something else,” Steve grumbled.

Y/N smirked at the banter. “Okay, Bucky. I accept your offer.”

Bucky lost count of how long he had been visiting Y/N. Some days they cleaned, just as Bucky had offered. Other days they became too distracted, laughing over lunch, sometimes even dinner. Those were Bucky’s favorite days. Not that he minded cleaning; he just enjoyed her. Cleaning left too many distractions and talking to Y/N allowed him to focus on her and only her.

Bucky huffed, slamming a cardboard box on the floor. Using the end of his once-white t-shirt, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He had spent most of the afternoon bringing boxes up and down from the attic. It was nearly lunchtime, and he was exhausted. When the shirt slipped from his fingers, he panted, his hands finding a home on his slim hips. His eyes trailed along the window beside him where Y/N stood on the other side staring back at him. Bucky smirked, waving a single hand. She returned his wave with a bright smile. Her other hand clutched an envelope to her chest. Her feet then slammed on the concrete steps as she raced into the house as if she were a child returning home from school to catch the latest program on the radio. Bucky not so gently, despite his best efforts, shut the attic door just in time. Y/N swiftly pushed past him, nearly knocking him on his rear.

“What’s got you all excited?” Bucky asked with a teasing tone. He couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow as she slammed her hands on the kitchen table.

“I’ve got a letter from Harry!”

Her nimble fingers made quick work at tearing the letter open, but before she could get far, a large hand covered her own. Y/N’s eyes shot to the man standing beside her, ready to give him a piece of her mind. Bucky retracted his hand with a chuckle, revealing a sleek letter opener in his other hand.

“Wouldn’t want to give yourself a papercut. Those things can be nasty.”

Y/N gently took the letter opener from his grasp with a sharp nod. She could feel Bucky’s presence hovering over her shoulder, but she didn’t dwell on it. It’s not every day someone receives a letter from someone overseas. Chalking it up to curiosity, she sliced the letter open.

Bucky grimaced as he watched her eyes scan the letter. Steve was right, she did seem happily married, in love even, but he willingly left her behind. He left her alone. That wasn’t love.

Pinched between her manicured fingers alongside the letter was a black and white photograph. Y/N smiled, showing the photograph to Bucky. “This is Harry.” Bucky studied the man in the picture as Y/N observed Bucky. “I wish you two had met before he left. I think the two of you would have gotten along well.”

Bucky snorted, glaring daggers at the other man’s picture. “Oh yeah, how’s that doll?”

Y/N twirled away from him, reaching for a pen to write her husband back. “I just know.” She sat at the table pen in hand, but her response wasn’t good enough for the brunette. The table pressed into the back of his thighs as he slammed his spread palm on top of the paper.

He peered down at her beside him. “You think or you know?”

Y/N’s forehead creased, her hands attempting to pluck Bucky’s hand off the parchment. “You just remind me of him sometimes. Now can I write to my husband?” Bucky eyed her for a moment, analyzing her words. Silently, he pushed off the table allowing her some privacy.

He found himself wandering to the last box he had brought down from the attic. If she was busy, he’d entertain himself. He dragged the box along the wooden floor into the kitchen. Y/N perked up at the sound of the cardboard grinding against the wood. Bucky could feel her eyes on him as he slumped into the chair across from her, but remained occupied popping the flaps of the box open. Shaking her head, Y/N returned her attention to the letter before her as Bucky rummaged through the box. She didn’t mind. He had gone through nearly all of her stuff at this point.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked, waving a camera around.

Y/N shook her head. “It was a wedding gift. Harry used it mostly. Do you take pictures?”

Bucky nodded. “Occasionally. My parents had one.” He pointed the camera at Y/N. “Steve was the artist, but technology was always fascinating to me. I’m better at pressing buttons.”

Y/N palmed the lens, hiding her face. He was skilled in pressing more buttons than the ones on a camera. Bucky pulled the camera back. Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Harry was always taking pictures of me. Not you too,” she whined.

Bucky laughed, setting the camera on the table. “Anyone with a camera would want to capture your beauty. They’d have to be blind not to.”

Y/N felt heat crawl up her neck at the compliment. Rather than replying, she dipped her head back to the letter she had yet to write. Before the pen could touch the sheet, Bucky let out a low whistle. Her interest shifted back to the man across from her as he pulled a dress from the box. It wasn’t an everyday dress like the ones he’d seen Y/N wearing.

“That’s for dancing,” Y/N offered.

Bucky hummed. “Your husband takes you dancing?”

Y/N twirled the pen in her hand. “He used to.” She paused. “Do you dance Bucky?”

A wolfish grin spread along his face. “You want to find out?” When Y/N didn’t respond, Bucky whispered, “Put on the dress.”

Y/N gasped, the pen slipping from her fingers. “Bucky I-”

Setting the dress on the table between them, he leaned forward. His voice laced with honey, “Let me take you dancing.”

Caught in the sticky sweetness of his voice, Y/N’s own was shaky, “Harry.”

Bucky frowned. “You’re always busy, always volunteering, bringing Steve his medicine, or taking care of the house. When was the last time you did something for yourself? You can’t stop living your life just because Harry isn’t around.”

With a shake of her head, she wanted to protest, but what was she protesting? A dance? A night out with a friend? Fun?

Sensing her hesitation, Bucky added, “It’s just dancing, doll. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Okay.”

Bucky would have leaped out of his chair if she hadn’t been watching him. He flashed her one of his charming smiles, poking the dress. “But you have to wear this dress.”

Releasing a shaky breath, she replied, “You better be a damn good dancer, James Barnes.”

“You’re taking her dancing?” Steve exclaimed, choking on his milkshake.

Bucky passed him a napkin pinched between his index and middle finger. When Steve gathered himself, Bucky rationalized, “It’s just dancing. No need to get your feathers ruffled.”

Dancing was never just dancing when it came to Bucky. Steve watched as Bucky swept a new woman off her feet while dancing night after night. It didn’t help that his friend was charming. Young or old, it didn’t matter. They all swooned after James Barnes. Steve doubted Y/N would be the exception.

“I know you Bucky. It’s never just dancing.”

Bucky snorted, grabbing a fist full of frenchfries from the basket between them. “Y/N’s different.”

“She is. She’s married. She’s also my only other friend. If you ruin her marriage, I won't have a friend left.” Steve’s mouth was set in a hard line.

The threat in Steve’s tone was loud and clear. Still, Bucky refused to back down. With a hand over his heart, he asked, “What if I’m different?”

Steve let out a loud laugh. “You’re my friend, Buck. I won’t lie to you to stroke your ego.”

Bucky sipped his milkshake with a shrug. “So come with us and see for yourself.”

“You’re inviting me to third wheel on your date? You are different. Maybe I should ask a dame out and see if I’ve changed too,” Steve sassed.

“Come or don’t, it won’t make a difference. It never did before.” It was a low blow, but Bucky was tired of Steve’s lack of faith in him. Just because Steve struggled when it came to the opposite sex, didn’t make Bucky a womanizer. He liked Y/N. She just happened to be married.

The weekend came too soon for Y/N. She hadn’t been dancing since Harry was home. It felt strange to get dressed up to dance with another man. She hadn’t danced with a man since Harry. She pondered if he was dancing with the women overseas. Her eyes drifted to the photograph lodged in the side of the mirror on her dresser.

“Y/N?”

Y/N hurriedly emerged from her bedroom and made her way to the living room where Bucky was waiting. He looked dashing in his well-tailored suit and his hair was neatly slicked back. Despite being a married woman, Y/N couldn't help but notice Bucky's striking good looks. She couldn't deny the fact that he was an attractive man.

“Well, don't you clean up nice,” she teased.

Bucky smirked, circling a pointed finger. “Give me a spin. I wanna get a good look at this dress you kept hidden away.”

Y/N whirled around, her skirt fluffing out in the process. When she stopped facing Bucky, he shook his head. Grasping her hand to turn her slowly. When he let go, he released an appreciative sigh. “Looks even better on you.”

Y/N’s hands fumbled with the skirt as she avoided Bucky’s eyes. Noticing her embarrassment, Bucky announced, “Steve is picking up a date. They’re going to meet us there.”

“Oh.” The surprise in her voice was evident. It was just dancing, she reminded herself. Steve wouldn’t be joining them if it was a date. Steve had a date though. Y/N’s mind whirled wondering if she had unknowingly agreed to a date. “I didn’t know Steve dated.”

Bucky led Y/N onto the street where they walked side by side to the dance hall down the street. He didn’t want to embarrass Steve in front of Y/N. He had found Steve a date, but Y/N didn’t need to know that. “Steve doesn’t mind dancing with a pretty face after a long week. Can’t find a man around who would complain about that.”

A laugh escaped Y/N. She knew his statement to be true after many nights dancing with Harry. It didn’t matter if she arrived with a gentleman, they all wanted to dance.

A poster in one of the shops caught her eye. Bucky slowed to a stop, allowing her time to look.

“She’s gorgeous,” Y/N breathed.

Bucky eyed the scantily clad pin-up model. He enjoyed the image as much as the next guy, but he wouldn't express that to the woman he was pursuing. So, he did the only other thing he could think of, he rationalized it. “They’re putting all kinds of pictures up like this. Men have been buying them up like crazy before joining the war.”

Y/N flinched; her eyes trained on the model. Did Harry buy one? She cocked her head, “Would you buy her picture, Bucky?”

He bit his lip, rapidly shaking his head, “Don’t need to. I’m going dancing with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N faced him with her hands on her hips. “Don’t give me that. I want an honest answer.”

Bucky made an imaginary cross with his pointer finger over his heart. “Honest, I swear.”

Y/N bit her lip peeking back at the model. “You really think I’m prettier than her?” If she was more attractive, then perhaps her husband hadn't bought the stranger's picture.

Bucky bent his knees and threw his head back dramatically. “Any man would kill to have a poster of you on their wall.” Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tugging her toward the dance hall.

Bucky’s words danced around her head. If men were buying up pictures of a woman they’d only ever seen through a camera lens, then why couldn’t she send her husband one? He had sent her a picture of himself.

“Bucky,” Y/N called, catching his attention, “How good are you with a camera?”

Bucky shrugged, “Good enough. I used to-”

That was good enough for Y/N. She interrupted him, “I want you to take my picture.”

He side-eyed her, “You didn't want me taking your picture the other day.”

Y/N shook her head, pointing her finger to the poster behind them. “I want you to take my picture like that.”

Bucky almost tripped over his own feet. They stopped outside of the dance hall. Steve stood along the wall with a short redhead. One look at Steve and Bucky knew he had spotted them. Steve frantically waved them over, his date uninterested.

Bucky grabbed Y/N’s bicep as she inched toward Steve. “Hold on.” He didn’t question her motive, but he needed her to be sure. “Are you sure?”

Y/N grinned up at Bucky. “I thought you said any man would kill to have my picture on their wall?”

He did say that, but he hadn’t expected the outcome. “Yes, but-” A finger pressed to his lips silencing him.

“Let’s have a nice night and we’ll talk about it later. You have yet to prove you can dance.”

Bucky laced his hand with the hand she had pressed to his lips seconds ago. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Y/N and Bucky had a great night at the dance hall. Even though Steve’s date left with another man, he had fun as well. Bucky had been an exceptional dancer. Steve, not so much. He had stepped on Y/N’s feet all night, even when they weren’t dancing. Steve was a good sport and laughed it off.

Bucky hadn’t forgotten Y/N’s request before the dance and neither had Y/N. Over the week, Y/N explained she wanted to take pictures for her husband. By the end of the week, Bucky stood awkwardly in Y/N’s living room, camera in hand.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bucky asked, “So, where do you want to do this?”

Y/N’s bare feet padded along the floor, leading Bucky to her bedroom. Taking in her robe-covered figure, Bucky cursed Harry for meeting her first.

Y/N plopped on the bed. “Is this good?”

Bucky bit his lip and sent her a nod. Y/N unknotted her robe letting it pool on the bed behind her. Bucky averted his eyes to check the film. “There's only enough film for 8 shots.”

“Do you want to take a test shot?” Y/N asked.

Wordlessly, he pointed the camera at her catching her off guard as he took the picture.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the flash went off, blinding her momentarily. She quickly regained her composure and scowled at Bucky. “You were supposed to tell me when you were ready,” she said, her frustration evident in her voice.

Bucky shrugged, “It was just a test shot. The camera still works.”

Y/N huffed falling back on her elbows. “You’re a guy, what should I do?”

Filthy thoughts invaded his head, but he pushed them away. “I don’t know. You’re already beautiful; the camera will pick it up. Just be yourself.”

Y/N kneeled on the bed to be level with Bucky. The flash went off. Y/N pouted. “I wasn’t ready.”

Bucky mentally disagreed. She trusted him to take her pictures. He hadn’t lied when he said she was beautiful. It was the candid shots that were alluring to him. Caught in action, turned the photo from a picture to a video. If Steve knew what he was doing, he would lose his mind.

Y/N crossed her legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the bed as she shoved the skirt of her silk nightgown to her ankles.

“Up.”

Y/N wavered, eyeing Bucky. “What?”

“Pull the nightgown up,” Bucky suggested.

Her hands hesitantly dragged the bottom of the nightgown up, exposing her calves. “Like this?” She peeked at Bucky when the skirt passed her knee.

Flash.

Bucky couldn’t deny the thrill that rushed through him. He had seen her legs plenty of times in dresses she wore, but there was something more intimate in her revealing her legs to him. The intimacy of the two of them alone in her bedroom only added fuel to the fire.

“What would you like to receive from your wife if you were in the war?”

Bucky shoved her bare shoulder gently, propelling her back to hit the mattress. The strap of her nightgown slipped. Her hand moved to fix it. Bucky hovered over her to grab her wrist. His large hand glided her hand between her breasts. “Leave it.”

Flash.

Y/N imagined the images would be lewder than the pin-up poster she saw, but she preened under Bucky’s attention. Maybe she was starved for attention since Harry left, but she did this for her husband. She just hoped Bucky was right and her husband would appreciate the photos.

Chapter 3

Taglist: @yeahright0h @buckysouvenir @cloudykoookie

#bucky x female reader #40s!bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #40s bucky x reader #40s!bucky #40s bucky

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cartierdreamx · 2 years ago

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𝕵'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 <3

hi my little cherubs <3 i’m j also known as dreamy (she/her), your choice, welcome to my dreamscape, i sure do hope you stay and enjoy yourselves!

i write mainly fem! Reader for jenna and her multiverse of characters, especially for my longer fics but sometimes my drabbles, one liners and one shots are unintentionally GN as i’m not the best with writing GN.

requests are currently closed as I am in the middle of writing a fic (DTF out now), however, you are more than welcome to send in a prompt and request and I can try my best to fulfill it, if I have time between or if my mind needs a little breather from Mafia stuff, but no promises. i write basically anything, just nothing illegal or male reader. but, also feel free to send in asks to get to know me, convos, i love interacting with yall <3

as i do write smut and adult themes, i kindly ask MINORS DNI, you are responsible for your own social media intake, which includes reading entertainment, which my blog falls under.

love yourz,

j <333

(extra points to you if you can spot out my pop culture/rnb references in my fics and drabbles hehe)

*though my fics have real people, my fics are just for entertainment and far from reality*

CURRENT FIC: DESTINED TO FALL

*!!!!!!!!

JENNA ORTEGA x FEM!READER

Fics*!:

FIRE AND DESIRE: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, EPILOGUE

DESTINED TO FALL *Mafia AU*: CH1, CH2, CH3

HACKED INTO YOU *Watchdogs 2 AU (on hold)*: CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4

One shots*!:

MY (SECRET)ARY

THE LAST SLICE

HER MUSE

Drabbles*!:

WOOHOO

WORM

FAMILIAR

FLOWER

MET

HEARTBEAT

SPIDEY

WEDNESDAY x FEM!READER:

Drabbles*!:

DONUT

#j's thoughts #j’s masterlist #masterlist #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #wednesday x reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader

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prismuffin · 2 years ago

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Masterlist 2:

Full Fanfic Masterlist

Marvel:

How Peter Parker and Steve Rogers react to their crush asking to play with their hair

Hobie Brown helping trans!male!Reader with dysphoria Hobie Brown reminding ftm!Reader not to overbind Hobie Brown turning into a cat and causing chaos in the SpiderSociety

How Miles Morales acts on a rooftop date with another hero Miles Morales reacting to grieving reader Miles Morales being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie Miles Morales reacting to his crush suddenly asking him out in the middle of a normal conversation Miles Morales with a younger!sister!reader

Platonic!Miguel O'Hara comforting transmale reader after a breakdown Miguel O'Hara reacting to reader coming out as trans (ftm)

Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader with brain issues Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader getting a good grade on an exam

Pavitr Prabhakar and german!male!Reader bonding by learning about each other's cultures

SpiderTeens reacting to gn reader adopting them all

Stranger Things:

Nothing yet!

The Umbrella Academy:

Nothing yet!

Criminal Minds:

Nothing yet!

Hitman Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

Mission: Impossible:

Ethan Hunt reacting to his son being a part of the syndicate

FarCry 5:

Nothing yet!

Valorant:

Nothing yet!

Detroit Become Human:

Connor helping male!trans!reader with testosterone shots Connor helping gn!Reader calm down from a panic attack Connor with a s/o who's a maladaptive daydreamer Connor with an insomniac s/o Connor with a s/o who's a wild/active sleeper

Our Life Beginnings & Always:

Nothing yet!

Error 143:

Nothing yet!

Sally Face:

Nothing yet!

WatchDogs Trilogy:

Nothing yet!

COD: Modern Warfare2:

John Price dealing with being a sleep talker

Konig reacting to short!male!Reader climbing him like a tree to see something Konig reacting to short!male!Reader being on his shoulders^^Part 2

Ghost, Konig, and Price (separate) reacting to male!Reader with dermatillomania Ghost and Konig (separate) reacting to having to cuddle up to male!Reader for warmth Ghost and Konig waking up to cuddling male!Reader ^^Part 2 Ghost and Konig (separate) having M!Reader be their gay awakening

The Imperfects:

Nothing yet!

Encanto:

Nothing yet!

Girl From Nowhere:

Nothing yet!

Metal Lords:

Nothing yet!

Dc Universe:

Batfam being jealous of the readers pet/animal Batboys reacting to Tim Drake's "bad-boy" boyfriend Taking care of Batboys (seperately) after they got their wisdom teeth removed Batboys reacting to boyfriend!Reader smacking their ass and running away Batboys + Conner & Wally being caught wearing masc!Readers hoodie Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son ^^Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son pt2^^ Batboys reacting to getting hard during training with M!Reader Anthro!Batboys having their ears and tail expose their romantic feelings for male!reader Batfam reacting to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon!male!reader BatBoys reacting to them thinking male!reader called them a goodboy

Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne accidentally falling for male!sugar-baby!reader Bruce Wayne with an energetic anti-hero husband

Conner Kent accidentally using X-ray vision on trans!male reader

Male!Justice League members reacting to rogue!reader moving out of Gotham and into their city

Jason Todd reacting to male reader falling asleep on him Jason Todd reacting to a gn reader who can't swim Injured!Jason Todd waking up to Reader in his hospital room

Damian Wayne with a child!brother!Reader Damian Wayne being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie

Dick Grayson reacting to a very cuddly male reader Dick Grayson waking up his cuddly guy crush Dick Grayson reacting to a sad!male!Reader needing cuddles

Hal Jordan's (Green Lantern) reaction to reader having a lot of lantern rings Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) x recovering!male!Readers Hal Jordan reacting to being bitten by masc!alien!Reader

John Constantine reacting to a food-pusher Reader John Constantine with a werewolf s/o (gn reader) Hungover!John Constantine waking up in a caring Readers bed John Constantine reacting to a male!Reader that reminds him of his younger self ^part 2. John Constantine reacting to similar!male!Reader reading his soul John Constantine being bullied by a cat in a pub John Constantine reacting to a Reader that smokes John Constantine having a demon!Reader be attached to him John Constantine reacting to reader being turned into a baby John Constantine reacting to male!Rader lighting his cigarette with John's

Kid Flash (Wally West) reacting to accidentally courting alien!reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a night owl boyfriend Kid Flash (Wally West) accidentally petting one of winged!male!Readers arousal zones Kid Flash (Wally West) and winged!male!Reader finally getting together Kid Flash (Wally West) cudding male!naga!Reader Kid Flash (Wally West) with a partner who's part of the BatFamily

Tim Drake reacting to guy crush reader accidentally cuddling him Tim Drake reacting to Rogue!Reader flustering him Tim Drake with a caring and patient boyfriend Tim Drake with a boyfriend who's very physically affectionate

How Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, and John Constantine react to someone handing them the unconscious reader out of the blue How Batman and Superman reacting to their long-term partner being their worst enemy How Batman, Superman, Hal Jordan, and The Flash would react to gn magic user reader using a gun out of nowhere

How Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson, and Conner Kent react to falling asleep on their crush (male reader) How Wally West, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Conner Kent taking care of their drunk guy crush How Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake and Conner Kent react to playing seven minutes in heaven with their guy crush How Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and John Constantine react to their crush asking to play with their hair How Tim Drake and Damian Wayne react to their crush randomly asking them out in the middle of a conversation (seperate) How Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Wally West and Conner Kent (sperately) react to Alien!Panther!Male!Reader cuddling up to them randomly

How Justice League boys react to empathic color!alien reader turning pink around them How Justice League boys react to male!Reader being turned into a cat How the Young Justice League reacts to a male!Reader with an Eating Disorder

—

Back to directory;

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renhaswritersblock · 2 years ago

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Scenario: Y/N and Wrench are coming back from a party. Wrench is hella drunk and is leaning against the car's window, quietly groaning while Y/N is driving.

Y/N [glancing over]: Do you need to throw up?

Wrench: Mmm...no

Y/N [chuckling]: Yeah, you do.

[few minutes later.]

Y/N [exhausted and wanting to put on a pair of fresh clothes after throwing Wrench on the couch. Is about to take off their shirt when they hear him vomiting in the other room.] God, fucking–

===

Courtesy of this video

#watch dogs legion #watch dogs 2 #watchdogs legion #watchdogs #watch dogs wrench #wrench #reginald blechman #wrench x reader #love Helluva Boss

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random-fandoms-fanfics · 2 years ago

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A Marine Biologist

Tonowari x F!Reader x Ronal

Pandora was a beautiful planet that had a brand new ocean to explore, you knew you would fall in love with all of the life that existed in and around it but you didn’t think your love would end up this far.

Back in the Day Part 2

Taking a seat on the worn down chair you clicked through the hundred of tabs open on the holographic screen, going over the importance of each one until the screen was taken over by a call, fixing up your poster and leaning away from the screen you answered the call, a smile on your lips when Grace’s face took up the screen, “good morning Dr (L/N),” (if your name just happens to be Sully, you might want to change it)

“Morning Dr Augustine, what happened this time? Did they cut the budget again,”

“Thankfully no, but I did learn I have to deal with a marine after his brother went and died on me,”

“God hope he’s resting peacefully,”

“He got shot while being mugged, poor bastard’s most likely cursing the heavens for not being able to be killed here,”

“I know I would be, look just keep the newbie busy with simple orders, it’s how I used to keep my brother occupied,”

“Oh yeah, one of your brother’s military, whatever happened to him?” leaning back into the seat you turned to the old framed photo of you and your brothers, a frown overtaking your smile, “no idea, we got into a fight right before he went off to fight in Venezuela, while he was gone I got into a fight with Tommy and in a fit of anger and pettiness I came up here,”

“I’m guessing being asleep for six years didn’t help the relationships,” chuckling with the older women you lifted your mug to your lips, soon sinking into yourself and the chair, “am I a shitty sister?”

“Yeah,” snorting into the liquid you slapped the screen, the older women laughing at you, “what the hell Grace, you were meant to make me feel better you piece of shit,” laughing with one another Grace was soon distracted by voices in the background, the older woman getting out of her chair and moving away from the screen, shouting at the voices for a few minutes in the background.

“Sorry (N/N) I have go, the newbies are having their first link up,”

“Oh ‘nother tip, watch the marine, they’re very observant and when they get a bit of down time they’ll B-line to the first thing that catches their eye,”

“Will do,” when the call was ended you looked down to the clock, lifting yourself off of the chair with a groan you started your march towards the link units with mug in hand. Entering the lab you made your way to the unit where a certain marine was waiting, “good morning sweetheart,” even though you barely understood the scottish man at times his voice still ran like butter, soothing you every time you heard him, “morning soldier, you the one who’ll be watching my ass today?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, I am the best at it,” shoving the now empty mug into his hands you pushed past him, starting up the unit, “well you better hurry up and get out there big man, I have an early start today and I don’t mind replacing you,” with a laugh rumbled from his chest the scottish man moved over to the unit next to yours with a very obvious sway to his hips.

Lifting yourself up into the link unit you did your part to prepared yourself with one of the many scientists by your side securing you in, “reading say the tulkuns will be passing by the station, stay alert and keep your watchdog under control, we don’t need those blue monkeys coming after us because we hurt their pets,” humming in agreement you reached for the strap attached to the lid of the unit, pulling it down and blocking off the outside world.

As you laid there trying to clear your mind the cooling blue of the unit turned a flashing red, sirens blaring over the screams of your crew, as water crept up your legs your bashed against the metal door, tearing up your throat as you screamed for someone to hear you, as the water reached your shoulders you were shoved away from the door as a loud bang rung out behind the metal, the banging repeated over and over, each time the metal bending more and more out of shape, taking your last breath you sunk under the water, begging for the metal to just give up. With one last bash the metal door flung off, the happy squeals coming from the outside turning into frightened squeals as the metal slammed into you.

Gasping for air you sat up from your position in Rolan’s arms, your rapid hot breath fogging up the perspex of your mask, “ma love?” swallowing at the dryness of your throat you turned back to Rolan, seeing the larger women leaning up on her elbow, “oh sweetheart it’s, everything’s ok,” laying back down with a thud you went to take her face into your hands, the two of you disturbed by the large man next to you jumping awake, “wah, what’s happening,” hushing Tonowari you gently pushed him back down, soothing him back to sleep by caressing his cheek and hair, whispering into his ear while Ronal messed with his torso, ensuring the two small lumps of blue on his chest were secure in his arm.

Leaning back you admired the two boys, their chubby little bodies smooched up against one another and their father as they slept, “how are they a month old and still so small,” cooing you brushed your hand over the hair of the children, the full Metkayina stirring at your touch. Pressing herself against your back Ronal joined you in your admiration, her arm wrapped around your waist, “they’ll grow into strong warriors soon, just give them a few more months,” rolling you over Ronal lifting you up against her chest, pulling you back down to the floor, her massive hands brushing over your back. Whenever she used her size against you, you couldn’t help but think she was glad you lost your avatar, her need for control satiated by how easily she could manipulate your smaller body.

“What was your nightmare?” humming you lifted your head up, staring down into those large blue eyes, “no one wakes up like that if they didn’t have a bad dream, plus your face is very red, your cheeks are stained with tears and you’re sticky,” bringing your hand up to your cheek you felt the dried tears, the discovery causing your face to flush even more, “oh, I didn’t think that would’ve caused me to cry,”

“Well what was it?”

“It started off with the day I meet the two of you, I remember the conversation I had with Grace, I remember hearing about the tulkuns, I even remember the smell of that freshly cleaned pod, then it, it turned into that day,”

“And that is where the pain came from, oh ma love,” hitting the hand that tried to caress your face you rolled off Ronal, back to your spot between your mates, “there’s no need to fuss I’m ok, it was just a dream,”

“A dream about one of the most horrible days of your life,” avoiding Ronal’s gaze you sunk into the makeshift mattress, blinking away the tears in your eyes, “are you ok going back to sleep?” shrugging you started at the intricate roof, not fighting against the body that curled around you, “try dreaming about something else, something that brings you joy,” turning your head to Tonowari you looked up at your boys, a smile crossing your lips, “those two knuckleheads are most likely out there having the time of their lives, oh the shit they could’ve gotten into over the years,”

“Tell me darling,”

“Well, Tommy’s probably out there on some new distant planet that humans discovered, nerding out over the dirt and falling in love with the life on it or he’s still on Earth fixing every problem they have, becoming the legend who saved the planet,” yawning you buried yourself into Rolan, your mate smoothing the hair stuck to your forehead back, “and Sh’ake?”

“Jake’s either still on Earth with a bunch of children, still going off to war but he’s instilled patriotism in them and trains with them every time he comes home or he was promoted into the interstellar military where he’s one of the most decorated and respected soldiers, and he has a bunch of illegitimate children with some wanting him dead for abandoning their mother,”

“Those are truly great dreams you have for your brothers,” looking down at you Ronal found your eye’s closed and your breathing gentle and calm, an overwhelming sense of pride over taking her.

#avatar #Avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar jake #avatar tonowari #avatar ronal #avatar tonowari x reader #avatar ronal x reader #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x reader #ronal x reader

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morningstarfirstsin · 13 days ago

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Shooting Stars (1/20)

(A/N: Many of my older works don't have proofreading and, well, I'm not a native speaker either. English is not my first language. Therefore, I ask for patience, but I believe you will find some grammatical errors here (and many more in older works).

That said, this text is interactive, giving the reader space to fit into the character, but she has a name and appearance, she is a transmigrant (yes, I know, but its my favorite trope and I almost never find any fics that fall under those terms :<)

There will be spoilers. There will be lore breaking. MC is female as the “real MC”.

I hope you like the fic. I hope it's as fun for everyone as it has been for me, marinating in this idea and finally having the willpower to write again. The tailcoat I was inspired by is this one here, from Alice in Wonderland )

Summary: You lived for them. You died for them. That was the only thing that made sense, the prophecy given to you said. You were sure of it. Live for them, die for them, make them happy. Let them live their lives with the ones they love the most and only so you'll be free to finally leave this looping of suffering.

You gave your heart, your soul, your life and your years. You gave your freedom so they could be free to love. Be free to live. And yet... Why is the story repeating itself?

Why are they coming back to you?!?

Pairing: Sylus | Zayne | Xavier | Rafayel | Caleb x female!reader

Important tags for this whole series: Angst, Fluff, Smut, reader is in denial, Past Lives, Mild Gore, Blood, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, All love interests fall in love with reader, reader is not MC

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) Read it on AO3

A tired sigh left your lips. As you hugged one of your swords and played with the small rabbit-shaped charm, time seemed to pass slowly, almost imperceptibly. The air felt still and heavy around the palace and as much as you truly wanted to make this story happen as fast as possible, it was basically impossible to rush things any further than they had already been rushed.

The number of times you sat across from your MC and talked to her, tried to understand why she didn't accept either of Xavier's two marriage proposals, why she seemed to be so resistant to the prince when things should be so much simpler .

Everything seemed so complex when, in fact, everything was supposed to be so easy and even so, the reason seemed to be invisible to the eyes of your creation. With another tired sigh, your eyes turned toward the tower clock. It was already more than 6 o'clock in the afternoon and the prince would soon leave the meeting he had been summoned to, so it was necessary to be prepared to assume the role of a watchdog once again.

Adjusting the black mask that covered from your nose to your chin, making half of your face unknown to absolutely anyone, you put away your sword once again and stretched for a moment. Your muscles tensed and then relaxed.

“Still guarding His Highness?” - A familiar male voice caught your attention. With a gentle smile on his lips, the boy who spoke directly to you was Jeremiah, one of Xavier's other royal guards and one of his best friends. He was adorable, even more so up close like that.

"Yes." - Despite your short answer and the robotic voice expelled by the mask, you held a look full of affection and sympathy for the boy. The process of being as cold and distant as possible was complex, especially in a world where you didn't belong and were desperately alone, but there was a reason for this behavior.

Soon both Xavier and Jeremiah were preparing to take the long-awaited journey to the past and you would need to play an essential role when that happened.

“Always monosyllabic. It's a shame you don't engage more than half a dozen words on a lovely day, Zero. I would really like to know a little more about you…” - And dramatically, Jeremiah threw his shoulders up, sighing deeply. - “Well, I'll leave before his highness thinks I'm interfering with your work.”

And with a wave, the brunette walked in the opposite direction from which he had come, his steps as light as that of an experienced knight should be.

That brought a thought to your mind. After so many years of training and scars that marred your whole body, you weren't sure how many times you had lived or how old you were in general. You stopped counting after the first two hundred, since in this life alone, you were almost sure you already had surpassed three hundred years old. The only thing you truly knew was why you were here and what your mission was.

Ironically -or perhaps not-, after reading so many books and comics on this topic, something similar had happened. The weird part was that you didn't remember dying in your last life. Furthermore, some things still seemed to have survived in your memory. For example, here in the world of Love and Deepspace, they didn't speak your native language, no. They spoke what you called “common”, a language you learned as soon as you started speaking.

Another important point was: Your memory of this world began when you cried the first time, on your mother's lap. It had been many, many years. You have literally lived entire lives in completely different timelines. Lives where you were close to Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and now, Xavier. It was strange to say that you didn't understand or know for sure which of these lives had been the first or whether what was happening at the moment was real or just a memory. But before your brain could get lost in any more wondering about questions you couldn't answer yourself, a noise caught your attention.

With a click, the door opened, and from inside, some members of the imperial family began to come out. Xavier had been one of the last and, as usual, you started walking behind him without saying a single word. His gaze focused in search of any danger, despite his relaxed posture.

“Zero…” - The prince called your name for what seemed like the first time in his entire existence. Now you were already away from any area where there were other passersby in the palace, even if you were still moving on your way to Xavier's room.

With a bit of shock, since the prince was usually indifferent and cold towards everyone he didn't consider close, you just nodded, still following behind the blonde, waiting for what he had to say. It seemed ridiculous that a wave was enough, especially when you weren't leading the way, but you knew the prince too well to know that he had seen your nod and, a few seconds later, as you arrived in front of his bedroom door, he invited you inside.

Shaking your head in a negative manner, you remained outside, expression as neutral as possible, indicating that you would not enter.

“I need to talk to you about… Well, you know about who. And I would like to do it in a way that I am comfortable with.” - his voice sounded tired, bordering on exhaustion and that was the only thing that convinced you to take a very hesitant step into the prince's room.

"Thanks." - He said, closing the door and then going to sit on the sofa in the small leisure area that the immense royal bedroom offered. - “I don't know if I could say that you must be wondering a lot of things since… I don't think I even remember what your voice sounds like anymore. But... I'd like to ask you a favor. Certain things are going to happen and… I would like you to protect her. Never leave her side.”

Your gaze fell on the blonde's hands, fingers intertwined, muscles contracting with some anxiety. He was certainly talking about his farewell, his future journey and how he was putting his plans into action for your MC to become queen of Philos. This was one of the moments you were eagerly awaiting. You would finally accomplish something that had never been done before, that timeline would be broken and you would be responsible for it in no time.

With a rare smile on your lips -even though they were hidden by the mask-, you knelt down in front of Xavier, one hand resting on your knee and the other on the floor. Lowering your head, you dared to speak a few words this time.

“I swear on my life that I will keep her safe as long as I live.” - The robotic voice sounded with a little emotion. Maybe it was the tiredness that had finally spread like cancer through your body and soul. Living so many lives and dying all of them, remembering the loved ones you had all this time, family and friends, as well as the people you loved so much in the 'real world'. All that weight finally felt like it had been dumped on your shoulders once and for all.

“I…” - Xavier seemed shocked. His eyes widened slightly, but then he smiled gently. It was the first time he had smiled at you and he was as beautiful as every time he had smiled through a screen. - "Thanks." - and with a hand on your shoulder he seemed to have conveyed everything he always wanted to say during the entire time he was in the company of his beloved MC. You knew how important she was to him, but little did the prince himself know of your plans.

With a nod, again, you stood up and left the room, standing guard outside. Even during the early hours of the dawn, there was no tiredness in your system. It felt like your heart was pumping blood faster than ever, an expected state of adrenaline when you only had one chance to make things work.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Our old tale is found in the annals of Philo’s history.

Wandering bards sing of it throughout the land.

For hundreds of years, Philo’s throne sat empty. Now the crownless queen of legends foretold regains her scepter.

Philos is to be ushered in a new spring. in darkness does one claim a glimmer. The new queen shall bring the dying Philos its real end.

As she sat on her cold throne, at the bottom of the steps, her Grandis Knight, Xavier stared at her. A queen’s coronation ceremony should be a day of bliss, yet, he chose that day to bid her farewell.

“Are you not afraid the Backtrackers suspect you betrayed them for a private audience?” - Your mc asked, her voice shaky.

“They are aware.” - Xavier sighed and averted his eyes for a second. - “As a knight, it’s my duty to attend to Your Majesty.”

A moment of silence made the throne room colder than before, quieter than the normal. Your eyes never wandered away, staring directly at Xavier while he spoke to your mc. She was beautiful, so much that it pained you to see this scene repeating again and yet, you’ve spoken no words, in a guarding stance beside your new queen as you promised.

“... Are you truly leaving?” - Her eyes were glassy, full of non-shared tears.

“The spaceship is ready.”

“Your trip is one of danger and uncertainty!”

Shaking his head, Xavier didn’t reply right away. If only so that he could extend his own stay, even if just a little, if only to hear her breathe, so that he could just hear her heart beat for the last time.

“Our safety is assured so long as Your Majesty doesn’t call our steel into battle.”

Your Majesty. He addressed her with a cool indifference. He hadn’t addressed her with her own name for years and now, seeing him stand, she realized it’s been some time since she got a good look at her Grandis Knight.

“You’ve already made up your mind. In that case…” - Your MC spoke, rising from her throne and walking down the steps, standing before Xavier. - “I’ll tell the citizens. The Grandis Knight perished in battle. I shall give him the highest honor.”

He smiled at her. His voice was so ever soft and full of affection, one she couldn’t have noticed for how her heart was broken.

“Your Majesty has my gratitude.”

The wind sweeps into the room, the tassel with a star-shaped charm swaying on his sword. Nightfall obscures the tassel and without saying another word, Xavier takes his leave, his steps echoing through the room.

When you heard the door close completely, you examined every part of that large hall with your eyes. Your MC knelt on the floor and started crying profusely. Sobs of a lost love for a journey that would have no return.

You took a few steps forward, walking down the steps of the throne and standing next to the queen. Placing one hand in front of your face and the other behind, touching a device on the back of your neck, you removed the mask. Something you had never done in front of any of the people who lived in that palace. In fact, the last people who had truly seen your face had long since perished.

"Your Majesty." - Your voice was low, almost like a whisper in the silent night. A melodic voice that went well with the long pastel pink hair you grew. Your eyes were almost hidden beneath a fringe that urgently asked for a cut, but even so, nothing was a mystery anymore, not for your queen and you had only done that because you knew she would never remember your face.

“Z-Zero?” - Your MC's voice was still weak and longing, choked. Her eyes widened for a moment as she admired your face, her fingers reaching out and gently brushing against your skin, feeling the softness and plump, pink lips.

A toothy smile showed your dear mc that she could continue her curious caress while you yourself moved your hand to caress your creation's cheek. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't the feeling of motherhood you get with a child, it was more like seeing something you were a part of, now forging its own path.

“I'm sorry about that. I've seen and rewatched this story so many times and... My return home depends on your happiness... So I'm going to break some rules. I hope you forgive me.” - With a soft kiss on your queen's forehead, you murmured a few words and the world around you seemed to enter a great state of… glitching.

Your MC didn't even have time to say anything, she was paralyzed like everything else at that moment. The entire world had bent to your will. With a snap of your fingers, you were facing the spaceship that Xavier and Jeremiah would board in a few minutes for the mission back to the past.

You opened the door and carried your queen inside, laying her gently on one of the beds in the dorm. With another snap of your fingers, her clothes were already organized in the correct compartments and the amount of supplies needed for the trip had been re-established.

“I hope you live a peaceful and happy life. Give Jeremiah some love for me, I’m sure he’ll be a great gardener.” - You said with a smile on your face and walked out of the machine, letting the door close again.

Time came to an end and you disappeared into the darkness, just waiting for things to happen according to your will. Xavier and Jeremiah boarded the ship, adjusted the coordinates and left Philos. Using a device that would be similar to a GPS, you followed their departure until their return could no longer be something tangible and only then, with a sigh, did you unpause the rest of the world around you.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Walking to the Starfall Forest, you entered the forest safely. That would be the last time you would need to do something. Or maybe it was the first. Maybe it was just a memory. It didn't matter the order of any of the timelines, just that you were certain that by completing this final task, you would finally have your freedom returned.

After all, the prophecy, before the countless times you were born -or had been born- was always the same: “Seek for the true happy ending. Allow the chance to love for those who never manage to consummate it.” and there was nothing that made more sense than simply changing the story of each of the characters you loved so much. Yes, these boys never seemed to have a happy ending, with their tragic pasts and broken hearts.

Wide steps made your path shorter and shorter, white pants that outlined your curves and highlighted your rear, black knee-high boots and a blue tailcoat with details in gold threads, made the air of royalty more intense than ever. It was especially sad to know that, despite all the flower details in your hair, your jewelry - however discreet, they were still there and were exuberant to the attentive eyes -, no one would see you that night. Literally dressed to kill. The mask was no longer part of your current uniform.

Your hair, long enough to reach your waist, was gently swayed by Philos' gentle breeze, as if it were a relief that you had finally arrived on that planet to put a real end to such a monstrous situation.

Pulling your two swords from their respective sheaths, your next movement was too quick for any creature or wanderer to follow. You were destroying the core of that damned land. Never again would those humans make sacrifices to keep their selfish lives extended.

Your consciousness slowly faded away as your sword destroyed every barrier on the planet’s protocore, trees and creatures being destroyed in a white flash, a merciful way to go, you thought. At least it would be painless, as all the pain on that planet now passed through your veins to the point where you expected to wake up back in your own bed. Back to your world.

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

When you opened your eyes again, you were in an alley. Your mask was on the floor as blood fell from your nose and mouth. Several men were on the ground, huddled together and stacked on top of each other.

Blurred vision and a feeling of nausea, you realized you were in a fight. What had happened this time? The world seemed much less technological than on Philos, but your mask... Hearing some footsteps nearby, you tried to get up, supporting yourself with one of your swords as you pulled your mask and fitted it back onto your face.

Your body was heavy and your arms were making a Herculean effort to maintain support for your swords. You knew you needed to walk faster and you forced your own body to follow as much as possible.

Not that you knew how to go. Or where to go to. But your feet were dragged towards what felt like a familiar place. Entering the automated building, the robot recognized your face, even if it was bruised and swollen behind the mask, granting you access to the elevator.

You don't remember when your eyes closed, but you felt a warmth, as if something was holding you gently and not letting you fall to the ground. Your consciousness faded.

At some point, in the midst of a delirious fever, your eyes opened and closed, but everything was spinning and your stomach no longer seemed to want to contain anything inside it. Turning your face to the side, you vomited everything you had previously ingested along with blood.

You heard some noises of footsteps, more than one person was moving in that environment, someone seemed to curse almost silently while another person gently held your torso and hair.

“She needs to go to the hospital right now. I can’t treat her here.” - A cold and harsh voice sounded above you. It matched the cold touch of the hands that held you.

“Her arms… Her arms are turning… black. Would this… be necrosis?” - Another voice, less rigid, spoke. Familiar like the first.

"No. That’s her evol.” - Another male voice. How many men were there in this place? 3? 4? Your head was too dizzy to answer that question. - “Luke and Kieran are heading here, let's take her to the hospital, help me find other clothes to dress her.”

“I don't think there's time to put other clothes on her right now. As much as I hate the idea of leaving her in this state, let's prioritize getting her back to my car. Let me try to stabilize evol, after all, this heart is hers.” - Maybe you have been answered. 4 men? But there were two more that were mentioned… were they already here?

When you felt a warm touch on your skin, your eyes opened wide, but you couldn't see anything. A scream left your lips as you writhed in pain and tried your best to get away from whatever they were doing to you.

“Shit, hold her straight, just a little longer, I’m making her evol regress!!!” - The person who had touched you shouted, a few more pairs of hands came to hold you. Whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or an eternity, you didn't know, but before falling into oblivion once again, all you heard was the voice from the someone who had touched you previously and cried out to be in possession of your heart. - “Shhhh… It’s okay, cutie. You'll be fine…”

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miss-americana-reputation · 2 years ago

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(on a trip rn but until i can do back off bitch pt. 2, here’s this)

Klaus Mikealson x Reader

A/N: smut 18+, jealous!klaus, fingering without finishing, hair pulling, throat fucking, a bit of degrading and praise (i couldn’t help myself), aftercare

reader is a female, uses she/her, and has female anatomy

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i was mainly following rebekah around the dance floor as she talked to people while i just stayed behind. i’m in a dark blue, almost black velvet dress that highlights my best features and shows the perfect amount of cleavage.

“my brother slash your watchdog is here.” she tells me, motioning up to where klaus is standing, a fierce look in his eyes. he’s not looking at us, but past us, to a group of guys staring me and rebekah down.

i shake it off and go grab myself another drink. “let me buy you one.” i turn to see one of the guys sitting beside me. “i’m okay, but thanks.” i send him a small smile.

“what’s your name?” he smiles. “it’s y/n.” i answer. “beautiful name.” he smiles. “thanks.” i take a sip of my drink, trying to find klaus. “you here alone?” he asks. “no, she’s not.” i hear klaus from behind us.

i turn my head to see him with a small smirk on his lips. “who the fuck are you?” the guy asks. “the owner of this,” he motions around the compound, “this gorgeous lady’s boyfriend, and i basically own this city.” he explains and gets up, moving between me and the guy.

“listen, you will leave the party, only remembering you met a pretty girl, but she turned you down.” he compels him, the guy quickly leaving. “come.” he drags me upstairs to our room by my wrist.

he practically tosses me in the room, following me, shutting and locking the door behind us. he doesn’t give me a change to talk before he’s hungrily kissing me. “klaus.” i softly moan into it while his hands are roaming my body. i feel my panties dampen as his hand slowly moves against my hips.

“please.” i whine. “hm?” he hums as he moves his lips down my neck. “touch me.” i whine. “angel, i am.” he smirks. “klaus, i need you.” i whine and grind my hips against his. “aw, you poor thing.” he fake pouts. “please.” i whine. “okay.” he smirks and lowers his fingers so they barely touch my clothed cunt.

he pushes my panties to the left and teases me. “please.” i whine. “patience.” he coos. he curls his middle and ring into me. “klaus.” i moan as he speeds them up. “oh fuck.” i whine as he positions his hand so his thumb is playing with my clit.

“please.” i moan as he speeds up his fingers and pushes harder onto my clit. “fu-uck.” i moan. “such a beautiful scene.” he smiles. “you close darling?” he smirks. “mhm.” i nod.

“oh.” he pulls out his fingers. “klaus.” i whine. “knees.” he demands and i follow. i’m kneeling in front of him while he looks up at me, the tent in his pants make my mouth water.

“help me.” he looks at his harden cock. i nod and undo his pants and pull him out. i start stroking him and kissing his salty tip. “shit.” he sucks in a sharp breath. “can i fuck your pretty little throat?” he asks. “mhm.” i nod.

his hands hold onto the side of my face as he rams his cock down my throat, giving me no time to adjust. i choke around his length and that just pushes him further.

“fuck.” he tangles his hands in my hair and guides me against him. the stretch he’s giving my mouth is making my eyes water. “take it, slut.” he degrades me. i continue to let him fuck my mouth like it’s nothing but a hole.

i can sense him almost finishing before he’s pulling away and giving me a small chance to catch my breath. by now tears are staining my cheek along with streaks of mascara and drool is dripping down my chin. “you look beautiful my love.” he coos.

“now bend over the edge the bed.” he demands. i get up on sore knees and follow his directions. “fuck.” he says and pushes my dress up around my waist. “look at you.” he smirks. he pulls down my underwear so they drop down around my ankles.

“ready?” he asks as he lines himself up. “mhm.” i whine. he thrusts into me and i let out a loud moan. he smiles and wraps my hair around his fist to control me. his pace is supernatural, how fitting. i moan louder while he continues.

“klaus.” i moan. “yeah?” he presses one hand onto my back as he continues to rail me. “fuck.” i moan. “mhm.” he nods. “like that, don’t you? you’re sucking my cock in.” he adds. “nik.” i moan. “fuck.” he gasps. “you’re so fucking tight.” he pants.

“i’m close.” the wind up in my stomach is making more tears fall. “hold it.” he grits out. “klaus!” i scream. “please.” i beg. “hold it.” he demands as he continues.

he speeds up his hips as they slam into me. “oh klaus.” i moan. “come, fuck, come.” he grits, barely holding on. i let the knot snap in my stomach as i finish around him. it’s a string of curses and his name as i do.

i come back down panting as he finishes inside me. “fuck.” he sighs. i softly nod as he pulls himself out. i feel like jello and it’s a surprise i can hold myself up. he tucks himself back in and i move up. “here, let me clean you up.” he offers.

he pulls the zipper on my dress down. “come on.” he says softly as he delicately pulls it off. he tosses in on a chair in the corner of his room. “want one of my shirts?” he asks and i nod. “okay.” he smiles.

he gets me dressed in one of his henley’s and a pair of my shorts. “makeup wipes are in the bathroom.” he reminds himself and walks there. he comes back with a wipe. “want me to do it?” he asks and i softly nod and sit up.

he softly wipes off my makeup, making me smile while he does it. “it’s cold.” i smile. “wanna do it yourself?” he asks. “yeah, you’re too slow.” i smile and take it from him. “rude.” he says as i get up. i don’t respond as i head to the bathroom and wipe off the rest.

i finish getting ready for bed and join him in our bed. he’s just in his underwear, with the only light being the lamp on his nightstand, while i join him. “you look sexy as ever.” he smiles. “thanks.” i blush and join him. he pulls me against his side and he softly plays with my hair.

“every second of tonight, you looked stunning.” he softly whispers. “klaus.” i softly giggle. “i think you looked stunning every second of your life.” he smiles. “stop.” i try to turn to not face him anymore. “it’s the truth.” he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers. “i love you.” i smile back, softly kissing him. “that guy was an idiot for trying to go after you.” he smiles. “yeah, like i’d ever leave you.” i smile.

the next day was spent with me sore and clinging onto klaus. there was a point where i thought i was being too clingy but he just shushed me and pulled me closer to him. every time i tried to hid the marks on my neck, he just moved the hair out of my way and told me that they looked beautiful.

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#smut #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson smut #jealousy #i wish it was me

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selfless-solipsist · 4 months ago

Text

My Dearest Enemy [2]

◤• Commander Peepers x Reader • ◢

╰┈➤ This is not slow burn at all and with a serious tone (just saying!). This is THE SECOND CHAPTER, you can read the rest here:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/222059481-my-dearest-enemy-commander-peepers-x-reader

Chapter Two: Crumbles Down Beneath Me

Peepers' steps against the cold metal floor echoed softly through the empty hallway of the Skullship, filling the otherwise silent atmosphere. He walked with an air of seriousness and irritation, his thoughts wandering to the previous night's events. ___'s smug face and the mocking tone she had used plagued his head, her words lingering like an unpleasant whisper. He clenched his little paws into fists, the anger and frustration of their encounter bubbling just beneath the surface.

As he continued down the silent corridor, his mind raced with questions and unanswered thoughts. Why did she have to be so infuriating? Why did she act so superior? Why did she speak those strange words that left him feeling off-balance? He could still hear her voice mocking him, like a taunting echo that refused to leave his head alone. The silence of the ship only magnified his frustration, leaving his thoughts to bounce around in his own mind, drowning out everything else.

Peepers muttered to himself, the recollection of her words sending a chill down his spine. "I'll be here to watch it," she had said, with a cocky smugness that boiled his blood. He had no idea what she was talking about, but the mere fact that she seemed to know something he didn't infuriated him to no end. It was as if she had a little secret, a piece of knowledge that she was holding over his head like a trophy.

Or did she mean.. that she was actually just watching him?

As the thought hit him, a flicker of unease passed through Peepers' mind. Was it possible that the human was watching him right now? The idea made him feel exposed, vulnerable, and he found himself looking over his shoulder on instinct. The silence of the ship suddenly felt oppressive, as if it was closing in on him. He clenched his fists tighter, trying to push away the growing sense of paranoia that was creeping over him like a shadow.

But then, he heard the voice that he so badly wanted to be present only in his imagination. "Fancy seeing you here, Commander."

Peepers froze in his tracks, the sound of her voice jolting him back from his thoughts with a start. He spun on his heel, his irritation and unease blending together as he found her leaning against the wall behind him, a sly smile on her face. He tried to maintain his composure, refusing to let her see his surprise.

"What do you want?" he snapped, trying to keep his voice steady and firm. He didn't want her to know just how much she had gotten under his skin. She chuckled softly, pushing herself away from the wall and sauntering over to him with a casual ease that only fueled his irritation.

She chuckled, her smirk widening as she pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer to him. "Oh, just thought I'd check in on my favorite fearless leader." She cocked her head to the side, her gaze flickering over him in an almost predatory way.

The watchdog bristled at her words, gritting his teeth together in frustration. "I'm not your anything," he retorted, his voice laced with irritation. He took a step back, trying to maintain some distance between them, but she only seemed to move closer, like a cat playing with its prey. "And what do you mean, checking in on me?" He added, his voice shaking slightly.

The woman chuckled again, taking another step towards him. "Oh, just wanted to see how you're doing, dear commander. After all, you looked a bit... rattled the last time I saw you."

Peepers bristled at her mention of their last encounter. He remembered all too well how she had toyed with him, how she had taunted him.

How she had pressed against him.

He shook his head, trying to push those memories away. "I wasn't 'rattled'," he retorted, his voice regaining a little bit of its usual firmness. "I was just... caught off guard, that's all."

She raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Caught off guard, hm? Is that what you call it?" She continued to approach him, her steps slow and deliberate. "Because I remember you stuttering, and shaking, and avoiding eye contact. Sounds a lot more like fear to me."

The commander bristled at her observation, his face flushing with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. He had been caught off guard, and he had reacted with a mixture of fear and uncertainty that he deeply hated. He gritted his teeth, trying to force the words out without stuttering.

"I wasn't afraid," he insisted, his voice still wavering slightly. "I simply... wasn't expecting you to be so... close. That's all."

She laughed once more, now standing mere inches from him. She tilted her head up slightly to look him straight in the eye, her eyes filled with mockery and satisfaction. "Ah, yes... the closeness." She reached out and placed her hand on his chest, her touch gentle yet taunting at the same time. "You seemed very bothered by it, Commander."

Peepers felt a rush of both discomfort and anger at her touch. Her hand on his chest was hot and distracting, her thumb circling slowly and casually. He wanted to shove her away, to break the physical contact, but he couldn't. He tried to hide the effect her touch was having on him, but it was hard. His body was tense, his skin felt hot, and his 'antenna' was trembling visibly.

She smirked at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. "You know, Commander," she began, her voice soft and teasing, "You're usually much better at hiding your discomfort. But right now, you're an open book."

She leaned in a bit closer, her breath warm against his face. "You're practically glowing with unease."

Peepers felt his heart pounding in his chest. Her proximity, her touch, her words... it was all getting to him. He wanted to deny it, to insist that he wasn't uneasy, but the words wouldn't come. He could feel his resolve weakening, and he cursed himself for it. He was a commander, a right hand of Lord Hater.

And yet there he was, shaking and speechless because of some taunting human.

She could clearly sense his inner struggle then. "You're quiet, Commander," she commented, her voice still soft and mocking. "What's the matter? Lost your words?" She pressed a little harder on his chest, causing his breath to hitch involuntarily. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "You know, the more you deny it, the more obvious it becomes."

Peepers swallowed, trying to regain his composure. He wanted to snap back, to tell her to shut up and get away from him, but the words died in his throat. Her touch, her presence, her condescending tone were all working to unravel his defenses, and he couldn't seem to stop it. The mixture of anger, embarrassment, and... something else he refused to acknowledge, had him at a loss for words, his mind and body in a whirl of conflicting sensations.

"Tell me..." She trailed off as her hand moved slowly against his chest. "Is there anything interesting on your ship?" Her tongue clicked. "I'm bored."

Peepers bristled at her words. She was just here to amuse herself, to find something entertaining.

It was so... typical of her.

And yet, another part of him was intrigued by her casual question. Was there something on the ship that could satisfy her need for entertainment? He tried to keep his voice steady as he answered. "We have a... a weapon testing room," he said after a moment. "Lots of dangerous weapons in there."

Her eyes sparkled at his words. "A weapon testing room, you say?" Her hand was still on his chest, her thumb still circling slowly. It was getting harder for him to focus on the conversation with her touch so distracting.

"Sounds intriguing," she said, her voice still tinged with mockery. "Lead the way, Commander."

It was such a nonchalant request, as if she expected him to obey her.

Peepers hesitated for a moment, his mind warring with his better judgment. Going into the weapons testing room with her seemed risky, not to mention potentially dangerous. But her hand on his chest, her eyes fixed on his face... it made it hard to say no. He sighed deeply, hating the way her presence seemed to override his common sense.

"Fine," he muttered. "Follow me."

As they walked down the corridor, Peepers tried to gather his thoughts. He was taking this woman - this human - to the weapon room. It was risky, it was foolish. But what choice did he have? He kept sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She was walking beside him, her hands in her pockets, her expression curious. But her demeanor belied an underlying confidence, as if she was in complete control.

They walked in silence for a few moments before the woman spoke up. "So, Commander," she began, her voice casual yet tinged with mockery. "You said this room is full of dangerous weapons, right? What kind of weapons are we talking about here?"

Peepers bristled at her tone, but forced himself to answer. "All sorts of weapons. Lasers, plasma cannons, pulse rifles, bombs, missiles... you name it, we've got it." He glanced at her again. Her expression was still nonchalant, as if she was casually discussing nothing more than the weather.

"I see," she replied, her voice still casual. "Sounds like quite the collection. I suppose you enjoy playing with all those dangerous toys, hm, Commander?" As she spoke, her hand brushed against his arm, sending a shiver through him. She was taunting him again, testing him.

Peepers gritted his teeth as her hand contacted his arm, sending another small shiver through his body. He couldn't understand why her touch was having such an effect on him. He forced himself to ignore it, to focus on her words. "It's... it's not play," he said, his voice strained. "It's... it's training. Preparing for battle."

She hummed in response. "I play with my weapons." Her tone indifferent, yet a smile graced her lips. "I would that is, if I had any." Something about her words seemed.. strange. Like she wasn't talking about weapons.

Peepers glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a hint of confusion crossing his face. Her comment about not having weapons was strange. Almost cryptic. He wasn't sure if she was baiting him or if there was a deeper meaning behind her words.

He tried to push away the uneasy feeling in his stomach. It was probably just her usual taunting, nothing more.

Peepers could feel his heart racing as they neared the weapon room, and he was acutely aware of her presence beside him. He kept trying to remind himself that she was a threat, a human who had caused him nothing but trouble. But her confidence, her casual tone... it all got under his skin. He clenched his fist, silently cursing himself for falling for her games so easily.

They reached the door to the weapon room, and Peepers entered the access code with trembling fingers.

He glanced at the woman. She looked completely fearless, not at all intimidated by the room filled with deadly weapons. If anything, she looked... excited. She stepped into the room, her eyes wide as she took in the various weapons. She walked around, her hands running over the surfaces of the different weapons, her expression filled with curiosity and excitement.

Peepers watched her, his unease growing. She was entirely too comfortable with these weapons, and her enthusiasm didn't bode well. As she picked up a pulse rifle, he felt the need to speak, to remind her of the danger. "Be careful with that," he warned, his voice tense. "It's highly explosive."

She shrugged, holding the pulse rifle as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I'll be fine, Commander," she replied, her tone nonchalant. "I know how to handle dangerous toys better than anyone." Her words were tinged with mockery, as usual, but there was something else there too, something he couldn't quite decipher.

He watched as she casually inspected the rifle, her fingers gliding over the metal surface with an almost intimate touch.

Peepers couldn't tear his gaze away from her as she handled the weapon. Her touch was so... familiar. As if she had been handling weapons like this all her life. He tried to squash down the uneasy feeling building inside him, but it was getting harder to do so. She was acting nonchalant, carefree, as if the weapons around her were just playthings.

He swallowed hard as she set down the pulse rifle and picked up a laser pistol instead. She examined it, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"This one's more my style," she remarked, her voice casual. She flicked her wrist, aiming the pistol at a target dummy at the other end of the room. She pulled the trigger, and a beam of energy shot out from the pistol, hitting the dummy square in the chest. She smiled, as if satisfied with her aim.

Peepers felt his heart skip a beat. The way she had handled the weapon, the way she had fired it so effortlessly... it was too casual, too natural.

His unease was growing with every second. She didn't just know how to handle weapons, she was an expert. He could see it in her stance, her movements, the way she handled the gun. He tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, that it was just her usual mocking demeanor. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the alarm bells that were going off in his head.

Then she set down the laser pistol and picked up a plasma rifle, handling it with the same ease as she had the pistol.

He watched as she examined the plasma rifle, her hands gliding over the metal surface of the weapon with a strange sort of intimacy. She looked like she was admiring a piece of art, not a highly dangerous weapon of mass destruction.

He swallowed hard as she held the rifle in a firing position, her grip on it sure and steady. She raised it up and aimed it at a target dummy across the room, her finger hovering over the trigger.

Peepers could only hope that Hater and the other watchdogs wouldn't wake up.

Despite his internal plea, he knew that his hopes were futile. Hater would no doubt wake up and come charging in, demanding to know what all the noise was. And the other watchdogs... he didn't even want to think about that.

He watched her, bracing himself for an explosion of noise and chaos. But much to his surprise, she suddenly lowered the rifle and set it down on the table, a smirk playing on her lips.

"These toys are impressive, Commander," she commented, her voice casual but with a hint of mockery. "But to be honest, they're a little too... simple for my taste."

Peepers felt a flush of annoyance at her words. Simple? These weapons were the latest in cutting-edge technology. They were the pinnacle of combat efficiency. And she had the audacity to call them simple?

He opened his mouth to protest, to object to her derogatory assessment of their weapons, but she spoke again before he could get a word out.

"I prefer weapons that are... more complex. More intricate." She stepped closer to him, her smile sly. Peepers felt a shiver run through him as she invaded his personal space again, her body almost touching his.

"Weapons that... require a little more finesse." She finished, her voice a mere whisper now, her breath hot on his cheek. He felt his heart rate quicken as she closed the distance between them, her body now flush against his. He swallowed hard, his mind racing but his body frozen.

What the hell was she talking about?

She reached out, her hand gently running down his arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He flinched, the combination of her proximity and her touch sending shockwaves throughout his body. As her fingers continued their journey across his arm, he felt a mixture of alarm and desire. Alarms blared in his head, warning him of the danger of the situation, yet his body betrayed him with its reactions.

She continued her slow, deliberate touch, her fingers tracing over his bicep, down his forearm, and finally resting on his wrist. He could feel the heat of her body, the press of her against him. He wanted to push her away, to regain some control of the situation. But he couldn't. His body refused to move, his mind refusing to think rationally.

She laughed softly, a hint of the mocking tone still lingering. "How about we have ourselves a little competition?"

What?

Peepers struggled to maintain a steady voice, his mind whirling with emotions. "A... a competition?" He managed to say, his voice shaky.

A competition. With her. In this room, full of dangerous weapons. The idea was tantalizing and terrifying all at once.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice still tinged with a hint of mockery. "A little competition. Just you and me." She pulled back slightly, putting a few inches of space between them. The loss of her touch was a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

He glanced at her, his 'antenna' flickering. "What... what kind of competition?" He asked, still trying to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

"Oh, nothing too difficult," she said, her tone nonchalant as she moved away from him, glancing around the room. "Just a little... target practice." She picked up a pulse pistol from a nearby table, fiddling with it in her hands.

Peepers felt a mix of alarm and curiosity. Target practice. It sounded innocent enough, yet something about the idea niggled at him.

He watched as she handled the pulse pistol, her fingers running over the smooth surface of the gun. She was clearly comfortable with weapons, but there was something in her handling of the pulse pistol that was a bit too.... practiced.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. "Target practice," he repeated, his voice firm despite the war of emotions inside him. "And what exactly are we... competing for?"

Her mouth curled into a sly smile. "Oh, just a little wager. If I win, you have to do me a favor."

She held up the pistol, her hand steady as she took aim at a target dummy across the room. She looked confident, almost too confident. Peepers felt a pang of curiosity mixed with concern. What kind of favor? And more importantly, what would happen if he won?

He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. A favor. What could she possibly want from him? He had a feeling it wasn't something simple or mundane. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him. The idea of a competition, of going against her... it was exciting, dangerous.

He glanced at her, his 'antenna' twitching. "And if I win?"

Her smile widened as she turned to face him, still holding the pulse pistol in her hand. "If you win," she said, her voice light and mocking, "you get to ask me for anything. Anything at all."

Peepers couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her words. Anything at all? The idea was tantalizing and unnerving at the same time. He took a deep breath, trying to push away the conflicting emotions. "Alright," he said, his voice firm. "I'm in."

She chuckled, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Perfect," she replied. She moved closer to him, closing the distance between them again. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, and it took all of his willpower not to back away.

She lifted the pulse pistol, pressing it lightly against his chest. "Just remember, Commander," she whispered, her voice a low sultry tone, "I never lose."

Peepers could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. Her touch was electric, the press of her against him sending jolts of sensation through his entire body. He took a steadying breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "We'll see about that." he managed to say, his tone far more confident than he felt.

She chuckled, her hand still resting on his chest. "Oh, I have no doubt that you'll put up a good fight, Commander," she said, her tone almost mockingly sincere.

"But ultimately, I think we both know who will come out on top." With that, she gently pushed him away, putting some distance between them again. The loss of her touch left him strangely cold, despite the heat that still lingered on his chest.

"But first, let's make things a bit more interesting, shall we?" She moved to a nearby table and picked up another pulse pistol, weighing it in her hand before tossing it to him. He caught it reflexively, his mind still spinning. "After all, it's not much of a competition if we aren't playing on equal ground, is it?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

Peepers clutched the pulse pistol, his mind racing as she moved closer to him once more. Her confidence and nonchalance were both infuriating and intriguing at the same time. He looked down at the pistol in his hand, weighing it as well. It was lighter than he expected, but still felt powerful. He glanced up at her, his eyes narrowing. "Equal ground, hm?"

"Of course," she replied, her smile never leaving her face. "I wouldn't want to take advantage of your... limited skill." Her tone was light, but her words were laced with mockery.

She moved to another table and grabbed something, holding it behind her back so he couldn't see it. "And to ensure an even playing field... I have a little proposition for you."

Peepers' 'antenna' twitched in curiosity. A proposition? From her? His mind was a whirlwind of emotions - curiosity, excitement, wariness. He kept the pulse pistol in his hand, his fingers wrapped around it tightly. "Go on." he said, his voice controlled

She moved closer to him, her eyes locked on his. "It's simple, really," she said, her tone casual. "We each play with a handicap. Something to level the playing field."

She brought the object she had grabbed from the table around to the front, revealing a small, dark piece of cloth. "And since this game is all about sight..." She held up the cloth, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "We play blindfolded."

Peepers' eyes widened in shock. Blindfolded? She wanted him to play a game of precision shooting with a blindfold on?

The idea was both maddening and absurd. He looked at her, his mind racing. How would he even be able to aim, much less hit anything when he was blindfolded? And even if he did manage to pull off a few shots, she would surely outshoot him blindfolded.

He tried to protest, to find some way out of the predicament she had placed him in. And so he opened his mouth to object, but she held up a hand, stopping him before he could speak. "Now, now," she said, her tone patronizing. "I know it might seem a bit... unfair."

She moved closer, her body a mere inch away from his. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the press of her against him. "But I think you can handle it," she whispered into his ear, her voice sultry and silky. "Can't you, Commander?"

Her words sent shivers down his spine, his body betraying him with its reactions. He forced himself to focus, to push away the distracting feelings she stirred in him.

"This... this is ridiculous," he managed to say, his voice shaky but defiant. "How am I supposed to aim with a blindfold on?"

She laughed softly, the sound sending tingles through his skin. "Ah, that's the beauty of it," she replied, her tone almost playful. "It's not just about aiming. It's about feel. About your senses. Your intuition. And something tells me that you have quite a bit of that, Commander."

She took a step back, holding the blindfold in her hands. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. "And just so you know..." She trailed off. "I'm the target."

Peepers felt a wave of emotions crash over him like a tidal wave. The thought of shooting a blindfold was crazy enough, but aiming at her? The idea was absurd, reckless even. But as he looked at her mocking smile, he couldn't help but be drawn in by the challenge.

"I... I can't do that," he protested, his voice faltering. "It's too dangerous. I might hit you."

At that, her eyes grew distant. "So what?"

So what?

Peepers stared at her, stunned by her nonchalant reply. "So what?" he repeated, his voice rising. "You're talking about me shooting at you. I could injure you! Or worse!"

She shrugged, her nonchalant demeanor still present. "I'm not afraid of a few bullets," she replied, her tone almost dismissive. "And besides, it's just a friendly little competition, right?" She took a step closer, invading his personal space. Her body mere millimetres away from his.

Peepers felt the heat radiating off her body, his body's response to her close proximity both pleasing and unsettling. "This isn't a game!" he protested, his voice more forceful than before. "We're talking about guns! Weapons! They can be deadly. You could get hurt. Seriously hurt."

"Oh, come on," she said, her voice oozing with confidence. "Who says you're even going to hit me? If you're that worried about it, why don't you take the shot?" She took another step closer, and he found himself backing up, his instincts on high alert.

His mind went blank for a moment. Take the shot? On her? The thought seemed insane, but there was something in her eyes that intrigued him. A mix of mischief and challenge. It was intoxicating, like a drug, and he couldn't deny the strange pull he felt towards it.

A few seconds of silence passed as he grappled with the internal debate between rationality and temptation. He had always been the responsible one, the voice of reason. But in this moment, her very presence seemed to coax out a different side of him. A wild, reckless side that made his heart beat faster.

Peepers stared at the blindfold, his mind warring with itself. He was confident in his skills, but to play against her blindfolded, it was suicide. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him at the thought of accepting the challenge. The added element of danger, the chance to prove himself.

He looked at her, his 'antenna' flickering. "Fine," he said, his voice steady despite the war of emotions inside him. "I'll do it."

The smile that spread across her face was nothing but satisfied, as if she had been hoping for this answer the entire time. "There we go," she said, her voice slightly above a whisper. "I knew you had it in you."

She tied the blindfold in place, her slender fingers moving quickly and efficiently.

Peepers stood still, suppressing the flutter of nerves in his stomach as she approached him. She was so close, her body almost touching his. He could smell the faint scent of her, a mixture of sweetness and spice. He closed his eyes as she gently raised the blindfold to his face (or, well, eye). The fabric was smooth and soft, slipping over his eye and blocking out light. He felt a momentary pang of helplessness, suddenly robbed of his sense of sight.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the panic that threatened to rise. He had never been blindfolded before, and suddenly losing his sight was... disconcerting, to say the least.

But he forced himself to focus, to rely on his other senses rather than his sight. He could still hear the sound of her breathing, the soft sound of her footsteps on the ground. He could feel the heat of her body, so close to his again.

She stepped away, his only indication being the loss of her body heat. He heard the sound of her picking up her own pulse pistol, the soft rustle of her clothing. "Now, Commander," she said, her voice sultry and teasing. "Are you ready to see what you're made of?"

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I'm ready," he replied, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.

He held his pulse pistol at the ready, his fingers wrapped around the trigger. He had to trust his other senses now, his intuition, his gut. He had to find a way to overcome the disadvantage she had given him.

"Good."

He could hear the smile in her voice, almost hear the smirk on her face. The room fell into silence, an almost eerie stillness. Peepers strained his senses, trying to figure out where she was. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady, but it was difficult to pinpoint her location.

Then suddenly, there was a sound of movement, a soft scuff of feet on the ground. He turned, aiming his pulse pistol in the direction of the sound, the lighting bolt on his helmet flickering nervously.

"Just a bit to the left, Commander," her voice drawled out, teasing and mocking. He gritted his teeth, adjusting his aim slightly. He knew she was playing with him, tormenting him with her taunts.

He took another deep breath, steadying his hand and his nerves. He had to concentrate, to focus on his target. He could do this.

He heard another scuff of movement, a bit closer this time. He swung his pistol in that direction, but the movement stopped just as abruptly. He could hear her laughing softly, clearly enjoying his struggle.

"So close," she purred, her voice mocking. "But not quite."

Peepers felt a flash of irritation, a mix of anger and frustration. He knew she was toying with him, enjoying his helplessness. But he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him struggle. He took a deep breath, listening intently for any sound that would give away her position. He had to find her, had to even the odds somehow.

He heard another soft scuff of movement, this time to the right. He whipped his pistol around, his antennae on high alert. But once again, the movement stopped before he could get a clear shot.

"Oh Commander," her voice drawled out, still taunting and mocking. "You're not really trying, are you?"

His grip on the pistol tightened, his knuckles almost white. She was testing him, pushing his buttons. It was infuriating, but he couldn't deny the thrill of the challenge. He took another deep breath, his mind racing. He had to think differently now, rely on his instincts and intuition rather than his sight. He had to find a way to get the upper hand.

He heard a soft creak, as if something was being moved slightly. He turned his head, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. His antennae twitched, catching the faintest hint of movement. He aimed his pistol once again, his finger hovering over the trigger.

And then.. he finally got her.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, a soft gasp of surprise. His antennae flared in triumph, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him. He had managed to score a hit, completely blindfold and at a clear disadvantage.

There was a moment of stunned silence, the room suddenly feeling deathly quiet. He couldn't see her reaction, couldn't see her face. But he could almost feel her surprise and annoyance.

And then, a soft, sardonic clap filled the room.

"Bravo, Commander," she purred. "You actually managed to land a hit. Color me impressed."

Peepers felt a rush of satisfaction and pride. He had proven himself, shown that he was not so easily beaten. "Don't sound so surprised," he said, his tone slightly cocky despite himself. "I told you I could handle it."

He could almost hear the eyeroll in her voice. "Yes, yes," she replied, her tone still mocking. "You've proven yourself a capable marksman. But let's not get too cocky, Commander. This game isn't over yet."

He felt a pang of concern at her words. She was right, the game wasn't over yet. And he was still at a disadvantage, blindfolded and unable to aim properly. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to stay alert, focus on whatever she would throw at him next.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound his own breathing and the soft crackle of the air conditioning. He strained his senses, listening for any hint of her whereabouts.

And then suddenly, a soft scuff of movement came from behind him. He spun around, pointing his pistol in that direction. But for the third time, she wasn't where he expected her to be.

He only felt a sudden touch on the tip of his 'antenna'.

A jolt of surprise went through him as he felt her touch. His 'antenna' was sensitive, and the gentle brush of her fingers on it sent a shiver down his spine. He jerked back, trying to keep his composure. "Cheating?" he managed to say, his voice only slightly shaky.

"Oh, but I'm not." She laughed.

Liar, he thought.

Peepers gritted his teeth, his mind racing. Of course she wasn't blindfolded. He was the only one at a disadvantage. And she was clearly enjoying it, toying with him and pushing his buttons. And so he spun around, trying to track her movements as they danced around him. He could hear her soft footsteps, the sound of her breath. But she was elusive, moving like a ghost through the room.

He pointed his pistol in the direction he thought she was in, but his aim was off. The shot hit nothing but air. He cursed under his breath, frustration building inside him.

He tried to move, to turn and face her, but suddenly, he felt a soft body press against his back. Her breath was warm against his neck, her voice sultry and close. "You know.." She trailed off. "When Wander first told me about you, I thought I would be more impressed."

Peepers' heart skipped a beat as she pressed against him from behind. Her proximity, her breath on his neck, her voice in his ear, it was all too distracting. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions and confusion.

Her words stung, an unexpected jab at his ego. He tried to focus, to push aside the sensations she stirred in him. "Is that so?" He managed to say, his voice almost steady.

"Mhmm," she replied, her voice a low hum against his skin. "I was expecting a... better villain. Someone more menacing. More dangerous." She moved slightly, her hands resting on his shoulders, her fingers tracing patterns on his uniform. "But you're not what I expected. You're just a little bit..."

She moved again, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a whisper. "Pathetic."

Peepers felt a bolt of anger and annoyance mixed with the unexpected sensations from her hands on his shoulders, her lips against his ear. Pathetic? Is that how she saw him, as some sort of weak and pathetic villain?

He was about to protest, to snap back at her, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had to focus, to steady himself against her taunting. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his pulse pistol.

"You underestimate me," he managed to say, his voice firm despite the turmoil inside him.

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. Her fingers continued to trace patterns on his shoulders, her body still pressed against his back. "Oh really?" she asked, her voice dripping with derision. "You're the one blinded and at a clear disadvantage here, Commander."

Her use of his title was a mockery, a mockery of his position and his authority. It only fueled his anger further.

Peepers clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the handle of the pulse pistol. She was baiting him, trying to provoke a reaction. And it was working.

He could feel the heat of her against his back, the press of her body against his. Her hands were still on his shoulders, her fingers still tracing patterns on his armor. It was distracting, and he cursed himself for letting her get under his skin.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." he bit out, his voice strained.

Only a laugh could be heard, her voice filled with mocking disbelief. "And yet, here you are, blindfold and helpless, at the mercy of your opponent."

She moved again, her hands moving from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers trailing across his armor. "What am I supposed to be afraid of, Commander? A failed villain like you isn't exactly intimidating."

Peepers felt a flash of humiliation at her words, at her mocking tone. She was right, he was blinded and helpless, at her mercy. But he refused to let her think that he was some weak and pathetic villain.

Her hands on his chest were just another distraction, another sensation that he couldn't afford to focus on. He ignored it, forcing himself to stay focused on the game. He took another deep breath, his voice steady and firm.

"Careful," he warned. "You might just find out how intimidating I can be."

She laughed again, the sound sending another shiver down his spine. Her hands were still on his chest, her fingers tracing his small form over and over again. "Is that a threat, Commander?"

She moved again, her body pressing even closer against his back, her breath hot against his neck, as she was crouched down behind him. Her tone was mocking and taunting, a clear challenge. "Because honestly, I'm not exactly shaking in my boots here."

Peepers could feel the heat of her breath on his neck, the press of her body against his back. It was more than just distracting now, it was damn near overwhelming. Her mocking tone and her challenging words grated on him, fueling his anger and frustration.

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the sensations her hands were causing, the way her voice sounded against his ear. He took another deep breath, his grip on the pulse pistol tightening.

"Consider it a promise," he managed to get out, his voice tense.

Her hands moved again, sliding down his chest and coming to rest on his hips. Her fingers were tracing small circles there, just above his belt. He could feel her body pressing against his even more, her breath hot against his skin.

"A promise?" she asked, her voice deceptively soft. "How cute. And what exactly are you promising, Commander?"

She was taunting him again, challenging him. She was enjoying his inability to defend himself, his blinded state.

Peepers could feel his frustration and anger rising at her taunts, her fingers tracing patterns on his hips, her breath hot against his skin. He wanted to snap back, to retaliate, but he couldn't focus on anything but the sensations her touch was causing.

He took another deep breath, desperately trying to ground himself in the face of her mockery. And then her words, her tone, it pushed him over the edge.

"I'm promising that you should be terrified." he growled, his hands shaking with suppressed anger.

Her cackle could be heard again, her hands still tracing circles on his hips, her body still pressed against his back. Her voice was a low purr against his ear. "And why is that, Commander?" She was relentless in her taunting, her hands roaming over his hips and sides, her voice smooth and mocking. "What could you possibly do that would make me scared of you?"

Peepers gritted his teeth, her hands on his hips and sides a constant reminder of his helplessness. Her voice was in his ear, her mockery and taunting like a constant drumbeat in his head. He could feel his control slipping, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was done being mocked and humiliated. It was time he showed her just who he was. "I can show you," he said, his voice low and rough. "I can make you regret ever underestimating me."

Her fingers traced over his sides, her touch light and mocking. "Oh really, Commander? And how are you going to do that? You're standing here, blinded and helpless, and I'm pretty much in control."

The confidence in her voice made him bristle. She truly thought he was helpless, just some pathetic villain that she could toy with and mock as she pleased. He clenched his jaw, determined to prove her wrong.

He wouldn't let her break him.

Peepers took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that was raging inside him. He was determined to turn the tables on her, to not let her see that she had gotten to him. He focused on the feel of her fingers on his sides, the press of her body against his back. It was distracting, maddening, but he needed to use it to his advantage.

He tightened his grip on the pulse pistol, his voice low and firm. "You think you're in control," he said. "But you're about to find out just how wrong you are."

At that, he suddenly felt her body depart and move away. "Go on then." She chuckled again, her voice cold and mocking. "Attack me. Show me that you're not as pathetic as you look."

Tch.

Peepers felt the sudden absence of her body against his back, the loss of her touch on his hips and sides. Her voice sounded from across the room, icy and insulting. She was daring him, challenging him to prove himself.

His anger and frustration boiled to the surface. Her words, her attitude, it was like oil on a fire. He whirled around, aiming his pulse pistol in the direction of her voice, determination and anger fueling him.

"You wanted a demonstration?" he growled, his voice harsh. "You're about to get one!"

His blindfold was still on, but he had a pretty good idea of where she was in the room. He could focus on the sound of her voice, the slight sounds she made as she moved around the room. His 'antenna' were on high alert, tracking her movements.

He took a step forward, his pulse pistol held steady in front of him. His heart was racing, his mind a mix of anger and determination.

And then, he knew exactly where she was.

He tensed his body, his grip on the pulse pistol tightening. He could hear her breathing, her slight movement as she stood a few feet away from him. The room seemed to grow still around them, the air heavy with anticipation. The lighting bolt on his helmet twitched slightly, picking up on her exact position. This was it. He was going to show her once and for all that he was not some weakling to be mocked and dismissed.

At this, she took a slow, deliberate step back. She could hear him approaching her, his angry footsteps echoing through the room. The silence was thick, a game of cat and mouse playing out in the shadows. She chuckled softly, her voice laced with mocking satisfaction. "Come on, Commander. Show me what you've got. Show me that you're not just a pathetic little blind fool, stumbling around in the dark."

And as she said it, a smirk of his own began to form on his eye.

Found you.

He tackled her to the floor with a grunt, his grip like steel around her. She let out a sharp gasp, the air knocked from her lungs by the impact. She writhed in his grip, trying to twist away, but his strength kept her pinned to the ground.

He wanted to rip the blindfold off, to see her face, see the look of shock and surprise she would surely have. But he held himself back, savoring the moment. He could feel his anger and frustration turning into satisfaction and victory. And then, her voice came from under him, low and strained.

"You... you actually did it..."

He could feel her body writhing under his grip, like a trapped animal trying to break free. Her words came out in a low gasp, her voice tinged with a mixture of shock and defeat. He chuckled softly, his own voice filled with a deep sense of satisfaction.

"That's right, sweetheart. Never doubt my abilities. I'm the commander for a reason."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a more mocking tone. "And it seems like you've underestimated me, haven't you? You thought you had the upper hand, thought you could escape. But now look at you, pinned underneath me, completely at my mercy. And you know why?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air. He could hear her breathing, could almost feel her listening intently. He wanted to hear her answer, to make her admit her own foolishness.

She didn't respond immediately, and he could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind. Pride and stubbornness clashing with the reality of her defeat. After a moment, her voice came again, still low and strained.

"Why?" she asked, the single word carrying a hint of resignation and defeat.

Peepers felt a sense of triumph as she finally asked the question. He wanted to savor the moment, to make her understand the truth. "You thought you could mock, taunt, and belittle me without any consequences. But you were wrong. Dead wrong." He said, his voice firm and authoritative.

He leaned down a bit, even though he couldn't see her, the blindfold still tightly wrapped around his head. "Your arrogance and ignorance got the better of you. You thought I was weak, just a pathetic villain for you to toy with. But you didn't know who you were dealing with."

His 'antenna' picked up on her breathing, still labored from the impact of him toppling her to the ground so harshly. She was listening intently, taking in his words. He wanted her to know the truth, to realize the mistake she had made.

"I might be blind," he continued, his voice steady. "But it's made me stronger, made me more dangerous than you could ever imagine. You thought you could win just because I couldn't see, but you were wrong!"

And suddenly, after a minute of silence after his words passed, a laugh could be heard in the room. Her laugh.

Peepers was taken aback by the sound of her laughter. After all that had just happened, after he had taken her down and proven her wrong, she was laughing? He felt a mixture of confusion and irritation rise within him.

"What's so funny?" he snapped, his grip on her shoulders tightening slightly.

Her cackle continued, growing louder and more mocking. It was like she was laughing at him, at his efforts, at his victory. Peepers bristled at the sound, his anger and irritation growing stronger. "You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice rising. "You think it's funny that I just took you down, at your own game, blindfold and all?"

She didn't respond immediately, her amusement still filling the air. It was a maddening sound, a mocking statement that he hadn't truly bested her, that she still somehow had the upper hand. He clenched his jaw, feeling his patience wearing thin. "Answer me!" he demanded, his voice sharp.

Her laughter finally subsided, replaced by a moment of silence. Then, her voice came again, the mocking tone still very much present. "Oh, Commander," she said, her voice a mix of mockery and disdain. "You didn't think you actually won, did you?"

Peepers felt a bolt of irritation and disbelief at her words. After everything he had done, after he had taken her down so thoroughly, she was still somehow convinced that he had somehow not won? He bristled at her taunting tone, his 'antenna' twitching with suppressed anger.

"Of course I won," he retorted, his voice firm. "You're on the ground. I'm hovering over you. It's painfully obvious who won this."

Her scoff filled the room again, a sound that seemed to mock his statement. Her voice was still filled with disbelief and mockery. "Oh, Commander, you're so naive."

The words stung him, making him clench his teeth. "Naive?" He repeated, his voice betraying his irritation. "I'm naive? I just took you down. I proved I'm dangerous. How am I naive?"

Her laughter rang out again, a mocking sound that only fueled his anger. "You think that because you took me down, because you caught me off guard, that means you won?" Her words were like knives, sharp and piercing. "Is that what you think a win is? Just a physical defeat? Is that all you know?"

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Was she saying that winning wasn't just about physical victory? He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice hard. "What else is there to winning besides beating your opponent?"

She chuckled again, the sound like a taunt in his ears. "Oh, Commander, you really are naive. Winning isn't just about beating your opponent. It's about dominating them. It's about showing them that they're powerless against you. It's about making them submit to you, their spirit and their mind as well as their body."

Huh?

Her words echoed in his mind, the truth in them making him bristle. So physical victory wasn't enough for her. She wanted him to dominate and subjugate her completely. The thought made him uncomfortable, but also intrigued. Could he do that? Could he make her submit completely?

"No, you can't." It was like she read his mind, answering his question. With a quick motion, she took off his blindfold, allowing him to see her half-lidded eyes and smirk. "Not yet anyway."

The sudden removal of his blindfold disoriented Peepers for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the light. He saw her clearly now, sprawled on the ground at his feet, her expression smug even with the pain from her injury. He looked down at her, her words and expression making him feel a mix of annoyance and intrigue at the same time. "What do you mean, not yet?" he demanded, his voice gruff.

"Who knows?" She shrugged, still on the ground, laying peacefully on her back. Though since she was clearly eager to change the subject, she looked at the ceiling in deep thought. "Still." She started. "Let's say, just this once, that you won." A smile coated her lips as her gaze turned back towards him.

Peepers felt a mix of satisfaction and irritation at her words. Her admission that he had won was like a small victory, but her tone was still mocking and haughty. He bristled at her smile, her gaze challenging.

"So, you admit it then?" he said, his voice firm. "You admit that I won? That I'm more dangerous than you thought I was?"

"Yes and no." She laughed, tilting her head slightly. "Take it or leave it."

Peepers gritted his teeth, irritation and anger rising at her words. She admitted his victory but still had to add a caveat. It was like she couldn't just admit he had truly won without putting a condition on it. "What do you mean, 'yes and no'? Either I won or I didn't." He said, his voice gruff and annoyed. "There's no in-between here!"

"Yes, there is." She huffed, though it was softer than he expected. "Now, about the favor..." As she trailed off, he remembered how they agreed on the prize for the winner.

Peepers felt his antennae twitch as she brought up the favor. He had almost forgotten about it in the heat of the moment. He looked down at her, still laying on the floor at his feet, her gaze locked on his.

"Right," he said, "The favor. I won, so that means I get to make you do anything I want, right?"

Her smile widened, the gleam in her eyes betraying her true feelings about the favor. "Anything you want." She said, her voice still haughty and confident. "What are you going to make me do, Commander?"

Peepers felt a rush of excitement and power at her words. He could make her do anything he wanted. The possibilities flooded his mind, and his heart began to race. He could make her humiliate herself, do menial tasks, or even reveal secrets that she would want to keep hidden. But he also had a different idea in mind, a much more... personal favor.

His eye narrowed as he looked down at her, his mind made up. He wanted to test her, to see how far he could push her. "Get up." He said, his voice firm, as he began to get up on his own. "You're going to follow my instructions now."

She rolled her eyes, but complied with his order. "Fine." She said, slowly getting off the ground. Her injured back still seemed to give her trouble, but she managed to stand, her pride refusing to let her falter or show any pain. "What now, Commander?"

Peepers felt a sense of satisfaction at her compliance. She was bruised and injured, yet still too proud to show any vulnerability. He wanted to break that pride, to see the vulnerability underneath. He looked at her, his eye taking in her every move. "Kneel." He ordered, his voice firm.

She looked at him, her eyes wide with shock for a moment. Then, that signature smirk was back on her lips. "You want me to kneel?" she asked, her voice a mix of mockery and disbelief. "Like a servant or something?"

Peepers felt a mixture of irritation and excitement at her mocking tone. Yes, he wanted her to kneel, wanted to make her submit to him completely. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I want you to kneel. Now."

There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, a moment where she seemed as if she was going to refuse his order. But then, slowly, she complied. She knelt on the ground, her eyes still locked with his, a mixture of defiance and submission in her gaze.

Peepers felt a rush of power and excitement at the sight of her kneeling before him. He had wanted to see her submit to his will, and now she was kneeling before him, his to command. But he wasn't satisfied yet. He wanted to push her further, to see how much of her true self he could bring to the surface.

"Put your head down." He commanded, his voice steady.

Her eyes narrowed again, but she complied. Slowly, she lowered her head to the ground, her eyes now closed. Her injured back still seemed to cause her pain, but she didn't show it. She was too proud to show any signs of fragility or vulnerability, even now, kneeling at his feet.

Peepers felt a mix of excitement and power at the sight of her submitted form. Her head was lowered, her eyes closed, completely at his mercy. But he wanted more. He wanted her to reveal her true self, the part of her that she kept hidden behind the mockery and sarcasm.

He reached out with his free hand, his fingers touching her chin gently. "Look at me." He commanded, his voice slightly gentler. "Open your eyes and look at me."

She complied, opening her eyes slowly. Her expression was still defiant, but there was a hint of vulnerability there as well. She tried to maintain her haughty demeanor, but he could see the cracks in her facade, the chinks in her armor.

He had her exactly where he wanted her, submissive but still defiant. He could push her further, make her reveal more of herself. But first, he wanted to give her a taste of what it was like to lose control. He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper.

"You know, I could do anything I wanted to you right now. Anything."

Her eyes widened again, a flicker of fear and uncertainty in them. But she quickly composed herself, the smirk returning. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice still haughty. "I'd like to see you try."

Peepers felt a rush of anger and excitement at her defiant tone. She was still so confident, still so certain that she was in control. He wanted to make her understand that she wasn't. "Oh, you'd like to see me try, would you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Careful what you wish for."

He took a step closer, closing the distance between them. She was still kneeling on the ground, her chin still in his hand. He could see her fear and uncertainty rising, despite her attempts to hide it. He tightened his grip on her chin. "You think you're so tough, don't you? That you're immune to anything I might do?"

She attempted to school her face into a neutral expression, but Peepers could see that she was nervous. "I can take whatever you dish out, Commander." She said, her voice steady, though he could sense the slight tremor beneath the surface.

He smirked, enjoying the mixture of defiance and fear in her eyes. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Then you won't mind if I test that theory, will you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly composed herself again. "Do your worst." She said, her tone challenging.

Peepers felt a thrill at her words. She was daring him, challenging him to do his worst to her. He chuckled darkly. "You asked for it." He said, his voice low and dangerous.

He grabbed her chin more firmly, his fingers digging into her skin as he forced her to look directly into his eye. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but he could see the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. "You're all bluff and bravado, aren't you? Deep down, you're terrified of what I could do to you."

But then, the smirk returned. "Terrified?" She let out a petty laugh as her eyes grew cold and distant, almost as if she was a different person.

Peepers felt a mix of surprise and irritation at her sudden change in expression, her icy gaze drilling into him. It was like she had shifted from a defiant prisoner into a cold, calculating opponent in the blink of an eye.

It was clear that this woman was more complex than she appeared. Underneath her haughty facade and mocking attitude, there was something much darker lurking.

Peepers kept his grip on her chin tight, refusing to allow her to look away. Her eyes were like frozen daggers, daring him to continue. "You think you can hide your fear behind that cold smile?" he growled. "I see through it. I see the real you."

Suddenly she grabbed the hand that rested on her chin, swiftly and tightly, before the watchdog could even have a chance to react. "And what does the real me look like, Commander?" Her grip tightened as her cold eyes pierced through him. "Please, do share."

Peepers felt a jolt of surprise as she grabbed his hand and clenched it tightly. The sudden strength in her grip caught him off guard, and he found himself unable to pull away. Her cold gaze was like an icy needle, boring into his eye as she challenged him.

He gritted his teeth, attempting to maintain his composure. "You're not some untouchable, invulnerable being." He said, his voice gruff. "You have weaknesses, flaws. I can see them. I can use them against you."

She laughed again, a cold, mocking sound that made his skin crawl. "You think you know me, don't you, Commander? You think you have me all figured out?" Her grip on his hand tightened even further, bordering on causing actual pain. Despite this, he forced himself to remain stoic, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

"You're not as invincible as you want to believe." He retorted, his voice growing colder. "You've got secrets, I know you do. And I could make you confess them all if I wanted to." He tried to free his hand from her grasp, but it was like trying to escape a vice. Her eyes narrowed further, her gaze becoming even more intense.

"And your mocking attitude?" he went on, pushing against her grip. "It's just a facade. A way to hide your true self. You think you're so tough, so powerful, but deep down, you're just as scared as the rest of us." He clenched his jaw, trying to keep the pain from showing on his face. Her fingers were now digging into his knuckles, making his hand throb.

She laughed again, her icy tone cutting through him like a blade. "You're projecting, Commander. You think you know me, but you don't. Not really. You don't know the first thing about me or what I'm capable of."

Her grip on his hand tightened further, making his knuckles turn white. He felt a pang of pain shoot up his arm, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"And your sarcasm?" he snapped back, his voice growing louder. "It's just a way to avoid dealing with your own emotions. You try to cover up your fear and vulnerability with mockery and wit, but I can see through it." He was trying to remain steady, but her grip was becoming unbearable. His hand was beginning to ache terribly, but he couldn't let her see his weakness.

He wouldn't break.

She leaned in, her eyes hard and unfeeling. "Oh, Commander. You just keep making assumptions about me, don't you? You think you see what I'm really like, but you're fooling yourself. You don't have a clue." She tightened her grip again, her fingers digging into his skin to the point of severe pain. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his face neutral, but he couldn't suppress a wince.

"Poor, poor, Commander." Her eyes seemed to be lost in a daze. "So small, so insignificant."

The commander felt a surge of anger rising within him. Her mocking, her cold, unfeeling gaze, her vice-like grip on his hand—it all pushed him to the brink of his patience.

He leaned in closer, his eye narrowed, refusing to back down. "You think I'm weak?" he said, his voice steady despite the pain. "You think you have the upper hand because you can hurt me? You're wrong. You're nothing but a scared, defensive little girl with a tough exterior. And I know it."

She laughed again, her laughter cutting through him like a razor. "Scared?" she repeated, her voice dripping with venom. "What do I have to be scared of? Especially from a little insect like you." She squeezed his hand even tighter, causing him to wince again. He tried to pull away, but her grip was absolutely ruthless, refusing to let up.

"The truth is, you're just a coward." He retorted, his voice steady. "You hide behind your sarcasm and your bravado, but it's all a front. You're the one who's afraid here, not me." He gritted his teeth again, the pain in his hand becoming almost unbearable. Her grasp was so strong, it was as if she was trying to completely shatter his bones.

And suddenly, she let go of him, and a laugh escaped her lips. For a moment, it was the only sound in the cold, dark room. But then.. she did something unexpected. "Yes." It was a small whisper. An excited glint appeared in her cold eyes. "Fight it. Fight me."

And with that, she placed her lips against his.

Peepers was completely taken off guard. In an instant, her cold, mocking demeanor transformed into something almost playful, her whispered words hanging in the air. And then, her lips were against his, a sudden, unexpected touch that made his heart skip a beat. He was so startled that he didn't respond at first, his eye wide with surprise.

Her kiss was rough, almost commanding, her cold expression now replaced with a strange mix of anger and passion. Her lips were surprisingly hot against his, a stark contrast to her icy demeanor.

Peepers found himself frozen in place for a moment, unsure of how to react. But then, something within him stirred, a response to her audacity.

He closed his eye, the sensation of her lips on his causing a stirring of emotions within him. Despite her coldness and mockery, there was something about her kiss that was unexpectedly intoxicating. With a sudden, firm movement, he pulled her closer to him, his 'antenna' standing straight up as he returned her kiss with unexpected fervor.

She didn't resist his pull, her body pressing against his in a mixture of defiance and desire. Their kiss deepened, her lips moving roughly against his. There was a strange, primal energy between them, each of them battling for dominance in their exchange.

Peepers found himself almost tipsy because of her taste and the unexpected heat her body radiated.

He pulled her even closer, his hands roaming over her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin. Her mocking attitude had been replaced with a sort of raw, unfiltered passion. There was a strange dichotomy between the cold, mocking exterior she had shown and the raw vulnerability she was now revealing.

Despite himself, Peepers found himself getting lost in the moment, the sensations of her kiss and body against his overriding his rational thoughts.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his helmet, causing him to gasp at the unexpected sensation. Their kiss grew even more intense, almost feral in its passion.

Peepers felt a strange mix of desire and confusion. This was the same person who had been mocking and taunting him just moments before, and now they were locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving together in an almost desperate dance.

But just as quickly as it began, the human female pulled away with a shaky breath, her eyes lost in a haze.

Peepers was left reeling from the sudden end to their passionate exchange. His heart was racing, and he found himself breathless, as if he had just been punched in the gut. He stared at her, his eye wide, as she pulled away, her chest heaving with each ragged breath, her hair disheveled and her expression dazed.

"I win." But it was merely a whisper.

He felt a pang of irritation at her victory declaration, and yet, he couldn't help but also feel a mixture of emotions - surprise, confusion, even a slight tinge of desire.

"Y-You cheated!" he protested, his voice a bit shaky. He tried to maintain his composure, but the rapid beating of his heart betrayed his inner turmoil.

"There was no rule against using my body as a distraction," she retorted, her voice still breathless but regaining some of its usual mockery. Her cold gaze returned, yet there was a hint of mischief in it now. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind."

Peepers gritted his teeth, his 'antenna' twitching with irritation. She was right, and he couldn't deny it; he hadn't resisted their kiss, quite the contrary. He felt a surge of anger at her audacity but also a hint of respect for her cunning.

"That's a dirty tactic." he grumbled, his voice still betraying his inner confusion.

"All's fair in love and war, Commander." She smirked, tilting her head to one side, amusement dancing in her eyes. Her confidence and mocking attitude had returned, as if the previous moment of vulnerability had never happened.

Peepers felt a mix of frustration and intrigue. Her ability to switch from hot to cold was making it difficult for him to keep up. One moment, she was soft and vulnerable, the next, she was hard and mocking. He found himself both irritated and strangely captivated by her unpredictability.

"You're impossible." He muttered, a hint of resignation in his tone.

"Oh, but you like it," she taunted, a sly smile forming on her lips. She moved closer to him again, the air between them charged with tension.

Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as she invaded his personal space. Her proximity was almost intoxicating, and he found himself torn between wanting to push her away and pull her closer.

"Cocky much?" he sneered, trying to maintain his stern demeanor but struggling to keep his 'antenna' from quivering. Her mocking tone sent a shiver down his spine; her audacity was both irritating and intriguing. Despite his irritation with her, there was no denying the electricity in the air between them.

"You haven't seen anything yet, Commander," she smirked, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Her closeness was making it difficult for him to think straight, her scent and the heat from her body adding a strange, confusing dynamic to their interaction.

She moved even closer, her body almost pressed against his. Her defiant and mocking attitude was like a drug, making his heart race even faster.

But just as she was about to kiss him again, she suddenly stood up with a small yawn, quickly rubbing her eyes in a tired manner. "But I'm done for today." Nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, she started moving towards the exit.

Peepers was taken off guard, the bolt on his helmet standing straight up. One moment, she was close, about to kiss him again, and the next, she was neglectfully walking away as if nothing had happened.

"What the..?" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his confusion. Part of him couldn't believe that she would just walk away after their intense exchange, while another part of him was irritated at her sudden blasé.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, stepping forward to block her path.

She raised an eyebrow at his question. "Home?" Although it sounded like a question, it definitely wasn't one. As funny as it seemed, she really acted like nothing happened.

"Home?" Peepers echoed incredulously, his eye squinted in displeasure. He was taken back by her attitude, her nonchalance. They had just shared an intense, passionate moment, and she was acting as if it was just another day.

"You can't just walk away after... after... that!" he spluttered, gesturing wildly.

"Why not?" She retorted, her voice still casual and indifferent. She crossed her arms, tilting her head to one side as if genuinely perplexed by his surprise. "I got what I wanted. You entertained me."

Peepers found himself at a loss for words. How could she be so stoic after the moment they had shared? Her attitude was maddening, yet he couldn't deny the strange mix of irritation and curiosity she aroused within him.

"You..." he started, his voice faltering. He wanted to object, to protest, to tell her how ridiculous she was being, but somehow the words wouldn't come out. Instead, he stood there, a mixture of irritation and disbelief on his face.

"That's it? You're just... leaving?" he finally sputtered, his antennae drooping in response to his agitation.

"Yeah," she replied with a small shrug. She still acted as if nothing important had happened, as if their exchange meant nothing to her. But there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes that made him wonder if she was secretly enjoying seeing him so flustered.

She gave a final, dispassionate wave. "See ya, Commander," she said casually as she headed towards the door.

Peepers felt a mixture of emotions as he watched her go. Frustration at her attitude, confusion at her blasé treatment of their passionate moment, a hint of disappointment that she was actually leaving, and a strange admiration for her audacity.

He stood there watching her go, his mind swirling with a million thoughts. But before she exited, with a sudden burst of impulse, he called out after her.

"Wait!"

She stopped, her hand pausing on the door as she turned to look back at him. There was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, and a small smirk on her lips as she waited to hear what he had to say. He felt a strange mix of anxiety and determination. He couldn't just let her leave like this.

"When will I... see you again?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. It felt odd, asking such a personal question. He, the commander of Lord Hater's forces, asking a human when he'd see her again. It was almost a breach in protocol.

But he found himself wanting to know. Despite her mocking attitude and her unpredictability, there was something about her that intrigued him, that kept him wanting more.

She paused for a moment, considering his question. The smirk on her lips became more pronounced, her eyes taking on a sly gleam. Then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, she said, "Who knows? Maybe never."

For an instant, Peepers felt a pang of disappointment. But then, he saw the mischievous gleam in her eyes and knew that she was just toying with him. "Or maybe tomorrow," she added, her voice casual but suggestive. "I'm not making any promises."

He felt a mixture of annoyance and anticipation at her reply. Her casual tone contradicted the suggestion in her words, and he knew that she was enjoying leaving him guessing. He should have been irritated by her teasing, her flippant attitude. But somehow, he found himself drawn into her game, a part of him wanting to play along.

"So... tomorrow then." he managed to say, his voice betraying his eagerness.

A sly smile tugged at her lips, her expression growing even more mischievous. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, and gave a small nod.

"Maybe," she replied casually, her voice still nonchalant. "If you're lucky." With that, she pushed away from the doorframe and went out into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor.

He watched her go, a mixture of anticipation and annoyance coursing through him. Part of him admired her boldness, her willingness to mess with him and leave him guessing. But another part of him wanted to just grab her and demand some answers-- some reassurance that he would see her again.

But she had left before he could act on those impulses. And now, he was left standing there, feeling strangely out of breath and more than a little frustrated.

"Until tomorrow," he muttered to himself, his voice slightly dazed.

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