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bucketofpaint · 4 months

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Danny is Damian's clone.

He's well aware of it. He wasn't just any clone. He was the very first. That was the difference between Danny and other clones. He was made before the League started using brainwashing and stuff into their cloning process.

When Danny was fresh out of the tube, the League had sat him down and explained his the purpose of his existence, gave him some intense training, and immediately tossed him out into the world.

But the thing was, he just didn't care. He had absolutely no loyalty to his creators, and he had no desire to kill/kidnap his original. So he just started walking. The next thing he knew, he was at some orphanage in Illinois.

And then the rest was history. He got adopted by a pair of enthusiastic scientists and their red-head daughter, got his own name, and he could finally start living his own life.

Danny had put the past behind him and had barely even thought about it at all for a long time. That was unill his original showed up at his school.

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

Damien was annoyed. He was stuck at some random Illinois town (supposed to be the most haunted place in the world, which was a bunch of ludicrous.) On a transfer program. He tried convincing Father how illogical it would be, but Father had told him it would be good for him to meet new people.

___

Danny was annoyed.

"I don't understand what the big deal about him is anyways," Danny complained.

"He started being the ceo of Wayne Enterprise when he was a teenager." Sam countered.

"Ok, so, nepotism."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand why you're so against him."

"One, billionaire. Two, Tucker is way cooler than Tim Drake.

Sam's eyes soften. " Tucker is just gone for a few weeks."

Danny's cheeks felt warm. "I never said anything about that. I just want Tucker to find a cooler role model, is all.

Sam gave him an all-knowing look. "Well, if you say so. I'm going to get in line."

Sam, all ways waited last to get in the lunch line. Claiming she didn't want to hold up line when the lunch ladies had to get the vegetarian option. Which was fine, but now that Tucker was doing the dumb transfer student program, all he could do was eat his mediocre lunch and mindlessly play on his phone.

Untill someone grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cafeteria into the hallway. Danny turned around to face the person. He froze at the sight of his own face. Or well, a glaring rich kid version.

"Oh, it's you." Danny said nonchalant, even though he was screaming inside.

"You're not going to play dumb, clone?"

"No, why would I, The resemblance is uncanny.

"What are you doing here?" His original demanded

"You dragged me here."

His original scowled. "You know what I mean, clone. I won't hesitate to end you."

"Just trying to go to school, honest."

Original glared at him, scanning him with his eyes. The grip on Danny's arm loosened. " I'll be watching you, clone."

" Whatever you say, template."

Danny walked back to the cafeteria, blocking out the yells of rage behind him.

___

It was about a week of Damian watching his clone, and he was confused. At first, he thought the league sent the clone to trade places with him before he went back to Gotham, but now he wasn't sure. The Clone seemed to fit in the community to well to have show up recently, but that didn't disprove the theory entirely. It could be a long-term plan from the League. They could be responsible for putting the transfer program in place in the first place.

The other theory was that the clone escaped and made a life for himself, but that didn't explain how he got past his programming.

After the last period, Damian found his clone and pulled him aside.

"What do you want?" His clone asked, irritated.

"You're different then other clones, explain."

"I don't know. I didn't really stick around very long to find out."

"What about your programming?"

"I didn't have any?"

Damian thought about it before giving a small nod. "You don't seem to be a threat, but I'll still keep my eye on you, clone."

"I've got a name, you know." He held out his hand. "Danny Fenton, nice to make your acquaintance."

Damian heistently shook his hand. "Damian Wayne."

That started their unsaid agreement. You don't mess with me, I don’t mess with you. They interacted with each other sometimes, but not very offen. They were impartial to one another, and both sides weren't very keen on getting to know each other. And that was their relationship till the day Damian was leaving.

Damian was waiting for the bus when Danny approached him.

"What do you want, Daniel?"

"I told not to call me that, but uh, here." Danny handed a piece of paper to him. "It's my phone number if you ever need help from the League or anything."

Damian slipped the paper into his pocket. "Give me your phone." Danny handed over his phone, and Damian started typing.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I'm putting my number in. If you ever require assistance."

Danny smiled, "Thanks."

____

A few months later.

Tim was peeking over a corner.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

Tim didn't say anything and just waved him over. He walked over and stared in aw at what he saw. Damian was slouched on the couch, his hair messy, playing on his phone.

A few minutes later, Jason joined.

"Am I hallucinating?" Tim whispered.

"Nah, I don't think so... unless we're all hallucinating." Jason whispered back.

"Do you think he has brain damage or been possessed or something?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "That seems unlikely."

"This is so trippy. I've never seen him wear anything that casually like ever.

"What are you imbeciles doing?"

"We're watching Damian."

All three of them froze and turned to look at a glaring Damian.

Damian walked past them and went right up to the second Damian.

"Daniel, what are you doing here?"

The causal Damian 'Daniel' pulled out a letter. "Your pops invited me, and I didn’t want to risk the chance of batman showing up at my front door."

Damian scoffed, "Of course, Father found out."

Alfred walked in. "Master Daniel, I'll be taking you to Master Bruce."

The double got up and went to Alfred.

"Cookie, Master Daniel?"

"Sure, and call me danny."

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny is a clone

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secondbeatsongs · 2 years

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Hello! I'm Julie from Cariona and I just want to ask if you're interested in doing ads/promotions here on Tumblr? If yes, how much do you charge per reblog?

For proof of legitimate promotions, you can check @catchymemes, @sulfatto, @isnt, and many others.

Website for reference: http://cariona.com Over 200 five star Facebook reviews: https://www.facebook.com/carionaproducts/reviews

Please feel free to respond here or reach out to us on [email protected] for more details! Thank you once again and have a great week!

absolutely fascinating that you decided to send this as an ask, when you also DM'd me. unfortunately, you may realize that this was a mistake - you see, asks can be responded to publicly.

so, allow me to respond:

hi, Julie! I'd never heard about Cariona before, so I decided to go poking around, and I learned something!

well, I learned a few things, actually. from your site, Cariona seems to be a small business that sells reusable menstrual products. and while I will never advertise a product that I haven't used, there's nothing wrong with wanting people to promote your company.

I have, however, found a few problems.

the first thing I found was this post by @crafiet from May 12th of last year, saying that shortly after making a purchase on your website, her debit card info was leaked, and used to make facebook ad purchases.

it seems that at least back then, your payment system was insecure. I'm really hoping you've fixed that, because. yikes.

and when I messaged crafiet to ask if it was okay if I linked to her post, she also mentioned that even though your website says you ship from Georgia, her package came shipped from China, and took a long time to arrive.

that's pretty sketchy.

the next thing I found was some folks talking about receiving cards with their orders that have a QR code on them with the words "Scan For God's Message To You", and that on the other side, have this bible verse:

O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. Psalm 63:1

fun fact! that's from the King James Version (which I have a lot of thoughts about, but I'm not going to get into that right now).

additional fun fact! that particular psalm is from that time David fled to the wilderness because Jonathan's dad was trying to kill him.

and that's why I have to talk about the verses that follow it:

(ID in alt text; link to the NIV version if you want it)

so...are we like 100% sure it's god that David is thinking about here? because...I mean...that's pretty horny, right? and all of this while on the run from his boyfriend's dad?

I'm not saying anything, but like...¯\_(ツ)_/¯

it's a weird verse to choose for this, that's all.

anyway, back to you, Cariona: after seeing people talking about the bible verse cards, I decided to poke around your website more, and allll the way at the bottom of it, finally found your "About Us" page, which ends with this:

...look. there's nothing inherently wrong with being christian. but to say "we do not wish to impose any beliefs on our customers", and to then put bible verse cards in people's orders? that's sneaky, and I don't like it.

I also think it's a bit sneaky that you've flagged your tumblr account as pro-trans on shinigami eyes. at least, I assume you flagged it yourselves, because I didn't find a single post on your blog that mentions trans issues.

(though you have, entertainingly, reblogged some stranger things fanart, and a castiel cat cosplay)

and while your website uses very gender-neutral language, your "About Us" page doesn't say anything about being inclusive of trans people, just that you don't "discriminate against anyone who has a different belief than ours."

unfortunately, that's not good enough for me. I have this sneaking suspicion that "trans people are the gender they say they are" counts as a "different belief".

lastly, since you say on your website that people can message you asking about your faith, I had a friend do that!

baptists. you're baptists, which is a pretty conservative denomination.

and according to you, part of that 10% you donate goes to your local churches, and some missionaries. who are also probably baptists.

so.

in the end, I just...don't trust you? I don't trust that the 10% you're donating is going to organizations that aren't homophobic or transphobic. I don't believe that you're not trying to impose your beliefs on others, because that's what you're obviously doing. I mean, your "About Me" says that one of the reasons you built this company is to spread the gospel.

and I especially don't like it that you reached out to me (an openly queer person) for promotion without mentioning that you're an evangelical company.

so to answer your question, Julie: no. I am not interested in doing ads or promotions for you on tumblr. and honestly, you probably picked the wrong website for this kind of thing.

#asks #carionausa #cariona #additional info for the record:#my friend told me they did say they donate to some environmental stuff #like maybe wwf they thought?#but from the wording they weren't sure #and also another charity called #Connecticut Quest for Peace #which I couldn't find out much about #it doesn't have a rating on charity navigator #but the posts I found about it on tumblr are all...mmm #very religious in nature #and no judgement if that's your jam #but it's not my kind of thing #so #no thanks #I don't like the idea of promoting a company that gives money to the baptist church and other religious organizations #I just don't #sbs rambles #and I couldn't even find much information about cariona besides this #no business registered in georgia under that name so #who knows #I wonder...hmm #if I was just looking at this information #with no other context #with the errors on the website #and the shipping from china #...I wonder where Cariona _is_ based.#or if it is in georgia - what name is it registered under?

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lendeah · 4 months

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Note: I just wrote this small scene because I feel like the original lacked the anger and emotion of your literal soulmate wanting to IMPLODE HIMSELF??? Anyway, here is my own version of it. Hope you enjoy it :)

Prompt: You convince Gale out of exploding himself to destroy the Elder Brain.

Your boyfriend is trying to k word himself for his toxic ex so you have to shake some sense into him.

Pairing: Gale x GN!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, minimal angst.

The warmth of Gale's embrace made you hesitate to move, as if any motion would shatter the moment. But as you stirred, the illusion of the starry sky from last night was quickly replaced by the harsh reality. The looming Moonrise Towers stretched towards the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the dark and cursed sky. You could feel Gale's chest rising and falling beneath your head, your bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs.

"Do you really have to do it?" you whispered, knowing that he had been awake for some time now. The heaviness in your voice betrayed the weight of this question - one that you already knew the answer to.

"It is what Mystra expects of me" he replied, his voice tinged with sorrow. Gale slowly untangled himself from your hold and sat up, his eyes scanning the horizon. You could see the conflict in his expression, but also a sense of duty and determination.

"We can always look for another way," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of sadness and longing.

"I know," he said softly, "but I have to make up for my wrongdoings. For the time being, I hope the end is much farther away than I had suspected, and that tonight meant as much to you as it did to me"

You wanted to argue, to convince him that you could face whatever lay ahead together, but deep down you knew that it wouldn't matter. At the very end, all you felt was a strong desire to be by his side and stand with him, no matter what choice he made, even at the cost of his and your own life.

"I will stand by your side no matter what," you declared solemnly.

A small smile tugged at Gale's lips before he leaned in "Thank you," he whispered, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. "I love you," he added, voice full of emotion.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you simply nodded and gave him a small smile. You just held to the hope that when the time came, sometime in the far future, he would reconsider.

The time, much to your dismay, came much before you expected. It turned out, the Absolute, which now you knew was an Elder Brain, was lying beneath Moonrise Towers all along.

"Well, shit," Astarion exclaimed as he surveyed the massive organ with its pulsing and writhing tentacles emerging from its base. "I did not see that coming."

"We need to make a plan," Shadowheart said firmly.

Lae'zel stood at the ready, her sword glistening in the dim light as she spoke. "We shall seek out a weakness, or create one ourselves."

Wyll nervously tightened his grip on his weapon. "A weakness? That beast appears impenetrable."

"Ketheric is our priority," Karlach declared, determination hardening her voice. "That fucker is going down for what he did to Nightsong and Isobel."

As the group discussed their options, you couldn't help but glance over at Gale, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. You had thought you were prepared for this moment, but now, as he stood before you, you realized you couldn't let him do it. The love you held for the wizard had rooted itself so deeply within your heart that the mere thought of losing him, or worse, watching him sacrifice himself, was unbearable. You knew that he was brave and selfless, but you couldn't let him go without a fight.

Gale stood a few meters behind the group, his eyes fixed on the towering brain before them.

"That Crown," he whispered, mostly to himself, "it radiates with power unlike anything I've ever seen." He took a step closer, his gaze never faltering. "To have it...to hold it...if only I could." He shook his head. "But I can't... this is it. I must do as Mystra commands."

You felt your breathing stop.

"Wait!" you scream, reaching for his arm. "Gale, you can't do this. You cannot condemn us all."

You could see the turmoil in Gale's eyes as he looked back at you. His hand hesitated, hovering over his chest before finally falling to his side.

Gale sighed heavily and shook his head. "what choice do I have?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with sadness. "More than just a goddess counts on my courage, the whole worlds hang in the balance."

"But what about our lives?" you argued, tears welling up in your eyes. "I know I promised to support you, but I can't stand and watch as you blow yourself up for an uncertain future. You deserve more than that, and I know there will be another way. And if not, at least we will die trying."

He looks divided, his face contorted in confusion.

"Mystra's mission is paramount," he insists, his voice trembling with determination. "I will not fail her."

You take a step closer and grip his face roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"Don't you see? Mystra has let you down countless times!" you roar, tears streaming down your face. "You owe her nothing. You owe no one anything, much less your own life. You deserve to live." Your body trembles with emotion as you try to break through his blind devotion.

Gale looks at you, his expression softening. "I...I can't abandon my duty," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But you also can't abandon us," you reply, your voice shaky. "We need you, Gale. I need you." You take a shuddering breath, your words pouring out in a rush of raw honesty. "And...I love you."

Gale's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. He opens his mouth to speak, but you press on, not wanting to give him a chance to object. "And if there is a possibility of a shared future next to you, I will fight for it until my very last breath."

Gale's expression softens even more, and he reaches up to cup your cheek with his hand.

"Fine," he says, determination in his eyes. "I trust you. We'll find another way."

You let out a sob of relief and wrapped your arms tightly around him, holding onto him as if he might disappear at any moment. "I should have told you sooner," you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. "But I was so afraid...afraid of losing you."

Gale closed his eyes and held onto you tightly, allowing himself to finally let go of the burden he had been carrying alone for so long. And in that moment, surrounded by chaos and uncertainty, everything feels right.

"I love you too," Gale whispered into your hair. "And I promise to fight for a future where we can be together."

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, a glimmer of hope shining through the tears. And without another word, Gale leans down and presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

As if on cue, the ground begins to shake violently as the brain continues its descent towards them. But this time, instead of feeling fear and desperation, you feel determination and hope burning within both of you. You have something worth fighting for.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 gale #gale baldurs gate #baldurs gate gale #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale fanfic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate fanfiction #fanfic

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yesimwriting · 11 days

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I love ur felix fics sm!! ur one of my fave writers on here<<333 and no I don’t think itd b crazy to write for Nate!! I’d love to see how u would write him!! (Maybe grumpy x sunshine hehe)

hi!! this is such a nice ask :)) i'm so happy you like my felix fics

omg i love ur train of thought for a nate fic!! i've been thinking about that kind of dynamic for them, but in a really niche way

anyways let's have some thoughts on nate jacobs and sunshine/kind of sheltered reader!!

----

thinking about the moment in which you find out nate jacobs is your assigned partner for a project that's worth 35% of your final grade. if this was happening to you a year ago, maybe even two or three months ago, you might have been nervous for an entirely different reason.

but you're not that version of yourself anymore. you go out to parties now; you wear shirts to school that your mom buys for you the same way she used to buy you impulse barbies, with a wink as the cashier scans them, making you promise that you won't show dad what you got at the store; you're friends with maddy and cassie...you're on your way to best friends with maddy and cassie.

so you can't dismiss the gossip and the stares nate gets in the halls as a standard part of high school, not the way you used to. you can't just see him across the hall at his locker and mentally acknowledge that you get why girls talk about him the way they do. you can't just get paired up with him for an extremely long assignment and think oh, at least he's cute.

every story maddy's ever mentioned during sleepovers, everything she's teared up about after one too many drinks hits you at full force when your teacher reads your name and then his off of her list.

would she see this as a betrayal? it's not like you picked him and asking for a new partner is out of the question, a fact your teacher made clear at the beginning of the year. but maddy's loyal...fiercely loyal, and she expects that kind of commitment to be symbiotic.

you don't move, can't move until jules leans towards you, so close her hair spills onto your desk. "no fucking way." she whispers it in a way that'd make you laugh if this was about someone else.

you're silent, eyes finally pulling away from a brightly colored poster explaining the roles of each branch of the US government. you turn your head enough to look at where nate sits, the back of the room with a few other football players.

he's already looking at you. and when nate realizes you're finally staring back, he has the audacity to let the corner of his mouth pull into a smug sort of smile you're sure another version of you would have considered swoon worthy.

you're all instructed to use the last few minutes of class time to talk to your new partners, to make some kind of preliminary plan. nate's standing up and you're still recovering from the whiplash.

helplessly, you look over at jules who's clearly trying to get to the other side of the room before nate can get to you. she mouths a "sorry" that feels genuine, and points at the girl she's supposed to work with in a way that feels like over kill. you roll your eyes, picking up your pen and pressing the pad of thumb against its side to have something to do.

nate's in front of you before you know it. he's so tall it's a little intimidating when he's right there, especially with you still sitting. "you're everywhere now." a reference to the fact that you were both at the same party last weekend. you can still hear maddy's slurred i can't believe he's fucking here, before she dragged you out to the house's patio.

he's probably seen you more places. you're around maddy pretty regularly these days and from what you've heard, you wouldn't put stalking above him. he's probably a stalker in the way guys from the news are stalkers, calm and untouchable until they feel like the girl they're watching is moving on. then they snap and some news anchor reports that there were warning signs for months beforehand.

you're partially aware of your potential exaggerations, but you can't bring yourself to care. you've never really interacted with nate, but you want to hate him as more than the monster you hear about when maddy feels like ranting. you want to viscerally hate him. it's such an instinctual tug that you can't pretend it's all about morality. you're craving innate repulsion the way an elementary school girl wants the other half of a magnetic necklace with the word "best" etched into cheap metal. it's kind of pathetic, but then again...

"not last year, or last semester--"

he's baiting you and you're completely aware and you still can't help yourself. "what? it's illegal to make new friends now?"

your tone surprises you more than the fact that you interrupted him. you've never been overly shy, but you've also never been much of a fighter on your own behalf. maybe this is like the parties and barbie-style-bought-shirts, just another facet of the improved you.

nate seems surprised too, only he wears it like there's something funny about it. "no, you've always been friendly."

he says it like there's a joke in there that'd make the football players a few rows back laugh. it digs at you more than it should. he gets under your skin in a way that bugs. maybe that means genuine hatred is on its way.

you look up at him, eyes as unimpressed as you can manage. "so," the word is definite, intentional. "the project..." you're glad for the excuse to turn your attention back to your notebook, "i don't know if you want to work out a time to--"

"i'm leaving in like five minutes." you're about to point out that class doesn't end for another when he explains, "football game." ugh. another thing you can decide to be annoyed about. your homework schedule is now going to revolve around high school football. "can i get your number?" the idea of existing in nate jacobs's phone feels so wrong you can't immediately reply. he picks up on your hesitation, because he tacks on the one phrase that could get you to do anything, "35% of our grade."

you nod once, expression as blank as you can manage as you write out your phone number on the corner of a page. You tear off the bottom corner and hand it to him. "don't save my number."

it's so rude, your jaw almost drops, "what?"

"you're going to see maddy before the project's over, right?"

the implication immediately makes your stomach knot. you're not--you can't not tell maddy. she won't like it, but she can't hold a random partnering against you. and--and it's worse if you don't tell her, because then it's like you're sneaking around with nate. and it's--it's all for school.

"i'm not going to lie to her for you." it's so ridiculous, you can't even hold eye contact. his silence adds a second loop to the knot in your stomach. "why would i lie?" your own genuineness sickens you, you're backtracking immediately. "and--and it's just a dumb school thing, so she probably won't care that much."

"and you're sure she's going to believe that?"

"yes," the word is firm because it has to be. "because that's what it is."

"she gets paranoid."

no, no--he's doing this to get into your head and cause problems. "if she's paranoid it's because you're crazy."

"fine." he shoves the scrap of paper into his pocket. "save my number, don't save my number. tell maddy, don't tell maddy."

you sigh. "why do you care?" they're broken up...even if maddy takes it the wrong way, the fall out will be a you problem.

"she's going to think i fucked you to hurt her." you hate this--the situation, the conversation, the fact that you can't completely dismiss his train of thought. "who's known maddy longer?"

you're about to try again, to defend your friendship with maddy and call him crazy again when the static of the intercom speakers interrupts you. all football players are being called out of class to leave for an away game. nate gives you one last look before turning towards the door.

when jules slips back into her seat and asks if you're okay with everything, you nod and attempt a joke about catching fuck boy germs, but it doesn't come out the way you want it to. she still laughs, so you do too, but that's not as natural as it should be, either.

----

lmk if you like this concept/want more of it!! i had fun writing this :))

#euphoria x reader #nate jacobs x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #nate jacobs

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bots-and-cons · 14 days

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Howdy again! Is it possible you could do the same prompt l asked last time (reader dies and turns cybertronian) but with Autobots instead of cons? Thank you so much!!!!

A/N: If someone’s interested in the decepticon version you can find that here. Ratchet has morals, hence no human experimentation on the autobots’ part

•You were taken by the decepticons and experimented on

•Ever since the whole thing with Silas, Knockout and Shockwave were both interested in if they could repeat the experiment

•It was mostly Shockwave though, Knockout thought what happened to Breakdown was absolutely disgusting, but he also wanted to know how it was done, so repeating the experiment on you was a chance for that

•So, they did their experiment, constructing you a body from vehicon parts and putting the necessary parts from you into it

•Anyway, the cons returned you to the autobots in a rather cruel manner, basically Megatron just tossed you at their feet saying something like “I believe this is your pet”

•Ratchet worked for days to make sure you would survive in your new body, but he had a lot of trouble, because he didn’t know how much at all about human anatomy or biology

•Shockwave and Knockout had already done most of the work for him though, so he just had to finish the job and make sure you would continue to stay alive

•When you woke up, you were very confused, and scared too

•Your head was all foggy, you couldn’t remember much of anything, certainly not how you’d come to be this way

•It took a couple of days for you to be even able to move your arms or legs, and being able to stand and walk took much longer

•Ratchet was there to look after you the whole time, someone had to be, because you were pretty confused most of the time

•You had a lot of gaps and holes in your memory, you knew things like your name and you knew the autobots were friendly or at least not a threat to you, but you didn’t know who they were or what they were like

•You also didn’t remember anything about how you’d been made into this thing you now were

•You knew you used to be human, but it felt like it had been a dream

•Optimus was of course furious that the decepticons had done this to you, but he kept it under control, so hardly anyone noticed

•Except for Ratchet of course, he was also horrified by what had been done to you and he honestly just tried not to think about it most of the time, because you were still alive

•Arcee was probably the most visibly furious about the whole thing, she even ranted a little about how this was the last straw, etc etc

•Bee was also seething, but his anger was more mixed with this overwhelming sadness and confusion, he had seen the decepticons committing countless atrocities, but this was undoubtedly among the worst

•The whole team had a very hard time understanding how the decepticons could do this, you were no threat to them

•They were all furious, but they tried to keep a lid on it, some managed that better than others, because they wanted to aid in your recovery

•Your recovery was very slow, but they all tried to be there for you as best as they could

•You had to learn to control your new body, and all that came with being a pseudo-cybertronian

•Ratchet kept scanning you constantly for the first three months, at least twice a day, more if something unusual happened

•You had a very hard time mentally for a long while, because of getting used to your new body, never being able to see your family/friends again, and the fact that you had been dead

•Even though you didn’t exactly remember how you had been experimented on, the whole thing still plagued you in your nightmares

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #autobots #optimus prime #arcee #ratchet #bumblebee #tfp headcanons #transformers angst #reader insert #platonic transformers x reader

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weretheones · 1 year

Text

All You Got | Part 3

Part 3: The Desperate Type

Series Summary: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count:  4.9k Warnings: description of injury, blood. A/N: early update! i was just so excited to post this lol. considering how much action was in the last two parts, i figured these two deserved a break. but while they might be clear of danger (for now), theres still some nasty tension to deal with...

No, no, no.

Your head snapped left, right, then left again. It was the same blur of trees, the same piles of ashes, and the same empty spot ahead of you no matter how many times your eyes ran across the camp.

With a deep inhale, you tried to soothe the increasingly frantic thoughts in your mind before they became rampant. Inhale. Pick away the moments of silence to cling onto so that you could just think.

Daryl had left you alone. Defenceless and hurt— asleep.

You weren’t sure for how long, exactly; the fire burned to ashes hours ago by the look of it, and mid-day rays of sun landed across the scatter of leaves where he’d been sitting last. He could’ve slipped away in the middle of the night or just as dawn was breaking. Hell, maybe he left the second your eyes shut.

The steadily increasing pound of your heart seemed to drown out the muted throb of your leg. Enough that when you gripped the bark of the tree behind you and pulled yourself to a stand, you barely hissed as your weight shifted onto the hurt muscle. The tending of your wound had been done well, considering the circumstances; it helped counteract the effects of yesterday’s sprint, which couldn’t have been good for a healing injury.

But, neither were the dull teeth of the dead ripping you apart.

Stood upright with a quiet prayer to find a glimpse of that angel-winged vest beyond the tree’s cover, you scanned the area. A small bottle on the ground caught your eye. The blue label was peeling. Familiar.

The ibuprofen he’d given you.

You gingerly bent down to pick it up and dry swallowed another pill in anticipation of the day ahead— regardless if he’d really left you behind, or not, you knew you couldn’t stay at this camp much longer. With no walls, even if you had your knife, neither of you were safe.

As if to remind you of that fact, a branch snapped in the distance.

Still clutching the tree’s curved bark, you leaned forward a couple of inches and peaked toward the general direction of the noise.

Please don’t be a biter.

Then, every curse and panicked thought slipped away from the simple sight of that crossbow strap wrapped across his chest. A furry animal hung limp in his grip and his shoulders were low underneath his poncho.

It was obvious he was exhausted. Still, the sight of you standing upright made his other hand tighten around the strap of his bow and his shoulders tense again. In an almost ironic manner— considering he still had all your weapons— you raised the hand that wasn’t holding you steady in surrender.

You gave a timid shrug. “Figured I shouldn’t just sit here all day.”

He scoffed something under his breath. From the way his eyes slipped back down to the ground, you assumed that answer was soothing enough. It might’ve been arrogant to assume he regarded you as a significant risk, but it was clear that he wasn’t the type to take those chances, anyway.

As he walked past, prey still in hand, your attention followed; you hopped on your good leg to angle yourself the way of him and that rabbit.

A low growl rumbled from your stomach.

Of course, he heard it, glancing back at you in the second between straddling the log to your left and slicing into the animal’s belly open. Your grip on the tree dropped as you lowered yourself back onto the soft ground, watching him pull out the guts and bring those ashes back to life. Throughout the entire process, he never once said anything, never gave you more than a glance before his attention was back on the slow rotation of meat over fire. Not even a whisper of an apology, no sorry for letting you think I just left!

But you weren’t even sure if that mattered anymore. Certainly not the way it did ten minutes ago, because all you could think about was how every brush of the breeze against your face, laced with smoke and the smell of cooked meat, practically had you drooling.

When your stomach rumbled again, you finally asked, “Would you share?”

Quick to take a bite, he didn’t show any sign that he heard you, even if he’d been aware of every shift in your spot and growl of hunger, prior. Your chapped lips parted again, ready to plead a second time just to soothe that hollow ache in your gut.

Something hot fell in your lap, and that smell of cooked meat was at its most intense. You looked down to see he threw a leg your way.

You’d been hungry before— gone three days without a single bite of anything, once. The lightheadedness and that rumbling in your stomach, like something caving in on itself, weren’t new sensations to you, or anyone else in this world. Thankfully, you also knew the sweet relief of that first bite, and it never failed to shine a beacon of hope on an otherwise dull world, even if all you were biting into was a dry, unseasoned rabbit leg.

A good while passed in silence. The crack of the fire died down and the rustle of the wind was softer than before. It was like everything around you was settling, and you briefly wondered if the anxiety from the expanse of trees and the overwhelming unknown around you sparked from that dull hunger in your gut, after all.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t you who finally broke that peace.

“Ya should change tha’.” Daryl nodded to your leg after he swallowed his last bite.

Your eyes fell to the makeshift bandage.

“I don’t have another shirt.”

“Then find somethin’.” He threw the bone into the pile of ashes. “’S gonna get infected if ya keep tha’ on too long.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “Got any ideas?”

Elbows locked around his bent knees, he looked down at the light shine of grease coating his fingers. His brow was straight, his mouth in a tight line, and even that pessimistic part of your mind couldn’t claim it was an effort to find a witty remark; he was serious about whatever he was thinking.

“Should be a town not too far from ‘ere. You’d have a better chance’a findin’ somethin’ there.”

It seemed the mix of food and pain relievers did you some good. The tree’s truck was less necessary to stand up, and beyond some dull pain when you put your weight on the leg, it didn’t hurt as bad.

With a weak smile, you asked, “Mind showing the way?”

“I’ll take ya there.” He stood, too. “But then you ’n I are goin’ our separate ways.”

Your smile fell. “Why?”

“Cause ya ain’t my problem.” He slid his crossbow over his back. “I already helped ya more than once. We’re even.”

“I can keep helping you,” you said adamantly, though that slight shake of anxiety undermined your words. “I’m not always gonna be hurt. I—I know how to deal with the biters, how to scavenge. I’m smart, I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” you huffed a weak laugh. “I’m not asking you to babysit me or to like me because you probably have every right to hate me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still all you got.”

He scoffed, “Didn’t peg ya for the desperate type.”

Daryl certainly knew how to get under your skin— already— but you’d done much worse than stick by the side of a grumpy man in order to survive before.

Your demeanour turned pensive.

“No one can make it alone now.”

Daryl’s glare lost its arrogance for a moment; a blink of contemplation.

That seemed to sway him, in or out of your favour, you weren’t sure yet. The way his features tightened, like they had when he first mentioned the town, made you wonder what heavy thoughts plagued him this time.

He turned on his heel and walked ahead.

Uncertain if it was even worth it to call out after a man as stubborn as he was proving himself to be, time and time again, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Keep up,” he barked over his shoulder, and your chin snapped back up. “I ain’t carryin’ ya this time.”

You limped behind.

Compared to the running, falling, and general panic of yesterday, it was relatively easy to keep up with Daryl’s pace today. Without biters on your tail, the two of you fell into a comfortable stroll, weaving between trees with even breaths in your lungs. It helped that your leg was more heavy than painful, only a dull throb that echoed your heartbeat and the pace of your steps.

Even if the pain had been unbearable, if every nerve of your body was crying, begging, pleading for you to stop, you weren’t sure you’d be able to. There was a sinking feeling in your gut that Daryl might’ve kept walking, anyway. He suddenly seemed to be itching for an opportunity to leave you behind, which disoriented you. His constant reiteration that you weren’t his problem seemed to contradict his actions— coming back for you, wrapping your wound, giving you food.

You weren’t sure if you’d convinced him that the two of you should stick together— long term— back at that makeshift camp. He could’ve been planning to leave you behind the second you passed the town’s border. But, you did know that with an injured leg, even a healing one, it was really you that couldn’t survive alone.

Although, maybe it was a bit unfair to blame that fact on your leg. You’d never been a loner, not in this world, anyway. It was part of the reason you joined that camp, a couple of months before Brian did, even if you didn’t get along with everyone. It wasn’t that you had been lying to Daryl— you were smart. You knew how to sneak by and avoid the biters. You could find even the best-hidden supplies. Could think on your feet. You just never liked to be alone.

Safety in numbers and all that.

When you did reach the town, or at least the outskirts of its centre, he didn’t immediately bolt. That was as good a sign as any.

Too bad that was when the lightheadedness came back in full swing.

You stumbled to a stop, gripping the brick wall of what used to be a post office as an anchor. You closed your eyes and tried to fight through the inevitable exhaustion weighing you down. Blame it on the dehydration, mostly empty stomach, and, of course, the lingering effects of blood loss for an already bruised and battered body.

“Pharmacy’s jus’ up the road.”

Daryl was just up ahead, facing your way and squinting from the direct rays of sun. The light caught in small drops of sweat along his arms and the metallic shine of that heavy crossbow in his hand as he waited for you.

Too busy trying to ground yourself to that rough brick you palmed, you hadn’t even noticed that Daryl had stopped once the shuffle of your feet was no longer echoing his.

You took a deep breath and nodded once, pushing yourself forward. In four steps, you were able to finally wade past the worst waves of nausea and focus on the cool air in your lungs, instead.

Daryl glanced back at you once— twice— more.

“Hurtin’ again?”

“No. It’s just… everything else.”

Slightly, he nodded. That seemed to be the most care he had to offer— reserved looks your way and a quick question. He never reached out a hand or, God forbid, offered to carry you there.

Regardless, the pharmacy really was only up the road. After five or so minutes of mindlessly watching the debris lining the road dance in the wind while giving your head a chance to stop that slow spin, Daryl cleared the store and led you inside.

It was sparse and smelt like rot. Sun peeked through the windows, bare of the newspaper or wooden boards that usually lined shops nowadays. You could see most of the room, the sprawl of crushed supplies under fallen shelves, broken cardboard boxes across dirty, grey-tiled floors, and the yellow hue of water damage staining the ceiling. Past the store's clear windows and unlocked door, its welcoming appearance ceased.

You stepped forward and caught Daryl’s look from your peripheral.

“Sit down.”

“I told you I’m good at—”

Mid-sentence, he turned on his heel. You huffed a breath, then sat on the window ledge behind with a scowl. His overcautious behaviour was beginning to make you feel useless.

Daryl came back with fresh gauze and a small tube of topical antibiotic cream. And while that seemed like a damn miracle, you both knew what you really needed was a good rinse with clean water and soap, proper antibiotic treatment for the dirt and sweat that inevitably got into the wound, and a full dressing accompanied by crutches and a week's worth of rest. But all he could offer was what was held in his left hand.

It would have to do.

You shuffled deeper into the store and away from that clear window. As you sat on the cold ground and adjusted your leg so that it was laid straight out under a particularly strong ray of sunlight, you glanced up at Daryl, lingering a few feet away, on guard.

“How’d you know this was here, anyway?”

“Been through ‘ere before.”

He continued to stare out the window, oblivious, or maybe just indifferent, to your attempt at distraction.

Without another word, you got to work in silence. The knot he tied was good, and it took you a bit too long to figure out the way his fingers had weaved the fabric so that you could reverse the work of a stranger’s kindness. The shelves of the aisle were pressing into your back, but you were more focused on the reemerging pain in your leg. The raw wound was rubbed, gently, with a piece of gauze in a miserable attempt to clean it better. There were bits of dirt that you could see under the sun, bits that he probably missed with nothing but the moonlight to guide his first attempt.

Sometime in between your soft whines of pain, he grabbed your gun from the back of his pants, weighing the weapon in his hands. The way he held the weapon like it was heavier than his crossbow caught your attention. That, and you were thankful for a second to not stare at the shallow, swollen gash of red and pink ripping through your thigh. He seemed to have felt your stare burning through him, though, and his narrow eyes snapped your way.

A moment passed in silence, the two of you watching the other, intently, until you finally opened your mouth.

“I wasn’t gonna shoot you,” you confessed, “back at the cabin.”

He waited for you to continue.

“I was just scared.”

“Why’d ya come back for me?” he asked, gruff voice just above a whisper.

Deep in thought, you looked between him and the gun.

“You would’ve died.” Your eyes fell to the ground as you added under your breath, “Enough people already died that day.”

The slight furrow of his brow, the sudden blink, and every other subtle sign of confusion that flashed across his face weren’t lost on you. Above all else, you understood his bafflement; you’d saved a man who made it abundantly clear that his interest lay in your death. He was going to kill you. It wasn’t a spineless threat or a mean look that could’ve killed— no, he cocked that gun against your forehead. He felt the solid bone of your skull underneath, and if it hadn’t been for the threat of the dead, that bullet would’ve shattered your head open.

Again, his expression shifted in the silent tension, twisting into something that he might’ve not even known himself. Something hesitant and reserved.

You wrapped a fresh bandage around the wound as he watched.

“Then why the poncho?”

You paused.

“I know what it’s like to find something that belonged to someone you lost.”

Your eyes shifted, staring further than they saw. A moment passed like that, you lost in thought and him processing that meaning, until you sucked in a breath and reigned your attention back in.

You gave a half-hearted smile. “And… maybe I can be a bit foolish.”

His tone sounded more confused than scolding when he said, “Ya coulda died.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You laughed, “Wouldn’t that be ridiculous? Eaten alive because I went back to save a poncho.”

For a man that probably hated you, no less.

Those pensive, blue eyes slipped from your timid smile, falling on a much more serious sight; the flimsy wrap of your bandage. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to wrap it well, but you didn’t exactly have experience tending to your own stab wounds, even if they were as shallow as this one. Your heart dropped an inch, teeth digging into your cheek from the worry that he was about to tell you exactly what an idiot you were, for almost dying and not being able to take care of yourself.

“’S too loose.”

You sighed because he was right. Working overtop of your jeans was difficult enough as it was, the risk of infection likely a scary percentage, so the bandage you did manage needed to be stronger. Tougher. Of course, he knew that.

Right as you began to undo the dressing, calloused fingers wrapped around your hand. Your breath caught in your throat, lips parting as shock froze you from the inside out. His hand moved yours, a stark contrast of warmth against your stiff fingers. He began to unravel the gauze from your grip. White tissue tangled, tied your cold fingers to his meticulous ones, briefly, until the rest of the bundle freed.

There was something incredibly tender about the whole moment; the silence, for once, was not weighed down completely by a thick, overwhelming tension. Though, whispers of it lingered, understandably so. This was the first time you saw him show you care, beyond saving you from the dead, and it gave you an idea of just how much work he must’ve put into getting you away from that first herd, wrapping your wound, and finding that house to hide in all while you were passed out.

And suddenly, despite all the mean glares and harsh questioning, hate seemed too strong a word for someone as merciful as Daryl proved.

“How’d ya get it, anyway?” he asked in a raspy tone.

You blinked. Inhaled, as if you’d forgotten to breathe until then.

“Brian,” you answered. “I kinda… jumped him when I realized what it was— what he was. He had a rock or something.”

He wrapped the last pass of the gauze. It was tight, but it was a lot stronger and safer than your attempt had been.

“Lucky he didn’t jus’ shoot ya.”

“He lost his gun while fighting that guy.”

Daryl tensed, leaning back to look up at you. The warmth at your leg was gone then— comfort sorely lacking as the chill of the tile and shelves surrounding you numbed your skin again. Yet, it was the look in his eye that almost made you shiver.

“Wha’ guy?”

“The one he was talking to at the fences… Rick, right?”

The clench of his jaw confirmed your suspicions.

“He’s not dead.” You leaned down an inch to catch his fallen gaze. “After Brian stabbed me, the woman he took hostage killed him. Probably would’ve killed me too if I hadn’t run away.” Your expression fell at the memory of that dark, vengeful look in her eye. “But I— I think they got out together.”

Daryl stared at you. It wasn’t cruel or indignant, but it wasn’t soft or kind, either. Blank, if anything, like he was holding everything back.

He turned toward the front of the store and then stood up. “‘M gonna look for more supplies. You stay ‘ere.”

The air sucked out of your lungs as a bolt of fear struck you.

“Daryl?” Your head turned to follow him. Lower lip quivering with blatant anxiety, you croaked out, “You’re not gonna leave me here, are you?”

The tension in his jaw didn’t release.

“Nah.”

You bit your lip. “I had to ask.”

He nodded, then left.

Not even an hour later, that little bell above the front door you’d been intently watching rang. Daryl’s broad frame passed through with that same backpack strapped behind him, only this time, it looked heavier than before.

God, please have water.

You sat up straight. “You’re back.”

“Told ya I would be.” He slid the bag off, dropping it to the ground in front of you. “Found somethin’ to drink.”

You smiled at that— actually smiled, teeth and all, and it might’ve been the first time he ever saw it. In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the way his hand steadied, hovering above the bag’s zipper as his attention stuck on you a second too long.

He pulled out a bottle of some orange sports drink. It was too sweet, swimming with higher sugar contents than you’d been exposed to in the last two years of scavenging and hunting, but it soothed the dryness of your throat, all the same. You drank at least half the bottle, glancing at him between big sips until he finally nodded.

“There’s only a couple more,” he said, screwing the cap back on.

“That’s fine.” You shook your head and wiped your chin. “That was good.”

“Found somethin’ to eat, too.” He pulled a silver can out of the bag. “Lemme heat it, first.”

You did. He started a small fire just outside the store, letting the can sit above the flames until the soup was boiling. When it was safe to touch, he trailed back through the store and he held it out to you with a single spoon.

Your brows furrowed at his otherwise empty hands.

“Ya need to eat.”

“But what about you?”

Passing the can off to you, he dug inside the front pocket of his patch-worked pants. He pulled out a granola bar, barely half the width of his wrist, and your heart dropped.

Hunger, pain, dehydration— he’d helped you through it all. And the combination of those feelings, with the heaviest weight of what you did to his home dragging your heart into the deepest pit of your stomach, brought a sudden tear to your eye. You looked down at the full can of vegetable soup sitting in your hands, the thin wisps of steam lifting off it, and that same tear rolled down your cheek.

If he saw it, he didn’t say anything about it. The air was heavy but silent. When you finally looked up and met his soft stare, laced with something you hadn’t seen in his blue eyes before, you knew he had seen the single trail down your face.

With a quick, nonchalant sniffle, you looked around the back room he’d led you into. The carpet was more comfortable than the title outside and considering that the floor was likely to be your bed for the night, you were thankful for the change in scenery. There were office supplies in the room; pens, paper, and a couple of filing cabinets. Placing the can down for a second, you reached over to grab a mug tossed on its side and used the end of your shirt to wipe away the dust.

When it seemed clean enough, you poured half the soup inside.

Daryl’s eyes never moved off you— not once— and that same hesitancy you saw earlier was back.

“Please,” your voice broke, gesturing the mug out closer to him.

His heavy stare lingered a second longer, then he finally accepted.

Daryl tilted the mug up, taking a large swig. It was only then that you allowed yourself to take a bite— no matter how hollow you had felt waiting for your next meal.

His throat tightened around the warm liquid. It tasted like bile. You were eating the soup just fine, except for the stray tears marking your face, so whatever he tasted, whatever that feeling was, aching deep in his chest, was coming from him.

Daryl had known anger his whole life. This wasn’t quite that. His chest tightened the same, muscles tensing, but there wasn’t a yell caught in his throat. No harsh words were about to slip off his tongue. And yet, if there was ever a time to be so, Daryl should have been angry now. Most people would— hell, even you had told him he’d had every right to hate you.

See, maybe that was the problem. Daryl had dealt with more than his fair share of liars, before and after the world ended. He practically knew how to sniff them out, but you were clean of it. So damn sincere with every word you said. Even the way you looked at him, big eyes, timid and full of remorse, almost made him feel guilty for every mean look he gave you.

Almost. Because then the red staining Hershel’s skin spotted his vision, and maybe he wasn’t angry at you, but he certainly couldn’t like you, either. Even if you had helped Carl and Rick. Even if you told him, with a pretty glimmer of hope in your eyes, that at least some of his people had made it out.

After you scraped the bottom of that can and your face dried, you said, “You should sleep. I can keep watch.”

Daryl looked back to the wooden door he led you through, the only thing between you and the rest of that open, vulnerable store.

“You’ve barely slept,” you added.

He still ignored you.

But then you sighed, and it was hard to miss the hint of guilt in your tone, “I get you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. What I did, what I was a part of… It— It was horrible. I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you why I did what I did, how Brian convinced us to—”

Daryl closed his eyes. He already knew how manipulative and convincing the Governor could be. He’d seen people even as headstrong as Merle fall into line for him. A girl like you, compassionate and maybe a bit naive, would do the same, easily.

Merle had always called him the softer brother. That was probably one of the few things he was right about.

“I know wha’ he told ya.”

Your eyes widened, shocked by his interruption and admission.

“We dealt with him before. Called himself the Governor back then, ‘n he did the same thing. Found himself a group ‘n turned ‘em into soldiers. Lied about us, said we’d kill ‘em if they didn’t kill us first.”

You swallowed as a heavy feeling sunk into your stomach. “He said you— you killed his daughter. Took his eye and his town.”

“His daughter was a walker,” Daryl huffed. “They came after us, ’n when we scared ‘em off, the Governor opened fire. He slaughtered his soldiers. All of ‘em.”

You could only nod.

“The survivors, the ones he didn’t kill, we took ‘em in. Jus’ like Rick said.”

Your expression was blank as your gut twisted, afraid that any emotion you spared might come off as pitiful when really, all you felt was shame. An all-consuming dread amongst aching wishes that things hadn’t placed out the way they did, and a pang of sickening guilt that your hands had played a part in the reason why it happened—

“He woulda done wha’ he did with or without your help,” Daryl mumbled, “ya didn’t do tha’, he did.”

The swarming guilt didn’t clear, but it was certainly a surprise that Daryl was the one to slow your spiralling thoughts. And in the thick of your conscience, a wave of something else, something fervent and altruistic, filled the doubtful holes that shame left you.

Your voice was soft and steady when you said, “Maybe it wasn’t just Rick and that woman.”

Daryl looked at you, confused.

“More of your people could’ve gotten out.”

Daryl wasn’t expecting that. Just like you were shocked to find comfort in him, he was shocked to find bravery and confidence in you. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you were those things. He knew you were, you went back for the damn poncho, for one— that was brave, reckless, but brave. But it was his family. He should’ve been the one to be firm on their survival. You should’ve held that pessimistic tone in your voice when you spoke about them— not him. And yet, here you were, fiddling a piece of string between your fingers, demeanour as gentle as you spoke, offering him a hint of hope to hold onto again.

“And, if you’re gonna look for them, I want to help you.”

Daryl’s eyes softened, but he hadn’t grabbed onto that hope, just yet. He wasn’t sure if he could.

“But you need to sleep, first. Please.”

That, he could do. Which was another surprise; you seemed to be full of those. He obliged and for the first time since you’d met Daryl, you held watch late into the night.

————————————————————

-> part four

A/N: I love this part hehe. they finally start to bond and him HELPING WITH THE BANDAGE??? I am screaming (at my own story lol...)

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

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xlovely-daydreamsx · 11 months

Text

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did.

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating.

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly.

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There’s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all.

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.”

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic.

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow,

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both.

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos.

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try?

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it.

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt.

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo.

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan.

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.”

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #reader insert #x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

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trutrustories · 5 months

Text

One thing I didn´t see anyone discuss here, and I would realy like to know is: What exactly Mobius remember from that day? If I understood this whole time loop thing correctly, everytime Loki come back, he rewrites, what happened before.

We don´t know, how many times he went back, but we do know, he definitely rewrote Sylvie screaming at Mobius and then his conversation with her at the Automat. He wouldn´t do it twice, concidering how hard he fought for every minute of time.

Loki could have potentially save some time, if he´d considered staying in their period clothes... but seems like changing with Mobius was something he was NOT willing to rewrite xD

Anyway... my guess is that Mobius remembers suddenly too inteligent Loki taking charge of everything, then it continues with what we saw last (version, where they they succeed) but it starts changing right after Timley put his head into that scan. In that moment, Loki just look at everyone and then he goes himself instead. OR Loki actually never goes back behind that conversation, where he asks, how long it would took for him to know everything OB knows. Maybe, they all remember him saying that and suddenly in an second, Loki just knows it all. And they have no idea it was centuries for him, before he got back in to that specific moment and said: right, I´m done. Now lets get to work... (I´m sorry but that would be actually hilarious xDD)

In any case, it must have been so confusing for poor mobius. But at least that part with angry Sylvie didn´t happen.

#lokius #loki #loki and mobius #mobius m mobius #loki spoilers #loki series #mobius #loki season 2 #loki spoiler #marvel

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starliights-shining · 1 year

Note

if its ok, id like to request something for Rewind, Tailgate, Swerve, and Rung please: Their reactions to being lifted up in a big bear hug by their affectionate cybertronian friend? thank you!

Of course, I hope I got their characters write and this is to your liking!! I'm also gonna be so fucking for real with y'all, I don't know any of theses characters personalities. Anyways, Enjoy :)

Pairings: Rewind x Reader, Tailgate x Reader, Swerve x Reader, Rung x Reader

Warnings: None,

Rewind

You hadn’t seen Rewind in quite some time. With both you being busy, either you off on some mission, or Rewind being too busy either looking for his friend or working in the archive. You finally had some downtime, so you thought why not spend it with him. You went looking for him, well you didn’t really have to go looking for him, you knew where he was. The Archive, it was the only spot you could find him, if he was alone, so off you went. The clanking of your plating and the sound of your footsteps rang in your audials. The long hallway to the archive was empty, besides the lights, the strangely cold breeze and you. You still walked the hallway, servos grabbing at your arms in an attempt to ground yourself. The archive door is getting closer and closer. You stepped into the archive, it smelt like dust, space dust, there's dust in space, since when? You laughed to yourself, your processor wondering like nothing as you walked through the entrance of the room. Your optics scanning the room, no one, no one in sight.

“Rewind?”

You called out, no response. You walked further into the archive. Looking down aisles, no one, not even a shadow.

“Rewind?”

You called again, but this time, there was a response.

“(Y/N)? Over here.”

You followed the voice to a corner of the archive. Rewind stood with a red dot on his helm, waving at you. You smiled brightly when you saw him, running towards him and instantly picking him up in a big bear hug. A tight tight bear hug, lifting the bot up off the ground, his own arms wrapped around you in an instant to stabilize himself.

“Ohh, How i’ve missed youuu!”

You spun in a circle before shaking him back and forth.

“It’s not like you couldn't come see me!”

You noticed he sounded outta breathing, so you put him down. Servos resting on his shoulder plating, his own servos resting on the joints connecting your arms and servos. He laughed, before saying something about missing you as well. He now has an archived version of your bear hug, that he’ll cherish for the rest of eternity.

Tailgate

You spent a good bit of your time with Tailgate, He was one of your closest friends. You had been sent out to do some random work. So it had been a long time since you last saw him, and it was weighting on you. You missed your friend dearly, so when you got the transmission from a note about you coming back to the ship, you were far too excited.

“Welcome back!”

There was a group of bots waiting for your group's arrival. Everyone broke off into their groups, but stood still, waiting, watching. Optics scanning the group of bots, looking for a small blue and white bot, but you had given up, closing your optics and sighing as you picked up your little bag.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

You opened your optics. The small blue and white bot was standing in front of you. You smiled, dropping your bag and running to pick up the bot in a tight hug.

“Tailgatee! I thought you weren’t going to be here.”

“How could I not! You’ve been gone for a vorn.”

You shook the bot in your arms, his little legs dangling out from underneath him, he laughed, a nice healthy laugh.

“You’re always like this when you come back.”

“Because I’ve missed youuu!

“Well you're back now!”

He said, you placed him back down and let go of him. Picking up your bag and starting to walk.

“Soo, whatcha been up too?”

You wanted to hear all about his stories and adventures while you were gone a year is a long time to be away from your friends. So smiled down at him and he started to speak, talking about his time with a new friend he made and some other things. He spoke about being down, and a few other sad things, so maybe your bear hug was what he needed, something to drag him back to being happy.

Swerve

Swerve’s bar, your favorite spot to be after extremely long and tiring missions. You’d either come with friends or by yourself, but going by yourself is probably the best. Simply because you enjoyed your time with the bartender, Swerve himself. He was nice and also the only friend who you talked to when not on a mission, his simple no ask questions or let you talk about whatever you had on your mind. So when you blinked and looked up at the bright red neon sign that read “Swerve’s” you didn’t hesitate to enter. There were only a few other bots inside, and you passed one of them who was leaving.

“Hey, Welcome! Take a seat, what can I get you?”

Swerve has his back towards you, doing some, you took a seat at the bar, servos gripping the edge of it.

“Give me whatever you feel like.”

“(Y/N)!”

Swerve turns out to the sound of your voice, a bright smile on his face and a glint in his visor. You smiled back.

“Hey, friend!”

You said, he moved back to the bar, leaning into it with his servos planted firmly on the counter.

“Haven see you in a long time!”

You cut him off, pushing up from your grip on the bar and lunging yourself towards him, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage, you gave tight squeezes every now and then. HIs own servos come up to your arms, as he laughs.

“Primus, I missed this palace.”

You said finally letting go of the bot, Swerve went to make you the drink he always does when you show up.

“Glad to hear it! Well nothing changed, just the same ol Swerve’s.”

You smiled, picking your glass up and taking a sip. You engaged in your usual conversation with Swerve. He seemed happier now that you were here, maybe your hug was what he needed.

Rung

Rung was always off doing primus knows what, lost in his way of thinking and out in space. So when you heard he may be back on the ship, you wanted to go find him. You couldn't leave what you were doing, helping Ratchet with some gadget he was working on, your servo holding two parts away from each while he had his servos deep in the gadget putting things together. He could feel you getting antsy. You kept shifting your weight from foot to foot, the sound of your plating clanking together as you moved.

“Why are you so restless today?”

You didn’t answer, just released a deep sigh. Pulling the pieces that were in your servos fuller apart, giving Ratchet more room, and then you zoned out. Time must have passed fast, because before you knew it, Ratchet had finished what he was doing, and was talking about being done for the day, he was now sitting at his desk.

“(Y/N), how about you go do whatever is making you restless, and next time try not to be so antsy.”

You couldn’t see his face, but with all your years helping Ratchet, he was rolling his eyes. You simply smiled, wiping your hands, and taking off your equipment.

“Yeah, Yeah, Same time tomorrow?”

You wanted to know, you still cared about whatever Ratchet was doing with this gadget, even though you had other things on your processor.

“Yes, same time tomorrow.”

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow Ratchet.”

You didn’t give him the to respond, opening the door to the room you were in and bolting down the hallway. You didn’t know where he could be, so you’d start simple, where the ship was docked. You made your way there, a few bots saying ‘Hello’ and you simply nod and smile. You followed the signs that pointed down hallways and into doors, until you finally made it to the loading dock.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the loading dock bots.

“Hey!”

“What are you doing here?”

You looked around one more time before your optics landed the bot

“I’m looking for Rung, Have you seen him?”

“Oh yeah, He said something about getting back to work right away, maybe you can find him in his office!”

The bot said, a smile underneath his visor. You simply nodded before saying some goodbyes and running off to find Rung.

You were three steps away from the office, the door opened and you could hear the sound of tapping from what you assume is a data pad. You peaked into the room, optics scanning from left to right to right to left. You could see Rung facing away from the door, the data pad in his servos and looking down at it. You creeped in behind him, your arms slowly moving out as you got closer, until you were within grabbing distance. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and brought him towards your chassis, shaking and lifting the small bot up. His feet were not on the ground anymore, he left out a yelp.

“Rungggg!!!!!”

You left out, You had him in a tight bear hug, a tight bear hug.

“(Y/N)! Woah!”

You finally stopped shaking him and placed him down, but you didn’t let go of him, you placed your chin on top of his helm and smiled.

“I’m glad you're back! It was so boring without you.”

You felt him chuckle, he placed the data pad in his servos down and placed a servo on your arms.

“Well, I’ll be here for a while so you won’t be bored anymore.”

You laughed, a smile on your face, you were just glad he was back.

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takobaki · 4 months

Text

Snowy innocence // PT 1

The Octopus and the Rice fish

Octavinelle Dorm

A/N: I had to look up so many fish for this lmao 💀 anyways most things that seems ooc do have a explanation but still kinda sucks

Word count: 1,206

Warnings: BAD WRITING, SLIGHTLY IMPILED NEGLECT AND ABANDONMENT, AND CHARACTERS MAY BE OOC, NOT PROOF READ

Other parts here

"Do you think Rice fishy is gonna be okay" A voice asked as Alkni slowly started to gain consciousness, the bright light peeking through her closed eyelids as the small girl just continued to lay there, unmoving

"Be quiet-" Another voice said as Alkni felt someone or something gently rub her head

The movement was so soft...

So gentle...

Something she had never felt before in her few years of living. All she knew was the harshness that they had shown her, and since that was all she had known, thats what she thought was normal, making her fearful of the unfamiliar action

"Do you even know how they ended up here. I doubt someone of their size could even break into the school, and even if they did, why?" The voice from before asked as someone gently picked up her small head, placing it on what Alkni assumed was a lap, something she would use to do for the stray animals outside whenever she was left out to "rot"

Slowly opening her red eyes, the little girl having to squint as her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright lights that were in the room, reminding her of the sun even though the lights were the normal brightness lights should be

There were two guys sitting near her, one with short, wavy, light gray hair, which seemed to be resting her head on his lap, and one with short teal hair that had a black stripe in it "I highly doubt that she snuck in. She's looks so young and like she hasn't been taken care of a day in her life" The light gray haired man said to the other

"Maybe we could get Sam to help, I'm pretty sure he's still here for a bit" The boy with sharp teeth responded, before looking down at Alkni again "Oh Azul- Shes awake-" He said quietly to who Alkni assumed was named Azul, making Azul quickly look down to her

"Hey little rice fish! I'm Floyd and that is Azul, whats your name" Floyd said to Alkni, making her flinch at his tone which was actually uncharacteristically kind for him, thinking he was mad at her

Attempting to push herself up, she felt a hand gently push her back down "Hey, you need to lay down, or else you'll only put more stress on yourself" Azul said as he moved her head from his lap to the couch while he got up. "We'll give you some time to adjust while we help Jade get you some tea, okay" Azul continued on

For some odd reason, Alkni somehow reminded Azul of the younger version of himself, making him feel some sort of level of obligation to protect her despite not even knowing her for a full hour

The dusty black haired child watched as Azul and Jade walked out of the room, closing the door gently as to not startle her. All three of them had a feeling she had gone through some type of abuse or neglect to end up how she ended, with small cuts, scrapes, and bruises littering her tiny body

Alkni gently sat upwards, looking around the room while seemed to be filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves, except for a large vault that was on the back wall. Thats when she realized that something felt off about her

She was warm for once

'When was the last time I felt this warm" She thought to herself as she stood up, her red eyes scanning every corner of the room, a habit she had picked up after being left alone on the streets for long periods of time before being picked back up again

Suddenly the sound of a door opening caused Alkni to panic as she quickly rushed to hide somewhere

Anywhere

Just to not be thrown out again

Tears filled her eyes as she covered her ears, sitting in a fetal position as if to protect herself from any possible harm or danger. The three Octavinelle students paused as they wondered why she seemed so fearful of them

Setting down the tray of tea, Jade slowly walked towards her, a gentle expression on his face as he bent down to her size "Hello, my name is Jade. May I know your name" Jade asked softly as he slowly extended his hand to her, in a attempt to show that he would do no harm to her

"I must let you know, we do not plan to do you any harm, and we only want to help you" Jade continued as Alkni peaked open one eye reluctantly, still very weary despite Jades comforting words. The teal haired boy gently opened his arms, inviting her into a hug in a attempt to try and gain her trust. Alkni looked around frantically, in hopes to find a exit from any possible harm

Alkni's breath hitched as she reluctantly scooted into Jades arms upon realizing that there was no other option but to go to him, flinching at the slightest movement he made out of habit.

To some students, it would be a surprise to as how good Jade was with children, yet when times called for it, he could be. And that time was now. As Alkni came into his arms, he gently patted her back, trying to make her as comfortable as possible in hopes that they could find out exactly what happened and why she had appeared here.

Sitting her on his lap, Azul placed the cup of tea in front of them on the coffee table, causing Jade to take a cup of the warm liquid and handing it to the 5 year old girl. Alkni looked up at him in confusion as she tilted her to the side slightly, wondering what he had given her was "Drink it" Azul told her as he picked up his own cup in a attempt to show her what to do

Azul watched the girl with a careful expression as she drank her cup of tea. There was something off about her, and yet that same thing also reminded him of his past self "So, we are going to ask you a few questions okay" Azul said as he smiled at her. The new students had already long since came, meaning the same thing that had happened with Yuu couldn't have happened with the girl... right?

The pale girl looked towards him for a moment before speaking "S...shiny more m...me's" That one simple sentence filled the three students with lots of confusion.

Shiny more me?

"Why don't we see if she can tell us better in the morning" Floyd said as he let out a yawn, crossing his arms behind his neck as he rested his head on them. "Maybe we can have her show us where she came from too. That might help us find out, plus if betta peacock finds out, he's gonna' be mad" Floyd added while Jade nodded in agreement

Azul nodded as he looked towards Alkni again, chuckling at the look of amazement on her face after drinking the tea 'That must be her favorite type' Azul thought with a warm smile before he spoke up again

"Are you hungry?"

#twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst #twst oc #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #twst jade #floyd leech #twst floyd #octavinelle #child reader

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hidingbehindmishacollins · 10 months

Text

i know we’re all going through ao3 withdrawals so here is the slightly unedited version of my newest fic “all i need is on the other side of the door” from the depths of my google docs. it’s got all the fixings’ (and by that i mean fluffy destiel where freckles are angel kisses and bonus dean and charlie being besties content)

find me over on ao3 at sleep_deprived when the site returns from war <3

all i need is on the other side of the door

It was just a milk run.

That’s how it started, anyway.

A quick hunt a few hours out of Lebanon. Kill some vamps, save some kids. Dean could do it in his sleep. The nest had been easy enough to track down. Nestled in an abandoned neighborhood on the edge of town, the old house perfectly fit the bill. As a result of Sam’s insistence that Dean was the best out of all of them with kids, Dean is on his own searching for hostages while Sam is off somewhere else in the house looking for the vamps. Cas went with Sam for backup in case there were more vamps than anticipated. Not to say that Sam was incapable, because every creature alive AND dead knew he was. It was just nice to know your friend with the ability to smite anything in the blink of an eye had your back. Although Dean misses having the angel at his flank, he’s glad Cas has gone with Sam for that specific reason.

Dean cringes and curses under his breath as a floorboard creaks, exposing his presence. He quickly scans the room and locks eyes with a little girl peeking out from behind the door to the basement. The kid’s eyes go wide and before she can make a run for it, Dean throws his hands up and lets the machete he has been clutching in his right hand fall to the ground. So much for the element of surprise.

“I’m here to help, kid. Are you by yourself?” he asks, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. The girl continues to stare at him for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head and glancing back down the stairs behind her.

“Are the others down there?” he tries again, but instead of being met with an answer, the girl turns and hurries back down into the darkness. Dean sighs and pulls his phone out to text Sam as he follows her to the basement.

I think I found the kids. Meet you out front when you’re done

The stairwell is narrow and smells of old blood and death, which only makes Dean move faster. How long have these kids been trapped down here? How many have already died? He isn’t sure he wants the answer.

Once Dean finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, he tries to assess his surroundings in what little light is being provided by his flashlight. The room, however, appears to be empty, and suddenly Dean has a very bad feeling that he has just fallen into some kind of trap.

“Kid?” he calls out. His hand flies to his hip on instinct when he is met with more silence. Even though he had replaced his gun with a syringe of dead man’s blood last night, he still feels unsteady. The buzz of a phone call in his back pocket startles him and he immediately pulls it out with the hope of Sam delivering good news.

“Sammy?”

“Did you find the kids?”

“Why?”

“Dean, we were way off. The kids are not the hostages. Where are you?”

“What?” Dean chokes out, going completely still.

“It’s the adults. The kids were using them as a cover up. Where are you?”

“The basement. Sam,” Dean pauses, grip tightening on the syringe. “I don’t even have my machete.”

“What?!” Sam barks. His voice comes out in a huff of breath, suggesting that he’s running. Dean can faintly make out Cas saying something in the background. “Okay, you need to get out of there now! We’re on our way!”

Dean finally moves, spinning around with the intent to run back up the stairs, which would’ve been a great escape plan if said stairs weren’t currently being blocked by the little girl, because of course. Of course they were. He swings the flashlight around in an attempt to find any other way out only to find himself face to face with around fifteen adolescent vampires.

“Fuck!” Dean curses into the speaker before the phone falls to the ground. It dawns on him that this rescue mission is about to turn into an ambush, and he sucks in a breath as the vamps all rush him at once. Dean manages to stick one with the syringe, but his empty hands can only get him so far against the rest. The last thing he hears is Sam calling out his name on the speaker before he is violently thrown and his head connects with the concrete wall.

***

Dean eventually regains consciousness only to immediately groan in pain. The pain means he’s alive, at least. That’s a start.

“Dean?” comes a familiar voice, and all the fight leaves Dean’s body. Cas is here now, which means he must be safe. The burning smell that lingers in the air after he goes all smite-y meets Dean’s nose and comforts him further. It’s short lived, however, as another bout of pain wracks his body. Something is definitely broken. Or multiple things. Probably the latter, because that would just be Dean’s luck. Dean groans again and fights to open his eyes. They’re swollen shut, though, and he wonders just what had happened while he was unconscious to cause that.

“Dean,” Cas calls out again, much closer this time. “Both of your legs are broken. One of us has to carry you out of here.”

“You,” Dean barely chokes out, too out of it to care about what he is saying.

“What?” Cas sputters, seemingly taken aback by this response.

“Want you to do it,” he says, and Cas says nothing. Dean almost speaks again, but swallows whatever he was going to say when he feels arms hesitantly move underneath his back and knees. Cas is gonna carry me out bridal style, he finds himself thinking. Before he can even explore the meaning behind that thought, though, Cas begins to move him and the pressure on his legs is agony.

“I know, Dean. I am so sorry,” Cas says, his voice coming out strained. Dean must’ve made some sort of noise again. “I am so sorry I wasn’t here.” Dean wants to tell him to stop apologizing, but his mind becomes distracted again as the trip up the stairs jostles his whole body into more pain. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas sounds like a broken record, but his string of apologies is followed by the welcome feeling of grace seeping into Dean’s skin at every point of contact between them. The feeling is intoxicating as it slowly flows through each injury and mends every broken bone, patch of skin, and blood vessel it can reach. By the time Dean feels the breeze on his face, alerting him that they have made it outside, the bottom half of his body is nearly healed. His head, however, is still throbbing and he is faintly aware of the blood dripping down the back of his neck.

“My head,” he croaks, turning to tuck himself further into Cas.

“I know, Dean. My grace is working first in the places where I am touching you. I cannot help your head without dropping you.” He sounds defeated and almost like he has been crying, which is silly. Angels don’t cry, do they?

“Cas,” Dean says anyway, because he cannot seem to manage anything else. He isn’t even sure what exactly he is asking for. “Please.” At first, Dean gets no answer. As the seconds tick by, he loses faith in ever getting one.

That is, until he feels lips press gently against his forehead.

The relief is almost instant, and Dean cannot help but let out a contented sigh. The grace ebbs and flows underneath his skin, and he wonders if this is what salvation feels like. He is so overwhelmed by the feeling that he neglects to process how exactly he received the relief. Just as he hears Sam open the door to the Impala, Dean passes out again.

***

Dean woke up the next morning tucked into his bed at the bunker and immediately started to panic. Did that really happen? Had Cas really done that? Did it mean anything? Ultimately, his spiral was squashed by Sam coming in to check on him, delivering the news that Cas had left to take care of something, and Dean, in true Dean fashion, sufficed to reduce the moment down to one bore of desperation to help a friend and nothing more.

He had himself convinced that he was satisfied with this deduction right up until Charlie came to visit a week later. They had been in the middle of an episode of The Lord of the Rings (Charlie’s pick) when Dean noticed her looking at him funny. She was staring at the same spot on his forehead that he had caught Sam looking at a few times the past few days, though less subtly. Dean pickes up the remote and hits pause, which causes Charlie to suddenly look anywhere but his face.

“What is it?” he asks, hesitation lacing his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says rather quickly, making Dean huff.

“Charlie.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Okay, let me rephrase: I don’t think it is something you want to hear,” she answers slowly, moving to meet his eyes. Dean sees question and something else he can’t quite place there, and the soft spot he has for her subdues all hesitancy.

“Just tell me anyway. I know you want to,” he sighs, moving the popcorn bowl to the floor so he can turn to fully face her. She studies his face for a moment before a slow smile creeps up on her own and she moves to mirror him.

“Okay, well…you asked for it. Remember that.”

“Got it,” Dean says flatly, and Charlie has the audacity to laugh at him.

“Okay, I just noticed that you seem to have more freckles than you normally do? Which would usually be a pretty odd and obscure thing to notice, but there’s so many new freckles that I do. Right,” she starts, poking him in the middle of his forehead. “Here. There’s a new cluster.”

“Okay?” Dean replies, more confused than anything now. Why would he not want to hear this? It’s weird, but he isn’t upset by it. “Anything else?”

“Have you ever heard freckles be referred to as angel kisses?” she asks, her grin becoming impossibly larger. Dean just stares at her. “Because many people believe that freckles are where you have been kissed by an angel. So, naturally, I am just curious…”

“Charlie…,” Dean starts, but he isn’t even sure what he wants to say. She ignores him.

“Did you and Cas finally pull your heads out of your asses?” Dean cannot believe what he is hearing. Well, it’s coming from Charlie, so he can, but he still isn’t ready for it.

“I, uh,” he tries. Her eyes seem to light up even more, and he fears he has made it worse.

“No,” he says, and Charlie’s face falls ever so slightly. She manages an “oh”, and Dean rushes to tell her the full story.

“I mean, Cas did, uh, kiss me there. But it was to heal me. He was carrying me and couldn’t reach my head,” he explains. Charlie looks at him curiously and he feels his stomach flip as a mischievous look takes hold in her eyes again.

“Just to heal you?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes? Why else would he?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“God, you are such an idiot. Do you realize that?”

Dean throws his hands in the air out of frustration, but before he can question her about whatever she’s talking about further, he hears the door to the bunker open. Sam is back. Charlie notices too, causing her to squeeze his knee and stand up to go greet his little brother.

“Look, lover boy. Just think about it. And I am begging you,” she says, reaching out to touch his forehead again. “Go look in the mirror.” She giggles as she walks away, and Dean feels left in the dark. He understands what Charlie is insinuating. What he doesn’t understand is how she could possibly think that Cas feels the same way about him that Dean feels about Cas. Cas didn’t love him. Why would he?

Despite these thoughts, Dean still finds himself in front of a mirror fifteen minutes later. Now that he’s looking for it, he does notice the difference. Right where Cas had placed his lips a week prior, a new cluster of freckles had accumulated. He tries to trace a pattern with his eyes, but it just makes his head hurt after a while. This just has to be some crazy coincidence. Right? Cas has kissed other people before. Dean is well aware. He witnessed the whole Meg scene and feels guilty for how sick it had made him feel with jealously. The point is, of all the people Cas has kissed, Dean has never noticed any new freckles. Not on Meg and CERTAINLY not on April. So why him? Is it something Cas has control over? Or something Dean is overthinking that means nothing at all?

Dean eventually manages to tear himself away from the mirror, but the idea haunts him for days. The thought keeps him up at night, and thankfully Sam has the grace to not bring it up.

He caves after the fifth day.

“Dean?” he starts, and the cautious tone in his voice immediately puts Dean on edge. He freezes beside the fridge and suddenly feels cornered within the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine, Sammy.”

“Dean,” he says insistently. Dean doesn’t have the patience for this conversation.

“What, Sam? What?!”

“I know you haven’t been sleeping very well. Is something going on with you?” Dean huffs a dry laugh.

“Nothing you could help me with, believe me.” Sam looks hurts, and Dean regrets the way he phrased that sentence. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t worry about me, dude.”

“Dean-”

“I’ll be in my room,” Dean says, cutting him off. He grabs a beer on his way out and ignores his brother’s protests. When he reaches his bedroom, he slams the door shut behind him and lands rather ungracefully on his memory foam mattress. As if his distress could be sensed, he pulls his phone out to be greeted by a text from Charlie.

Sam told me you aren’t sleeping. Does it have anything to do with what we talked about?

Dean laughs bitterly. Of course Sam told her.

Why would you put that into my head?

He almost immediately regrets saying that once he hits send. He can see that she read it already, though, so there is no taking it back.

Oh Dean

Why don’t you just talk to him?

How am I supposed to talk to him about that?

With your words?

Not funny

Come on

It was a little funny

Not laughing

Okay old man

Anyway

It’s Cas, dude. Nothing you say to him is gonna

make him go a-wall on you

He isn’t even at the bunker right now

He hasn’t been here since that hunt

Interesting

Very interesting

Why would that be interesting?

He disappears like this all the time

You’re very stupid

And dense

It’s almost endearing

You are not helping at all

Oh really?

You want my kind of help?

I can play that game

Wait Charlie

What do you mean by that

Charlie

Charlie never answers him, and Dean throws his phone down with a grumble. He feels like a stupid teenager again and it’s miserable. All over what? Some stupid theory? He wants to throw up. He nurses his beer and feels like a pathetic mess. The minutes pass slow, and he has no idea what to think. He loves Charlie, but he doesn’t trust her. Not when it comes to stuff like this. He knows better than that. Dean moves to take another swig, but the familiar sound of feathers rustling makes him choke on it.

Dammit, Charlie!

“Dean?” Cas questions from the other side of the door, and Dean’s resolve crumbles.

“Come in, Cas,” he sighs, but it sounds broken. What is wrong with him? The angel reluctantly opens the door and appears nervous as he shuts it behind him.

“Charlie said you, um,” he pauses, and Dean notices that he’s wringing his hands. Such a human habit. “She said you wanted to talk to me.”

“So, what? You just dropped everything to come and see me?” Dean bites out. It sounds like an accusation. He supposes it is. “I thought you were too busy with angel business to come home.” Dean hadn’t realized how hurt he has been by Cas being gone for this long until now. In comparison to how long he’d been gone before, it really shouldn’t have mattered. Something had changed, though, and Dean had missed him worse than usual.

“I was trying to give you space,” Cas blurts out. His eyes fall to the floor and Dean stares at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“I had a feeling you would feel uncomfortable when you woke up regarding the way I healed your head and couldn’t bare to deal with the fallout. So I gave you space. Apparently, according to Charlie, my suspicions were correct.” Dean is having trouble processing this all. Couldn’t bare to deal with the fallout? What does that mean?

“What exactly did Charlie tell you?” Cas still refuses to meet his eyes and he hesitates before answering.

“That you have been freaking out over the freckles my healing left behind and their implications. I am sorry you have lost sleep over this.” He sounds ashamed. Dean is still confused.

“So that was you? They’re from you?”

“Yes, Dean. I apologize. I usually am able to avoid leaving a claim like that, but sometimes when I am feeling overly affectionate I lose control. I can remove them for you now.”

“No!” Dean yells immediately. Cas finally looks up at him, and this time he is the one confused. He squints and gives Dean his signature head tilt, which almost causes the hunter to fold right there. “No, Cas. We’re gonna come back to that thing about leaving a claim later, but I, uh, I like them. Yeah.”

“You do?” Cas asks, and this time Dean swears he seems hopeful.

“I do. I, uh…” Oh god. What is he doing? “Can I have more?”

“What?” Disbelief this time. Not rejection, though. Dean can work with that.

“Can I have more?”

“Dean,” Cas pleads. This time his voice is strained. It does something to Dean’s insides. “Do you understand what you’re asking me? I need to know you understand, because…”

“Because what?” Cas looks like he’s about to cry. Dean moves forward and doesn’t stop until he’s close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Because I need to know this means the same thing to you as it does to me. I don’t think I can do this if it doesn’t.” Dean reaches out and grips Cas’ shoulder, staring at his hand sitting in the same place his own body had been gripped tight and raised him from perdition.

“What does it mean to you?”

“Dean…”

“Cas.”

“I fear you will not want me around anymore if I tell you.” Dean moves both hands to lapels of his coat and pulls him close enough for their lips to brush on his next words.

“Wanna bet, angel?” And then, finally, Dean crashes their lips together. Cas lets out a sound of surprise, and Dean, honest to god, laughs into his mouth. He stops, though, when Cas starts to kiss him back.

Kissing Cas is unlike anything Dean has ever done with anyone else. He’s never had a kiss mean this much, and suddenly he’s crying. Cas’ hands are on his face, cradling him and wiping away the tears, and Dean thinks that this is what Heaven is supposed to feel like. Screw the other angels and screw God. This was Heaven. After what seems like forever, Cas pulls away and stares at Dean in astonishment. His lips are swollen, and Dean blissfully thinks I did that.

“I love you,” Dean admits. It surprises him how easy it is to say it. He watches as Cas’ eyes crinkle at the edges, filling with their own tears. I guess angels do cry.

“I love you too, Dean. So very much. You taught me how to.” The angel is smiling the biggest Dean has ever seen him, and Dean has never felt happier. He dives back in to feel that smile on his own lips, which is only met with eager enthusiasm on Cas’ part.

They spend their night like that, making out lazily in bed and riding the high that comes with finally admitting your feelings for each other after years of pent-up regression. Cas is laying in bed, curled into Dean with his eyes closed, when Charlie attempts to call him. Dean sends her to voicemail and almost instantly receives a text.

What? Too busy to give me an update?

I don’t want to disturb him

He looks peaceful

OH MY GOD

I’M FUCKING AWESOME

You are

You’re welcome

I love you

I know

I take it back Han Solo

Only I can do that

I love you too

Dork

I want details tomorrow <3

***

At around three in the morning, Dean reluctantly untangles himself from the sleeping angel to take a piss. He’d been under the impression that angels didn’t sleep, but Dean wasn’t about to question it. It was Cas, the angel “cursed” with humanity. Of course he could sleep if he wanted to.

With a smile, Dean quietly pads down the hallway to the bathroom. He flicks the light on but stops short once he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Reflected back at him are new freckles around his lips and down his neck, charting constellations on his skin that he doesn’t recognize. Cas probably does. Dean grins even larger and laughs. He isn’t used to getting nice things, let alone getting to keep them.

What a wonderful feeling it is to love and be loved in return.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #ao3 #fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #charlie bradbury #deancas #trying to provide in these trying times

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fxlling13 · 8 months

Text

Just before I get into the story I would like to explain a few things. Originally, I wrote this story on wattpad. It did quite well on there and, seeing as it is unfinished, I thought I would; rewrite, improve and upload it here chapter by chapter. In this version, im going to be uploading a prologue first in the 3rd person eith the rest of the chapter's being in your (the readers) pov. So, I hope you enjoy my story.

For You

13th doctor x female reader

Synopsis: The doctor finds you on her first outing in her new body. But who are you? And how will you impact each others lives.

Prologue:

Sunlight shone down harshly on the desert like planet below. Looking up to the sky, the doctor sighed and looked at her new gang. Only two-three days into a new regeneration and she had already found herself friends. Hopefully this incarnation would be more open than the last (she hoped anyway).

"Those suns are starting to set. They're moving way faster than I realised. "She told the others absently, not really paying attention to detail until Graham piped up.

"Well, back in the tent, that bloke Ilin said do not travel by night." Realising he was right, she nodded to herself. Nothing could ever be simple.

"We need to move, fast." The doctor stated only for the group to turn around and come face to face with a group of armed, inhuman creatures.

"Whoa! They weren't there when we came in." Graham stumbled back slightly in shock .

"Where did they come from?" Ryan shouted out to no one in particular. Pulling her sonic out the blonde, scanned over them rapidly.

"I don't know. "Her voice was calm but, in actuality, the doctor was panicking and she hated that. Yasmin groaned angrily and looked at her for a way out of this. After all, the humans were only there due to a fault in the doctors original method.

"Oh, my God, Doctor!"

"So much for no life forms on this planet." Looking at them The eldest began to explain , or rather try to.

"They're not alive. They're robot guards. Why would you need robot guards on a deserted planet? Good news is, they're not fully active. So, what we all need to do is very slowly, totally unthreateningly, back out of here."

From inside they suddenly heard the sound of two guns going off within seconds of each other. There was no guessing it was Epzo's doing. Being so aloof, he had probably got himself shot in the progress. However, the robots gears began to turn and they came to life in less than a second.

"Argh! They've been activated! Run!" The doctor yelled and began to rush past the armed robots.

"Move! Move, everyone! Come on!"

Graham encouraged everyone as the others followed. But the robots were too smart.

"Ah! Ah! Swerve! Don't run straight. They're predicting our path! In here!" The doctors voice echoed in the small space as she tumbled into the room that looked like a shooting range. After making sure everyone was in and the guards had lost them, the doctor let out a breath. Waving her hand, she leant against the wall.

"Sit, catch your breath." Not needing to be told twice, Ryan flopped down with a groan.

"You are so dramatic." Yaz scoffed, joining him in a calmer manner. Graham laughed at the younger man's face, he looked deeply offended.

"I am not dramatic."

"You so are." The doctor watched them bicker affectionately and smiled. She loved humans and all their weird little quirks. Gazing ahead, she took in the state of the room. It was big, empty and extremely dusty. Some of the targets had dents and holes from bullets and blasts. At some point, there was working lights on the ceiling. Now, however, there was big gaps or smashed glass in place of them. Also, it was so quiet. So still. In fact, the place looked like it had been barren for many years. Who knows how long. From the corner of her eye, the doctor saw something. Only slight movement, but still, something. Maybe it was sone sand falling. No, it couldn't be. There was a noise, subtle but defensive there.

"Shush.." She muttered, swearing that she'd heard a small cry. Which, should have neen impossible. Why would anyone be there? When the group didn't go quiet as the doctor needed, she huffed and turned to them.

"I said shut up!" And they stopped. Hearing another whimper she put a finger to her lips, signalling for them to be silent as she approached the noise. Behind a pillar, in the corner of the room, sat a huddled figure. Their face buried into their knees.

"Hey..."The Doctor tried to sound gentle as she sat on her knees in front of the person. They whimpered and tried to get even further away. She frowned, sensing the fear this person was radiating. It took a minute, but she eventually spoke, trying hard not to spook them.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Can you look at me? Maybe we could help you?" After a few seconds the person finally lifted their face. The Doctors eyes softened as she saw all the deep wounds. Some looking old, some fresh. It was a girl. A young girl. Her face was cut up badly in some places. Neck covered in dark bruises, she was trembling and trying to hide as much of herself as possible.

"Oh I am so sorry sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?" She looked at them clearly scared. Her eyes almost shook in fear. The doctor could feel her hearts constricting. Or, maybe, that was the pent up regeneration energy. Sure, she had fainted but it was barely any time to recharge.

"Its (y/n)." A cut by her mouth opened up and began to bleed as she spoke.

"Gosh, you're really beaten up. We can help. I promise you." The doctor smiled warmly, gently wiping the blood away. The two locked eyes, the doctor instantly feeling a sense of knowing.

"Doc I don't mean to alarm you but they're nearly here." Graham spoke gently . Probably trying not to scare (y/n).

"Ok ok. Quick introduction then. This is graham, Yaz and Ryan. Oh and I'm the doctor." She nodded startled with how quick they were going.

"Can you walk?" Yaz asked her, offering a smile as well. (Y/n) thought for a moment before attempting to move. Very slowly, she got to her feet. Just as she took a step, her knees gave out. The doctor was quick to react, catching her instantly.

"Is it okay if I pick you up?" Shyly, the girl nod, allowing the doctor to lift her gently.

(Y/n)'s arms wrapped around the tallers neck, the doctors arms holding her up with ease.

"Want one of us to help doc?" Graham asked as they headed towards the exit. Glaring slightly, the timelord shook her head.

"No. She's fine with me." Taking the hint. He simpered and nod. All the while, (y/n) let her head rest upon the doctors chest, listening to her heartbeat. Wait, no. Heartbeats.

#doctor who #doctor who x y/n #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader

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neonbrutalism · 5 months

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RIP Dead Guy (working title)

Unfinished WIP time.... there's a lot more to this but too many scene gaps to post officially, so here's the first bit for the Tumblrerers.

(Speculative Post-BTSV in which Miguel O'Hara of Earth 928B dies saving the multiverse and defeating the Spot. The Society is in mourning and the Spider-Gang is forced to reckon with their feelings. Complicating matters is that Peter's brought back another Miguel from the multiverse who is obviously not comfortable with how they're projecting all this on to him.)

Why hadn’t Miguel put a chair at his work station?

Peter cracked his back and peered again at the the symbols on the glowing, orange screens, trying to make sense of whatever organizational system Miguel was using.

Had used.

Dammit.

He didn’t want to bother LYLA anymore with this. She’d been subdued for weeks – well, almost everyone had been – and Peter wasn’t sure how long AI took to mourn. She did her scans and ran numbers, sure, but it was all without any … snap.

Peter didnt think she was, well, aware enough to grieve… but he also didn’t think Miguel would put her mourning his death in to her programming. Hell, Peter was pretty sure Miguel wouldn’t have wanted anyone to mourn him at all, the stupid, stubborn, broken bastard. If only Peter had moved faster, had recognized what was about to happen…

But maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything. He saw Miguel’s face at that last moment, before…

There was nothing else for it.

“Hey, LYLA?”

“Yes, Peter?” LYLA appeared next to him, expression unnaturally blank.

“Sorry to … bother you? I’m just trying to, uh—“ Peter gestured at the orange screens, “I can’t make webs or tails of this.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction. None came. Miguel wouldn’t have reacted either.

“Anyway, uh, I keep seeing this symbol on certain earths? Looks like a… U?”

“A closed eye,” said LYLA, “After the incident, Miguel cut off any viewing access to mapped earths with… other versions of himself.”

“… Oh,” said Peter, slowly,”I guess he, what, didn’t want the temptation?”

LYLA’s eyes narrowed at Peter, “If you think it would have been tempting for him after what hapoened, you didn’t know him as well as you think you did.”

“Uh. Sorry?”

“Is that all, Peter?”

“Yeah, uh. I guess so. Th—“

LYLA vanished before he could finish thanking her.

Peter shook the interaction off and returned to the screen. He touched the closed-eye symbol. The system pop-up counted 793 locked earths. More than Peter was expecting – but maybe that wasn’t a crazy number, since there seemed to be tens or even hundreds of thousands of Peter Parkers. Had Miguel locked them all manually, or had LYLA done it automatically as their map of the multiverse expanded?

In the corner of the pop up, there was an Unlock All button.

He shouldn’t.

Miguel had once told him, when he asked about seeing versions of Aunt May or Harry, that the only thing that spending time watching the dead live without you in another world was good for was torturing yourself.

Ha. Maybe if Peter had remembered to point out the irony if him saying that, Miguel wouldn’t have…

Fuck it. Whatever. Miguel wasn’t here to tell Peter not to. Miguel was just a miserable, guilt-ridden, self-loathing, dead hypocrite and… and Peter wanted to see his friend again.

He pressed the lock. There was a buzz of haptic feedback and all at once, the eye icons blinked open and Peter found himself looking at dozens of versions of a dead man’s face.

Plenty of them were scowling, wiping blood off their faces after pulling their masks off or boredly picking at paperwork in an office or laboratory. Mostly they were just familiar in a way that felt like a punch in the gut. Stretched all the way out, slouching in a chair looking crabby or curled in with their hands hooked around the back of their necks, poorly dealing with some emotion or stress or another. Some of them, though, looked … happy. Or, at least they looked happier than Peter had ever seen Miguel, outside of those few weeks he’d spent with Gabriella. He didn’t see any versions of her, though. But still, at least there were some versions that weren’t alone.

One Miguel was standing looking out of a large broken window, expression dark and triumphant while a pretty, asian woman in a lab coat and inexplicably a pair of high top sneakers from 1993 curled her arm around his waist and smiled. Peter decided he didn’t want to know what they looked so happy about.

A teenaged version of Miguel and a girl – maybe a younger version of that woman in the lab coat – with her hair in purple pom-poms, sat in a bedroom. The girl pulled out a box from under her bed, revealing what looked to be a lot of ancient Star Trek merchandise, smiling like she was a little embarrassed. Peter pushed that node aside too, he didn’t want to intrude on that.

A pink haired woman covered in chitin and with a thousand needle teeth hovered in the air on vibrating wasp wings and chatted happily while Miguel in his spider-suit listened, sitting on the edge of a tall building. Behind them, the sky was dark and filled with pistons and girders – Downtown Nueva York.

And speaking of Downtown Nueva York – an explosion caught Peter’s eye. He pulled the node forward – Miguel, in a different mask but it could hardly be anyone else, was fighting, his suit torn and bloody, not flickering with broken light like the suit Peter knew. Someone else – some kind of cyborg or robot, slammed a whirling metal thresher down on the spot Miguel had been lying less than a second earlier. He was losing the fight.

Okay, calm down, Peter. Miguel was tough and could take a lot of hits – he just needed a chance to recover. Miguel, no matter the dimension, was perfectly capable of surviving – until he wasn’t.

Behind the cyborg … A Green Goblin rose up on his glider, bombs in hand. Miguel looked up at the Goblin and Peter was through the portal to Earth 416647 before he could stop himself.

(UNFINISHED FIGHT SCEEEENE!)

Peter stared.

This Miguel looked a little younger — or maybe just got more sleep. He was less gaunt, less haunted. Less like he hadn’t eaten or drank in weeks. His hair was little reidder, messy from his mask, curls hanging over his forehead. He had a small scar across his upper lip that the original Miguel hadn’t had either.

Peter realized he’d been staring too long only when Miguel took an awkward step back from him and exchanged a quick, nervous look with the now unmasked Green Goblin. He looked a lot like Miguel too.

Oh… this was Gabriel — his brother. Miguel had mentioned him once or twice. Peter was pretty sure the Original Miguel’s brother was dead — but then again, he’d never really asked.

“Uh — sorry, I’m. Spider-Man.”

“We know,” said Miguel.

“You said that already,” said Goblin.

Peter was struck with a terrible idea. One of his worst. But … the society hadn’t been the same in the past few weeks. A dark cloud had come over it and Peter wasn’t sure how to get it to pass. The fact was, nervous breakdown in the last couple of days notwithstanding, just about everyone had liked Miguel. He’d been their leader, he’d taken care of them and listened and tried to help them. They’d all loved him …

Not that Miguel would have ever believed that in a hundred years.

But without Miguel, things were kind of falling apart. Not literally, LYLA ran the place like clockwork, but emotionally. Miguel could de-escalate petty arguments and fights that broke out better than any Peter Parker could (because most of the arguments involved at least one other Peter Parker). But now, arguments festered, problems went unresolved and still, every time that Peter went to the cafeteria, he almost picked up some empanadas before he remembered himself.

Maybe … a familiar face would help everyone move on? Or at least return a sense of normalcy until people got used to the idea that Miguel, their Miguel, was gone.

“Right! Right – um,” shit, how had Miguel done this ‘I’m from another dimension’ shpiel? “I’m from another dimension! I’m part of a – uh, strike team? Thing? It’s a few hundred other Spider-People and we travel around the multiverse to help people! And stop anomalies — wait, no, we don’t do that anymore. So just the helping people. That’s why I came to help you fight — well I guess you didn’t need help, you two weren’t fighting – but it’s cool! We have a headquarters! And a cafeteria and a gym. Just … amenities. You should come check it out. Miguel should – uh. No offense, Mr. Goblin, but a Spider-Society is kind of. Spider-centric.”

“Wow,” said Gabriel in a familiar flat tone, “I’m devastated but I think I’ll survive.”

“Pass,” said Miguel. He turned to leave.

“Wait!” said Peter, “I’m underselling it. I promise, it’s … really cool. Super elite.”

Miguel raised a skepical eyebrow, “Super elite with ‘a couple hundred’ people?”

“There’s a bazillion different universe, so I mean, it’s all relative.”

Miguel pulled his mask back down over his face, “Yeah, still pass.”

Miguel fwizzed a strand of web (pale, organic, not like the glowing orange Peter was familiar with) to the upper corner of the building and the Goblin kicked his glider’s power on.

“Wait! Please!” said Peter, his voice breaking a little, “just – just come see it? And then you can come right back! Please?”

The lenses on Miguel’s mask squinted at Peter and then he sighed, “Fine. Okay – Gabri, will you tell Xina I’m …”

“Being kidnapped by a time traveller?”

“Dimensional traveller.”

“Whatever,” said Miguel, waving his brother off, “I’ll be home later.”

Gabriel gave a lazy salute and sped off on his glider.

Peter opened the portal to 928.

Miguel — this new, other Miguel — eyed it suspiciously, then stepped through.

#Miguel O'Hara #Across the Spider-Verse #WIP #fanfiction #beyond the spider-verse #Gabriel's here and Xina's in the background :D

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michwritesstuff · 2 years

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You’re Not So Bad (Harry Potter: Adrian Pucey)

THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG! never finished this the way i wanted to so i cut a bit out and kept it at this, might have another part but i’m not sure yet! hope you guys like it :)

summary: hufflepuff female reader (she/her) x adrian pucey He was a Slytherin. She was a muggle born Hufflepuff. What more can I say? (get it? like sk8r boi?) anyways…Y/N is a proud and talented member of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. After one too many coincident encounters with Slytherin’s Adrian Pucey, she realizes that maybe she was wrong in her initial judgement of him and his housemates. notes/warnings: mentions of blood word count: 1.9 k

Another year at Hogwarts meant another year of getting to take the Hogwarts Express. As a muggle born you never failed to be excited by the enchanting nature of the Wizarding World. If your parents weren’t too busy with work, they would have been dropping you off themselves. Much like you, your parents loved everything about the Wizarding World and cherished the times when you needed to go to Diagon Alley.

You thanked the cab driver as he pulled up outside of King’s Cross Station and walked to the back of the car, dragging your trunk out. As you continued along through the station, you walked at a steady pace until you had reached platform 9 ¾. As nonchalantly as possible you glanced from side to side before walking directly through the platform wall. The Hogwarts Express came into view, steam whistling from the front as families lined the platform. You pushed your way through, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. Finally, Cedric and his dad came into view.

“Hey Y/N!” he called out when he saw you.

“Hi Ced, how have you been?” you asked, pulling him into a hug.

“Good, you know...taking care of this old man,” he laughed as he patted his dad on the back.

You laughed along before turning to pull Cedric’s dad into a hug.

“Y/N my girl, how are you? How are your parents?” he asked.

“They’re doing good, wish they could be here of course,” you smiled.

“Well, I’ll be sure to send them some stuff from our garden and let them know I saw you and Ced off, how about that,” Amos stated.

You smiled at him warmly before thanking him one last time.

Grabbing your trunk you followed Cedric through the train, quickly glancing around the carriages in hope of finding an empty one or finding the rest of your friends. You stumbled along behind him, a carriage door sliding open as the two of you passed.

“Diggory,” a voice called out.

You and Cedric snapped your heads around, trying to place who had spoken. None other than Marcus Flint stepped out of the carriage. You glanced inside and saw two other Slytherin quidditch players who you recognized to be Adrian Pucey and Terrence Higgs whispering among themselves.

“Suppose your ready to lose to us again this year?” Flint taunted.

“Suppose your ready for me to fly circles around you again this year?” you replied, a smirk growing across your face as Flint’s smug look was replaced by a look of disdain.

You could hear Pucey and Higgs’ giggles increase at your statement. They knew it was true. The Slytherin team was strong and known for their unfair play, but Y/N Y/L/N was one of the best flyers at Hogwarts.

“You wish Y/L/N! Gonna wipe the pitch with you mudblood,” he threatened.

Your eyes widened at the ghastly use of such a word, your eyes quickly scanning Flint and the people behind him. Pucey and Higgs’ giggles long gone. Higgs quietly looked down at the floor of the compartment, trying his hardest not to make eye contact. Pucey however, stared right back at you. His eyes held something you couldn’t quite place, sadness? No, why would he be sad, he probably just pitied you.

Cedric’s hand found your shoulder and hurried you along the corridor of the train. Finding the carriage with the rest of your friends, Cedric ushered you in. As he retold the story bout the encounter with Flint they all gasped and looked offended and disgusted by Flint’s behavior.

“He’s an asshole, we knew this already,” you stated.

“I’m fine guys, promise,” you smiled weakly.

Truth was, you were fine. Flint’s aimless name calling didn’t concern you. You were proud of who you were and who your parents were, it didn’t matter. You were going to wipe the pitch with him this season AND continue to fly circles around him. The biggest thing on your mind had nothing to do with Flint, you were too concerned with Pucey. You couldn’t erase the look on his face from your memory.

That night all previous conversation about Flint had subsided as it was replaced by conversations about the summer break and upcoming term. From laughing and joking about the first years waiting to be sorted to complaining about having Herbology with the Slytherins.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Classes were finally in full swing and the first quidditch game of the season was approaching this weekend. Unfortunately, you felt unprepared for both. Practices had been long and gruesome, and they left you with little free time for studying and getting work done. This meant hours spent in the library and sneaking into the kitchens where the house elves offered you coffee and various pastries to help you get through the long nights.

So here you were, sitting at a table with books open and sprawled out. Unused rolls of parchment lined up next to your spare quill and bottle of ink. You worked absentmindedly scrawling as much as you could about the effects of fresh mandrake juice on petrification. Ever since the incident with the Chamber of Secrets being reopened, Professor Sprout thought it useful understand the importance of utilizing the magical properties of specific plants, rather than just how to care for them. Rereading the same line for what felt like the hundredth time, your attention was interrupted by an unexpected voice.

“Room for one more?”

You looked up to find none other than Adrian Pucey to be the source of the voice, book bag hanging off his shoulder. He motioned to the seat across from you.

“Uhm, yeah let me just…” you trailed off as you attempted to gather and organize all your materials to your side of the table. Pucey lightly chuckled at your frazzled state. Sitting down and pulling his own parchment and books out, his eyes glanced over your materials.

“Working on the Herbology essay?” he asked, his eyes focused on his own parchment.

“Yeah, though I don’t know how much more I can possibly write, you?” you replied.

“Nah, I finished that the other day. My muggle studies essay on the other hand…” You glanced up to meet Adrian’s eyes at his statement, giving him a look that meant to explain.

“Mum loves plants, grew up with those bloody curlers’ and books about them,” he stated, referencing the mandrakes. You laughed at his comment, they were truly dreadful to work with.

“What’s your muggle studies essay about?” you asked curiously, eyes scanning to the top of his parchment which read Muggle Transportation.

“Have to write the about the importance of public transportation in muggle communities. Not really sure what to include, I wasn’t really paying attention these last few lessons.” You once again giggled at his explanation.

“Well then…if you help me with this herbology essay than I’ll help you with yours. Not sure if you know this, but I’m quite the muggle expert,” you mused.

“Deal,” Adrian replied, a warm smile growing on his face.

The two of you spent the next hour working on your essays and making small talk, just getting to know each other.

“Ughh I don’t think I can ever write another essay again,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing your quill across the table in the process.

Adrian laughed as he watched you pack all your things. While you gave him some background information and personal experiences about public transportation in your own community, he didn’t write much.

You continued packing until everything had found it’s place in your book bag. You stood up placing your bag on your back.

“You coming?” you asked.

Adrian looked up, eyes meeting yours. He was clearly confused as to what you meant, and to be honest, you weren’t entirely sure why you were inviting him to your secret place. There was something about Adrian, he was kind, welcoming, exciting, and most of all he felt familiar. He was easy to get along with, and from the small amount of conversation you had with him already, he was funny.

He packed his book bag and followed you out into the corridor.

“Where are you taking me Y/L/N?”

“It’s a secret, now keep up Pucey.”

He continued to follow you down a staircase and through a corridor. When you had finally reached the entrance of the kitchen you urged Adrian forward. He stared at you blankly, confused as ever. You took a step forward, now standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Reaching your hand up you tickled the pear in the middle of the portrait. The portrait swung open and revealed a warmly lit large kitchen with pots and pans draping the ceiling.

“Wow,” Adrian breathed out.

The two of you were immediately with welcoming and friendly house elves singing a chorus of “Welcome back Ms. Y/L/N” and “So good to see you Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchen Pucey,” you stated.

You thanked Winky as she handed you a warm mug of pumpkin juice and a chocolate chip muffin. Setting your stuff on the counter, you did your best to split the muffin into two equal halves. You handed a half to Adrian who greeted you with a warm smile of thanks.

“This is incredible Y/N,” Adrian mumbled out, his mouth still full with his half of the muffin.

With a wide-eyed gaze Adrian moved through the kitchen like a kid in the candy store, or similar to you at Honeydukes on a weekend trip to Hogsmeade.

“It’s pretty great. I come here during late night study sessions, if I’ve had a shitty day and I’m and feeling stressed, or if I’m just absolutely craving something when I’m in my dorm. The Hufflepuff common room is just around the corner,” you explained.

“And tonight?” Adrian asked.

“Late night study session…and stressed,” you answered chuckling before trailing off at the end.

“About what?” he asked.

“Well school for starters, and this upcoming quidditch match against Gryffindor. I mean we have a strong team and have worked hard at all are practices, but their seeker…I mean Harry is amazing. And I…I need to play phenomenally.”

“Y/N, you’re one of the most amazing flyers I know. The entire school knows this. You truly do fly circles around everyone, not just Flint,” he laughed, his tone reassuring and positive.

You recounted on the day you had first really noticed Adrian Pucey. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of your fondest memories of Hogwarts. Your parents were too busy with work to see you off and Flint had called you a mudblood. You were distracted from your thoughts when you heard Adrian’s voice.

“I’m sorry about that Y/N,” he stated rather shamefully

“You know, about that day on the train…” he continued.

“Oh uhm yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s not like you said anything. Besides, I know Flint’s just insecure about being outflown by a girl.” Adrian laughed at your statement.

“True…but still, you didn’t deserve that. That term is outdated and inappropriate, and it shouldn’t matter how you got here. You deserve to be here,” he finished.

You smiled widely at him, surprised and touched by his genuineness. Looking at the clock you realized that it was getting late, and with a mandatory team practice before breakfast, you could use all the sleep you could get.

“Uhm I should—I should get going. It’s getting late,” you stated.

“Uh yeah, thanks Y/N, you know…for showing me your secret spot.”

“Anytime Pucey.”

You followed Adrian back out of the portrait, giggling to yourself as he tripped over his own feet trying to do a cool spin. He stumbled a bit before shaking his head in embarrassment, his own laugh roaring from his chest.

“Bloody hell…I’ll catch you later Y/L/N”

“Yeah, later…” you smiled to yourself. You don’t know what it was about him, but Adrian Pucey continued to have an unexplainable effect on you.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours

Masterlist

#teentvimagines #adrian pucey #adrian pucey x reader #adrian pucey x y/n #adrian pucey imagine #hufflepuff reader #hufflepuff #adrian pucey imagines #slytherin #slytherin imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #Spotify

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