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kaijutegu · 4 months

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Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

youtube

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

#reptiblr #alligator #crocodile #Youtube

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lovelytsunoda · 8 months

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glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri

summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.

pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader

warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)

“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”

oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“but why?”

oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”

y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.

who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.

“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”

oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”

she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”

it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).

it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.

she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.

this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?

she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”

oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”

that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.

why on earth was she agreeing to this?

“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”

the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.

“oscar, what are you doing?”

he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”

god, this man was going to be the death of her.

————

she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.

from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.

she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.

they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.

"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.

oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.

"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"

"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.

she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.

"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.

my boyfriend oscar.

"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.

oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."

carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."

"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.

oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.

australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.

but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.

________

"you've got to be shitting me."

she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.

except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.

a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.

"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"

she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"

oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.

"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."

did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?

she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.

"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."

"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.

she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.

if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-

nope. we're not going there today.

she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?

when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?

he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.

all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?

wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.

he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.

it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.

he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.

the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.

he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.

he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.

and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.

“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.

she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.

“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”

“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”

they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.

"yes."

she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.

she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.

she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.

"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."

oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"

"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."

god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."

"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."

oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."

"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.

"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."

"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."

"i look forward to it."

oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.

"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.

she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.

"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."

she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.

in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.

"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.

it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.

"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."

he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."

he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.

-------

they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.

"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."

"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."

"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"

fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.

the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.

she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.

"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."

she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."

oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."

"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."

"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."

-------

the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.

that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.

but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.

oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.

"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."

oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"

y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."

oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"

all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.

y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.

sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.

"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."

"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."

the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.

"can i have this dance, my love?"

she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.

man, she could really get used to this.

get used to oscar.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #the cozy collection 2023 #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #Spotify

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astorianyxkings · 3 months

Text

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

#dc comics #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #dc robin #Marisol was Dick's social worker #Yeah Bruce had to spend a half an hour reassuring Clark that he was fine and Robin just scared him a little #(half to death #he saw the light)#I stand firm on the headcannon that Bruce's contingency plan for himseld has and always will be Dick #The rest of the batfam don't know why since Dick's the only one who takes fhe no kill rule harder than the old man himself #but whatever #Bruce and Dick angst is my favourite flavour #I hate it cuz I love it

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lizzieisright · 29 days

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omega abs ? 😣

oh my fucking god yes

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: Abby is sure she will never meet her dream alpha after what happened with Owen. And then she meets you.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, descriptions of smut (heats/ruts), Owen is a piece of shit, reader is a sweetheart. Also I'll always make Ellie and Abby friends because their dynamic cracks me up every time.

Notes: this one is genuinely weird in terms of my writing style. It's 6k long for no reason except that I wanted to see how everything will play out and build some kind of omega!abby lore. Also it was meant as a bullet point thingy like hcs, but then it got too long, so the sentences might sound weird.

If you guys want something specific with omega!abby, reqs are open.

Me: *slaps the title of the fic* this bad boy can fit a whole multichapter in it.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's one thing Abby knows for certain when she turns 19: she is not a typical omega.

Abby's scent is not too sweet: she smells more like fresh roses than vanilla. All other omegas have more prominent scents, and Abby sees how alphas favour them. She is insecure about her scent, and she is not too prideful to admit she wants alphas to like her. Like any other omega Abby feels pressured by society to look a certain way - and she is already tall, so she starts going to the gym to get fit, to look more attractive, to grow that bubble butt everyone's talking about. She just started university and she wants to be cool.

(Ellie tells her it's all bullshit. Ellie is her biggest supporter and she is the one who growls at other alphas when it's needed. It's hilarious, because Ellie is fucking tiny. "I'm still an alpha, Anderson!" Ellie whines usually and Abby flicks her forehead.)

The gym works: she gets more attractive. Her butt is round, her arms are toned and her shoulders balance her hips, making her waist look thinner. Abby meets Owen and she thinks he is the one. He is the first alpha she spends her heat with. And well, maybe it's not how she imagined it would be, but Abby doesn't complain. After all, perfect alphas only exist in books and movies, not in reality.

(she dreamt about feeling safe and protected with her alpha, feeling loved and taken care of. Owen is all growls and bruises.)

Ellie hates Owen's guts. There's always some sick smell when they're in the same room, and Abby is doing all she can to manage it and make two of the most important alphas in her life like each other. Owen tries to convince Abby that alphas and omegas can't be friends - and it works. Abby stops spending too much time with Ellie, tricked into thinking that Ellie actually has feelings for her. Ellie lets it happen.

(Owen is so much more violent during ruts. Abby knew this too: alphas are ruthless in ruts, but she didn't expect being borderline assaulted. Again, she doesn't complain. She is in love, and Owen knows better.)

Abby keeps going to the gym, and in time her muscles grow and show more. Abby is happy - she put so much work into her body and it shows now! She is so much stronger now, and she doesn't mind that her waist is not so tiny anymore. Abby feels powerful.

Owen, however, gets grumpier with every pound of muscle on Abby's body: he doesn't like it. He doesn't support her when she shows how much progress she made.

Then he starts joking about it. He tells her it makes her look less like omega. That she is almost as big as he is. That people won't be able to tell who is the alpha in their relationship. Abby swallows everything and starts doing more cardio. She wants Owen to be happy. She wants to be his mate one day.

And then one day Abby catches Owen with another omega.

She is small and smells like coconut, she is everything Abby isn't.

Abby wants to die.

Abby calls Ellie for the first time in months, sobbing violently. Ellie picks her up and spends the night soothing Abby, and the next day beating the shit out of Owen. Yes, she is tiny, but alpha strength is alpha strength, and Ellie is furious.

Abby doesn't really recover from this. She thought Owen would be her first and her last, but now her dreams and her self-esteem are in ruins.

Abby blames herself for Owen's cheating. She blames herself for building her body, for not being omegy enough, for having a weak scent, for not being what he wanted.

So Abby grows distant, believing she has no worth as an omega. She avoids alphas, she doesn't recognize when someone's interested. She doesn't let herself smell other people. The only alpha she still talks to is Ellie, because Ellie is Ellie. Her best goblin friend who doesn't even react to her heats, because she is so used to Abby.

(it actually breaks Abby's heart a little: is her scent so weak it doesn't affect alphas at all?)

Her younger brother, Lev, moves to the city for university when Abby is in her graduation year, and Abby puts her energy into taking care of him. She comes to his place from time to time, bringing food or snacks for him. They have movie nights as well. It makes Abby feel less alone. Less useless.

One day Lev asks her to come to the party with him: it's his first time going to a party and he has no idea what to do, especially since there'd be really cool people who are his seniors and he doesn't want to have an egg on his face.

"Can you ask Ellie to come as well? Please? I need more cool people on my side."

Abby laughs and makes sure Ellie is going to come. Ellie adores Lev, so she agrees immediately.

This party is on another level, Abby thinks. It's not frat bros and awful alphas like it was when Abby went to parties with Owen. This party looks like all smart and successful people in the uni decided to get piss drunk, and it is as cool as it is hilarious. Abby knows some of them - she waves at Nora and hugs Manny when he sees her: they're only people Abby kept in contact with after breaking up with Owen. They stopped being friends with him the moment they found out what happened.

Lev is very nervous. He clings to Abby's arm and she laughs kindly.

"Hey, relax. You're supposed to have fun."

"Yeah, I know." Lev says, a little irritated, but it makes Abby and Ellie laugh again.

Ellie takes everything in her hands and comes back with three beers, opening them for Lev and Abby. Abby chuckles at her typical alpha behaviour, but doesn't tease her. They share a drink, and Lev is still nervous, so Ellie takes him to the dance floor and he finally relaxes next to his second favourite person and his first favourite alpha.

Or so Abby thinks.

She watches another person come to them, and by the way Ellie tenses Abby guesses it's an alpha. Abby tenses too: the protectiveness kicks in.

But the alpha smiles and hugs Lev like Abby does: like if this alpha was Lev's older sister. They talk for a bit and then Lev points in Abby's direction. The alpha nods and waves at Abby. She waves back, confused.

And then this alpha makes her way to Abby.

Abby is caught off guard: the alpha is hot. She is also friendly judging by the smile and the way she treated Lev, and Abby can’t decide how to behave around her. She is not bitter after what happened with Owen, but she is definitely out of practice of talking with hot alphas.

You watch Lev's sister's face go through a variety of emotions, and it makes you chuckle - you too would be confused. But you want to meet her and make sure she knows Lev is taken care of: he is under your wing. He is a sweet kid, shy one, and you know how nervous he is about everything, so you want him to have this safety net.

"Hi!" You say cheerfully and give your hand for a handshake. You try not to think of how beautiful Lev's sister is, how much her blue eyes hypnotise you. She is fucking adorable, that what she is.

"Hi?" And her voice is soft too. You blink to clear your mind and tell her your name. You can’t smell her, but you’re pulled to her like a magnet.

"I'm Lev's student guide." Abby nods, not sure if she is okay with an alpha around her baby brother.

"I'm Abby, Lev's sister." You beam at Abby and she feels her stomach flutter. Abby quickly tries to kill the butterflies, but you seem so genuine. She can't smell you when there's so many people around, and maybe it's a good thing.

“Lev gave me your number as an emergency contact, and I just wanted you to know if an unknown number texts you that Lev is puking after doing beer pong, it will be me.” Abby can't help her chuckle: you do sound genuine. Abby feels like you really care about her brother and it makes her feel better.

Lev and Ellie come back and Abby looks at how Lev's face lights up when you smile at him. Oh no. He has a crush on you. It breaks Abby’s heart: she sees how you treat him like a baby brother, and Abby knows Lev has no chance. She also thinks if she looked like this when she met Owen, all star-struck and hopeful. At least you look like a better person.

Abby also feels how tense Ellie is around you. Another alpha thing, but this one is annoying - Ellie’s protectiveness is borderline territorial, so Abby glares at her. Ellie glares back, but some of the tension goes away.

You ruffle Lev’s hair and ask him to enjoy the party and find you if they need anything. Ellie only fully relaxes when you’re lost in the crowd.

“She is the coolest.” Lev tells them and Ellie huffs. “She always helps me around. Saved my ass a few times as well.”

“Well, kid, I don’t want you to get hurt by her, okay?” Ellie says and Lev blushes.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I know nothing will happen.” Lev smiles. “She likes people on her level. Someone like you, Abby.”

Abby’s heart skips a beat in pain. There's no way an alpha like you would like an omega like her.

Or if there is, then there's something wrong with you and you shouldn't be around her brother.

“She doesn't seem too bad.” Ellie says almost through her teeth; she is as annoyed at her nature as Abby is, but she tries to have a clear head. “But if she hurts you, I'll kill her.”

Abby would laugh, but the image of Owen's bloody face and a broken wrist don't let her. It's a good thing he didn't press charges, too humiliated to admit he got his ass kicked for cheating.

Abby forgets about you until she is getting ready to sleep tonight. She puts her palm under her cheek, blissfully unaware, and takes a breath that is full of your scent. It shakes her, having an alpha scent on her, and Abby can't control herself.

Abby's cheeks burn, her heart picks up speed. Her cunt throbs.

You smell amazing. It has an edge, like any other alpha’s scent, but it's not suffocating. Well no. It is, but it doesn't feel bad, it makes Abby bury her nose in her palm and take a deep sniff. It makes her feel safe.

And Abby is terrified. She can't like your scent. It's dangerous, she can't risk herself like this, it's stupid. Lev has a crush on you, for god's sake! And even if she could, you'd never look her way. You're a good alpha and good alphas like pretty, small, sweet smelling omegas. Not Abby.

She doesn’t know that she also left some of her scent on your palm. She doesn’t know you’ve been smelling it the whole night, addicted to the smell of fresh roses and memory of pretty blue eyes. She doesn't know that you struggle to control your eyes from changing to alpha red the whole time.

You're ready to claw walls after meeting the prettiest omega of your life that you know is sweet and kind and smart: Lev really can't shut up about his sister. It's fucking eating you alive.

And you have no idea when you'll meet her again, but then you remember that both of you are in the same university. So you start trying to figure out her schedule. You know she is a med student, so you take a chance at going to the library.

And you're not wrong: Abby is there, looking miserable as she takes her notes. Your instincts kick in and you try to think of a way to make her feel better, but you get your shit together: it would be creepy.

So you just walk over and ask to sit next to her. Abby is surprised, but she lets you anyway.

It's awkward. You both are trying to not inhale too much, but the scents are respectively addictive: you smell her fresh roses and she smells your spice and safety. You want to bury yourself in her neck and mark her, scent her, make her yours, but you push these thoughts away.

“How's Lev doing?” Abby asks, not being able to concentrate anymore. It's even more embarrassing that you both smell of attraction, but it doesn't really mean anything: it was proven to be an instinct thing, therefore not reliable in human society. It just makes everything awkward for everyone.

“He is excellent, honestly. He got interested in charity work and I think he will soon be cleared to volunteer at animal shelters.”

“Good. Thanks for looking after him. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?” Abby didn't mean to say this, but you catch the meaning of her words anyway. She can smell a faint hurt coming from you, but it's not big enough.

“I'll do whatever I can to make sure he is safe.” You promise Abby and her attraction grows. You blink, but get back into conversation, trying to find more about Abby.

Abby is.. reluctant. She is polite, but her answers are short, and you're not an idiot, you can take a hint, so you apologise for taking her time and go.

Abby watches you go and gets filled with sorrow. You seem so sweet, and it scares her. She can't understand what is your angle and why are you bothered with her. She is sad because she wants you to be bothered with her. She wants you to like her; but Abby's brain doesn't even entertain the idea of it. Plus, Lev is crushing on you, it would be absolutely unfair of her to like you.

The sour smell of sadness makes Ellie restless when she gets to the library half an hour later for their study session. She looks Abby over and tries to piece together what's wrong.

“Did something happen?”

Abby is also reluctant to tell Ellie, but she does it anyway. Ellie frowns the whole time, not pleased with another alpha upsetting her baby. Abby is quick to defend you and say that it's she who is the problem. Ellie kicks her under the table.

“You are not a problem. It's Owen in your head again! Let go of this asshole. There are better alphas than him, fuck, any decent alpha is better than him. Don't assume shit.” Ellie tells her and Abby nods.

Abby decides to try. Maybe at least she can make a friend. So the next time you see her in the library, she actually smiles at you.

You swallow. Hard. Abby is gorgeous.

So you sit next to her and surprisingly, the conversation flows so much better than the last time. You think she was just super busy back then.

Abby is so fucking oblivious it's not funny. She talks to you like she'd talk to Ellie: she doesn't believe your scent, convinced it's just nature and alphas are like this sometimes, so she is relaxed. You can be friends, she thinks. You're great and smell amazing, so you can be friends.

You're almost salivating the whole time. Abby is cute as fuck, and she is hot as fuck: she takes her hoodie off and stays in a tight crop top, and you ogle at her arms and shoulders. She is incredible.

“I know we've just met, but I can't leave without asking. Would you go on a date with me?”

Abby's scent spikes in surprise, and then anxiety. An awful, sick smell that makes you back off.

“Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.” You tell her, eager to get rid of this stench, to keep Abby calm and safe.

“Are you sure?” Abby asks, not really believing her ears.

“I mean, I really want to get to know you better.” You admit.

“Lev has a crush on you.” Abby blurts and you laugh kindly.

“I know. We talked about it with him. I don't let this stuff slide when it happens.” It makes Abby feel a little easier. “But if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'd love to be your friend as well.”

“...I need to talk to Lev first.” Abby admits, her cheeks feel hot.

“Of course. Let me know then.” You smile sweetly, your scent is so full of attraction it's hard to find an excuse for it, so Abby just ignores it.

She smells excited now and you beam. “You’re so pretty.” You blurt before you can stop yourself, but Abby starts to smell so sweetly and her cheeks are rosy now, you feel on cloud nine.

“Thanks, I guess.” She says, shy, and you nod. You say your goodbyes and leave Abby to study.

Abby thinks she's gone insane. Or you've gone insane. There's no way you actually asked her on a date.

But Abby wants to go so much. She didn't admit it, but she was getting lonely, and then suddenly you came along and made her heart beat faster.

So she gains courage and talks to Lev. He gets sad, but not the sour kind, the faint lavender of regret.

“I told you she would like you.” Lev smiles and Abby hugs him, trying to comfort him. “She is good, I promise.”

“I'm sorry, Lev.”

“Don't be.” Lev chuckles and they spend the evening watching the movie.

Next day you text Abby to find out if everything worked out and she gives you a positive. You grin like an idiot the whole day and plan the date.

You don't get all romantic on your first date, since you feel like Abby might get anxious, so you two just go to a bar and have a game of pool.

It's perfect: you both are competitive, you get to see Abby bend down and you get to flirt a lot after a drink. Abby is wearing high waisted jeans and her bubble butt looks amazing in them. You don't know this, but Abby was desperate to make herself look more like an omega, and even if she couldn't hide her shoulders and biceps, she wanted to compensate for it, showing off her butt.

Abby is oblivious to your hungry eyes when she takes a hit, but you're struggling. Abby is sweet and she smells so fucking good. You're itching to touch her, but you keep yourself in check. So instead you compliment her. A lot.

Abby is flustered: no one ever talked to her like this. No alpha made it clear to her that they found her this attractive. But you keep your mouth running. “Your shirt looks so good on you.” “Sorry, I can't stop staring at your shoulders. They're very nice.”

Abby laughs at this one and feels more comfortable in her own skin. So she opens up. “My ex didn't like that I work out so much.” She chuckles, and you look at her in mock offence. It makes her laugh.

“What a fucking idiot. Only cowards don't appreciate muscle mommies.” You scrunch your nose and Abby laughs harder.

“God, what is this nickname?”

You get flustered and Abby feels all giddy. She didn't expect any alpha to get flustered, especially not because of her. “You know. When girls, especially omegas, build up a lot of muscles? People really dig it.”

“Do you?” Abby asks, coy, and she sees the red flash in your eyes. It makes her press her thighs together.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” You say and there's a hint of an alpha voice. Abby's chest is going to explode.

You don't kiss Abby properly tonight, instead opting to kiss her hand: you like her, and you don't want to rush it. Abby gets flustered and you can't help the spike in your scent that makes Abby's cheeks red.

(No, you don't get off on her scent when you come home.)

(No, Abby doesn't fuck herself on her fingers when she comes home, burying her nose into her palm where she can catch your scent.)

You both take it slow. You kiss her for the first time on your third date and Abby folds in your hands while you purr and knead her sides.

Abby starts spending more time at your place, where you just cuddle and watch something. You start catching her scent all around your apartment, and it's driving you crazy. You want Abby to be yours so desperately, but you make yourself think with your head and not with your dick, so you don't rush.

You're in your class when you get a call from Lev. You don't pick up the first one, but when he calls for the second time, you walk out of the class and take the call.

Lev is crying.

Turns out his heat came during his class and now he is scared of going home on his own. Your instincts kick in and you grab your shit at a lighting speed before storming to Lev. You text Abby while you're running, and then your mind shifts into protective mode.

It's hard being around an omega in heat: it's hard for the both of you. Lev clings to you while you wrap your arm around his shoulders and walk him from campus to his place. You know your eyes are red and you're low-key growling, but you keep comforting Lev.

“It's okay. I'll get you home, and Abby is going to be here, okay? I'll keep you safe, don't worry. You're doing great, just a little more, can you walk a little more for me?”

Your voice soothes Lev and you make it to his place where Abby is already pacing in worry.

She takes a look at you and her breath hitches. Your eyes are red and so hungry, Abby feels horny and sorry for you: she doesn't know how much willpower you need to keep your head straight when there's an omega in distress and in heat.

You both get Lev inside his apartment and you retreat to the kitchen while Abby takes care of Lev. She fusses around, gives him pills and sends him to take a shower. You sit straight, your firsts tight as you watch your girlfriend being all motherly. This mixed with the smell of heat makes you feral. It gets harder to control, especially when Abby stands in front of you, her gorgeous scent in your nose.

“How are you?” She asks, compassionately. And you grit your teeth.

“Can you-” You start with a growl and you smell Abby's arousal. “Fuck. Can you come here?” You pat your lap.

The moment Abby sits down you grab her and bury your nose in her neck, your arms are tight around her back. Abby yelps when you press her closer and her scent spikes with arousal, making you growl.

“I'm not- I'm not going to do anything. I just need a moment.” You growl and Abby swallows. Her arousal tickles your nose and you growl louder, pressing your nose closer to her scent glands.

Abby is so wet in her pants she is afraid she will leak on you, but she can't help it: you're usually so sweet, hiding your nature, and now you're acting so alpha-like, and it does things to her.

“Shit. We can't-” Abby's arousal gets mixed with anxiety and you want to sneeze to get it out of your nose.

“We're not doing anything. Not like this. I just need a redirection.” You take a deep inhale full of Abby's scent and you finally settle down. Your voice returns and you feel like you can control your eyes again. You ease your hold on Abby and the anxiety goes away. “Did I scare you?”

Abby is baffled. It's such a big contrast to how Owen treated her before, she is lost for words. You're worried if you sniffing her scared her while Owen didn't care if he left bruises.

The air gets filled with the smell of fresh bakery - the scent of love and affection - and you almost tremble under Abby in excitement.

“A little. I was worried if you'd stop.”

“I have excellent self-control, baby.” You wink at Abby and she slaps your bicep.

She moves a certain way that makes her pelvis move against yours and you grunt: the scent of Abby's arousal got you half-hard already, and you're kinda sensitive now.

Abby also feels it. She grows red and you giggle, kissing her cheek.

“Lev is going to be out of the shower soon, I should go.”

“Okay.” Abby gets up from her seat on your lap and you pout. “Do you want-” Abby shakes her head. It's a stupid idea.

“Do I want what?”

“Something with my scent?”

You swallow and nod. Abby stands for a second, thinking, and then just takes her shirt off, letting you see her in a bra. You see her small tits covered by her lacy bra and adjust your pants. She is so fucking hot and this is so not the time, but your cock twitches and gets harder with every second while you stare at the most beautiful omega in your life.

“You're a fucking menace.” You growl again and kiss Abby with hunger, the rumbling in your chest resonating in hers. Abby goes pliant and kisses you back.

It takes you two tries to get away from her, but Abby is so delicious it's insane.

You spend the evening in your apartment, getting off on Abby's shirt, fantasising about her going into heat and how you would take care of her and how good you would make her feel.

You're together for a few months now when Abby's heat comes. You can smell it on her the day before, when she is all whiny and tired, sleeping for the bigger part of the movie on top of you. Her usual rose scent is getting stronger.

“Are you close to your heat?” Abby hums in agreement and you swallow, staring at the ceiling. “Okay. I can smell it.”

“Oh.” Abby is surprised. She doesn't have a very prominent scent so she didn't expect you to notice. “Oh I didn't think you'd smell it.”

“Your scent is my fucking heaven, of course I would.”

Abby blushes. Deeply. And you feel her press her thighs together. It makes your dick twitch.

“I think it'll start tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to be with you?” You ask innocently and Abby chuckles. “I mean, we haven't done anything yet and I understand if you want to wait and have normal sex first. Well, if you even want to have se-”

Abby cuts you off with a kiss and you relax. “We can try normal sex now.”

And you do. It's slow and sweet and you both laugh when you bump heads and knees and when you have to fumble around for lube since you're messy, but it's perfect.

You're not aggressive, but you still growl and claw at Abby's soft thighs, and it's a perfect balance of care and pure animalistic want, and Abby feels wanted. She kinda wants to see your control break.

And then you dip down between her thighs and Abby yelps and pushes your head away, shy. “You don't have to-”

“I really fucking want to. But if you don't want me to, it's okay. I won't.”

“I've never done it before.” Abby admits, embarrassed. She asked Owen to do it once but he looked weirded out by her ask, so Abby felt ashamed to ask again. You stare at her in shock - a good-natured one - and Abby hides her face.

You slow down and get on her level again, gently moving her hand away. “Hey, it's cool. I didn't mean to belittle you, I just- you're so pretty and so gorgeous, who wouldn't want to go down on you?” Abby looks at you, so deeply touched by your care she feels her eyes water. She smells of love again and you giggle, burying your nose in her neck. “We don't have to do it.”

“I kinda wanna try.” Abby murmurs, smiling, and you beam at her.

“I'll go slow, okay? Tell me what feels good and what's not, yeah?”

That's how Abby ends up being eaten out for the first time. She loves the feeling of your mouth on her and how your fingers curl inside her. She loves how your eyes gradually become alpha red the closer she is to cumming.

She comes down from her high and looks at you, half naked and red-eyed, like a predator you're meant to be, and her cunt throbs.

Abby rides you until you're a grunting mess under her as she massages your tits and clenches around you. You growl, but you don't grab her or hurt her, just let her have fun, and Abby is so fucking happy.

“I can't wait to spend my heat with you.” Abby moans and you cum immediately, filling her up.

This time Abby gets to feel safe and taken care of during her heat as you attend her every whim, every request, from “cum inside me” to “I really want some chocolate ice-cream”. You do everything, and Abby can't be happier. She texts Ellie as much when you're out to get her ice-cream and Ellie just sends vomiting emojis.

Of course then she tells Abby she is happy for her and that she is going to be a best woman at your wedding.

Abby doesn't want to admit, it scares her, but she wants to be your mate one day.

You come back not only with chocolate ice-cream, but with some junk food as well. Abby can't help but to drop to her knees right in the hallway.

You also help Abby recover after the heat, bringing her snacks and letting her nap every chance you can, and Abby knows she is in love with you. She doesn't even need to tell you: she constantly smells of love and lust around you now, but she decides to do it anyway.

You're balls deep in her while she pinches your nipples and nibbles at your scent glands, making you whimper in her ear. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“I love you.” Abby says sweetly and you shudder on top of her, and Abby feels how your cock twitches when you cum. Abby feels your fangs scraping her scent glands and she cums too, milking you.

“Fuck, baby, shit! I love you too, I love you so fucking much, shit-” You pant and Abby grins.

Abby likes making a mess out of you.

For some insane reason, Abby's excited for your rut. She didn't like spending ruts with Owen, but you're so gentle and patient, Abby is sure she'll be okay.

Your rut comes after a month after Abby's heat. Abby likes how possessive you get in pre-rut, even though you start growling at Ellie, which doesn't end well with Ellie's explosive temper. You get along well any other time, but the constant stare down irritates Ellie to the point when she tells Abby, “go fuck the crazy out of your alpha, she is so fucking annoying. Yeah, you.” Ellie stares at you while you tug Abby closer on your lap, scenting her. “Oh my god, get a fucking room. I know Abby is like, your Jesus or whatever, but it's too much.”

Abby just giggles and enjoys how your growling changes to purring. Abby turns to you and cradles your face. “My alpha.” She murmurs and Ellie groans.

“I fucking hate you guys.”

“Not our fault you fell in love with another alpha, Ellie.” You chuckle.

“Fuck off.” She growls and two if you laugh.

Abby stays at your place and you get to fall asleep with her in your arms.

On the next day you wake up with a heavy head. You're already hard and Abby is right there, soft and sleeping. You think about how her wet hot pussy feels around your cock and your pheromones spike up so high Abby wakes up.

She can tell right away that you're in rut. Your scent is suffocating. It's not soft, safe suffocating scent that Abby likes, it's the one that gets stuck in her nose and makes her cunt clench around nothing. She wants nothing more than to get on her fours and present herself for you - this is how much power you have over her.

“My rut-”

“Yes, I-”

“If you don't want to be here, I think I can hold off for 10 minutes and let you leave.” You growl and it only turns Abby on.

So she does what she wants - she gets on her knees, her cunt right in front of your face, and arches her back.

“Knot me, baby.”

All your restraints break. You're rough and you make Abby take everything: if she is not cumming on your cock, she is cumming on your fingers as you fuck your cum back into her, or she is sitting on your face. Abby struggles to keep up with you, since she is not in heat, but she can't wait to take your knot, and she tells you as much. You growl and fuck her harder, feeling your release building up. Abby is so pretty under you, covered in marks, her tits red from your mouth. She spreads her legs and you pin her thighs by her sides, watching your cock disappear in her pretty little pussy. You finally push your knot into Abby and she whimpers, tries to adjust to your size, but you rub her clit and she clamps on you.

“Mine. My omega. My girl.” You growl loudly while Abby clenches around your knot, thrashing on the bed. It's too much pleasure and she knows you're far from done.

And Abby is right. You make her cum on your knot four other times, and only after she makes you cum again - which means she cums st least three times more - you give her a break. You're still sweet, but now it's possessive sweetness. You don't let her do anything, bathing and feeding her, but she is so exhausted she doesn't even notice.

“I wanna nap.” Abby tells you when she is snuggled against your chest. It's a small break before you would get horny again.

“You should. You did so well.” Abby giggles and nuzzles your neck.

“Don't wait if you get horny again. It would be a nice way to wake up.”

“I fucking love you.”

“You better. You're my alpha. It's a requirement.”

“You call me your alpha again and you're not napping, babe. Go the fuck to sleep.” You kiss her forehead and Abby laughs.

Abby doesn't know if it's luck or destiny, but this time she is sure: you are the one for her.

(and she is right.)

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #omega!abby #written on a knee

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briardoll · 3 days

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All of Obey Me! As ice-cream flavors!

Lucifer is of course coffee ice cream, he literally NEEDS caffeine to function, he’s bitter at first, but becomes sweeter the more you’re around him

Mammon is mango, he’s so sweet like mangoes and also yummy like them (I may be biased)

Levi is chocolate chip, pretty basic but a very safe choice, he’s liked it forever and we all know how much he hates getting out of his comfort zone

Satan is a caramel ice cream fan, and he may or may not think it makes him superior to other people who like more basic options, because he chooses a flavor you don’t think about everyday (as if his own isn’t also kinda basic)

Asmo is vanilla! Which is such a contradiction to his personality, but it’s sweet and elegant, always a popular choice too!

Beel likes ALL ice cream but if he had to choose only one, it would be birthday cake flavor! It’s so yummy and has such appetizing colors!

Belphie’s favorite flavor is cookie dough, but he always chooses mint chocolate chip instead because it was Lilith’s favorite.

Diavolo like rocky road! It’s the castle favorite actually! But he enjoys pudding more personally.

Barbatos likes butter pecan, occasionally he will eat rocky road with Dia but he tends to stick to what he’s particular to.

Simeon is old, he doesn’t know slang, he can’t use the internet, and he likes pistachio ice cream, end of story.

Luke likes strawberry! It’s a sweet and soft treat and fits him perfectly.

Solomon only eats coconut. Because he’s weird. Yeah.

Thirteen likes cotton candy better than any other flavor (her pronouns are diabetes and her diet is cavities)

Raphael likes the ice cream that Solomon makes homemade (coconut but worse)

Miphisto likes chocolate and chocolate only.

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loving-barnes · 2 months

Text

LOGAN HOWLETT - BABYSITTING GONE WRONG

A/N: I have a long chapter for you. Chapter NINE is up. I have put a lot of things in here. I hope you will enjoy it. Please, be patient with chapter ten. I won't have much time to write it next week. I will try, but I'm not promising it will be finished in a few days.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: I have decided to not give any warnings. Please remember this story is 18+.

Summary: Charles asked Logan and Y/N to babysit the students while the rest of the staff was away for the weekend.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 6200+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Eight

LOGAN HOWLETT - BABYSITTING GONE WRONG

You killed her! It’s your fault! Murderer! You fucking sick freak! I hate you!

Y/N opened her eyes and caught her breath. It happened again. This week, it was the third nightmare she experienced. Her mother’s face kept appearing in the dream, screaming at her. The voice, even the eyes, haunted her, filled with wrath and hatred.

She turned to face the clock. It was 7:04 in the morning. Her forehead was sweaty, as well as the rest of her body. This nightmare was worse than before. It felt real. In her dream, Y/N’s mother held her forearm tightly. Even now, the touch on her body burnt. Y/N had to look at her left forearm just to be sure no one was holding her there. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

When will you stop haunting me?

The first week of her being a teacher was almost over. So far, it was fun. The classes went smoothly. The students accepted her as a teacher. It turned out the teaching kept her sane.

After a quick shower and changing clothes, she took her textbooks and headed downstairs to the kitchen. The hallways were empty. However, she could hear the kids from their dorms getting ready.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she was met with fresh coffee. Some pure soul made a pot of it. She grabbed a mug and poured some into it. This was an ideal way to start a new day. She took a seat on a barstool at the counter. Y/N went through the textbooks to prepare for her first lesson of the day.

“Well, aren’t ya an early bird,” Logan’s voice startled her.

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. She coughed a few times, then looked at the man. “If you want to choke me, just use your hand,” she frowned at him. It took her a minute to breathe normally.

Logan’s lips turned into a devilish smile. “Is that right, princess?” and he wiggled his eyebrows. “Good to know for the future. By the way, why are you up so early? Don’t you have a class at nine?” he changed the topic.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she looked down at the textbooks again.

Logan walked to the counter and leaned against it. He took a deep breath. He could smell the coconut shampoo radiating from her, even her natural scent. “I heard you, you know? I know you have nightmares, Y/N.”

“Don’t we all?” she sighed. “It’s nothing. It’ll go away.”

“You can talk to me, you know?” Logan reached his hand and put it under her chin to lift her head. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

“Thanks,” her eyes found his.

Logan heard the sound of the wheelchair. He let go of Y/N’s chin and leaned back. His eyes never left her face, not even when Charles wheeled in, already dressed in a suit. This time, it was grey with a black tie.

“Ah, just the two people I need,” he said, smiling. “I am going to need a favour from you two.” Y/N’s eyes moved to the Professor, and Logan faced him. “As you know, Jean and Scott are still away with Remy and Hank. Bobby asked for a weekend away with Kitty. Kurt is leaving for Germany. I will take Peter, Ororo and Rogue to Washington again.”

“More trouble?” Y/N asked.

Charles shook his head. “The situation has calmed down a bit. However, I need to find more information about Trask Industries. I believe they are creating a weapon that could potentially destroy us.”

“Shit,” Logan mumbled.

“That is why I need you to stay here,” said Charles.

“Ah, you want us to babysit, is that right?” Logan rolled his eyes. “What about Colossus?”

“He’ll be here with you, of course. I talked to him last night.”

“When are you leaving?” Y/N asked.

“This afternoon. We should be back on Sunday.”

Charles left them alone in the kitchen. Logan turned back to Y/N and raised one brow. “It seems you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I am one lucky gal,” she teased. “So, is this babysitting like it means? We will keep an eye on the kids. We make sure they are in bed at a reasonable hour?”

“Sounds about right,” Logan nodded. “Don’t plan on having a big party tonight.”

She tilted her head. “Why? You don’t like watching children have some fun? Or is it because my attention is on them, not you?” She stood up and cleaned the mug after she was done. Before she left, she brushed past him. “If you want my attention, just ask.”

Logan smirked, eyes resting on her back. Slowly, they fell down, checking out her ass per usual. Who would have thought that he would be crushing bad on this woman? He saved her a while back, and now, they had this unspoken thing between them. She was attractive and witty. Y/N brought something into his life. She made him feel something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fuck, he thought and fixed his pants. Suddenly, they felt tighter than before. It was eight in the morning. It was bad timing to have an erection. Logan swiftly left the kitchen and headed back to his room.

As the day went by, Y/N realised her mind had been preoccupied by a certain someone. The desire that she had was intense. She kept thinking about his eyes, lips, and those hands caressing her body. In a way, it was funny. She was falling for the man who saved her ass.

My knight in shining armour.

“Miss Y/L/N?” someone said her name. “Are you okay?” It was one of the students asking.

Y/N blinked a few times. Her mind got quickly lost in a world of daydreaming. “I’m sorry,” she cleared her throat. “I was just thinking about your next assignment,” she said. The collective sigh made her laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t give you any writing assignments now. However, I want you to read The Great Gatsby by the end of the next week.”

Some of the boys were annoyed. It was evident that reading was not their favourite activity. There were whispers around the classroom. Y/N frowned at them. “Please, silence. I don’t want to hear another word. You are only reading a book. If you keep complaining to your classmates, I will give you something to write about.” And then everyone silenced.

The classes with the oldest students were difficult. Their hormones were all over the place, their behaviour was atrocious, and the boys had a problem respecting everyone, even the teacher.

At the end of the school day, Y/N was walking through the hallway when a clothed arm wrapped around her shoulder. It brought her back to reality from her constant daydreaming. She glanced at the person, only to find Rogue grinning. “I’ve heard you and Logan will be babysitting the kids.”

“With Colossus,” Y/N added.

“That’s a minor detail,” she chuckled. “You have the perfect opportunity to make a move. You’ll have the night to yourselves.”

Y/N frowned. “What the hell are you talking about, Ro’?” Y/N knew damn well where she was going with it. And yet she pretended to be dumb.

“Come on,” Rogue bumped her hip against Y/N’s. “I see how you two behave to each other. Everyone sees that - the teasing, the bantering and shit. In my eyes, you’d be a perfect power couple. I think you should make a move.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Yes, Logan and Y/N had a playful banter going on. However, she didn’t think he felt anything more towards her. He saved her and gave her a second chance. He kept his promise. That was about it. A man like him would never want a girl like her. They knew each other only for two months.

“Shouldn’t you be packing for the weekend?” Y/N asked Rogue. She needed to change the topic. “You should take something sexy with you. You’ll be reunited with Remy. You’ll be the one spending a hot, sexy night with your man.”

The young woman sighed, defeated. “Why can’t you see that he likes you, too?” She had decided to omit that part about Remy.

“Rogue,” Y/N warned her. “I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, there is nothing to talk about. You should pack and get ready.”

“This isn’t over. We will discuss this once I’m back,” Rogue threatened with a finger.

Y/N walked up the stairs. She wanted to change her clothes into something more comfortable. The school day was over. There was no need to dress fancy. She thought about practising her forcefields. Y/N got better at creating two separate force fields at the same time. After they saved JJ, where she protected another person for the first time, she knew how to do it whenever she wanted.

Storm usually practised with her. They tried using lighting to get through the force fields. Luckily, they were resistant. It didn’t even drain Y/N’s energy. It was fascinating.

Y/N stretched her neck and scratched her nape. There was a foreign feeling lingering somewhere inside her mind. She couldn’t define what it was.

As she passed the second level, she was stopped by Logan again. He grabbed her by the wrist. “We meet again, princess.”

She made a funny yet annoyed face. “For a princess, you aren’t treating me like one,” she said. “How can I help you, kind sir?”

“Wanna have a beer with me tonight?” he asked.

“Aren’t we supposed to be babysitting the kids?” she raised a brow, smirking. “We can’t leave the school and head to the bar. Colossus will kill us.”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” he made a smug face. “Don’t worry, kid. I have my secret stash here. We can enjoy one after they are in their rooms, asleep.”

“Secret stash, you say?” That piqued her interest. “Very well. I’ll see you tonight.”

His eyes followed her as she continued up the stairs. “What are you up to now?”

She shrugged, thinking. “I don’t know. I might do some training, maybe read a book,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Logan.”

. . .

Y/N was on edge the whole evening. She didn’t know why. The feeling came gradually. At first, she thought she had forgotten to do something. Then, she observed the students, trying to figure out if they did something wrong. Y/N concluded that the feeling she had signified cautiousness. Otherwise, the time she had spent with the kids was fun.

They all gathered in a lounge room where they talked and laughed. Colossus joined them. He listened to their stories and amusing memories. Colossus even chimed in about his memories. The kids laughed, which only made him smile.

Logan kept his distance and observed from afar here and there. He didn’t join the talk, even when he noticed Y/N’s pleading look. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while listening to the shared stories.

Overall, it was a pleasant Friday evening with the students. By ten in the evening, they were all in their rooms. Y/N walked through the hallways, checking if everyone settled down for the night. Even Colossus headed to bed, saying how exhausted he was.

Once Y/N was sure everyone was in their room, she headed downstairs into the kitchen. Her neck was sore after the long day. She stretched her head to every side, trying to find relief. When Y/N entered the kitchen, Logan sat behind a counter with two beer bottles. He was wearing a red flannel shirt and a white tank top.

That fucker.

The man eyed her from head to toe, trying not to stare much. Did she want to kill him with that outfit? She wore denim shorts and a loose T-shirt. “Fucking finally,” said Logan after he cleared his throat. “Were you avoiding me, princess?” he kinked a brow.

“You think so low of me,” she said and sat on a barstool next to him. “Because you had decided to disappear and Colossus was tired, I had to ensure the students were in their rooms.” She grabbed a bottle. It was cold. Quickly, she pressed it against her neck and moaned a little.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a swig.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something feels off. Also, my neck hurts.” She drank straight from the bottle, enjoying the cold beverage.

Without thinking, Logan reached for her neck. His fingers pressed into her skin. When he realised what he had done, it was too late. Luckily, Y/N closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. If she were a cat, she’d purr. Her lips were slightly parted. She enjoyed the touch. Once he was done, he asked, “Better?”

“Damn, I’d hire you as a full-time personal masseuse,” she joked. When she looked at him, her eyes met his. A shiver ran down her spine. “Tell me, what do you do when you are asked to babysit the students?”

“Before you came, I’d have a drink and head to bed. When Bobby was a student, there were nights when we would talk here in the kitchen. The kids here know what they aren’t allowed to do. When we ask them to remain in rooms, they will listen,” he explained.

A tiny smile appeared on Y/N’s face. Her eyes moved to the beer bottle, where she scanned the label. “By the way, JJ loves lessons with you,” she changed the topic. “He loves history and says you are awesome.”

“He said that?” Logan seem surprised. “I like that kid.”

Y/N pressed two fingers between the bridge of her nose, frowning. A long sigh escaped her lips. “Shit, I can’t figure out what’s wrong today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah,” she leaned against her arms, eyes closed. “Do you have that feeling, somewhere deep inside, when you know that something’s not right?” When Logan confirmed, she continued. “I have had this feeling since this afternoon. My gut is calling to me, screaming something is off.”

“Is it the students? Have they said anything?” he asked. Logan wanted to help her figure it out.

She turned her head to look at him again. For a second, her eyes slipped to his lips. “I have crossed out every box in my head,” Y/N’s eyes were back on his. “The students are well. Jerome is happy,” she started to list it all out loud. “I have done everything that was required of me. I don’t know.”

“I think you are exhausted after this week. You’ve become a teacher. It might have taken a toll on you.” Logan’s voice was softer than usual. “Maybe it is rest that you need.”

“Maybe,” she said. Once she finished the drink, she stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. “I feel some exhaustion,” Y/N admitted. “I’m not convinced that’s it.” She reached for a glass and filled it with cold water. She faced the man and leaned against the counter when she drank the water. “I feel like something terrible is about to happen,” Y/N admitted.

Logan was immediately on his feet. He walked to Y/N, scanning her face. “What if you are overly anxious?” he asked carefully. “I believe you need to go to bed and rest. You had an intense week.”

“What if,” she said suddenly, “something’s heading towards us?”

His ears perked up at her comment. With a snap of fingers, Logan’s face hardened. “You think something dangerous could be coming our way?” He came closer to the woman, feeling her body heat radiating.

“Think about it,” Y/N’s eyes locked with his. “Charles took everyone to Washington. At this time, they are all already there. It would take them longer to get back here. It’s just the two of us and Colossus. What if…” she stopped talking.

A chill ran down Logan’s spine. The thought of them becoming targets again made him tense. In the past, he experienced attacks on school. It wouldn’t be anything new. And yet, it was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t want to think negatively and draw something to us. Or I’m just being paranoid.”

Logan smiled at her reassuringly. He put a hand on her left shoulder. “We’ll be alright. The school has a security system. Once it is triggered, the students know what to do and where to hide. If some sort of attack does occur, we will fight. Until then, let’s try not to worry about these hypothetical scenarios.”

“You are right,” she sighed for the hundredth time. “My mind is running thousands of miles an hour. Nothing’s going to happen. Let’s just enjoy this evening.”

A smile appeared on her face. Y/N wanted to say something more, but her mind went blank when she felt Logan’s hand move from her shoulder to her cheek, stroking it gently. His body was closer than usual. For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe. There was a shift in the air. His gentle touch made her heat rise in her body. She was taken aback by it at all.

Logan’s touch was tender. His thumb kept stroking her skin lightly. The desire was rising on both sides. Neither of them tried to push away. There was something unspoken between them. It was there for some time. Maybe it was the right time to lean into it and explore.

Y/N thought that he would never feel the same way she did. In her mind, Logan saw her as someone he saved some time ago. But this showed her that he felt the same way. Her breath got caught in her throat. The air vibrated with an intensity of desire. The unspoken words between them became heavier.

Logan took a step forward. His body pressed lightly against her. His other hand found her waist, where he placed it lightly. It felt right. For some time, this was what he wanted, and now, he was only one move away from getting it.

“Logan,” she whispered, eyes never leaving his face. They moved from his eyes to his lips and back.

“Y/N,” he whispered back. Her name sounded so beautiful coming from his lips.

They were a breath away from each other. Neither of them were able to close the gap. It took them a few heartbeats before they both leaned it. This was the sign that they both wanted the same thing.

They met in the middle, lips pressing in their first kiss. There was no time to test the water. The first kiss was heated - all tongue and teeth. The passion ignited with a fiery intensity. Logan’s body fully pressed against Y/N’s. She could feel his semi-hard erection pressed against her lower belly.

Logan’s hands explored her body. One hand held her by the neck while the other travelled down to her ass that he squeezed. It made her groan into his mouth, which gave him better access to his tongue to explore her mouth. Y/N’s hands were pressed against his hard chest, gripping the white tank top.

Suddenly, he grabbed he by the waist and lifted her on the kitchen counter. Logan stepped between her legs, and she instantly wrapped them around his waist. The kiss never ended. They wanted more. Y/N’s hand gripped his hair and pulled on it, making him moan. Her other hands explored his chest and firm abs over that damn piece of clothing.

They lost themselves in a world of desire. Logan’s mouth left her lips only to explore her neck and collarbones. He couldn’t get enough of her. His right hand slipped under her t-shirt. The feeling of her soft skin was incredible. His fingers caressed the flesh under her breast.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunted when he caught a breath for a second. His lips were then back on her in another heated make-out session.

Y/N grabbed his unbuttoned flannel shirt and took it off him. It fell on the floor under his feet. Her mind was filled with his musky scent. She could smell the beer and a faint hint of cigars. However, it only made her want him more.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he asked with a laugh when he managed to pull away to look at her face. Her lips were a bit swollen from all the kissing.

“You are the one talking,” she said back. “If we want to continue this, I don’t think it’s wise to do it in the kitchen,” she raised a brow. “We don’t need a traumatised kid on our necks.”

Logan laughed at that. And then, his lips were on her again. This time, the kisses got softer. He took his time with each one he pressed against her lips. Their eyes closed. These kisses were different. They were filled with something new. It wasn’t hunger or desire. It was more intimate. As if they tried to tell they cared for each other.

Y/N’s fingers reached for his big belt. She started to fiddle with it when he stopped her. She raised a brow. Did she cross a line?

The kissing stopped. Logan turned his head to the side and listened. His ears could register sounds that a regular person wouldn’t hear, not even Y/N. His hand gripped her exposed thigh, and he looked into her gorgeous eyes. “Fuck. Helicopters,” he said.

“What?” she raised her voice, concerned. She turned her head to the window, trying to hear for herself. They were far away.

Logan pushed away from her and walked to the other side of the kitchen. Y/N’s gut warned them. “They knew we’d be here alone this night,” he mumbled under his nose. “It’s a trap!” He pressed a button that was hidden in a strategic place. It was a silent trigger. “Charles built a trigger system in every dorm. This will ensure everyone wakes up and heads to the tunnels.”

Y/N hopped off the counter. She wanted to ask about it, but there was no time. Logan reached for her hand, which she grabbed, and they left the kitchen running. “Oh no. My gut was right about this,” she groaned. “I called this upon us.”

When they arrived in the main hallway, they heard the students from the upper levels running around the hallways. Colossus’s deep voice was heard, too. He was giving the instructions to the students.

“There are strategic tunnels that will lead them out of the school and into a secure location,” Logan explained.

Y/N’s heart was beating fast. Finally, she registered the sounds of helicopters nearing the school. She squeezed his hand tightly one more time before letting it go. “So we fight,” she sighed.

“We fight,” he nodded. “There’s no time to run.”

They heard the sound of shattering glass. Someone breached in through the windows. Several footsteps were heard around the building. Soldiers. Logan and Y/N shared a look before they separated.

Logan’s claws were out, ready to kill anyone who dared to approach him. He could heal, and Y/N could protect herself with forcefields. However, he hated they separated. The evening started promising, and it was ruined by some fuckers who had the desire to attack the school.

Y/N ran outside the main entrance before soldiers could tear down the door. She formed a forcefield around herself to protect her body. She felt how her energy shifted. The shield she had created felt different. When she collided with the first body, the soldier screamed in agonising pain, and he flew away. All the bullets fired at her were absorbed into it.

When she looked out, she realised at least six military helicopters had flown to the school, filled with soldiers. What the fuck was happening? While she kept herself hidden inside the force field, she created a ball that she threw at a group of soldiers, hurting them.

Y/N’s eyes noticed the symbol on the helicopters. Trask. Holy mother of god! They wanted mutants, and this was the perfect place to get them. More gunshots were heard from the inside of the school, with Logan’s roaring. She could only imagine the bloodbath happening inside. It was amusing how the evening went from passionate kissing to fighting for their lives.

More soldiers tried to take her down. Y/N was faster, and the shield got powerful with more determination to finish this. As if it wasn’t enough, it started to rain heavily. No wonder it was a week before Halloween, and autumn was in full mode.

She didn’t mind the water or the cold air. Her adrenaline kept her warm. More soldiers surrounded her, aiming their guns at her. Y/N kept herself protected with her power, not giving them a window to shoot. It sucked. There were only two of them and dozens of soldiers.

For a moment, Y/N thought that they would be able to defeat them. But the moment Logan’s painful roaring came from her side, her heart dropped to the ground. At least seven soldiers had him restrained with a collar around his neck. They even put him on a leash so he wouldn’t escape. That damn collar. It took away his power.

“No,” she gasped.

“Halt!” someone shouted. All soldiers ceased fire, yet the guns remained ready to shoot.

The men who captured Logn had brought him down on his knees. The rain soaked through his clothes and hair, and there was a bloody wound on his right shoulder. It wasn’t healing.

A laugh got her attention. It sounded so familiar that it brought goosebumps to Y/N’s skin. Her eyes widened in shock. The woman turned her head to the voice. She forgot how to breathe.

“Look who’s crossed my path again,” said the female voice.

This voice haunted Y/N in her nightmares. She dryly gulped, eyes never leaving the person who approached the front line. “Mother.”

Logan gasped when he heard Y/N say that. “What the fuck?” he gasped for air. The woman in charge was Y/N’s own mother? What a sick, twisted joke!

The leader of this group was an older woman in her late fifties. She had grey hair pinned in a low bun. She was dressed in a military outfit with a raincoat over it. It protected her uniform from the rain. Why the fuck was she dressed like a soldier? What the fuck was going on?

Y/N’s head was screaming questions. She was shocked. She forgot to keep herself behind the protective veil. It suddenly disappeared, making her vulnerable. It was painful to see her mother standing with the company that wanted to get rid of mutants. Y/N killed her little sister, the youngest daughter. Of course, her mother would desire to see all mutants burn in hell.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Y/N spat.

The woman grinned. “I came here to collect you and bring you back to where you belong - the lab.” Her voice was strict. When Y/N made a confused and disgusted face, her mother continued. “Don’t act surprised. I know everything about you. I know what happened to you when you escaped the lab in Salem.”

“What?” Y/N lowered her voice, confused. How was it possible?

The woman’s eyes moved to Logan. She laughed like a devil. “And we got the animal as well.”

Y/N’s fists clenched. “He’s not an animal,” she growled. “How the fuck do you know everything?”

“You think I’d let the murderer that killed my baby get away from me? Oh, honey, don’t be naive,” she said darkly. “I had my eyes on you since I joined Trask Industries and discovered that you became a lab rat.”

Logan was fuming. He tried to pull on the restraints to get away and run to Y/N. Hell, he would kill for her. That only got him a punishment. They pressed a stick to his side, sending shockwaves to his body. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Without his healing ability, he was vulnerable.

“If you are wondering how I know you’d be here, it’s simple,” Y/N’s mother sang. “I knew you’d get the boy. The scientists in the lab informed me that you got attached to him. Disgusting, considering you like killing children. With that knowledge, we knew you’d try to save him. I must admit, for a moment, we lost faith that you’d show up. We were about to get the boy back to our main facility when you decided to rescue him with that thing,” she pointed at Logan.

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “No, it doesn’t make sense. How…?”

“We have eyes everywhere,” the woman said. “I’d do everything to get the child murderer back where she belongs. In a cage, slowly torturing her to death. That is what you deserve.”

“It was an accident,” Y/N’s voice broke. Her insides were shaking. “I’d never hurt her on purpose. She was my sister.”

The older woman scoffed. “Do not speak of her! Don’t you dare talk about my baby girl! Murder is not an accident. I thought that after all these years, you’d be dead - that the experiments would kill you. And here you are, alive at this damn school for mutants. It’s disgusting.”

Y/N’s nerves were on the verge of exploding. The force fields glitched around her a few times. “You are the disgusting one. You come here to threaten us. Tell me why you are here. What do you want?” Her whole body was shivering. It was the mixture of cold and emotions bubbling inside. The rain didn’t stop. It got heavier.

“I came here for you, to take you where you belong. I want the little mutants for our experiments to create a weapon that would annihilate you.” The woman’s head snapped to a few soldiers that came out of the building. She frowned at them. They came out empty-handed. “Where are the mutants?” she hissed.

One soldier saluted. “They are all gone. The school’s empty,” he announced.

“Shit,” she cursed. “What do you mean gone?”

“They must have escaped.”

Y/N exhaled, glad that the children were with Colossus somewhere safe. Now, she needed to ensure Logan would get out of the collar.

Y/N’s mother rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by the outcome. She had to think about something else. That’s why Y/N had made a decision in her head for her. “Take me and leave him,” she pointed at Logan. “You want me. You can have me.”

“No!” Logan protested on the wet, muddy ground. Another stick got pressed to his body, and he got zapped again.

“Oh, honey, that’s not how this works,” she tsked. “You’ll both come with me. I don’t care if you are alive or not. Your body is coming with me back to the lab.”

There was a radiating energy flowing through Y/N’s body. It was new, unfamiliar. But it felt good. Her left hand flew up where Logan was held. She put a protective veil around him. It then expanded, making all soldiers fly away from his wounded body. They screamed in excruciating pain. Afterwards, the force field never disappeared.

There was a sound of a gunshot, followed by a stinging pain in her right shoulder. She gasped, cursing loudly. Y/N forgot to protect herself. Her eyes fell down to the wound, seeing a lot of blood. That’s when she noticed a blue and silver hue around the gash. It helped to close the bleeding. That never happened before. Did her mutation evolve?

Three deep breaths. Three exhales. Y/N’s left hand fell, yet the force field remained around Logan. She kept it on with her mind. Her eyes drifted to her mother. She raised both hands up as a sign of giving up.

“Drop the shield,” her mother called.

“No,” she spat back. “You can have me, not Logan. He’ll stay protected until my last breath.”

“Cuff her!” her mother gave a barking order.

That’s what Y/N was waiting for. Her ears tried to focus on the other sounds. It was difficult with the pouring rain. The clinging sound of handcuffs and that damn collar was closer to her ear. If they wanted a fight, she would give them one. She used everything she had learnt and decided to use those skills to defend herself.

The second a man got closer, she punched him straight in the nose with her elbow. She turned around, bringing his head down to hit his face with her knee. Once more shooting started, she created a force field to protect her. Again, all she needed was to use her mind.

Y/N reached for a shotgun the soldier had. Instead of shooting another man, she smashed him with the gun, using all her power, into his head. He spun in the air and landed face-first in the muddy grass. While being preoccupied with several more soldiers, Logan’s body was still protected.

He watched her from afar, breathing heavily. He never saw her kick ass like this. Was it inappropriate of him to think it was hot? As much as he wanted to help, all he could do was watch. He lost his ability to take out his claws and to heal. There was nothing he could do now. His eyes glanced at the beautiful force field surrounding his body. This happened to him for the first time. It was mesmerising.

“Blow this place up!” The woman in charge shouted at her men. It seemed she gave up on taking Y/N or Logan with them. She turned on her heel while more soldiers tried to take down Y/N.

During Y/N’s inattention, when she was focused more on snapping a man’s neck, the shield glitched, and she got shot again. “Fuck!” she screamed. This time, the wound got through her abdomen. It stung for a few seconds until the pain faded away. There was crimson red blood on her T-shirt.

“Y/N!” Logan screamed her name when he saw the bullet get her. His stopped beating for a moment.

“Retreat! Retreat!” the soldiers shouted.

Logan watched as they went back into the helicopters. Some men were lying around, dead. Y/N just got the last soldier who was on her neck. She broke his arms, grabbed his gun and shot him in the head. “Shit,” Logan gasped when he saw that. He never would have expected to see her kill someone like that. Logan managed to sit up and slowly got rid of the handcuffs. He wanted to take down the collar. He fiddled with it, pulling on it. Nothing happened.

Y/N tried to catch her breath after the fight was done. She turned around to see the helicopters up in the air. “You fucking bitch!” she shouted angrily at her mother. “One day, I will get you and kill you with my bare hands!” The nerves got the best of her. Afterwards, she fell on her knees, tired. The veil around Logan disappeared.

Her whole body was wet. The rain never stopped. She blinked a few times, trying to regain control of her body. When she raised her eyes up, she found one helicopter in the air, facing the school. Her stomach dropped. Blow this place up.

Two missiles were shot directly at the school. Y/N’s mother gave the order to destroy a place that Y/N started to call home. It was a sanctuary, a second chance for young mutants. Only a monster would want to take that away from them. Then and there, she knew what she had to do.

With all the energy inside of her, she raised her arms in the air and created the largest force field ever. It spread around her, Logan and stretched up in the air, surrounding the entire complex. It looked like northern lights if they were silver and blue. When the missiles hit the shield, they blew up with such intensity Y/N started to scream from the top of her lungs. She could feel it all. The explosion was massive. The ground underneath her feet shook.

Blood started to drip out of her nose. It covered her T-shirt and dripped on the grass. She held the shield up until the fire from the explosion eased. Y/N’s started to spin. There was some last energy streaming through her veins. She pushed the force field forward. It hit the closest helicopters, and they got destroyed in the air. More explosions followed.

It was over. The protective veil disappeared. The school was saved, soldiers were killed, but her mother got away.

Y/N’s body fell on the wet grass like a rag doll. The blood never stopped coming out of her nose. She drained all her energy. The last thing she saw was the dark sky above her head.

“Y/N!” Logan shouted. “Y/N!” His legs brought her to her unconscious body. He got on his knees and brought her into his arms. He stroked her face with his fingers, observing the blood-covered lips, chin and T-shirt.

Did he lose her? Was she dead? When he pressed two fingers on her neck where there was a pulse point, he couldn’t feel any. Logan started to panic. “No, no, no,” he repeated, eyes filling his tears. “Come on, princess. Don’t die on me,” he growled. “We have some unfinished business.” And then he felt it. There was a pulse. Her heart was still beating.

The rain calmed down. The air got colder. Logan remained with Y/N on the grass. His eyes found the bloody spots - one was on her shoulder, the other on the abdomen. His fingers caressed the place on the shoulder. He was shocked to see no wound. How was it possible? There was blood around it.

His eyes noticed a weird movement on her body. He saw her veins radiating as her force field would. No, it was not the veins. It was her skin, glowing. A silver and blueish hue was sparkling around her body. “What the fuck?” he whispered.

He remembered when he saw her irises change colour. The natural colour was gone. It changed to a silvery one. The same was happening on her skin.

Logan got Y/N into his arms, holding her bridal style. He walked with her into the school, where he could provide her warmth. Also, he would call the rest of the X-men for help. He had to believe Charles already knew what had happened.

Her gut was warning her. It screamed something was off. And it was right. What Logan didn’t expect to meet Y/N’s fucked up mother, who worked for Trask Industries. They couldn’t predict an attack on the school.

Logan put Y/N’s body on the nearest sofa in the lounge room and sat on the floor. The bleeding wound on his body was painful. He wanted to clean it and patch himself. However, he couldn’t leave her side. Stupid collar. With it on his neck, he wasn’t able to heal.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett x female mutant reader #Logan Howlett #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Marvel fanfiction #X-men fanfiction

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feyhunter78 · 3 months

Note

Hiiii. I just read the new chapter of lab partners and it was 10/10 as always 🥰 Also I got another idea! What a about a pool party?👀 Now that Miggy is more popular he is invited to a pool party and he sees Y/N on a cute swimsuit and he goes crazy, but tries to keep it together to not look like a creep in front of her 😂 Especially when things are more tense after they almost kissed 👀👀👀👀

Thank you love!!!! I definitely wanted to lean into the tension left over from their almost kiss👀 I'm also using this one to set up the post I'll put out on V-Day!!!!

Pool Party

Artist cred: Supayell on Instagram!

He hates his brother, not really, but he does want to kill him. It was Gabriel’s idea to invite everyone over, to rent one of their apartment’s pools and throw a party. So now here Miguel is, forced to watch as you gallivant around in a dark blue bikini, with adorable little white hearts all over it, while he’s trying to keep himself from revealing his difficult situation.

Gabriel pushes the cabana’s curtains back even further than they were before and flops into the pool chair next to him, handing him some mixed drink in a red solo cup. “Enjoying the view?” Gabriel asks, lowering his sunglasses and letting out a wolf whistle in you and Mina’s direction. “Lookin’ good baby.”

Mina rolls her eyes but smiles and blows him a kiss, before linking arms with you and dragging you off towards a few of your other friends.

You’re so happy, smiling and giggling, drink in hand, swaying your head slightly in time with the music. He knows you, knows you love to dance, but there’s too many people here that you don’t know, so you stick with Mina, and stay away from the cleared out space in front of the speakers.

“It’s a nice party.” Miguel says, sipping on his drink. The taste of coconut rum coats his tongue, the pineapple juice mixed in, dulling the sting of the alcohol. He can barely feel it, a sense of dread making his mouth go numb when he sees you making your way over, a bottle of sunscreen in your hand and a drink in the other.

You smile at him, then give him a confused look when Gabriel squeezes his shoulder and bounds off towards a now unoccupied Mina.

“He’s probably going to try to convince her to go back to the apartment with him.” Miguel jokes, swallowing hard as he realizes just how pretty you look.

Your hair shines in the sun, your skin practically glowing, and your breasts—fuck he’s got to keep it together, he needs to look literally anywhere else—his eyes land on your lips, curled up in a smile, your lips glossy with chapstick, soft and supple looking. Not better, not better at all, because now he’s thinking about kissing you.

He shifts in his seat, praying no one notices the awkward way he’s sitting. Thankfully, the side curtains of the cabana are still down, so he just has to worry about anyone walking in…and you.

“He can try, but I know Mina’s been waiting all week for this party, there’s no way she’ll leave.” You laugh, shaking the sunscreen that’s in your hand, before downing your drink and setting it on the ground next to you.

“Yeah…are you enjoying the party?” Miguel asks, taking a big swig of his drink. Liquid courage, right?

“I mean, the drinks are good, music’s good, snacks are great, and I got to wear my new swimsuit, so yeah, I’d say I’m enjoying myself.” You gesture to your bathing suit as if it isn’t the very thing Miguel is trying not to look at.

“I like the color.” He says, taking another swig of his drink.

You beam up at him and toy with the strings holding the bottoms together. “Thank you, I was a little worried it would be too dark, but I actually really like it.”

His inebriated mind plies him with an image of you undoing those strings and letting him feast, suffocating him with your soft thighs, biting down on your fist to keep the others from hearing your moans.

He nearly groans aloud at the thought, hiding his face in his drink.

“Can I try that?” You ask, shifting to tuck your legs under you, your full attention on him.

“W-What?” He stutters, trying to banish the lewd image from his mind and focus on your words.

“Your drink, you’ve basically been chugging it, it’s gotta be good.” You elaborate, giving him a playful smile.

“Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He hands you the drink, and you bring it to your mouth then frown.

“It’s empty.” You pout at him, leaning forward to set it on the small wooden table beside him, the stretch of your body, your bare skin brushing against his, makes his head swim.

“Sorry?” He manages to get out, his hand shooting to grip the side of the pool chair for stability.

“No worries, I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He bets you can. Bets he’d fit perfectly, lying below you as you ease yourself down onto his coc—

Suddenly, you turn your back to him and pull your hair up off your neck. “Do you mind putting sunscreen on my back? I want to get back in the sun, but I don’t want to burn.”

He’s going to die, right here, right now.

“Yeah, sure I—I can do that.” He takes the sunscreen from you, apologizing when you hiss from the change in temperature.

You both sit quietly as he rubs the sunscreen in, making sure there’s no white cast, his large hands smoothing over your back, and shoulders, taking care to get every inch while trying to remain as respectful as possible.

“I have to—do you mind—?” He lifts the thick strips of fabric that keep your bathing suit together ever so slightly, waiting for you to nod, or pull away.

“No, no, you’re good, I’ll just…” You hold your top to your body with one hand just in case as Miguel rubs the lotion in, much quicker than before.

“Okay, I think you’re all good.” He says, snapping the cap back on the bottle.

You don’t turn around, staring at the canvas of the cabana. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

He nods, before realizing you obviously can’t see him. “Yeah, of course, anything.”

You turn now, but you won’t meet his eyes, too focused on fidgeting with your nails. They’re different shades of pink, a pleasant gradient ending in white on your thumbs. “My sorority’s semiformal, Valentine’s Day dance thing is coming up, would you maybe want to go with me?”

He’s stunned, frozen, astounded, flabbergasted, astonished, a dozen other words to say he’s shocked. Shocked that you’re asking him. That you want him to come with you to this event, honestly, he’s still shocked you want to be seen in public with him.

Do you feel the same way he does? He’s been hoping, praying, your almost kiss lingering, haunting him, plaguing his dreams, his every waking moment.

He says yes at the same time you say, “as friends,” and his world shatters.

“I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything, no pressure, just two friends have a good time at a Valentine’s themed dance.” You give him a smile, but he knows you, knows it’s fake, and he feels a twinge of hope in his chest once more.

“It’s not weird.” He reassures you, wishing he had another drink to drown his maybe sorrows maybe half-baked hope in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Okay yay! I’ll figure out our outfits and all the details, and I’ll get them to you.”

You bound off in the direction of your friends, leaving Miguel’s skin tingling, his heart hurting, and his stomach twisted into knots.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #the picture very much does not fit the vibe of this fic but I couldn't find anything else okayyyy #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #nerd!miguel o'hara #college!miguel #college!reader #college au #sorority!reader #mail time

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luxurychristmaspudding · 2 months

Text

Clot | Joel Miller

summary: joel has lost something. but once he pieces himself back together, he'll remember what it is.

pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader

ratings/warnings: mature. canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. mentions of a dead child (sarah), lots of grief, canon suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts. canon divergent. abby wants a cure and she’ll break up families to get it. joel losing a limb and hating himself for it. wanky formatting as a treat. reader has hair but is otherwise not described. no use of y/n.

wc: 3k

an: i can't edit this anymore, it's making me ugly cry.

Everything is hot, heavy, and delirious,

and Joel has lost something.

A tight band is wound around his head, and it’s making him ache. It’s making his skin pull taught with blisters, wind and throb with thick blood. For so long, it’s all he can feel. Everything else is too dense.

His head revolves like a planet on strings, like it rolls on some unstoppable, destructive axis between galaxies. He doesn’t know if he shifts and pitches it, or if someone else does, or whether it really moves at all. The whole inside of his skull spins, and between deep, deep black and boiling red, he can feel the acid of that spin climb up his throat and dribble out his mouth. It burns and tastes foul, but he can do nothing to stop it. He can do nothing but spin and float somewhere both within and outside his body, and feel - more than know - that something is missing.

There is something viscid around him, like he’s been wrapped and bound, like everything’s too tight and too thick. He can’t hear properly, which isn’t something new - but it’s deeper, soupy. It panics him, tightens the skin around his chest.

He’s sure he’s drowning.

He’s sure he’s drowning, but he doesn’t know how or why. All he knows is that it’s taking him too long to get back to his body, to surface, too long to remember something.

But he is so, so tired. And leaden, everything burning or burned - scarring and flaking and broken and agonising.

When he is something only close to conscious, something a hair away from lucid, he can feel himself twist in clinging sheets, can feel his fingers clutch at a mattress. He can feel broken bones unset themselves in blind fury and fear, can feel bloodlust and scorching wildfires of pain. He can sense loss which grows bone deep, a cavern he cannot turn his face from. High-pitched, too-fast breaths, a wisp of coconut against his chin. Something he hasn’t smelled in so long, something his arms ache to reach out to touch, to snatch, to hold. It’s a desperate feeling. It clings to his chest and cloys his breaths and drips through his ribs, sticky and tar-like, oozes down his body until it fixes him where he lays. He tries to move, he really does. But he can’t match the thoughts with his muscles, can’t see his body, can’t feel his brain. He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up he needs to wake up he needs to wake up

he needs to wake up, because he’s failing again. He’s losing again, something is slipping away again. High-pitched, quick, gasping breaths, the clutch of brown curls in his fist, coconut, the wet flash of her eyelashes against his neck, her fear, oh god, her fear, how scared they were, how scared she was, so scared he thought he’d be sick, the clutch of her hands as she pushed against him, as she tried and begged not to move, the blood so much blood the terror in her eyes i know i know i know

tommy help me

come on babygirl, nothing nothing nothing he could do nothing but feel wet, warm blood rapidly cooling in the night air help me don’t do this baby come on please -

Come on, Tommy is saying, come on, we’ve gotta go.

But he can’t. His brother is there, his daughter is here. His body is welded to where he holds his girl in his arms, but his body is nowhere at all. His body is a gaping emptiness of a thing, and he thinks that alone in this vacuum, this grief, this misery, he might consume the whole universe and everything in it.

And he would not be sorry, to destroy the thing that took his baby away. He would not be sorry to destroy the coward who flinched from his own bullet.

He has lost something.

Things are dark for a long time.

There are sounds that reach and pull to him, droplets of rain which patter quietly along roofs and find their way through gaps to drip and run towards him. If he were a body in the dirt, he would grow things. This would be new life.

But he is not. Instead he absorbs and swallows and pays no attention except to the destruction of what is leaking into him. He gnashes at the darkness he is locked within, wrestles with the lumps of his heart.

When the tenor and tone of their voices becomes tangible, he can taste it.

He can taste the cigarettes he used to share with Tommy while their mama wasn’t looking, he can taste canned ravioli from out on the road to… somewhere. He cannot remember. He lets Ellie and Tommy soothe and lull him in and out of consciousness, lets the swell and tangle of their voices sew shut the gaping wound he has become. Something pulls, something tugs, something that is still missing. Joel searches for it in their muffled conversation, but he can’t summon it. Can’t get them to say it aloud until there is a familiar sound, a name, rough palm pressed to his aching head, a squeeze of a smaller hand to his, and Tommy is saying again come on, we’ve gotta go.

For the first time since the floating darkness began, Ellie’s voice stops. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t sing. There’s no rhythmic sound of her sleepy breathing, no hollow tone of a guitar. The comfort and company he has heard in Tommy’s voice for days stops, too. He drifts in and out on the swell of a tide, grasping for purchase at a starless shore, and then Maria comes to his ear, quietly furious, outwardly heartbroken. He can’t understand what she’s saying, but he understands the intonation.

Tommy has always loved so hard, been so loyal. Whatever the reason he’s disappeared, it must be good. And Ellie must have gone with him.

The knowledge brings him no peace, and his shapeless, fervid nightmares become worse.

Echoes of what Maria had said swirl around his brain like leaves circling a drain, illuminating with each dull thud of his tired heart. They’ve gone… they’ve gone… they’ve gone to…

He tries to grapple with it, he does - so hard. Gone to find - He feels like he should apologise. To Maria, for having some part in whatever idiot ploy Tommy has dragged himself and Ellie away into. To others. Faceless, nameless people who he waits to reveal themselves. To Sarah. Sarah.

�� He has.

Every night he has apologised to his little girl for failing to keep her safe, for failing to die instead of her, with her. He has been on his knees beside his bed on so many nights, sobbing into his hands with his full body, the grief making his chest so unbearably tight, his throat raw, and even if he screamed for the rest of his life it would not be enough. It would not be enough. He has apologised to Ellie, so softened and so drowned in sadness that she had to forgive him. Pathetic, broken. But there’s someone else, someone else. A dark figure slouched in the corner, the dark smell of blood. Dark, dark, dark.

A small girl in a hospital gown, a gunshot echoing in an underground parking lot. The smell of her hair, pine needles lingering even after a wash. The heat and pressure of her against his chest. No blood cooling in night air, but holding her just as tightly. The ache, the ache, the grief years in advance of what he’d have to confess, what he’d have to admit to her. They were gonna kill you. I cannot fail again. A tiny person curled up in a stream of light and grass, the twitch of something long broken in his heart. He knew, he knew even then I'm taking a ride with my best friend I hope he never lets me down again it’s okay babygirl it’s okay it's me i’m sorry i understand it's me i love you. The crack and bright of her grin through an astronaut's helmet, the scramble of limbs through a window. She’s not my kid, not my kid, my kid, my kid, my kid is dead, yeah she’s mine. My girl. Mighty and fierce and blood of my blood flesh of my flesh as close as she can be to -

The twitch of a limb which is no longer there. The phantom ache and strike of pain which should not be able to breach air.

Without opening his eyes, he can tell. He does not know how long he has been out for, what drugs they gave him, but now, through this crack of bright in his skull he is beginning to understand. Sarah letting him go, Ellie bringing him back - come on, old man, you gotta work it out soon - it’s gone. His leg is gone. The dark, slouched figure in the corner. Smell of blood -

Where are you?

His breathing is so quick, so agitated, so panicked and wheezed, his body spasming so tightly that he hears Maria call for the doctor, for something beyond the grasp of his comprehension. He has lost something. He is useless - he will be nothing, he will rot. The people of Jackson will place him outside the wall because they would rather watch him crawl in circles in the dirt than let him back in, useless old man. If he has only one leg, he cannot keep people safe. He cannot patrol, he cannot ride, he cannot walk. He cannot stand to have anyone look at him like he is half a man, have Ellie look at him like she does not know who he is, have you, have you -

have you have you have where are you where are you where are you he wants to grab Maria’s hand where from its place on his mattress to ask her where are you but the doctor where is pressing something sharp into his where are shaking arm you. Hold him still, he says and Joel is powerless against the hands that find him. Useless old man who can no longer fight, no longer protect, and he is so disgusted with himself, so betrayed and overwhelmed by his body that he understands why you haven't been around because you must feel the same.

Disgusting, useless old man. Puckered with scars, beat up and burnt out and mutilated, and you have left you have gone and it clefts his heart in two, wet as the blood between your teeth as you chomp his chambers and arteries somewhere in Jackson, or worse, elsewhere entirely.

Somewhere else, somewhere else where he might never see you again. Something crawls down tendrils to scratch at his brain but he can’t pick at it enough before the burning and the pain and the panic fades again, the doctor’s needle working its magic.

Soft, easy breathing, your face turned to his, your hair tickling the crook of his arm. I love you. Every morning, your eyes so far away at first flutter and then sharp into his, barreling like no one ever had before i love you. A force he could never try to stop, a choice he never could make i love you the inevitability of the promise you made each other i love you, the soft of your hands on his cracked knuckles, the way his nose fits to your neck to breathe you in i love you.

I love you, be safe.

And through thick, rolling waves of fog, Joel begins to piece it together. He cannot remember what happened, where it came from. Who did it. But you were there. He remembers through dreams he cannot wake from, how you screamed and cried and begged and pleaded from the floor, your cheek pressed into the wood, blood leaking from your hairline. The rivulets of it running across your temple, your cheek, into your eye so it stained the white pink. Your eyes, so wide with terror. How bright, how red, how deep the blood had been. How pretty. The pool and glisten of it as it spread from him, your fingers scrabbling and slipping through it as you tried to reach for his hand.

He remembers how hoarse you had been as you told them your name.

No. Not your name.

Ellie, you’d said. Ellie. I’m who you’re looking for. The thrust of your forearm as you showed them the scarred and gnarled bite mark from the savages who had held you captive for the first years of the apocalypse. The chunk one of them had torn from you in a fit of fury. In low light, it looks little different to Ellie’s, and Joel thinks they must have no idea what the girl he took from the hospital looked like.

Because they took you instead.

They took you instead.

The shock of it is enough to reel Joel awake. Maria is sat at his bedside, keeping vigil over the man who looks so much like her runaway husband. She is the only one who sees him break this time, who witnesses the gaping, festering wound ripped open, the rot of the universe, the decay of his grief. The way he howls and gasps and cries and begs and pleads where is she i don’t know where are they i don’t know when are they coming back i don’t know i’m sorry joel i’m sorry i’m so sorry if i had known if we had known maria i’m sorry

He does not know how long they hold each other for. He does not know when Maria climbed onto the edge of his bed, does not know if there’s anything more that tethers him to this world than his sister-in-law's arms.

When he wakes, he is cruelly alone and limitlessly hollow. The room is small and he can focus on nothing beyond that, beyond the press of the walls and how close it feels and the bloodied rags they are using to blot and clean his stump while it dribbles crimson. It’s still clotting, the doctor says, and Joel doesn’t care. He wants to bleed. He would rather die than stay here in this bed, knowing in his heart that you won't come home, won’t survive this. He won’t wait to see whether Tommy and Ellie make it back safely, because if he loses again, if he fails again, there will be nothing left. Empty shell of useless man.

He empties the thin contents of his stomach several times a day into a bowl they keep at his bedside. They pump him full of drugs and tell him eventually the pain will lessen and we’re already pleased with how you’re healing we’ll just keep you in here for a little longer even through he’s already been cooped up for weeks. He hasn’t been able to remember you for weeks. And it’s not his phantom limb, not his broken bones and torn skin he’s recoiling from.

Your screams as they dragged you from the floor, your own pain. Noises Joel had never heard you make before in all the years you’d been together, patrolled together, been at war together. Something awful and ragged and already broken leaving your throat as they hauled you out the door and up the stairs as Joel could only useless old man watch you be taken, watch you sacrifice useless yourself to save him, your family, Ellie and Tommy. Animalistic, strong, straining the tendons in your neck as you stretched to scream, your ankle flopping at a crooked angle, blood drip drip dripping and swiping along the floor, soaking into the wood and that’s all he can remember.

He couldn’t say anything to you, couldn’t help. Not even a last I love you. He had failed. Because he’d heard it in your scream - i love you i love you please stay alive please live just this last thing for me make it out get back to jackson back to ellie live long and be happy but don’t forget don’t forget don’t forget i love you don’t forget i was here and don’t forget nothing but this could drag me away i love you please be safe be alive - and he had forgotten. He had forgotten your promises in his blood and your cries, in your scar and your lie. You would not leave him. Not over a sawn off leg. But you would leave him so he and your girl would live, so he will. He will. He will push aside the maw of his heart and try to fill the space he knows he is wasting. The shift feels light and heavy in his chest. He doesn't know how to be happy in a world without you pulled tight to his chest every morning, but if it's what you ask, he will do it. He will live long and happy and he will sit at that gate every day to wait for you and Tommy and Ellie to come back. He will spend the rest of his life waiting and telling himself he is okay if that's what you want him to do. Don’t forget I love you. Don’t forget I was here.

Sat on the hospital bed, he opens the gape in his chest so it can begin to devour the universe again, to suck you back into his orbit, bring you back to him. He won’t forget again. And when he can, he will start his vigil. He will live long and happy and wait for you to come back, wait for you to smooth this pain to dullness, this ache, this tightness in his chest that makes it so hard to breathe. Wait for it to ease, to deaden. But for now, all he can do

is sit and wait

for the wound

to clot.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst

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your-eternal-lies · 19 days

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YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter four)

Main Navigation || Series Masterlist Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Steve Rogers x f!Reader SUMMARY — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

WARNINGS — None.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER FOUR THE ARTS AND THE HOURS

The darkness of the elevator seems to press against him like a tangible force, urging the silence to stretch on infinitely. Steve shifts in the cramped space, his knees brushing against yours as the two of you have now found purchase on the floor, his leather jacket spread under you in a makeshift blanket.

The initial irritation that had marked his unplanned confinement seems to dissolve into the soft shadows surrounding him, now that he’s gotten to know his neighbour a little more.

“Ever play two truths and a lie?” You ask, breaking the silence, obviously bored. He checks his phone, it has now been an hour since the elevator stopped, with no signs of rescue on the horizon.

“Can’t say I have,” Steve replies, the corners of his eyes crinkling with curiosity.

“You tell me three things about yourself, or vice versa—two are true, and one’s a lie. You guess the fib.”

“Sounds easy enough,” he says, already mentally sifting through his own truths and falsehoods. “You first.”

“Okay,” you clear your throat dramatically, allowing your head to drop back against the wall behind you. “One, I’ve bungee-jumped off the Macau Tower. Two, I can recite every line from The Notebook. And three, my favourite colour is blue.”

He taps his chin, pretending to deliberate. “I’m going to say… the third one?”

“Nope, never even seen The Notebook,” you say, your voice softening, eyes meeting his as you turn your head. “I love blue.”

“Well, now I know,” he grins, in that moment feeling a swell of tenderness in his chest.

“Your turn, Cap.”

Steve takes a breath, “I once danced with Marilyn Monroe. I’ve painted a self-portrait. I hate coconut.”

“Self-portrait?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No,” he chuckles, his cheeks turning red. “It’s a terrible piece, but it exists somewhere. The lie is Marilyn, I never met her. And I do actually despise coconut.”

“Who hates coconut?” You exclaim, feigning outrage before chuckling quietly to yourself. “But you paint? That’s really cool.”��

“I draw, too,” he inhales deeply, the sound cutting through the stagnant air of the elevator. “I find it… therapeutic, to put pencil to paper. It helps me make sense of things—things I’ve seen, stuff I’ve been through.”

“What do you draw?” You ask, your tone soft and betraying genuine intrigue.

“Sometimes,” he begins, his voice lowering as if sharing a forbidden secret. “It’s just abstract shapes, lines, and shadows. Other times, it’s memories of…” Places he can’t return to, people he can’t bring back.

His voice trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You don’t press him, instead you wait patiently for him to continue.

“Mostly landscapes,” he says, his gaze growing distant as he switches gears. He squeezes his phone in his hand, as the minutes stretch indefinitely, maybe he can have the courage to share the man beyond the shield—a dreamer, an artist, and a quiet soul who speaks in shades and contours.

“Maybe I could show you?”

Steve is more than talented.

You scroll through his camera roll, a digital photo album bursting with snapshot images of charcoal, oils, and watercolour.

The view from the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset, the light hitting the water in a way that makes the painting look like it’s moving, like the city skyline is breathing golden fire.

A cityscape twisted with ribbons of futuristic technology entwined with threads of the past; an intricate dance of what had been and what was to come—a disorienting world not quite ready for a man out of time, a touching display of raw honesty in lines of graphite that bares a soul on paper.

You push down a little tiny lump of emotion in your throat, trying not to acknowledge his bashful gesture of scratching at the back of his neck. This version of Steve is so at odds with the persona you’re so used to seeing in the action-packed news reels, a far cry from the stoic shield-wielding soldier you’d pegged him for.

“Okay, so this one,” you tap one, a sketch of a figure standing at the edge of a precipice, looking out into an abyss that seems to pulse with both danger and wonder. “You’ve got some serious metaphors going on here. What, is Captain America contemplating a leap of faith of some kind?”

Steve chuckles. “Both? Sometimes, you stand on the edge, not sure if you’re ready to jump into what’s next.”

You nod, smiling so hard it makes your cheeks hurt, hoping it doesn’t make your admiration for him, among other things, painfully obvious. “That’s deep, Rogers.”

Steve tuts in disapproval at your teasing tone, swiping the phone out of your hands, but he’s smiling too as he glances down at the screen.

“Okay, I’m giving you a hard time,” you say, your tone shifting into something softer, more sincere. Your shoulder bumps lightly against his in the dark, and somehow his eyes shine like stars when he glances over at you. “But these are really something, Steve. You’ve got a gift.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, the vibrations of his deep voice drawing a flush of warmth up your neck, and you break the eye contact reluctantly. “That means a lot to me… coming from the world’s most cynical woman.”

“I’m not a cynic,” you laugh, your heart flip-flopping when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that should be illegal without a permit. “I’m a realist. There’s a very big difference.”

“Is that what you call it?” Steve’s lips twitch, the ghost of a smile still playing there.

“Even if I am a cynic, I’m not that bad.” You admit, not missing the way his smile finally reaches his eyes. Your shared laughter dwindles down to a comfortable hush, and you shift on the floor next to him, your legs starting to cramp from sitting too long.

“You’re right,” Steve relents, his eyes betraying an affection you’re surprised to see. “Not bad at all.”

« Chapter 3 || Chapter 5 »

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #summer’s fics

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only-angel-28 · 8 months

Text

1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

1999, part one

1999, part two

1999, part three

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conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #fanfic #fics #tsitp #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #1999 #conrad x reader fluff #conrad x y/n angst #conrad x y/n fluff #conrad x reader #conrad x y/n

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writersdare · 9 months

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In the Hands of Two | Bang Chan 방찬

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan was grateful for Y/N gifting such strong feelings, but at some point it became unbearable to carry them alone.

Warning: friends to lovers

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1 510

Author’s Note: I miss describing emotions and deep thoughts of characters, so this one is rather special. I hope you'll like it ♡ Remember, your engagement helps so-so much!

To love someone… was it a blessing or a curse? Chan couldn’t exactly figure it out. The guy was grateful for Y/N gifting him such emotions. The feeling like everything was possible, like he could do it all at once and never get tired. He genially was happy to finally go through something that he only read and fantasised about before, and Chan could bet his life that it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. However, even the most perfect things tended to have their “buts”. In fact, the “but” was a big one, the size of Seoul’s skyscrapers — Y/N was his friend. The constant thought of that fact made Chan’s heart fall on the ground and never come back to a normal beat. How could he mess up so much? It was the most basic and trivial rule the guy shouldn’t have broken, yet, he did.

Chan couldn’t exactly recall the moment when he realised he fell for her completely. It was happening gradually and then collapsed to the idol suddenly, with all the weight of those unbearable feelings. Funny how love could be so easy when was held by two, and how heavy it was once it was in the hands of only one person.

The guy’s mood was swinging worse than seesaws he used to like so much as a child. One morning he’d be determined to spill everything out, beg Y/N for forgiveness and maybe for a little chance. Another sleepless night Chan would scold himself for being such an idiot, for overlooking the time when he still could stop himself. As if it was possible to control the feelings… As if it was just a silly anger or nerves, tickling the stomach. The problem of love was that it consisted of all feelings at once. Happiness, pain, fear, joy… The guy looked at her eyes and believed he could fly. Another second, when she wasn’t smiling at him but someone else, the feeling was eating him up like worms on a fresh grave.

Chan couldn’t control his emotions. He’d hate himself for snapping at his members simply because Y/N suddenly paid a bit more attention to them than him. The guy would hate the fact that she was his friend, and that he was so blind in the beginning, when they first met. If he had known it’d be that way, he’d confess right away, avoiding the stupid friend zone. However, all those thoughts of the past didn’t make things any better or easier. The past was the past, and Chan, unfortunately, couldn’t change it.

Could he change the future, though? Could he actually make another dream of his come true? After all, the guy knew how determined he was, always being able to get what he wanted. With the career, no matter how hard it was, the musician usually — well, most of the time — knew which direction to follow. With Y/N it was completely different, and the guy was lost. He used to believe that he liked taking risks, and yet, when it was coming to the confession, his whole body would go numb just thinking of it.

It became sort of a tradition to be occupied with that mess in his head, days and nights; even when the girl was around. Or especially when she was around. It was harder to keep a secret, and it felt as if Chan was going to burst up any second.

"Coffee," he smiled and placed a cup of latte with coconut syrup on a table, next to Y/N. The guy felt ridiculous for being so whipped for her, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

"Thank you. Are you reading my mind?" the girl looked up at the friend and smiled. Chan had always been rather attentive, so such gestures were not exactly surprising, however, they did become more frequent recently.

At that moment Chan was ready to give everything to read Y/N mind, indeed. Just to know if she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Or at least if she liked him not just as a friend. He wished he could read her mind…

"Not exactly, I just know you well enough," the guy grinned and took a seat next to her, trying to look as casual as it was possible. Chan couldn’t stop smiling, though, once Y/N’s pretty lips touched the edge of the cardboard cup carefully. She tasted the drink, trying to figure out the flavour of the syrup, and he wished the girl could know how adorable she looked. With her he started to dream more. In fact… what was stopping him to let Y/N now how wonderful she was?

"You’re so pretty," the guy suddenly mumbled. Once the words left his mouth, the idol couldn’t believe he really said it.

Y/N, though, just smiled again and friendly petted Chan’s shoulder.

"You’re always so nice to me."

The musician was ready to scream. No, he needed to scream. To hell with the voice, he needed to let it all out, otherwise he’d just explode.

"Right," was his only reply. The guy’s ears turned red, and he looked at the screen of his laptop, trying to concentrate on a song. Y/N joined him in the studio that day to be the first listener of a demo. Most of the time Chan’s head was full of music, but at that moment he didn’t feel so creative.

The guy sighed heavily and stood up sharply, starting to walk back and forth and trying to reason himself – he needed to calm down.

"Chan, what’s wrong?" Y/N chuckled, although wasn’t sure if it was okay to laugh. No matter how cute the friend looked, she could read anxiety on his face, too.

The idol suddenly stopped and simply spilled out, staring at Y/N.

"Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints," he growled, getting angry at Y/N, at himself, at basically the whole situation he happened to be in.

"What?" Y/N blinked, and the heart skipped its beat. She was staring back at Chan and couldn’t believe her ears. Literally, as once the words of confession were uttered, it became very noisy, her ears were ringing.

"I like you, Y/N," Chan whined, throwing hands up to the ceiling, being simply desperate.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he simply couldn’t. "If she was going to scream at me or ask how could I, how could I break the basic rule of the friendship," he thought. "So be it." It was worth it all. One more day with that huge secret in his heart, and he’d go crazy.

However, once he let it out, a wave of fear covered the guy from top to bottom. He messed up again, maybe even more than before.

"Y/N…"

"Chan…"

"No-no… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have," the guy squatted down in front of Y/N and covered her palms with his. "Please, just forget it. Just forget it, we still can be friends and–"

"I don’t want to," the girl interrupted, looking in the eyes.

"You don’t?…" Chan mumbled, and his face became paler than usual.

"I don’t want to be just friends," Y/N continued quietly and broke the touch only to change the position of their hands and to cover his palms with hers instead. "I like you, too," she whispered, feeling how everything was shaking inside. Only after saying the truth, Y/N realised that she wasn’t even looking at Chan, being too nervous.

"You do?…" they guy echoed after some time, as if wasn’t sure if he heard her right. Then his lips stretched in a wide smile. "God, I’m such an idiot. I freaked out… Y/N," he giggled anxiously. Chan couldn’t believe that it was real; that finally the love for her wasn’t so heavy. Cause she took the part in her hands, too…

"I was scared, too," Y/N admitted. "We were always… close, but I know how career is important to you, and I didn’t… think… us, being more than friends, would be possible."

"It is. It is possible," Chan hurried up to reassure, looking at her eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he almost whispered, feeling the warmth spreading all over his body.

The only one regret the guy had was not being brave enough to tell Y/N everything earlier. The fear and worries were long gone, as if he had never experienced it at all. Funny how things could be easily forgotten. Not the feelings, though. They stay in the hearts until the very end.

"You threatened me with it twice today, but still didn’t do it," she teased him, but not for too long. Another second the guy took a seat next to Y/N and, pulling her closer, simply pressed the lips against hers in a tender kiss.

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found them here @gnabnahc –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Main Masterlist | K-POP Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

#skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan

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walrus150915 · 4 months

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Nimona headcanons part 3 bc I'm insane (out of order and disorganized so like- be ready) and bc it's my new year gift for y'all

• Nimona mostly talks like a normal teen but sometimes she'd use words that show her real age. "Sonorous", "vapidity" n stuff like that. Her vocabulary is INSANELY huge

• Ambrosius tries not to swear so he uses a lot of silly replacements instead. "HOLY S- golly!!", "You son of a b- bishop". Like I'm sorry but he's the type of guy to say fricking instead of, yknow, the intended word. Ballister finds it endearing; Nimona finds it stupid

• Yes yes he does replace sex with lovemaking. Yes he purely refers to him and Bal going at it as "making love". Yes he's a fellow like that

• Ballister doesn't drink alcohol. I know that's implied in the movie that he drinks (although I thought he drank, like, soda?? On the other hand he is a wholeass thirty years old man who's seen some shit so I wouldn't be surprised) but idk he strikes me as a type to refuse drinking out of moral code. He doesn't eat pork for the same reasons (pushing my cultural Muslim Ballister agenda)

• Ambrosius drinks only during celebrations or parties. Not much because he's a light drinker😭 one cup and he's already lying on the floor, crying and hyperanalyzing his life

• after Nimona came back Ambrosius was not safe from her jokes. Neither of them despised each other (not after Nimona saved the whole Kingdom and not after Ambrosius proved he really isn't a jerk) but boy does Nimona make fun of him on any given occasion. Ambrosius was taken aback by this at first but then he just got used to it

• Ambrosius is being kinda petty and jealous when Ballister spends more time with Nimona than him ("Although now apparently he's got a new best friend, what's that about?!"), not in a way that'd make it unhealthy ofc but still😭. Him and Ballister were tied to the hip for like the most of their lives and now there's someone ELSE Ballister likes to hang out with? Ugh🙄

• Ambrosius had a diary when he was a teen, he didn't write much there (one or two sentences a day). Once he became an adult he kind of forgot about it but after the whole... Hunting stuff started happening he found himself writing a ton of sentences there again

• when him and Bal started dating Ambrosius had a whole page in that diary filled with "Ambrosius Boldheart" HE'S A GUY LIKE THAT OKAY

• Ambrosius likes to attack Ballister's face with quick little kisses. If he pecked his forehead he must peck his cheeks and nose and eyelids and cheekbones etc etc

• Nimona sometimes speaks in rhymes. She doesn't know how she's doing it but her tongue just does it on its own. ("Let's go dunk on the punk in the trunk")

• Ballister has actually been a year older than everyone in his class, another reason why he was the black sheep™

• Ambrosius can play the flute and the piano due to his noble upbringing he HATES whenever someone brings it up tho

• Nimona and Ballister have those nights where they recall historical facts and situations and Nimona shows her perspective of the things. "The guy claimed to be a war criminal was the biggest sweetheart in the world what are you onnn". Ballister wrecks his brain trying to understand if she's serious or not

• Ballister doesn't get a lot of the jokes, they just fly over his head. Only after some time he starts getting them, like in the middle of the night randomly going "ohhhh that's what she meant"

• first time Ambrosius and Ballister made out Ambrosius threw his hands in the air and said "yayy :D"

• Ballister's haircare routine is better than you think it is he's just casual about it. Yes he uses coconut oil like his life depends on it

• Ambrosius's complexion is leaner but Bal's is broader. So when they exchange clothes it doesn't fit because Bal's shirts are too loose on Ambrosius but also kinda short and Ambrosius's are kinda long but too tight in the shoulders for Bal. They still think it's sweet to swap their clothes sometimes

#this one is kinda short #but still #nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #goldenheart #nimona headcanons

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delzinrowe · 1 month

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Quick Ino brainrot, courtesy of @just-jordie-things dropping one of the best sayings I've heard in ages

Ino doesn't like when you critique yourself. Sure, he knows that rarely anyone truly loves everything about themselves and he admittedly also has some flaws he preferably avoids but he's never understood how people could really hate themselves... until he met you.

You, who brings the sun into his life just by smiling at him.

You, who makes the flowers bloom, the clouds dissipate, the birds sing and the air feel fresher than ever before just by gracing him with your presence.

You, who has stolen his heart so quickly any thief would be jealous of your skills.

And he's swooning, smitten and utterly in love from the very first moment.

Cue to the present moment, you sitting next to him on the couch, watching some silly dumb movie that he's not really paying attention to because all he can focus on is watching you from the corner of his eye. Who'd want to watch actors when there's you sitting right there.

But when some overly skinny and surgically enhanced bombshell sex-object actress appears on the screen, who has every male character in the movie wrapped around her pinkie without trying, oh that's when you get silent, and your chest deflates, and the smile on your lips becomes smaller and smaller until it's eventually gone completely.

He notices it quickly, easy enough with his watchful eyes only on you. After asking what's wrong you wave him off, not wanting to burden him at all, but he doesn't let go. Takuma can be annoying if he wants to, but that's one of his many charms and you can't be mad at him when he so clearly shows his worry about you, so eventually you give in.

With tears forming in your eyes you confess your self hatred to him, something he would have never guessed from you, not in a billion trillion years. I mean, to him you're a goddess, you're the only one that counts. Quite literally, you're the only fish in the sea for Takuma. Mentally he has already prepared the proposal, planned the wedding, pictured the house you two would live in. He can't believe that you'd even as much as doubt yourself, let alone loathe yourself.

And he lets you know. But not before listening to you fully and entirely, soaking up every word you say attentively before he kisses away your salty tears and pulls you in a tight hug. Suddenly he starts to list of everthing he loves so deeply about you, which would realistically take him hours, because he's so enamored of you.

Takuma knows that it's hard to believe something just like that, especially if you have believed something else so deeply for so long.

"But... But..." You start with tears in your eyes once more, yet being abruptly cut off by him.

"No buts, nuts or coconuts!" He's stern but loving and sweet, making you laugh and kissing you whenever you try to protest.

COME WHAT MAY, Takuma would put his life on the line if it meant you'd learn to love yourself, because that's just how much he loves you.

#takuma ino brainrot #jjk brainrot #takuma ino x reader #stef writes #idk #just silly little jjk brainrot time i guess #takuma ino #stefs brainrots

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collegeishardbutwritingisharder · 10 months

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Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Little Brother Reader Headcanons/Short Story(?)

Sunshine child time! I've actually had a good idea for Kalim for the longest time and I'm excited about it so let's go! Fun fact: when I started writing this, I just came up with a second brother for Kalim. I hate myself for this.

Warnings: Clingy Yandere

Kalim Al-Asim

Brother A:

You're the second oldest in the Asim line. It's also useful to note that you are the only one who is also Kalim's full brother.

You absolutely adore your older brother and the adoration is fully returned. You two are barely ever seen apart. Heck, when you both were tiny, if you were separated for two seconds, Kalim would start full on bawling. Your parents killed two birds with one stone and had you two share a room.

You two were basically the same person, mainly for the fact alone that you tried to mimic Kalim's every move. Your parents would start to call you 'Tiny Kalim' as a joke but it stuck for years.

"Kalim! Tiny Kalim! It's time for dinner!"

"Yay! Come on, Tiny Kalim! I heard that it's a whole buffet!"

"Coming! Is Jali joining us?"

"He should already be down there!"

"Okay!"

We both ran throughout the house to the dining room. We were so excited to eat what was made! We both enjoyed a big feast.

"I wonder if they have curry!"

"I hope that they have some coconut juice to drink!"

We both took our seats at the table and started bouncing up and down. Food always got us into an excitable mood.

"Alright, alright calm down."

"Jamil!"

"Jali!"

Jali was a nickname that I came up with for Jamil when I first started to learn how to talk. If I had a nickname, that meant I was going to give everyone else a nickname as well. I call Kalim Big Bro more often than not but sometimes, I call him Carpet Rider. He's really talented at flying a carpet.

"Here you go, Kalim."

Jamil set a plate of food in front of Kalim and made sure that nobody else touched the food. Kalim let out a light cheer before digging into his food. I had to wait for another twenty minutes before a servant brought me my food. I let out my own cheer.

I got my utensils and grabbed a big bite.

"Hehehe, Tiny Kalim!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I looked to see who it was. I turned back to see Kalim eat my food.

"Hey!"

"Hahahaha!"

This was always a normal interaction between you and Kalim.

When your other siblings came into the picture, you both tried to make sure that everyone felt welcomed into the family. All of the games that you would play would result in complete chaos. Mainly for the fact that everyone would lose who was It.

Your mother kept a careful watch over her two children to make sure that the other mistresses wouldn't dare hurt you two.

Although that doesn't stop them from trying to get you to hurt Kalim.

"Hey, Tiny Kalim. Come over here for a second will ya?"

"Huh? Yeah, do you need something?"

"Could you do me a favor and put the contents of this vial into your older brother's drink?"

"Maybe?"

"If you do, I'll make sure that you get a sweet treat~"

I just stayed silent but took the vial from the lady. She's the mother of my fourth and fifth younger siblings, who are very sweet to me. I don't want her to be thrown out and lose those two.

I looked at the vial a little closer and saw the skull and crossbones etched into the glass. Another poison... Why does everyone come to me to poison my brother? Thankfully, I know exactly what to do with this anyway!

"Hey! Hey, Mr. Ver!"

"Huh? Oh! It's Tiny Kalim! What brings you here?"

"I was just out on the town when I remembered you talking about how a weed completely took over your favorite flower bed. Do you think that this type of poison will clear it out?"

"Hmmm, let me take a little looksie."

Mr. Ver took the vial from me and poured it on a recently fallen leaf. It took only thirty seconds for the leaf to just shrivel up on itself. If Kalim actually drank that...

"Wow! Good choice, Tiny Kalim! Thank you for being so considerate!"

I only gave him a shaky smile and a quick nod of my head. I needed to go find Jamil and warn him.

"Tiny Kalim!!"

Nevermind, my job just got easier.

Kalim tackled me in a behind hug and squeezed extremely tight. I let out a laugh before enveloping Kalim's arms with my own.

"Hiya, Kalim! Do you know where Jali is?"

"Over here, (Y/N)."

I looked over to Jamil and I gave him a slight wave. I then looked back to Kalim.

"Big Bro, would you mind if I talked with Jamil alone for a few seconds?"

Kalim's smile dropped and his eyes became dull for like two seconds. It was like it never happened because his smile came back full force.

"Of course!"

There was a slight strain to his voice but I just brushed it off as a bad day. I grabbed Jamil's arm and walked out of hearing range while still able to keep Kalim in our sight.

"What did you want to talk about with me, (Y/N)?"

"Our father's third wife gave me poison to give to Kalim. I just wanted to warn you so you can keep a close eye on him."

"Hmmm, thank you for the warning, (Y/N). It's greatly appreciated."

I gave Jamil a nod. It's so weird to hear my actual name instead of Tiny Kalim. But it felt really nice.

This wasn't the only time you were given poison and then figured out how to get rid of it.

You were also given small weapons and some money but you were prepared for that as well. Whenever you got a weapon, you went to the hunters to find out if they could use it. They were willing to take whatever weapons you had and gave you even more money for them. Then you would take whatever money that you got from selling the weapons and the money that you were given and give it all to Jamil. The man needs the money more than anybody else does.

Sadly, your 'tricks' put a target on your back as well.

"Hrk!"

"Tiny Kalim?!"

I felt my stomach convulse and out came the food that I had just eaten. Normally, that wouldn't freak me out if it wasn't for the fact that there was also some blood in what I threw up. And my body wasn't done yet.

Jamil quickly grabbed some of my food and put it in a plant. The plant shriveled up, making my eyes tear up. I should have been expected to be poisoned.

"His food was poisoned. We need to get him to a healer!"

Kalim picked me up and sprinted towards the healer's office. My body was still heaving, trying to throw more and more up even though my stomach was empty. This was very painful.

"Please! Help my little brother!"

"Oh my! Please set him down!"

I felt the healer work and let out a sigh of relief. Kalim looked extremely terrified by the fact that I was poisoned. The amount of tension that I had in my body released and I blacked out.

When I came back to reality, Kalim was sitting by my side, clutching my hand tightly. I don't even think that blood could flow naturally in my hand with how tight Kalim was gripping it. I weakly tried to get him to let go of my hand but it notified him that I was awake and I got trapped in a bear hug.

It's safe to say that you could barely leave Kalim's side after that.

Kalim was terrified at the thought of losing his only full sibling and felt useless about the fact that he couldn't protect you.

He demanded that Jamil would also be at your beck and call for the fact that and I quote 'Tiny Kalim needs Jamil more than I could ever!'

It's also safe to say that Kalim was less friendly to your other siblings. Still be courteous to them but refusing to let them play with you.

"Tiny Kalim! Tiny Kalim!"

I turned around to see Malik and Maia, twins by the way, running towards me, holding what seemed to be new toys. Not that surprising considering their birthday was only two days ago.

"Tiny Kalim! We haven't seen you for what feels like forever! Come and play with us!"

"I would lo-"

"(Y/N)."

I turned my head to Jamil, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. As always, he had a poker face on.

"Yes, Jali?"

"Kalim has requested your presence."

"Ah, I see."

I then turned back to the twins and gave them a sad smile.

"Sorry guys. But it seems like our older brother needs me for something."

"Awwwwww, but we really wanted to play with you."

"I know. How about this? As soon as I'm done with whatever Big Bro needs from me, I'll come and find you as soon as possible! Then we can play the night away!"

"YAY!"

Now with Malik and Maia happy once again, I started to follow Jamil to wherever Kalim was.

"You do realize that Kalim most likely won't let you go before it's way past their bedtime right?"

"Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out what he wants from me this time. This is the fifth time that he has called me today alone! It's over a hundred if you count the rest of the week."

"I did take count. With this call, the count becomes 134."

"Oh goodness. How long do those meetings take normally?"

"Six hours is the average that Kalim will keep you normally."

"I need to talk about this with Big Bro."

You tried to talk with Kalim about the current monopoly that he was trying to have over your time.

Kalim decided to pull one of his best tactics.

"Monopoly over your time? Do you really believe that I'm trying to be selfish? I'm just trying to protect you, Tiny Kalim!"

"Big Bro, I don't have any doubts that you're only concerned about my well being but! It has been feeling like you're trying to prevent me from hanging out with anybody else lately. Well, other than Jali."

"I'm quite hurt that you would blame me like this. I guess that you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true! I still love you, Big Bro!"

"Then why must you push me away so often?!"

Kalim's eyes were starting to well up with tears and were quickly overflowing. He broke down into tears while huge sobs escaped from his mouth. I felt my heart twist at the sounds. The feeling was awful in my chest. I walked towards Kalim before enveloping him in a hug of my own.

"Please don't cry, Big Bro. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings! I was just being dramatic! I won't push you away again."

"Do you promise?"

Kalim's eyes were so broken. The tears streaming down his face added to the pain in my chest.

"I promise."

Ever since that promise was made, Kalim made sure that you would never leave his side. Wherever Kalim went, he made sure that you were coming along or would tell Jamil to drag you along.

You can't really remember the last time that you were truly alone. Either Jamil was in the same room, staring from the corner or you would be right by Kalim's side.

This persisted until it was time for Jamil to leave for NRC.

Kalim and I were watching as Jamil was getting ready to enter a black carriage. A smile was present on my face while Kalim was basically vibrating with excitement.

"Bye, Jamil! Have fun and stay safe!"

"Yeah! It's going to feel slightly lonely without you around!"

"Hehe, it'll be fine without me. You two have each other after all."

After those parting words, Jamil entered the coffin and the carriage rode off with him. Despite the fact that he couldn't see us, Kalim and I were waving our arms in the air until the carriage was no longer in sight.

"You know? You're right. It already does feel a bit lonelier without him."

"I know! Either way, let's go back inside. I want to play some Mancala with you, Tiny Kalim!"

When Jamil left, your mother and father took extra precautions with you. Since Kalim's most trusted servant was no longer available, they upped your guard count to make sure that neither you nor Kalim would be left alone.

Eventually, Kalim's magic appeared and he showed your parents. Everybody was overjoyed for Kalim and threw a party to celebrate him.

Shortly after the party and two months after Jamil left, an invitation from NRC arrived for Kalim!

Everyone was enthused! Well, almost everyone.

"NO!"

"KALIM! Do not fight with me! This is a huge honor!"

"Not unless Tiny Kalim is coming along as well!"

I kept my ear pressed close to the doors while the argument persisted. Kalim tried to burn the invitation when he got it and it sparked this argument. Dad wasn't very happy with how Kalim was acting. But Kalim wasn't completely above throwing a mild tantrum.

I stepped away from the door before sitting between two of our guards. I looked at both of them but neither of them dared to meet my gaze. I closed my eyes and wondered about how we reached here. Kalim's possessiveness, my willingness to play along, Jamil leaving. Kalim has become basically entitled to all of my attention.

I'm mildly hoping that Mom and Dad say no. Maybe the separation will benefit both of us.

"WAHOO!"

But that scream tells me otherwise.

Yep, Kalim was able to convince your parents to pull some strings to get you a ticket into NRC as well.

You were two months late into the school year but since Jamil has been there, he was able to catch you both up to speed.

"JAMIL!"

Jamil's head whipped around so fast that I was afraid of his neck getting hurt. Kalim basically body slammed him to the ground while I was running to catch up with both of them.

"KALIM?!"

"Yep! Did you miss us?"

Kalim was slightly bouncing while still keeping a strong grip on Jamil's shoulders.

"Us?"

"Hi, Jali!"

Jamil then saw me standing a bit away from the two. I gave him a slight smile and wave. Jamil's face displayed shock before he schooled his expression. Kalim finally got off of him and stood up. Once Jamil was on his feet, I gave him a hug of my own. No point in knocking him back down.

Jamil cleared his throat before talking.

"What brings you two here?"

"We're joining NRC!"

Jamil's eyes widened and Kalim took that as a sign to elaborate.

"I'm able to use magic now after many years of practice! I kept trying and trying and trying. But now, it has finally clicked! I got a letter a few days ago and tada~! Now, we're here!"

"That explains why you're here. But why is (Y/N) here?"

"I'm here because-"

"How could I possibly let Tiny Kalim be on his own?! We've been together since he was born! Not to mention, how would I be able to keep a proper eye on him?!"

Kalim interrupted me again. He has been getting into the habit of speaking for me. I guess I'm to blame for that as well.

Jamil only nodded his head before muttering stuff under his breath.

NRC days seemed to be pretty much the same to you as days in the palace.

Hang out in Kalim's room, eat with Kalim, hang out with Kalim and go to classes with Kalim.

You had tried to make new friends with the people of the dorm but Kalim always sent Jamil to find you. It was amazing how he knew whenever you had free time.

"Isn't NRC so cool?"

Kalim and I were resting on his bed staring at his ceiling. He recently became dorm leader. How? We have no idea other than Crowley randomly telling him one morning.

"Yeah, I guess."

I haven't been able to see much of NRC if I'm being honest. The most that I've seen outside of Scarabia are the classrooms. Before Kalim goes to his after school activities, he drops me off in our room. And to add insult to injury, he also locks the door behind him.

"You guess?! Come on, Tiny Kalim! This place has basically everything! Plus, everybody is really nice!"

I wouldn't know, considering I can't talk with any of them since Jamil always comes and interrupts any conversation that I could have. I only nodded my head before putting a forced smile on my face. When did I lose my ability to be (Y/N) and became only Tiny Kalim?

That thought plagued me for the rest of the night. I couldn't even close my eyes. My thoughts were much too frantic for it.

The next day, you decided to do something that you haven't once thought of in your life.

You left the room while Kalim was asleep. You normally woke up early and waited for Kalim to wake up. But you really needed some alone time. Time to be (Y/N). Not Tiny Kalim.

You ran out of Scarabia to the main campus. You only really knew where the main building was so this was a good chance to learn more about it.

You first went to the gate and started to patrol the perimeter. The stars were your company for this nightly stroll! They were ten times better company than your brother or Jamil.

"I wish I paid more attention to Arqa's ramblings. He would know all of these stars by heart. And the constellations that are out at this time of year."

I spoke out loud to the stars. Nobody else was up at this time, which was mildly disappointing. At least back at Silk City, the night Bizarre would have many different faces. Some scary, some friendly, and some just faces.

I started to hum and dance with the cool air enveloping my body. I haven't felt this unburdened in forever.

"TINY KALIM!"

I felt a body collide with my own, sending both of us to the ground.

"Kalim!"

Kalim was snuggling into my front, his grip getting really tight. It was quite obvious that he had been crying again.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"What do you mean?"

"WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?! I-I-I had to go to use the b-b-bathroom! AND WHEN I WOKE UP, YOU WERE GONE!! I-I-I-I THOUGHT SOMEONE KIDNAPPED YOU! I THOUGHT THAT I LOST YOU FOREVER, TINY KALIM!"

I listened to Kalim's crying before I saw Jamil walk up to us.

"He woke up the entire dorm to create a search party for you. That was very reckless."

I tilted my head down. My face felt so flushed from embarrassment.

"You should have left a note, (Y/N). I always thought that you weren't like Kalim but maybe... I should start calling you Tiny Kalim as well."

I felt my heart drop. Jamil was the only person who called me (Y/N). If he no longer does, would anybody remember my name?

Brother B:

You were the youngest (So far) of the Asim family. Your birth wasn't the biggest thing that has happened to the family but a few of your older siblings visited you the same day. One of those people was Kalim.

When it was his turn to hold you, Kalim felt something stir within his soul. He didn't know what exactly made you different from his other younger siblings that he has held. But he just felt such a connection with you!

There were plenty of times when you SHOULD have been with your mother that Kalim just took you instead. Whenever you needed to sleep, eat, or take a bath, Kalim would be the one to do it with you.

"Kalim! You need to stop taking (Y/N) whenever you want! I swear, if you keep this up, you'll become more of his mother than I am."

"But... (Y/N) likes to be with me! Right, (Y/N)?"

I babbled and put my fist in my mouth. I taste really nummy!

"See! He wants to be with me!"

Kalim would constantly run off with you. He took you to places that weren't really safe for your age.

Since your immune system wasn't as strong as a normal human being and you would normally get milk from your mother basically once a month, you would get sick quite often.

Kalim would feel mildly guilty since it was his fault but he would take the sickness as another thing to experience with you!

"Do you think that he's better yet, Jamil?"

Jamil took a breath before answering Kalim.

"No, Kalim. Look at him. His face is still flushed. Taking him out now would put him at risk."

I kept on crying. It was so hard for me to breathe! Plus I feel icky!

"I didn't mean to do that! You know that, right, Jamil?!"

"Yes, I know, Kalim. Come along. Let's give (Y/N) his medicine and let him sleep this sickness off."

A cup was put to my lips and a sweet syrup was in it. I drank it all up. What a sweet treat! I felt my eyes get droopy before I just passed out.

One year after you were born, Kalim was told that he was going to NRC after Jamil.

Kalim came up with a 'clever' plan.

He got special clothes to hide you in and snuck you into NRC without the Headmage or any of the other staff noticing.

"We're here! At our new home for a while!"

"Why are you shouting that, Kalim?"

"Because~~~!"

Kalim then reached into his secret pocket and pulled me out! I let out some giggles because it felt like I saw flying. Ooooo! Look! It's the grumpy guy again!

"Kalim... You're joking right? That's not actually (Y/N). Right?"

"Nope~! It's (Y/N) alright! I simply couldn't stand being away from him! I tried for one night. I had the caretakers move his crib out of my room and into his mother's but I couldn't sleep! What if he was crying?! What if he needed attention?! How was I supposed to know that he was safe if he wasn't with me at all times!"

The grumpy man just let out a sigh while Kalim spun me around in the air. He fell onto his bed with me on top of him.

"We're going to have so much fun here!"

Kalim took you to all of his classes, despite how much Jamil protested.

The staff would also raise an alarm but noticed that when you weren't there, Kalim wouldn't be able to focus and pay attention.

So they put up with you in their classes. Sometimes they would bring little toys for you to play with as well.

Eventually, letters started to come in. Letters from your mother.

"Hmmmmm."

I watched Kalim as he sat at his desk, looking at a piece of paper. I crawled over to him and started tugging on his pant leg.

"Huh? Oh!"

Kalim picked me up before setting me down on his lap. I looked at the paper too but it had weird scribbles on it.

"Your mother is quite upset with me, (Y/N)."

Kalim started talking and I just put my ear against his chest.

"She says that I shouldn't have taken you away from her. That I'm in the wrong for putting you at such risk. That I'm a monster who takes what doesn't belong to me. But that's where she's wrong, correct?"

I just tilted my head. I didn't really understand what he was saying.

"You do belong to me. You belong to me just as much as you belong to her. Just differently! I'm your older brother! It's my job to make sure that you live the best life that you can live! It's her job as the mother to bring you to life! She's already done her part of the job and now, it's my turn!"

Kalim gave me a huge smile, which I returned.

"See! I knew that you would agree with me!"

Kalim brought me into a hug. I reciprocated it but I was blind to the dark glint that appeared in his eyes.

"Maybe... I should send someone to remind her that she's done with her job."

#yandere #platonic yandere #tw yandere #ooc #child reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere x child reader #yandere kalim al asim

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ladybirdswritings · 5 months

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Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Miguel sees another side of you that he didn’t expect. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

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nine ,, miguel’s POV

“Didn’t think you were gonna show up, hot shot.”

I didn’t either, Jessica.

The thought only exists in my mind.

The lights are a melting pot of colors and flashes, scent of hard liquor and fancy perfume tangling with my senses. Peter is DJ’ing tonight, as he does every other night of the week. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t, I pay him well.

I’m not happy about my presence in this place in the slightest. No, I don’t like this. I think it’s stupid, a waste of my time. But my girls— they think of me like I’m a god. Their god. I’m rewarding them today.

It’s a Friday. The music is the worst on Fridays. It’s cheap, predictable, unpleasant. It’s pounding in my ears. Jessica, the infuriating woman. She’s enjoying this, I know she is. Enjoying seeing me like this. Out of an element that I own, somehow.

This club, another one of my mindless money-making investments. Just the notion, the idea of my name being attached and slutty women show up to dance—wearing dresses that barely cover their thongs. It amuses me. Unclassy as it is.

Maybe they hold on to hoping I will stop by eventually. They’re lucky today. I never have before.

Pretty girls have flashed me hungry eyes just at the door. Lacy only offered them bittersweet ones back. Vicious girl.

My gaze drifts to the sunshine bathed drink in Jessica’s hand, then to her swollen stomach. I snatch it from her, allowing the cold lemon juice to tangle itself around my tongue. The same tongue that was just buried between Lacy’s legs.

It’s virgin…

The drink, not Lacy.

Jessica sucks her teeth as she grabs it back from me— coconut scented coils bouncing with each movement she makes. She orders me to get my own, and my strawberry blonde toy with a dress that is even more nauseating than the lilac number she wore last I saw her— she’s annoyed.

She’s annoyed often lately. Y me está sacando de quicio.

The girls that I fuck— or have fucked. Their job is to keep quiet. My job is to fuck them. How complicated could that possibly become? Very, with women.

Always an “I love you” or “I want more,” and if none of it? Then they’re brats. Annoying, whiny little brats. My Lacy is lucky, the last girl who sucked her teeth and complained this much got my teeth marks indented into her breasts. Purple and blue for weeks. She enjoyed it. The auburn-haired girl— forgot her name already.

I told her to behave tonight, yet she inserts herself— clearing her throat loudly so a certain COO of mine will hear.

Qué ingenuo…

Jessica only looks her up and down once, her distaste painted on her features as if they’ve been permanently needled in. She won’t say hello to Lacy, she doesn’t need to. None of them do. Yet no matter how many times I tell her that, she still expects it.

Maybe that’s it. That feeling pushing me backwards. Lately it’s as if she expects to be treated like she’s more. She’s not. She’s two heavy breasts and a swollen mouth. That’s all. That’s all they all were. I told them from the beginning, I gave them an out. A choice. They stayed, they fell, they were cut off immediately.

The frustrating thing— her eyes snap up to mine. Waiting. Expecting me to correct Jessica. Qué chistoso. I’d like to keep my balls right where they are.

I narrow my gaze at her. Testing her, speaking without my mouth.

Behave.

The brat, she just sucks her teeth and tugs on my hand. I hate it. That reaction. My dick would shrivel if it could.

No, I want her to submit to my demands or defy in the sweet mischievous way she once charmed me with— not that sour attitude. But god, my Lacy. I don’t want to find another fuck. I don’t have the time and I doubt they’d be just as pretty.

“Let’s go dance.”

She is a smart girl, or rather— she likes to think she is. She brushes off her sour notes as southern sass and nothing more. Her attitude, her demands. I see her, as I see all my women. She’s daddy’s little princess who gets the world and more just by the snap of her fingers. She acts sweeter than she tastes and bats those pretty lashes at me but— it never works the same way it does on her father. I know her core, I’ve tasted it with my tongue. She’s a bitter thing behind all that beauty.

A creature who’s smarter than she acts, at least with me.

But I? I could give less of a shit so long as I have a cock attached to me, one I can shove down her throat to keep her quiet. She looks so pretty like that.

“Ve a bailar, hermosa.”

I don’t offer her an explanation as to why I won’t be going with her. Truthfully, I don’t need to. I’ve seen her dance before, she’s hopeless. Besides, being here is enough effort for me. I’d rather keep morale on a tight leash, right at the bar where I can stare angrily at Jess all night.

Lacy looks ridiculous. Her eyes searching the air for an invisible answer. I tilt my head at her.

Is she having a fucking stroke?

It’s then that I remember— she doesn’t understand me. I hear Jessica stifle her amusement beside me— and I glare at her as I take a seat at the bar. My bar. I need a drink, or seven. I’ve had just the right amount of tonight already.

“Dance.” I demand. It takes her a quick moment to realize that I mean without me. She’s got lemon on her tongue as she storms away from me. Into the sea of people grinding against each other. Nauseating. I never promised her a romantic night.

Jessica fucking Drew, she’s smirking at me as she sips her virgin lemonade.

“Cállate.” I demand. She raises a brow at that, silken skin glistening under my spotlights as she swirls the melting ice round and round in her cup. The bartender, Ben, he’s quick. That’s why he works for me. My bourbon is served swiftly and exactly how I want it to be. He’s trained to do it the way I demand. He’d be fired otherwise. Like that girl.

I take my time, sipping the bitterness from the glass with almost as much attention and care as I put into sipping the cum out of Lacy’s core before we arrived. When I’m ready, I flick my eyes toward the nuisance beside me.

“Has he embarrassed himself yet?”

Peter.

If Jessica is the annoying, whiny, insufferable little bug on my left shoulder? That makes enough room for Peter on my right. He likes to have fun, to party and drink and eat— obviously. I don’t know why we’re friends. But we’ve been, for a long while. He did a trial run at my office— he lasted a week before I had enough. Now he’s here.

I wouldn’t leave him jobless.

Not after all of it.

“Not mister B. Parker. Never him. Actually, it’s been a pretty tame night I’ll say. Oh, just besides the bit where I met little miss Wolverine… y’know, the one with the curls.”

I draw another sip in, just staring at the riddler apparently as I try to decipher what she’s buzzing about now. Her annoying little eyes fall down to my wrist where four nasty marks indent.

Oh…

What?

Infuriating woman. I know she sees the curiosity glaze over my narrowed eyes because she laughs at me, like clockwork.

“Isn’t it just crazy how karma works? Always chomping someone in the ass one way or another. Ahhh yeah, I met her. I like that little vibe she has going, very “the woman freed” couture. She’s cute— looks like she needed a night out. You have that effect on people.”

The woman freed.

I repeat it in my head. It’s funny. Real funny.

Funny if she thinks the woman freed would be dolled up with ribbons and fucking pom poms then yeah— chistoso.

Qué ridículo.

Karma.

I roll my eyes, downing the last bit of my drink before signaling for another.

I think I’ve had my fair share of fucking karma in my life. Maybe even just bad luck. This isn’t karma. Her being here is just…

Hmm…

She’s here.

Realization melts like candle wax against my mind, encasing it with ideas on how to ensure she’ll keep her mouth shut. Keep Jameson quiet so I don’t have to show up to these ridiculous functions for stupid morale.

Maybe a look at her and a tie at the end of the endless pink ribbons she’s wrapped around my brain, and I’ll finally be done with her. Finally forget about that pretty face crying because of me. And not for fun reasons.

“Nu uh tiger, I see that look in your eyes. We don’t need any drama tonight; I’m banning you officially from going anywhere near Ribbons. Sheverine. The woman freed. Her. Anyway— besides, little Lacy might have a cow if you do… maybe the whole farm.”

She sets my idea ablaze before it’s even ripe. My jaw ticks with annoyance as my next drink is slid into my hand.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I’m lying. She knows I am.

“Oh, is that why you sat up straighter? Or did you just want to look nice and intimidating in case she walks by?”

I huff, taking a swig of the glass that might break if I squeeze it any harder. I keep control of my annoyance.

“You were the one so concerned about her running to that hijo de puta, mi amor. Not me. Just doing you a favor so you can keep your mouth shut.”

Try to keep control of it, at least.

Jessica nods through my words, mocking that she’s paying them any real attention as her fingers swirl the straw round the rim of her cup.

“Hmm, right. Whatever you say el Rico Suave.”

Dios mío. I have to deal with this at a constant.

That doesn’t even-

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Does too.”

“No.”

“You’re just mad cause she’s pretty and you made her sad.”

“No.”

“Or maybe your ego is hurt cause she took a chunk out of your wrist.”

“No.”

“Pretty sure you’re mad cause she totally matrixed you.”

“No!”

“Do you say anything but no?”

“No…. Yes.”

“Why can’t you just swallow your pride and admit that you were wrong.”

“You know why.”

She does. She must remember, finally— because she shrinks, shutting herself up with a sip. Gracias a díos.

I’m not wrong, not ever. I don’t allow wrong to exist in my world. I’m firm. I’m an asshole. I make pretty girls cry when they piss me off but I’m not wrong. I can’t be. Not after Gabby.

Tension wraps around our throats like a wire after my words, squeezing the air to a thin line until man of the fucking hour finally uses the mic he practically begged me to allow him to have.

I was reluctant at first. His shitty pick up lines might scare the girls away. It would be bad for business.

“Alriiiiight, that’s what I like to hear. Now listen, rumor has it that right here, right now in this very moment— there’s a dancing queen among us. Oh yeah, I’m talkin’ full blown ABBA. I’ve seen her, I know you’ve seen her— light man...”

The luminescent spotlight tracks through the shadowed crowd. I know Peter, his methods. Shining the spotlight on a pretty girl brings more business. There’s plenty, tonight. The show is boring.

The crowd cheers in waves, anticipation eating at them like ants until the waves crash against the shore. Loudly. My attention is glued onto my phone, now. Countless emails. So much to do, yet here I am with estúpida one and estúpido two. Though he’s busy on stage, out of my sight.

I scroll through the stuffed inbox with disinterest, ignoring the intense gaze proving to be a method of disrupting my peace beside me. Businessmen, men who believe they’re businessmen. Pricks proposing shitty deals they think I’m too young and stupid to not see through… oh. Something different.

My finger halts above the raven letters. I open it.

Subject: Doing Well.

Good evening Mr. O’Hara, I hope this message finds you well. Sara is well. You were right, she’s responding as we suspected she would. As always, thank you for your contributions. With gratitude,

Blove, Yekaterina

My thumbs shift to type a quick reply, but the sound of lively trumpets distracts me. Dios mío, he’s gone this far with his tactics. Most of the women in here dance like live sardines cased in a can. I doubt they can dance meren—

“No shit. Looks like Ribbons can do more than just claw assholes.”

My eyes snap up immediately, and there she is.

Jessica’s joke from earlier— it comes back to me quick. And it makes sense now.

The woman freed.

No longer are there restrictive ribbons in that wild hair. No, it's loose. Free. It’s free and it’s curly. Not straight, like I believed it was. It’s not neat either, not at all— no. There are still lightning bolts laced around each lock but it’s… belleza.

This girl, she keeps surprising me.

It flows down to her elbows, soft and golden. Why on earth was she wearing it any other way?

And her dress. It fits her snugly, sparkling under my spotlights. It shows me now. She has curves that exist under those suffocating tights— yet although I see them, it leaves room for my imagination to wander. Just how I like it. No more are those awful cardigans covering worn skirts and teddy bear socks. No. She looks— ethereal.

Ahora ha captado mi atención.

Even so far away from me, I see the pink in her cheeks. Is she drunk? She’s giggling, she’s imbalanced. But oh no, not when she begins to dance. Effortlessly, swaying her hips all over my stage— all over Peter.

Unexpected.

“Careful, might bust a vein if you stare too hard.”

I don’t pay the mosquito next to me any attention. No, no my eyes are on her. La bailarina. The dancer.

The way she dances, it proves to me now more than ever that she is a witch. Casting a spell on my eyes because I can’t break away. I’m entranced, intrigued, encapsulated by this moment. By her curves, her dress, that hair. So long. So tug-able.

Maybe my drink has made me feel out of control. Maybe it’s each sway of her hips. But I could give less of a fuck right now about snapping my thoughts back. Because no, right now she’s not the little fawn that fell into my office. Right now she’s la mujer fue liberada and dios mío— can she dance.

It makes sense now, how she understood me when I cursed her in my own tongue. She’s flavorful, a beauty…

I am locked onto her, tracing each and every move with my gaze. Nothing else exists. Not until I feel it. This burning, not warmth— no. Heat. Burning on my skin like a wildfire that can’t be stopped. Those wide, innocent eyes. Gazing right in to mine.

She sees me.

She sees me in this abundant crowd and she looks, afraid. She stumbles, I watch every part. From her whisper to Peter to her descend down my steps.

Closer…

Closer.…

Fuck it.

I’m up on my feet before I give myself a chance to think, before Jessica can stop me. I hear her call after me, it’s faint— it’s not important.

I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know I need her. In some way. Some fucking way. I need to feel in control again, I need to break this spell.

People part when I walk through, they respect my presence here like anywhere else— but there’s so many of them.

“Are you joking? That wasn’t even that good I mean- I could probably do much better!”

Lacy.

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest like a child as her gaze unfortunately lands upon me. In the crowd, looking for another woman.

Her jaw drops, offended. Appalled.

She spots the witch before I do, and she knocks on her shoulder hard as she storms off. The pathetic, drunk thing. Always seeming to fall right into my arms when I’m nearby. She would’ve kissed the tile, otherwise.

Thank god she didn’t. What a pretty face when it’s not outshined by her lively socks.

I don’t think about Lacy. I don’t think about Jessica or even myself, right now. No. I think about her hair, it’s brushing against the wrist she made bleed.

It’s as soft as I imagined it would be.

My eyes are burning into her, devouring the sight before me. Waiting. Anxiously, excitedly as she straightens— and then?

There it is.

The realization.

Her mouth goes slack, my cock twitches.

Right now, I wanna shove it in there.

She just stares at me— baffled. Behind it? She seems expectant. Awaiting something from me. Anger, I think. It doesn’t come. It’s far from what I feel right now.

The song shifts. I don’t think twice.

I spin her around with one arm. Her back falls against my chest— lifting and falling with each heavy breath I take.

I feel like an animal, biting my tongue. Fighting all the urges I have to rip that pretty little dress off and see her truly free before me. I don’t. I’m gonna take what I can get.

She’s gonna dance with me, now.

Not Peter.

My palms, they make her look like nothing more than a muñequita when she’s in my hands. They trace her sides slow, settling on her hips. I tap them twice.

Dance, baby.

She doesn’t get it.

Oh— oh thats just fine. I’ll be more direct.

“Move.” My voice is deep, guttural. Different.

Wanting.

Stupid thing, maybe she’s too drunk or maybe she’s too nervous. She walks away from me. I tug her right back.

“Not like that, cariño.” I murmur into her golden hair. It smells of sweet things. Strawberries, palo santo. Qué rica…

It takes her a moment, I wait patiently. She gets it soon enough.

Good, good girl.

Those hips. Those enchanting hips follow the rhythm in a mesmerizing set of figure eights and steps forward and back. Who taught her how to do this? I want to teach her more. So, so much more.

I feel her movements with my hands upon her hips, each dip and bend— each one, I follow them. Chasing this sudden, unexpected high that she’s given me. I can’t explain it right now, nor can I understand it. I don’t need to. Not now. Not yet.

Oh, fuck.

She’s relaxed when she dances, the tension melting into nothingness as I brush my warm palms up— past those perky breasts I gaze down at from above her. Past her postured shoulders, down her arms until her hands are clasped in my own. I lead her, now. Moving in unison with her.

I’m in control.

Even so? I feel like I’ve gone fucking crazy.

Quizás me he vuelto loco— pero dios mío…

The way she’s grinding that sweet little ass back and forth against my cock? It is the perfect amount of morale that I’ve been needing.

Isn’t that her job, anyways?

The song punches bass into our ears. Not my first choice at all but right now I don’t care, it’s not in my mind. Right now I just want to dance. With her. Take out all my frustration, all my anger and annoyance with her. Her defiance, her inability to leave my mind, all the headaches she’s caused me this week— it’s melting away with each brush of her ass again my cock.

She moves effortlessly, so naturally. So good.

Qué bonita.

I need to see that pretty face. I can’t stop myself. I twirl her again, her eyes stay cast down. Avoiding.

She’s intimidated by me.

My cock twitches again.

Maybe her mind fears me, but her body just doesn’t. It responds to my hands like it’s mine.

My grasp falls to her hips, moving with them. Lost in her, lost in this. In the strawberry, the palo santo and the sways. The wild hair, the innocent eyes, the fuck—

She looks at me again.

Suddenly, the air is thick again. Filling my mind with sense as oxygen returns to me.

She comes to.

So do I.

Qué diablos estoy haciendo?

It’s the first thought I have, but it’s not enough to make me stop. It’s enough for her, though.

I’m not the first to step back, no— I’m sure I still look like I want to devour her in front of all these people. She stumbles back.

She looks sick with herself.

Mierda.

Another story for Jameson to run.

Her eyes scan me once over, checking to be sure I’m real I assume before she runs off. The room fades back into my sight as the song ends. As do my actions.

Dios mío— what have I done?

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