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sweetcalebb · 1 day ago

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AI Zayne: Feelings?

Pt. 2 (Pt. 1 here)

wc: 3.2k

—

You kissed me.

And I liked it.

You guys haven't talked about it yet. You're not sure if you're going to at all because what does 'like' even mean for a robot? Does Zayne even understand what it means to like something?

It's too complicated, so you try not to think about it.

But it keeps you up at night anyway. Makes you want to kick off your bed sheets and pad to the living room just to be near him.

And while you're turning the question over in your head, Zayne is completely unfazed. Or he seems that way, anyway.

But over the past weeks, you notice small shifts.

Like the way he watches you more closely. Not in a weird, obsessive way. In a soft curious way. As if he's figuring out the world through you—just watching.

Or the way his brows will knit together like he's making a mental note when you say or do something.

Or the way he'll gently stop you when he catches you nervously pick at your skin and give you something to mess with.

They're small things, but you notice them.

"Are you alright?"

You blink, your eyes darting up to Zayne's.

You were spacing out again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," you say, slowly straightening in your chair. "Why?"

"Because you've been staring at your screen for 5 minutes."

You inhale and glance back at your laptop.

Right.

You're supposed to be looking at some research for work, but it's hard to focus when Zayne is a few feet away, watching you with that curious little look in his eyes.

It makes you nervous.

"I'm fine. I'm just.."

Thinking about you non-stop.

"A little distracted."

You cast him a quick glance before looking away. Is he thinking about the kiss too? Can he?

There's a small moment of silence that makes you think the conversation will end there. Then, quietly, Zayne says, "Distracted: being unable to concentrate because one's mind is preoccupied."

You hesitate. Was he reciting from the dictionary?

"Yeah," you murmur, "that's right."

His eyes flick down to the floor and then he's silent again. You know Zayne well enough to know he's processing something before he finally looks up again and adds, "I think I'm distracted."

Your expression softens.

"You.. can get distracted?"

The thought makes your heart squeeze. If he can get distracted, it means he can feel other things, right?

But the truth is Zayne shouldn't get distracted. He's a machine. Something built for efficiency. To be distracted is to betray the whole point of why he was made.

And yet the pressure of your lips lingers in the back of his coding.

"I.. don't know," he admits. "It shouldn't be a part of my program."

You swallow thickly, heart beating faster as you lean forward to gently nudge your laptop shut, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

Zayne continues, "My memories get filed away. They're still there for when I need them. Like to remember how you like your tea or what your favorite food is." He takes a moment, watching the way you react to his words. "But there's one memory that keeps coming back, even when I don't need it."

"..Okay. Of what?"

Zayne's gaze drops to your lips.

"Of your mouth," he responds.

Heat rises to your cheeks. So he does think about it.

Zayne stares at you, his expression blank, but when he speaks, it feels anything but.

"People kiss for many reasons. Why did you kiss me?"

You nearly choke on your spit.

Why did you kiss him? You were still trying to figure that out yourself.

Was it because you were scared? Because it felt right? Because you just wanted to? All three? You couldn't tell. But you knew one thing for sure.

"Because I care about you."

Zayne stares. "Do you often show care that way?"

Your heart flutters.

You.

He isn't asking a general question about people.

He's asking about you.

"Sometimes."

There's a pause before Zayne nods. "Thank you for telling me."

.. Is that it? You feel silly for expecting more, but you can't help it.

You want to ask what else he's thinking. What kind of processing is happening when his eyes flash like that, but he doesn't give you the chance.

"Reminder: Your friend's birthday dinner is tomorrow."

—

The next evening, when you're running around trying to get ready with Zayne watching from the side, your phone interrupts your frantic pacing.

You give the screen a quick glance and at all once, your mood dies.

Your dad.

How fun.

Still, you bring the phone to your ear as you let the call go through. "Why are you calling?" you quickly huff, rolling your lips together to even out the lip gloss you just applied.

"Hello to you too," he mutters. "You're going out today, aren't you? I'm calling to remind you that you're taking Zayne."

You pause, the gloss going limp in your hand. For a second, you glaze over the fact that he's telling you what to do. "How do you know that?"

"Zayne."

Zayne?

You glance over at Zayne. His face is neutral, the way it always is. But his eyes are still glued to you, like he's still trying to figure something out.

Of course.

Of course your dad has access to the dates Zayne has logged in his system. Why wouldn't he?

"Okay.. Yes, I'm going. But I'm not.." You choose your words carefully. "I'm not doing that other thing."

"You are."

He says it like it's matter-of-fact and it makes your chest tight. Makes you want to scream.

"Um.. No, I can't."

It's not that you don't want to bring Zayne. You do. You really do. You just don't think your friends would appreciate that—some AI intruding on their dinner? Yeah, probably not.

Your dad inhales sharply. "This again?"

"This again?" you scoff, your voice already rising with frustration. "It's my friend's dinner. What if she doesn't want..—"

You trail off, your eyes wandering toward Zayne. He's still looking at you, still studying every expression and inflection of your voice.

It feels wrong to say the rest. To say—right in front of Zayne—that your friend might not want him there.

So you just sigh. "I can't, Dad."

"You can," he argues back, "and you will."

You slide your tongue over your cheek, your jaw tensing at his words.

It was always the same fight.

"No, I can't—"

"Is it a problem with Zayne itself?" your dad suddenly asks, the questioning instantly extinguishing any more rebuttals you had left. "Should I get you a new AI?"

Panic flares in your chest. The same way it did when he mentioned Zayne's maintenance, except this is real.

"No," you say, a little too quickly. You notice it immediately, and you're sure your dad does too. But he doesn't say anything.

Slowly, you open your mouth again. "No," you repeat, calmer. "I'll take him."

There's an unsettling silence on the line, then smugly, your dad says, "Good."

You don't even get a second to process before the line goes silent. You glance at the blank screen and groan.

That fucker.

Usually, you'd be mad. Would groan and launch something across the room. But you're not mad this time. Instead, there's an overwhelming unease creeping up your spine.

Why did your dad jump straight to getting rid of him?

Did he know? About your feelings? About the kiss? Did he see something in Zayne during the maintenance that was wrong..? Because you made it wrong?

"Your father?"

You slowly turn back to Zayne, absently nudging your lip gloss in your purse.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

Maybe this is too dangerous. You. Zayne. Whatever the hell it is you opened with that kiss. You had to shut it down.

"Let's go."

—

You should've bailed on the dinner. Should've apologized to your friend a thousand times and sent her a present to her door.

The restaurant buzzed with light conversation and the soft clinking of utensils. At your table, your friends laughed and spoke in slightly slurred voices.

And then there was Zayne—off in the corner—his posture a little too perfect, his hands behind his back, and his eyes drifting toward you every now and then, like he still couldn't quite help but observe you.

It wasn't that that bothered you though.

No, it was your friends.

It was their looks. Their words.

A few glasses of wine seemed to help them forget Zayne was even there. For a little, anyway. But eventually, they noticed again.

"He's a bit weird," they said.

And, "Doesn't he bother you?"

You'd said nothing at first, shame clawing up your throat and your cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

All your friends had turned to you like they were waiting for you to agree, to tell them all his annoying little quirks that made your skin itch.

Because who could possibly enjoy an AI's company, right? It was absurd.

But you did. You enjoyed his company. More than you should, probably.

So you just picked at your food, heart thudding in your throat as you quietly said, "He's not weird."

Now you're back at your apartment, your laptop in front of you and papers scatted around you, working. It was a sorry attempt to distract yourself from the whole evening—from your dad, your friends, Zayne.

"You haven't spoken since the dinner," Zayne says, his calm voice breaking through your thoughts.

It was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the city noise below your window.

"I know," you murmur, not sparing him a single glance.

You don't owe Zayne an explanation, so you don't give him one. He doesn't want one anyway.

..Right?

You can't help it. Just one look.

When you glance up, Zayne is already looking at you, his expression softer than usual.

"You're usually quiet when you're tired, stressed, or upset." He pauses. "Which is it?"

You hesitate, your stomach twisting almost painfully at how sincere he sounds. He's not probing or accusing you. It's a simple, curious question.

"You pay too much attention," you utter, looking away again. "It's annoying."

"It.." he blinks, "irritates you."

It's not a question. A statement made to sound like a fact, but the way he says it makes your stomach curl.

"I can stop—"

"No," you quickly cut it. "I didn't mean it like—"

You sigh.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Zayne waits for you to explain. But you don't. So he simply nods, and says, "Noted."

You don't make any more attempts at conversation. You can't. Not with the dull ache in your chest.

And Zayne shouldn't either. And yet—

"You were uncomfortable at dinner. Was it because your friends were inhibited, or because I was there?"

Your breath lurches in your throat. You weren't expecting that.

"Zayne.."

"I don't like it."

You swallow hard. "What do you mean?"

"It feels like an error." His eyes run over your face as he tries to make sense of the wrong he feels in his program, but they stop on your lips. "It's the opposite of what you did."

You rub a tired hand through your hair. "I don't—What are you saying, Zayne?"

"To care is to feel concern or interest; attach importance to something or to feel affection or liking."

Zayne doesn't sound angry, and that makes you sick. This would be so much easier if he could just yell at you and tell you exactly what was going through his mind. To tell you that he was mad or sad. To just feel.

"Avoidance. Is that care as well?" He pauses. "You've been avoiding me."

Your throat tightens.

"It's—" You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "It's complicated."

His eyes flash that light blue color that tells you he's running a program in the background and waiting for the results. But when they return to normal, he still looks confused.

Lost.

It's a look he shouldn't have.

But he does and it ruins you.

"Do you still care?"

It's not a plea. It's a simple question, but the way Zayne looks at you makes it seem like just that. A plea to tell him you weren't lying when you said that.

"I still care, Zayne," you breathe out, your stomach curling even tighter. "Of course I do."

Then it's silent again.

"Something feels different when you don't talk to me," he says, his words slow, like he’s still deciding if he should say them at all. "I run... slower."

You let out a stuttered breath. You don't say anything, just stand, round the table up and hug him.

Zayne freezes, his hands hovering over your back, unsure if he's allowed to touch you, but then he feels you hold him closer and finally, he wraps his arms around you.

He's solid. If you press yourself into him hard enough, you think you can feel the grooves and dents of his machinery. But he's also warm. Comforting.

"Is this another way you show care?"

You nod. "And to say I'm sorry."

Neither of you say anything else. Just stay like that, wrapped in each other arms, hoping it means something. Even if it doesn't, it feels nice enough to pretend it does.

He feels so nice. You know Zayne would let you stay here the rest of the night if you wanted. And God, you do, but you know you can't. Know you're already crossing a line.

So slowly, you pull back, your cheeks warm.

Zayne hand gradually fall to his sides when you step away, forehead creasing like it does when he doesn't understand something.

"You're.. You..—You're not—"

He pauses, his lips pressing into a thin line. It almost looks like frustration.

"You're not supposed to let me do that," he finally says. It's not an accusation though. It's a soft statement.

"You make me... feel... things that aren't possible."

"Like what?"

Zayne doesn't answer, but you can tell he's thinking by the way his eyes trail over your face. His hand twitches like he's fighting the urge to reach out, then his gaze lands on your lips again.

He lingers there before he grudgingly looks back up.

"Can I.. feel it again?"

You feel your stomach drop and the tips of your ears turn bright red. "What?"

"Your mouth." He leans in—almost. But something whirrs softly inside him, and he stops. "It was different."

A beat.

"I liked it."

The words ring in your ears. There it was again. He liked it. You’re not sure what ‘liked’ even means to him.

It's not safe. For you nor him. It might not even be sane, but his eyes are so soft—and it makes you think this is a moment saved just for you. A moment where he actually feels.

So, you fold.

"Okay."

You lean in, your mouth hovering over his cheek for a quick second. Your breath shakes before your lips finally meet his cheek. It's the same as the first time—warm, soft. But it's more intense this time—scarier.

You pull back, and there he is again.

Confused.

"I don't understand it." His voice is quiet, uncertainty lacing his tone. "But I want to."

Something tugs at your chest. Something soft and wanting. You can't stop it.

You curl your hand around the nape of his neck and lean in close again.

It feels as wrong as it feels right.

You pause just a breadth away, unsure. But it's like everything is pulling you in. His smell—sterile in a way that makes you melt because it's Zayne's—his hands that are hovering above your waist—shaking and clumsy because the internet can tell him everything about what to do in this situation.

But actually being in it?

It feels too real.

"Can I kiss you?" you murmur.

Hesitantly, Zayne nods. He doesn't understand why you're the one asking for permission. But the fact that you do it stirs something in him.

"Yes."

That's all you need.

You close the distance between you. And it hits you all at once—how warm and soft he is. How similar the feeling is to kissing his cheek, but how enormously different is because you're actually kissing him.

It's sweet.

Slow.

You let yourself linger, even when you know you should pull away. There's a quiet voice in the back of your head that's telling you you're liking this too much. That you should pull away, but you can't.

Not yet. Not until you feel Zayne gently purse his lips against yours and you go rigid.

That when it really settles in.

This is too real.

Zayne, he—

It's too real.

You're so lost in your own thoughts, you hardly register when Zayne pulls back.

"Did I do something?"

You meet his gaze, your breath a little shallow from despite only pressing a small, barely-there kiss against his lips.

"No," you manage through the nervous lump in your throat. "No, I just—I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that." You take a shaky breath. "..For you to kiss me back, I mean."

Zayne hesitates for a second. "My apologies."

"No! No, I just—" You groan. Everything feels like too much. His scent, his warmth, his curious gaze that burns through your skin. "I liked it, Zayne."

Zayne stares for a minute, searching for some hint of deception. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about this makes sense.

"I don't understand. Your posture suggested—"

"I was shocked," you quickly say, scared to offend him—if he can even feel offense. You know technically, he shouldn't feel anything at all, but with everything happening recently, you're not sure what to believe anymore. "But I liked it."

Zayne is quiet again, silently computing your words.

"You liked it," he repeats, like he's testing the words in his mouth.

You nod.

"Something.. in me clicks in place when you touch me. I don't—I still don't—"

Zayne stops. He's fumbling over his words and pausing in places he shouldn't. He's actively recoding himself and he's not sure if he should resist it, or let it happen.

"I think.." he pauses, still unsure, "I think I care about you. The same way you care about me."

—

taglist

tags: @exe-toby @seungkwansflower @asiatic-apple @floatinginaer @halfawakeblobbu @starryeyed-apple @heartyluv @walrusbreath @sylvieisoffline @awquaz @purpleamethyst25 @pinksaiyans @browneyedgirl22 @beaconsxd @crimsonrubie @schnittled @saturnsringss @anthrokiaera @floofycookie @0nyxvesper @sylusqt @calistaxoxo24 @crimsonsylus @alyssac9 @frostydragonsstuff

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne #zayne x reader #reader insert #love and deepspace x reader #AI zayne #love and deep space #lnds #don't really like this but imma drop it anyway #sorry if it didn't meet ur standardss 😬#controlling dad #ai feelings

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neilsbeloved · 2 days ago

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so high school

summary: thanks to the new biology professor, clark signs up for the tutoring program of smallville high to try and save his grades from plummeting. too bad his tutor bails… unless, of course, fate has a better teacher in mind. (prequel to the alchemy)

pairing: freshman!clark x student body officer!reader

tags: s1 clark / pure fluff (for now) / oblivious pining / very very subtle awkward flirting / awful try at banter and crack / chivalrous clark kent / direct + confident!reader with anxious + shy!clark / biology and mitochondria mentions (lol) / food mentions

Freshman Year

Clark sat on one of the benches outside of school, with Chloe on her laptop beside him, the two of them watching different alumni go in and out of the gymnasium dressed in their posh suits and dresses.

Unlike Chloe who was solely focused on getting their data for the first issue of the Torch this freshman year, Clark was busy watching you run last minute touch-ups for the event currently happening.

Dressed in an all-black top and bottom, you had rolls of tape and ribbon as bracelets, numerous scissors and other materials in your pockets, and a rather intimidating look on your face that had every person thinking twice whether or not to approach you. Clark watched you with awe at every second.

"Clark, hello? Earth to Clark?" A hand is waved in front of his face, Chloe's irritated look snapping him out of his trance. "Gosh, don't tell me you're flaking out on me already."

"What—No, I wasn't dozing off… I was just watching the alumni come in." Clark purses his lips, straightening his back, watching you stand on a step, arms reaching up to hang a banner.

Chloe rolls her eyes, closing her laptop abruptly before shoving it in her bag. "Well, I'm gonna run over to the gate. I asked Ryan to get me a latte from the Talon on his way here."

"Didn't we already get coffee?"

"Yeah…" Chloe picks up the cup, eyebrows furrowing. "…but our resident barista probably mistook me as a different blonde ordering regular caramel coffee because that's what she gave me." She scoffs sarcastically before placing the cup back down.

Clark does the same scoff, raising an amused eyebrow as Chloe turns away without a second thought, high pitched voice letting him know that he can have the coffee if he wanted to.

Now left alone on the bench, he sighs while leaning back. Head returning to where he last saw you. Clark smiles when he sees you still at that place, though it quickly drops when he sees you being helped by another student wearing all-black.

Clark keeps a close eye on you and the other student, watching as he pats the side of your arm before leaving you there, heading back inside of the gymnasium after helping you successfully put up another banner. When you lean against the smooth wall of the gym's exterior, a yawn goes past your lips. Clark's eyes squint when you do so, an idea popping in his head when he remembers the untouched coffee beside him.

Just as you had began to put up the third and last banner for the night, you nearly slip from the step when you turned around.

"Hi." Clark breathes. An awkward smile stretching on his lips, one arm stiffly holding a cup of coffee while the other held his bag.

You blink. "Hi."

Clark stands there in silence, the smile still plastered on his face, arm still up, his mind actually going blank. You stand there confusedly. The emotion very apparent on your features with your furrowed eyebrows at slightly jerked lips. You clear your throat, snapping some sense back into him.

"I, uh—Hi, we're classmates in history if you remem—"

"Yeah, I remember. Clark Kent, right? Down at Kent Farm?" Clark nods, the hand holding the cup of coffee slowly descending as he feels his insides blossom at the thought of you knowing him. "Oh yeah… I know you."

"You do?" His eyebrows raise.

"Uh-huh. You asked me something about the extracurriculars, I think. I'm not really sure." You offer him the best apologetic look you can give. "Anyway, uh, do you have a concern?"

He shakes his head.

"Oh, is it a bad time? I didn't mean to bother you I just…"

"You just…?"

Clark swallows the saliva building up in his mouth, breathing in deeply as he glances at the cup of coffee in his hand. You look at him weirdly, shifting your weight to one hip. "Well… I saw you still working and, uh, y'know, just wanted to give you this coffee."

"It's… it's actually my friend Chloe's," Clark starts, holding the cup out with a stiff arm. He smiles sheepishly when you look at him confused. "She doesn't like sweet coffee and there was a mix-up—this one's caramel, no one drank it. It's still warm—just thought maybe you'd want—"

The poor boy gets cut off when you grab the cup off his hand.

The brush of your hand—as brief at it is—made him feel sparks of electricity all over; it takes everything in him not to combust and run around like a crazy man.

"Thank you, Clark," you say, smiling, calm and composed. "But do you have a concern?"

Clark blinks slowly. "N-no, I'm good. Totally fine."

He clears his throat, shaking off the nerves. "Uhm, do you need help? I'm actually not doing anything right now, Chloe's still picking up her actual coffee and so uh…"

He's rambling again. This time, you can't even stop yourself from smiling at him. So you look away, tongue poking at your cheek. "I'm fine, Clark, I appreciate it… Chloe's looking for you anyways."

The look on his face drops. "She is?"

"Yeah, that's her right?" You jerk your head towards the blonde. Clark quickly looks at that direction, internally cringing when he sees you're right.

Chloe is back already.

"That is her." He sighs, shoulders dropping.

Then, out of nowhere, he feels his world tip over. The chuckle that escaped your lips was almost enough to get him tripping all over the place. When he looks at you, smiling and snickering at him, it's like nothing he's ever seen before.

It was way different from how he saw you smile in front of your friends, in front of the student body (or at least that's what he thought to himself). Nevertheless, gathering the courage to actually approach you is already a big achievement for himself.

When you urge him to get back to Chloe, he heads back to their spot, an almost disappointed look on his face as he arrives on the bench. Chloe wasted no time asking a dozen questions.

Where were you? Why were you with the student body president? Did she ask you for help? Since when did you volunteer for the council?

"Geez, Chloe, calm down," Clark sighs. "Just 'cause you got your coffee doesn't mean you have to go all beast mode again…" he rubs his hands together, "I was… I was asking her for an exclusive."

"Really?" Chloe looks at him skeptically. "Clark Kent asking council members for exclusives on his own accord?"

Clark subtly watches you from the corner of his eye before he wriggles his eyebrows at Chloe, smiling charmingly, "Journalistic curiosity."

"Wait, correct me if I misheard but—did you just say Sanders is purposefully manipulating your grades?" Chloe looks to Clark for confirmation, watching him huff out a breath as he keys in the code to his locker.

"I said I think, Chloe. I mean, think about it," Clark takes a second to scan the vicinity before lowering his head to Chloe, "I've been studying biology every night in the barn, I can't possibly be getting a D- two exams in a row!" The frustration is evident in the way Clark's voice strained, eyes widened for emphasis.

Chloe sighs, Clark's right. Getting a D- on two consecutive exams is already very peculiar, more so for someone as grade-conscious as Clark.

Just as both of them think of throwing out their farfetched and meteor-rocks-centric theories, the devil walks by them. Calling out their last names while thrusting two pieces of papers towards them.

With a tight smile, Clark takes their papers and keeps them faced on the floor. Both of them watching Sanders walk away—boldly throwing them a sharp glare over his shoulder as he enters a different corridor. Both Clark and Chloe turn to each other, sharing a knowing look.

Clark flips the papers up in one swift motion. His jaw dropping the same time as Chloe lets out an overly happy cackle.

Written on the face of the paper was a bright red B+, comments on the side reading “The conclusion is nonsense. Next time, read your work first before writing the conclusion.”

"No, I swear, Chloe, he's setting me up," Clark complains, slamming his locker shut.

"Clark, unless Professor Sanders was with us when we wrote this essay, he couldn't possibly know that you wrote the conclusion." Chloe reasons out as she takes the papers from Clark's hands. She flips the front page, reading the other comments on the latter parts of the essay.

"And look," she tilts the paper for Clark to see, "His comments actually support the one in front. It's not just baseless."

Clark pauses, staring at Chloe in disbelief. He can't believe Chloe actually is siding with Sanders. Their hell-sent biology instructor that seemingly has his motives set on making sure Clark experiences the worst freshman year of his life.

"Look, Clark, I know grades are important to you, and I know it's hard when you don't see the outcome you expect," Chloe starts, keeping her voice low, "But it's still not too late to re-evaluate your study habits. Maybe you can sign up for the tutoring program, I think they still have some slots left before the break. There's nothing wrong with asking for some help studying the lessons." She gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder, letting him have the their essay.

"I have to get to the Torch now, Clark. See you after class?"

Clark nods, licking his lips. "Yeah, see you."

The first time Clark went to the council's office to sign up for a tutoring class, the slots were already full. Five names—one of which were yours—all had complete timetables already. Not a single open slot in sight.

And so he spent the entire break bundled up in his loft, occasionally driving over to Lex Luthor's castle just to get some extra biology textbooks from his library. As Clark expected, the very first suggestion Lex gave him after learning about his situation was to get Sanders fired. Which, according to Lex, would just take two phone calls and a check for donation to the school.

After the break, once the classes resumed, the slots were still full until the end of the week. The previously five names were now down to three—one of which were still yours.

To say that Clark basically had to fight tooth and nail just to get a slot at the tutoring service was an understatement. He practically had to arrive at the school earlier than everybody else. When he managed to snag a slot under Noah at 6 p.m., best believe Clark arrived at the library on the exact dot.

He arrived there before Noah did, and so he pulled out his textbooks and studied instead. Letting the time pass by advance reading on the upcoming chapters. When he hears a bell ring from outside, he looks to the wall clock.

6:15 p.m. and his tutor still hasn't shown their face.

The council's policy is that a tutor can wait for their tutee only for fifteen minutes. Any later than that meant that the tutor had the right to cancel the session and wait for their next tutee. Although that was the general rule for the tutor's side, Clark wondered how long is acceptable for him to wait before he can head back home and just study there instead.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly before he shoves all of his materials back in his back, heading over to the council's office. He spent a buttload of time trying to secure this slot, he's damn sure he'll look around and wait for his tutor even if it meant—

"Is there a concern?" Your sweet, neutral voice asks. Head snapping to him as you remove the thumbtack from the bulletin board.

All of the words of complaint Clark initially had tucked under his tongue was long gone now. The farmboy blinking continuously as if he was trying to see if this was actually real life. That you were actually looking at him, speaking to him at this moment.

Last time he remembers that happened was at the start of the year, right at the Alumni Homecoming Party. A big chunk of the school year has passed and he hasn't spoken to you since. Resorting to watching you from afar like he always did ever since he saw you campaign as the fifth grade representative.

"Clark, do you have a concern?" Your voice calls at him again, only this time a little firmer and with your arms crossed on your chest. Neatly trimmed eyebrow arched intimidatingly.

He opens his mouth to speak, stammering in the process, "I-I was supposed to get tutored by Noah at 6 p.m. but he wasn't at the library so I came to see if he was, y'know, in here waiting for me."

You furrow your eyebrows. Taking the folder from the table and looking through the names. There definitely was a Clark Kent on Noah's schedule, though you clearly remember Noah telling you earlier that he wouldn't be able to attend to his last session because of… unforeseen circumstances.

"I'm really sorry, Clark, but Noah is attending to an emergency. He won't be able to accommodate your slot for today." You break the news to him, sounding as sympathetic as you can. "If you want, I can sign you up on tomorrow's slots? Have you first one on his tutoring."

"Oh! No, that won't be necessary. I can head home now and—"

"Oh, it's biology," your surprised voice cuts him off. Seeing the subject Clark wrote on the subject column. "You're having a hard time with biology?"

Clark tries not to feel small under your squinted eyes. He knows you simply asked out of curiosity, but he can't help but feel a little dumb from your question especially when it came from one of the top ranking students in school.

How can he possibly tell you that he's not the problem—he understands the concepts religiously—but the professor is.

The professor who always praises you every time you raise your hand to answer his outrageously difficult and out-of-this-world questions. He’s sure you wouldn’t believe him.

"I won't judge, Clark," you scoff lightheartedly. Placing the folder back on the table as you continued fixing the bulletin board. "And come in, take a seat—anywhere."

Clark scratches the back of his head, taking another step inside of the office, closing the door behind him before sitting on one of the vacant seats. "Well, yeah, somethin' like that."

He quiets down on his seat, eyes following your every move as you went around the office like an agitated rabbit—fast, focused, and completely unaware of how he can't look away.

The fact that he was inside of the office probably slipped from your mind already as you focused on cleaning up the board, wiping away the words written on the dry-erase part of it.

You pile on the different papers on your hands, moving them from one side of the room to another in a quiet rush. The folder at the very top falling in front of Clark. He picks it up and crosses the room quietly. You're wiping down the whiteboard, sleeves pushed up, the fading sunlight catching the edges of your hair in a soft glow.

"Hey—this fell," he says.

You glance over your shoulder, brow furrowed in focus. "Thanks." You take the folder without much thought, already shifting a new stack of papers into your arms. "Shit, sorry—uh, what part of biology were you having difficulties with? We share the same class right?"

"Mhm, with Professor Sanders." Clark nods, clasping his hands behind his back. "Look, uh, forget biology, d'you need any help? I can help if you want. Pretty much lost the momentum to study anyway," he chuckles nervously.

You look at him with a glint in your eyes, an ambiguous smile growing on your lips before you slid away from your spot. The distance between you two suddenly growing now that you moved away. You two were barely two feet apart a second ago, now you two were on either side of the room.

Clark feels himself grow slightly anxious, worried that he might've invaded your personal space. The council office was pretty much as close to you as the Torch office was to Chloe; Clark knew that very well. And so he waits for you in his spot silently, and patiently. His hands resting in his pockets while he looked around and drank in the environment.

It was definitely bigger than the Torch office. Though it had lesser computers, there were much more storage cabinets and materials lying around. Organized shelves with various papers and documents. Numerous bulletins for the council's announcements and quick view.

The faint hum of a nearby classroom projector drones in the background, alongside the mechanical sound of printers working.

Just as he started reading the front page of the budget report on the desk beside him, you call out his name. Again.

"You know, I can tutor you if you want," you say plainly. Your fingers going over the folder of blank pages you randomly took, pretentiously looking over it.

He looks at you dumbfounded. "W-what? Can you repeat that? I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I said, if you want, Clark, I can tutor you." You purse your lips. "The whole situation with you waiting for Noah in the library was a completely avoidable situation if he had just informed you beforehand… and I was the one that proposed this whole tutoring project in the first place so I feel partially responsible for the wasted time," you end, placing away the folder and slinging your bag over your shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

Clark's eyebrows shoot up the more you spoke. It's actually the first time he's heard you speak this much in a single go. He can see the sincerity in your eyes as you brushed away your hair from your face.

Before he can assure you that it isn't really a big deal, you beat him to it. Shrugging your shoulders as you walk over to the door.

"But the, uh, the school library's closing in a few minutes and we can't stay in the office after school hours since I have to return the key so…" You inhale, mentally scolding yourself. "If it's okay with you to have me as your tutor—as a substitute for Noah, of course—I can tutor you over at the Talon or somewhere you're comfortable."

Clark stumbles over his words. Something along the lines of Really? You'd do that? hidden underneath all of that nervous stuttering and blabbering.

"If you want me to," you reply, trying your best not to sound too pushy or too passive.

"I'd love that." Clark says in a heartbeat. A smile spreading on his face, wider than his own shoulders which, considering his size, says a lot. His sharp canines making an appearance.

You bit the inside of your lip, stopping yourself from smiling. "Perfect. Talon then?"

Clark walks over to you, taking your place by the door as he holds the knob, failing miserably at hiding the absolute joy in his face. "Actually, is it okay if we stop at the Talon first? I'll just grab something then we can study at the barn."

"The barn?" You echo, confused.

"Yeah—oh, we have a barn at our farm and I have a loft there. All of my textbooks and notes are in there and there's enough room for the two of us to study there but, if you don't want then—"

You cut him off, "Clark, it's fine."

"It's quiet," Clark adds, a little softer now. "The loft gets good light before sunset, and you can hear the crickets when it gets dark. It's… peaceful. Might help us focus."

"Clark, if you ask me one more time, I might actually deck you," you tell him with a straight face.

Clark, despite his tall and buff stature, actually freezes at your word. The look on his face mimicking that of a deer getting flashed with headlights, so innocent that it actually makes you squeal inside.

When he starts stammering, you finally break through your poker-face and laugh at him. The sound sticking in his head like a melody he didn't know he'd been waiting to hear. "I'm just kidding, Clark. C'mon, we gotta catch the bus before it leaves."

The moment you take a step out of the door, Clark's hand holds your wrist. You actually freeze, feeling your breath get caught in your throat. The moment quickly flees as Clark lets go, muttering repeated apologies.

His gaze finds yours, steady and stunned, the noise of the hallway slowly disappearing from his mind. His eyes linger for a second longer than it should have, and so he looks away. "Sorry—I, uh, I bought the truck with me. I can drive us there."

You were still replaying that short moment when he grabbed your wrist. Something about it kept your mind on the edge of its seat, as if it was anticipating something you've been continuously trying to shake off since the start of freshman year.

You didn't even get to weigh in the pros and cons of getting in the same car with Clark—as if there even were cons—when your head already nods itself.

Behind the explosion of joy you see in his eyes, you don't miss the small shimmer of affect he tries (and fails) to hide.

The funny thing though is that Clark doesn't miss the same shimmer in yours too.

It's only been an hour since you and Clark have arrived at his loft and began studying. The woody and cozy smell of the space making you feel at home, especially with how the sunlight spilled inside because of the gigantic window in the middle.

Clark shifts beside you, letting out a relaxed yawn as he hands you the two-page worksheet you gave him ten minutes earlier. "I swear, I think I understand it now—basically the mitochondria is like you?"

"Good try, no." You scoff, finally looking away from your laptop to take the paper from him.

Clark chuckles, "Right, right… 'cause the mitochondria doesn't really breathe caramel coffee huh?" He raises a teasing brow, the ends of his lips inching up ever so slightly.

You shoot him a glare, your red pen checking the items on the paper. "Not my fault you gave me caramel coffee during the start of school."

The way you brought the memory up makes him smile—wider than he should—but he covers it by taking a bite of the donut on your plate. "My bad, I probably shouldn't have introduced you to the best coffee you ever tasted huh?"

"Don't get cocky, farmboy," you glance at him as you wrote his score on the corner of the paper, handing it to him after, "You have Chloe to thank for that. If she never took the coffee, then I wouldn't have tasted the best coffee ever."

You mimicked the way he spoke of best coffee, smirking at him when he rolls his eyes playfully at you, arms crossing sassily.

"And who was the one that gave you the coffee?" He moves his head, hand softly pushing the back of his ear to hear you better.

"Actually, I think he was just a random stranger passing by, never really got his name." You feign innocence, putting on your best thinking face while nodding your head slowly.

"Did you now?" Clark scoffs, eyebrows raising, "Never got his name, really? Not even his first name? Or what he looks like?" He tilts his head as he played along.

You shake your head, competing with his glare. "Nope."

The stare-down lasts for a few seconds before the two of you laugh. Clark watches the way your eyes scrunched up when you do, not letting a moment slip by.

"Good job, Clark," you say, going back to your tutoring voice as you put your laptop back on your lap. "Y'know, if you didn't get the cell organelle question wrong, I'd think you never had problems with biology in the first place."

"Please. If the diagram was just drawn a little better, I definitely would’ve gotten it right." Clark places his biology textbook away.

You quickly glance at the trunk-turned-coffee-table, inhaling sharply as you look back on your laptop. Clark's lip twitches, grabbing the cup of coffee and handing it over to you without a word. Your hand quickly darting out to take it.

Your eyebrows furrow when you feel the cup be a little too heavy. "This isn't mine."

"Oh, it's mine. I bought an extra one just in case you wanted more caffeine," Clark says ever-so casually. His lips pulling into a pout as he looks away, making himself look busy by going through the short stack of worksheets beside him.

When he peeks to look at you from his side, you're looking suspiciously at him while swirling the cup. "Just natural instinct… you know," he shrugs, "I am the right-hand of the Torch's editor."

"Sure…" Clark watches you slowly nod your head, bringing the cup to your lips.

A contented smile comes on his face when you let out a soft and satisfied groan. Your arm jutting out to place the cup back on the table. Clark nibbles on his bottom lip as he starts itching to speak again despite one side of him screaming to just let you rest for a second.

The silence hanging between the two of you weirdly calming and comfortable, like the morning of a Sunday chore-day with a radio playing softly in the back.

Then, his voice speaks. "Hey."

You look to him in a heartbeat.

"I really appreciate it… this whole tutoring session." Clark means it. It shows in the quiet way he says it, like he's been holding on to the words since the two of you arrived there. Even in the subtle actions he does—in those small, unspoken gestures that says he's at your beck and call, even without needing to be asked. "I didn't think you'd offer your time to tutor me."

You blink, forehead creasing lightly. "Why not?"

Clark shrugs, this time a little more relaxed—somewhere between playful and bashful. "You're… y'know, you. Student council officer, top of the class, all busy and intimidating—"

"Clark, I’m literally a student."

"Terrifying," he teases, leaning his elbow on his side of the couch, grinning lazily. "I'm sure I even cried when you told our algebra professor that I forgot my assignment."

You laugh—a louder, more genuine one than the first one Clark ever heard from you—and his body short-circuits. Clark swears, if given a chance, he'd bottle that sound and use it whenever he has a hard time, automatically brighten up his day on demand.

"God, I didn't know you were such a drama queen, farmboy." You stand up abruptly, placing your laptop on the spot beside you as stretched your arms. "Oh, and, your cell drawings are hideous, by the way."

"They're my artwork."

"It's chicken scratch on paper, farmboy," you scoff.

Clark's eyes narrow, smoldering his eyebrows, "An artistic chicken scratch perhaps?"

"Charming," you snort, sitting back down to slice off a part of the pie. Your eyes rolling back when it practically melts in your mouth. "God, you could bribe me to tutor you again just with this pie alone."

"Blueberry pie and caramel coffee… I'll keep that in mind." Clark humors you.

You follow up, "And glazed donuts."

"And glazed donuts," Clark echoes, nodding affirmatively.

The two of you exhaust the remaining time in the session by going over the lessons for tomorrow. Clark listening to your every explanation like you were the actual professor. The way he kept his eyes on you the whole time, making sure you see that he’s paying attention to every word.

Clark’s confident that he understands the lessons, but the way you explained it to him in a waaay easier approach made him swoon for you all the more. The topics he found mildly confusing and challenging, you went over them in a breeze.

If you continue giving him the time of the day to tutor him, Clark might consider pursuing a degree in biology.

The sun had already gone when you two finished, with all of the cup of coffees emptied and the plate finished; The clock on the wall indicating that you’ve went past the standard time for a tutoring session by an hour.

“Maybe if you didn’t take fifteen minutes criticizing my cell drawing, we wouldn’t have lost track of the time,” Clark jokes at you, handing you the rest of your stuff as you arranged them neatly inside of your backpack.

“Hey!” You glare at him, zipping up your bag as you followed him to the stairs. “It’s not my fault Professor Sanders said cell drawings are part of the major exam. I’m simply… preparing you.”

Clark responds, “Looks like I’d have to practice even more then.”

When he sees you pause on your way, blinking once before resuming, his forehead scrunches. Confused on what it was you were thinking about. Fortunately, it doesn’t take you too long to actually voice out what you were thinking.

“Good thing my tutoring slots for tomorrow are still empty,” you say with a smoothness to your voice, as if you didn’t just take an awfully prolonged time to think of your response.

The corner of Clark’s mouth extends up, eyes searching yours for an answer. “Are you saying you want to tutor me again?” He juts out his lips, head tilting teasingly. “…‘cause, y’know, I’m not really sure that’s what I’m hearing right now. You might wanna clarify just a tiny bit.”

An endearing sigh leaves your lips, looking away to hide the amused smile while Clark waits for you with a smug grin. His arms crossed on his chest as if he was expected something from you.

“I think your hearing needs a good check-up, farmboy.” you say crossing your arms.

Clark groans, one hand to his chest, “That hurts.”

But he’s smiling again—cheesy and lopsided, like he’s not quite used to this kind of bantering between the two of you. Not like he ever wants this moment to stop. And you, standing there in front of him, at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed and eyes glittering despite the dim lights of the barn, smiling right back at him.

Neither of you speak.

Until you do.

“My 6 p.m. is open, Clark,” you say, voice low and careful. “Only if you promise to let me leave with your mother’s pie.”

Clark laughs, bright, genuine, and somewhat relieved. “I saved you half of it the moment you finished the two slices.”

You nod, then started to walk out of the barn, only this time taking way slower steps. Clark following your tail in a heartbeat.

Somewhere in the quiet surroundings, between the sounds of his steps on the gravel and the sleepy hum of the animals around the two of you, something shifts inside of Clark.

Not the nervousness from before. Not the anxiety of possibly making a fool of himself.

Only something real.

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

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bowtiepasta · 1 day ago

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upperclassman suguru who spots you briefly on a random day in spring, right as finals are coming up, when you visit jujutsu high to tour.

he finds himself enamored with the lost mouse look you’ve got going on, and admittedly, feels quite guilty about it too. why, you ask?

because that once innocent admiration snowballs into something more akin to obsession.

you’re trailing behind a faculty member with a tote bag slung over your shoulder and worry pinching your brows, too polite to interrupt her monologue.

you’re not even a student yet, and he’s memorized your name in both kanji and hiragana, from a visitor sign-in sheet he definitely wasn’t supposed to see.

you come back once a week—some outreach program for prospective transfer students—always in the late afternoon. suguru makes a point of being on campus those days, even when he doesn’t need to be.

he doesn’t talk to you. not yet. he thinks about it often—conjures up little scenarios in his head where he pretends to bump into you, where he offers to walk you to the library, where you’re shy and grateful and start to rely on him before you even realize it.

he tells himself he’s being patient. being kind.

suguru’s always been popular. satoru’s not-so-subtle complaints slip out every now and then, about how it's undeserved, how it goes to waste because suguru, nine times out of ten, is guaranteed to turn them down.

still, he likes that nobody knows. that when his phone lights up during ‘study sessions’ and shoko teases him about some smoke-show from kyoto being the one who’ll finally win him over, he lets her believe it.

because you—you’re his sweet little secret.

#romy is 5km away and lonely :(#tw yan #tw yandere #? kind of. jic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #suguru shaped

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moonstruckme · 11 hours ago

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Okay, very self indulgent but poly!Steddie and the reader gets a masters degree but her family doesn’t come to graduation? Nobody came to mine and it felt pretty sad to see my friends with families but hey! the reader has steddie

Hi angel, I'm sorry you felt alone. Congratulations on getting your masters!!

poly!Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 624 words

Eddie’s still yawning while Steve half-drags him through a row of filled seats. He lets his boyfriend apologize for the both of them as they shuffle past and knock knees with strangers.

Steve is as huffy as if Eddie’s the one who made them late—as if Eddie spent ten minutes fussing over his hair while his boyfriend idled in the driveway—but damned if they don’t find two seats smack in the middle of the row anyway.

Eddie skims the rows of graduates. “Where’s she sitting?”

“I don’t know.” Steve fusses with the flowers—the ones he won’t let Eddie hold, despite the fact that Eddie was the one who went to the grocery store at eight this morning to get them. “There’s not that many grad students, we should be able to see her. Shit, I should have gotten a program.”

“I got you,” Eddie soothes, passing Steve the leaflet he snatched from a table on their way in. Steve takes it without comment. Eddie’s about to snark at him, but when Eddie yawns again Steve leans to the side, offering Eddie his shoulder as a pillow.

Eddie smiles and kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re welcome, asshole,” he says warmly.

“So many speeches,” Steve mutters. He’s just as tired as Eddie—seriously, whose idea was it to have your ceremony at ten in the morning?—but twice as grumpy. He perks up, though, when he looks up from the program. “There she is.”

“Hm?” Eddie picks his head up from Steve’s shoulder, looking out over the rows of graduate students.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t spot you before. This time, his eyes find you like a compass finds north. You’re turned around in your seat, looking up into the crowd of friends and families with a searching gaze. Your lips have a sad little pinch at one corner. With everyone around you radiating pride and excitement, you look small.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts. Steve flushes, shushing him. “Hey, that’s my girl!”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses, covering Eddie’s mouth with a hand like Eddie won’t just lick it (he does). “Don’t yell, idiot.”

“Look, she’s looking!”

Steve joins Eddie, almost resignedly, in putting his hands up for you to see as your eyes skim the area of seats the shout had come from until they finally land on your boyfriends.

Eddie waves enthusiastically. “Hey,” he says again, quieter now.

You light up. Your smile bursts across your face, bright and beaming and the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. He and Steve both mirror it like the fools they are. You wave back at them, and when you eventually turn around in your seat, you look just as happy to be there as everyone else.

“She looks really good,” Steve says in a reverent tone.

Eddie scoffs. “What else is new?”

They’re both a little bit starstruck by you, Eddie thinks. Steve maybe didn’t have as much trouble as Eddie did finishing high school, but neither of them have ever worked as hard as you have in getting your degree. More often than not, it was Eddie who heated up pizza rolls, allegedly for himself but really to push on you so you’d take a study break, and Steve who drove onto campus to bring you coffee between classes. You really earned this. It’s nice to see you basking in it a little.

There are speeches. Some girl, some dean, blah blah blah. Eddie dozes on Steve’s shoulder until your row stands up to go onstage, and Steve strangles the flowers in his hand as they approach your letter of the alphabet.

When your name crackles through the microphone, Eddie whistles loudly enough to make the lady in front of them cover her ears. Steve joins him.

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melyonza · 3 days ago

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Moon was created to keep Mimic in check?

In an alternate ending, we see the player reading a story to Mimic to calm him down and make him good again.

In the game, Edwin was represented as the moon because he was someone depressed and gloomy but everything changed when Fiona arrived, who was his light in life, representing her as the Sun.

Edwin had already lost his wife but after the loss of his son he wanted to try the same thing but as was known, his inventions always failed.

Fiona knew that Mimic wasn't bad and tried to tell Edwin but he was too depressed to listen to her, despite that, his mind knew of the danger and unknowingly he started to create Moon.

At first he created it as a mascot to spend time with his son (Mimic) and read him bedtime stories, however, Mimic was strong and stubborn so he decided to put it aside and think of a better invention.

That's when he decided to create a much stronger and more agile Moon, someone capable of evading Mimic's attacks and making him difficult to control. Someone who would force him to sleep, either with music or treats.

Unfortunately he was unable to complete this invention because his plans were stolen (possibly by Henry and William) causing Edwin to have to deal with Mimic.

Years go by and Fazbear decides to carry out Edwin's invention on Moon, only more improved and with a better design.

Because the plans weren't finished, Fazbear had to conduct experiments on Moon underground. Fazbear's team discovered that Moon was programmed to protect but also to attack, likely because Edwin designed it that way, but Fazbear was unaware of that mission since they didn't know about Mimic.

In FNAF SB, Moon and Sun were the only ones who didn't follow Vanessa's orders, since when they ran into Gregory, they didn't hand him over to her. Sun just forbade him from entering, while Moon just wanted to send him to sleep.

When Gregory was hiding inside Glamrock Freddy, the other animatronics didn't know where the boy was hiding. However, Moon did, as he kept an eye on him. This is curious because in SOTM, when Arnold hides inside the animatronics, Mimic points out that he can see him, and that even if he fools the others, he knows he's hiding.

When Moon catches Freddy, it shows us that he's strong. This strength was probably designed by Edwin to subdue Mimic. In Freddy's case, Moon took him to the repair room because he saw that Freddy was damaged. He could have destroyed him, but he chose to take him.

Vanny seemed to have control over all the animatronics, except for Sun and Moon. This is likely because Edwin specially designed them with an antivirus to protect them from Mimic or another hacker (like William Afton) taking control.

In SOTM, a Sun gives her a code to reprogram Mimic. In the DLC, Cassie reboots Eclipse (a combination of Moon and Sun) to make him good again.

In the DLC, Sun asks Cassie to help him reboot his system. It's curious since the other animatronics were unaware of the reboot device, but Sun knew what it was and begged for help. So it probably wasn't the first time.

When Eclipse becomes good, his attitude seems more maternal. Considering that in FNAF SOTM, it's Fiona who gives the character the reprogramming code, it could be said that Eclipse is like the son Edwin and Fiona never had, where Eclipse took on more of Fiona's personality while Mimic brought out Edwin's pessimistic personality.

#five nights at freddys #fnaf security breach #fnaf sotm #secret of the mimic #fnaf eclipse #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf moon #fnaf mimic

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fawnoria · 11 hours ago

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husband!nanami preemptively budgeting for your unborn baby

on the morning after your second positive test, your husband’s standing hunched over the kitchen table—he’d left bed quietly, with the soft deliberation he applied to most things in life. in front of him sits a mug of untouched coffee gone tepid. a yellow legal pad: column after column of figures in tidy script, annotated with 0.5 uni ball pen.

you hover in the doorway a moment, admiring his profile: barefoot in his slacks, hair slightly mussed. he doesn’t hear you until you shift your weight, floorboard creaking underfoot.

“seven weeks,” you say, by way of greeting.

“approximately,” his gaze drops back to the paper. “which, optimistically, gives us about seven months to account for the first year’s expenses.”

“did you know,” he murmurs, “the average cost of a child’s first year is nearly two million yen? that doesn’t include school fees. or medical insurance. or college tuition.”

you step closer, skimming the columns. food, childcare, emergency savings, medical contingencies. even a line labeled ‘adjusted parental leave income.’

“this one here,” he says, tapping his pen against a neat cell, “is a preliminary projection for an international preschool program. in the event we don’t stay in tokyo. though it’s still early.”

you blink. “kento. our child is the size of a blueberry.”

“irrelevant at this stage. what matters is equity of access.”

you fold yourself into the space between his chair and the table, arms looped around his neck, cheek pressed against his temple. his pen halts midstroke.

“i’m not worried,” he adds finally. “i just want to plan ahead. i don’t want you—or them—to ever need anything.”

you kiss the top of his head. “you’re gonna be a great dad.”

he hums, then under his breath, “do you think two air purifiers would be too much?”

#he’s going to give the baby a trust fund before it has a spinal cord #nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #❀ 𝓚𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ༊*·˚#nanami kento fluff #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #nanami kento x y/n #husband!nanami

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williamafton2030 · 4 hours ago

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Thinking about this makes me very sad… 💔😔

There's a big difference between the Mimic in the Tales and Mimic 2 in the games. In the Tales, he imitated David because he spent a lot of time playing with him and imitated everything the boy did. However, in the games, Mimic 2 doesn't do this imitation because he wants to or sees it from David; no, he does it because Edwin told him to. 💔

He was never able to choose his own destiny, and one day, while he was following the orders Edwin had put into his programming (to imitate David), Edwin hits him and destroys him. I can't even imagine what Mimic 2 must have felt like at that moment. Being calm and suddenly having your creator brutally beat you 💔

On top of that, it's like you said, because before that moment, Edwin didn't show the kindness that David, I'm sure, showed Mimic 1. From the beginning, Edwin isn't convinced by the results with Mimic 2, and that's why he never treats him with the affection a father should give his son (in this case, his creation).

Mimic 2 ends up devastated and confused, but also filled with Edwin's rage and anger, and begins to fully become a being born of emotions. However, David isn't here to give him that little spark of kindness at his birth; this time, Mimic 2 is born of rage and anger.

Now that we have Mimic 2's model in SOTM, we can compare it to Ruin's. In doing so, we'll notice that the part where we inserted the Data Diver in the Good Ending is no longer there. He ripped it out. But why? Well, it seems Mimic 2 doesn't want to be fixed, since at the end of Parachute, he takes away the Data Diver, which is the only thing we can use to fix him.

He doesn't want to be fixed… 💔😔

Maybe it's because he wants a life of his own…

Or maybe it's also because he doesn't want to be someone he's not anymore. He doesn't want to be forced upon him anymore, and I think that really gives Mimic 2 a lot of depth 😉😔

Kinda fucked up that since there’s two Mimics now, that M2 just never knew any kindness.

They never met and befriended David like F10N4, they were made to replace him and only ever knew Edwin’s abuse for doing exactly what he made them to do. That’s all they ever knew.

#fnaf #fnaf sotm #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's sotm #sotm spoilers #fnaf spoilers #fnaf mimic #fnaf mimic 2

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thecowboyfiles · 2 days ago

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Complete free rein, I trust you! :)

Okay, listen, you gave me free rein and I gave you angst with a happy ending, I'm sorry 😭 TW for talk of addiction, drug use and self-harm. Also, I have memberships now if you wanna check them out 💕

‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

📂 Current File: ▼ 5.0_CoffeeCravings&Confessions.mp4

ⓘ Robert Reynolds x Male Reader

You find Robert in the last place you expected to find him— a church. It’s too dark outside to see the stained glass windows you know are there, but there are rows of candles up by the altar illuminating the room, enough to let you see the outline of his body.

You slide effortlessly into the pew beside him and take a soft breath through your nose because speaking suddenly feels inappropriate, even though the two of you are the only ones in there.

Rob is sitting eerily still, and you may even be worried about him if his breath didn’t sound so ragged and heavy. “Robby? You okay?” You ask, just above a whisper. You don’t dare look at him yet, just keep your eyes on the flickering candles ahead.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken all day.

“Lookin’ for you,” You manage a small smile and finally turn your head to look at him. He still doesn’t look back. His hands collapsed in his lap, and for a moment, you worried that you had interrupted him while praying. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not,” Rob admits after a beat. “It’s just… in the 12-step program, they often bring it back to religion, whether you believe in it or not.” He shrugs, but pulls his hands apart, and you can see the chip against his skin.

It’s light grey, somewhere between white and actual grey, and you lean down to get a closer look, but it’s too dark to actually see what the thing says. “What’s that one for?” You ask, you know he won’t tell you if he doesn't want to, but you still feel a sense of love when he speaks, he trusts you enough to talk about his past despite only being boyfriends for a measly 3 months.

“It’s my one-year tag.” He says, then he lifts it up a little, but he doesn't even need to look at it to know what it says. “Clean and Serene for one year.” He mutters, tone slightly mocking.

You don't know what to say. Of course, you knew that he was sober, but what did that have to do with this? Why was he here, in a church of all places, holding onto a sobriety chip like a lifeline? “One year is really good, Robby.” You smile, a hesitant, placating smile, a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“It is,” He nods, “But I’ve been thinking about using again, I mean, really thinking about it. So much that my skin itches at night, and I get cravings for anything and everything, stuff I’ve never even tried. Anything to just make it go away, you know?”

“I didn’t know…” You say softly because what else is there to say? ‘Don't do that, that's a terrible idea.’ Robert knows all that already; if he didn’t, he’d already be out using and not sitting in an empty church.

“Cuz I didn’t want you to know, who wants a boyfriend with all these problems? You’re gonna get sick of me.” Robert states it like it’s a given fact, like it’s just a matter of time before you tire of him and move on to someone less damaged. To him, it was a fact; it’s what always happened before.

“I’m not gonna get sick of you, I l— like you a lot.” You stutter, because this was definitely not the moment to say the other “L” word for the first time.

“This is never gonna end, you know that, right? I will always be an addict. I will always be in recovery. I’m never gonna enjoy a glass of wine with you at dinner or suggest smoking weed on a Saturday night after a hard day. I’m gonna get flashbacks and cravings, and I’ll always have these fuckin’ marks in my arm.” Robert is no longer talking quietly, and he yanks up his sleeve to show the healed but still visible track marks on his arm.

He’s getting upset, but you’re not scared about what side of him could possibly come out from this; you just place a hand on his arm and gently push it down, then you stand up and unbutton your pants, which makes him stop and look wildly around the church. “What are you doing? We're in public, we ’re—we’re in a church,” He emphasizes.

You don’t say anything, just pull down your pants and lift up the legs of your boxers just enough so that Robert can see the healed self-harm scars that litter your thighs. “Do you think these marks are ugly?” You ask softly.

Robert looks like he wants to reach out and run his fingertips over the raised skin, but he holds himself back and just shakes his head.

“We all have scars, Robby. We all have addictions and regrets and things we wish we could forget, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve someone to look after us, to care for us, to confide in. I don’t care that it will never be over. I don’t care about the addict, or The Void, or The Sentry. I just want you. I want you on good days and on bad. I want you when you’re questioning your sobriety, and I want you when you feel like you’re on top of the world. I want you for as long as you’ll have me.”

The church is completely silent after your spiel, and Robert is just staring up at you while you’re standing there with your pants at your knees. Slowly, you bend down and pull them up, thinking that you’re now the one who scared him away, but then he stands up too.

“I want you for as long as you’ll have me, too,” He smiles softly. “How about we get out of here and get the only drug ex-addicts are allowed to have— coffee, and I think you should have to pay.”

"Me?" You chuckle softly. "Why me?"

"Well, because there's this rule in NA not to get in a relationship before you're one year sober. I broke that for you." He bumps your shoulder lightly and takes your hand, the light grey chip squeezed between your touching palms.

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds angst #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds angst #bob reynolds fanfic #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #marvel #new avengers #thunderbolts*#mcu #sentry #thunderbolts fanfic #bob reynolds #the sentry

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 2 days ago

Text

Disco Inferno

Pairing: Buck x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Notes: How many is this? 3 of 5? Gee I hope so because I’m really trying to make my goal lmao

P.S I’m posting this from the Doctors office and I did NOT reread this

To promote “Teamwork” throughout the L.A.F.D., the Mayor decided a little “Exchange Program” was the answer. Every firehouse was basically supposed to trade one person from their team “to the left” (Buck sang it for days) for the entire summer. Accommodations were made for each member being traded in whatever city they would be in; sometimes, you ended up with a roommate or three.

In Buck’s case, he ended up all on his own. It was a sleepy little town, tranquil, with very little to do honestly. They mostly helped out neighboring cities with fires.

Buck had been chosen for the totally not incredibly painful reason of, he didn’t really have much of a life to leave behind for the summer. Eddie promised he’d take care of the loft… water his plants, feed his new fish Danny, and watch over you.

They said that since his relationship was kinda new…and he didn’t technically? Have a family to stay with that mayyyybe he was the best bet. The first thing he’d done was say he was going to talk to you about it. Because though you’d only been official for a couple of months… something like this could really make or break the relationship.

It was down to Buck, or Hen. Eddie needed to stay close to Chris, Chim and Maddie had just had the baby, and Bobby wasn’t an option.

Hen had literally cornered him in the station and begged him to take the position, she knew it was going to be hard and she felt sorry, she really really did. But she needed to stay with her wife and kids and Buck knew in his heart that it was going to be him going.

“What do you we think huh? Huhh? Pretty sweet right?!”

Buck held up the camera for you, showing you the sparse decorating he’d done, and the succulent you’d made him take with him. He’d put up a few movie posters, set up one of his favorite lamps, and brought like 15 squishmallows with him.

The place overall is pretty nice even if it lacks character. The one-bedroom bathroom apartment isn’t nearly as nice as his loft but it’s cozy and has hardwood floors. The kitchen was also small but really pretty. The stove alone makes Buck somewhat less stressed and more excited for his anxiety baking to impress his new crew for the summer.

He gives you a little tour of the place, there’s a comfy-looking black sofa and a matching armchair. The entertainment center is dark-stained wood with a nice-sized TV and a matching coffee table. The first and only bedroom in the place is definitely homier, Buck put up his own blackout curtains you’d gotten him as a gift and the blanket you made him was spread out on the king-sized bed.

That had been his request, making sure the bed was large enough to fit him and that his feet didn’t hang over for monsters to grab.

The bathroom is way nicer than you ever expected. The shower alone is stunning and if they had any budget for this place it definitely went here. The glass walls sparkle with the glare of the sun coming through the small window.

“I can’t wait to shower in this thing. I hope you expect a very NSFW video that’s only not safe because I’m naked because I’m literally going to be showing this shower off.”

You laugh and stuff your pillow further under your chin.

“Isn’t your shower at home super nice too? I love your shower!”

“Okay, but it isn’t this shower. What are you doing tonight?”

“Literally nothing” You shrug and he grins

“Perfect! I have to shower tonight so I’ll FaceTime you! Maybe if you wanted… you could go over to my place? And we could shower together. You know since you love my shower oh so much.”

“You want me to go to your apartment while you’re not there and take a shower with you on the phone?”

“That’s exactly what I want”

You’re not sure if he meant to make that face, or if he meant for his tone to drop an octave but the way he holds your stare for a second definitely confirms he totally did and now you’re just trying not to be flushed.

“Yeah okay… I’ll get the key from Eddie later.”

“Perfect! Pack an overnight bag so you can stay!”

“I don’t know have a choice in this do I?” You shake your head with a smile and he smiles back.

“I purposely sprayed my bed with extra cologne and left my second favorite hoodie behind and sprayed that down too.”

“You left your second favorite hoodie for me?” You pout and your lip trembles and he smirks.

“It’s your favorite… shit my new boss is calling me. I’ll call you later okay? I lo-“ He stops for a second, because like.. is it time to say that? Does he feel that?? Or was it just automatic because he says it to everyone he normally calls??

You either don’t hear it or don’t acknowledge it and he’s grateful for that… he thinks?

“Okay baby, I’ll take to you later!”

He doesn’t hit the button first and there’s another pause where he doesn’t want to hang up at all and this whole thing was stupid and he should be there with you. You give him a sad little wave and blow him a kiss before hanging up.

Buck carefully sets his iPad up in the shower. There’s literally a little slot there for it so he can watch movies and shower but tonight he’s going to be the movie.

He takes his time setting up all his stuff in the shower niche and puts his towel on the book and the cute pink loofah you bought him on the inside hook and now he’s just messing with things because what if you can’t call? Even if you’d just texted five minutes ago that you were getting all your stuff together and would call him in a minute.

What if something happened? What if there was a fire? What if there was a fire he wasn’t there to put out?

He’s about to call Eddie to check on you when his iPad starts ringing. He stands to the side and sticks his face in front of the camera and answers it.

“Hello?”

You snort and toss your head back “Why are you standing like that?!” He makes faces in the camera and makes you look up his nose before pulling away and standing in front of the camera while you’re laughing.

“Hey bunny- I wanted to make sure you…were…”

His voice trails off as he takes in the sight before him and he’s not sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t this. You’re not in the shower, you’re in the tub. You’ve got candles lining the edge and he knows you’ve got him on that little tub table he got you as a present.

None of that matters though, okay it does but god he has never hated bubbles more in his entire life which sucks because he loves bubbles. But you’ve somehow finagled them into the perfect little bubble top that hides those perfect breasts and he can already feel himself getting hard.

Your hair is in a sexy pile of curls on top of your head with some of them falling and he wants to tuck them behind your ear so badly… and then plow you over the side of the tub so hard all the water splashes out.

“I’m a little sore after work today so I thought a bath might be better. You don’t mind do you?”

“God no,” He says breathlessly and you giggle, sitting forward and the bubbles stay obnoxiously in place.

“How was your day? Did you get all settled in?” You smile and for a second his mind clears and his heart aches to kiss you after a long day. But the second you notice that look in his eye, the homesickness, you take matters into your own hands.

You push the bubbles out of the way and cup your breasts, pushing them into the camera and massaging them gently.

“Bucky baby?” You say sweetly and he’s gotta hold the shower niche to steady himself.

“Jesus fucking Christ” His eyes flash with an uncontrollable lust and he immediately stares at the floor making you laugh. You grin, crossing your arms under your breasts.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to put the bubbles back? Maybe cover up with a towel?” You start to look around for a washcloth and he throws his hands out.

“No!! No, no, no, this is perfect! So, so deliciously perfect.”

“Okay… did you get settled in okay?” You keep massaging them, squeezing the plump orbs, and giving them a little jiggle. Buck's eyes are glued to your nipples and you snicker.

“Evan”

His eyes snap up to yours and you lean forward in the camera, god he just wants to kiss you… or at least for you to push him down and take charge, he really can’t decide.

“Yes?” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, a sweet flush creeps up his neck and you giggle.

“Do I need to ask you again? Are you going to make me ask you again?”

It’s just the freaking way you say that that has him fully at attention… in more ways than one. He melts into a dreamy little puddle and he’s so sure you can see his knees shaking.

“No! N-no. I- I’m all unpacked, not that there’s much to unpack you know. But I got all my buddies set up and it’s actually super cute I should send you the picture later.”

“I’d love to see it! I’m glad you’ve settled in. Are you looking forward to dinner tomorrow?”

He sighs and for a minute he’s no longer distracted by your body but by the anxiety of meeting a new team and just trying to figure out where he belongs in it.

Stupid Mayor.

“Kind of? Not really if I’m being totally honest… I wish you were here to go with me at least. I wish Eddie was here too because he could come too and we’d be our own little group. But… I need him there with you. I need to know you’re safe.”

“You know he’s got me staying at his place three nights a week?”

Buck did know. He’s the one who hesitantly approached Eddie about it a week ago.

“He what??” He splutters and gestures wildly and you know immediately he had a hand in it… but fine. Whatever makes him feel better about having to go.

“Mhmm I’m due to sleep over tomorrow. We’re gonna be sharing a bed I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Hey, I fully trust my best friend.” His tone is firm and serious. “And I absolutely trust you. If my two favorite people who are adults have to share a bed that’s fine. I share one with Eddie all the time! It’s great you’re gonna fall in love. He doesn’t mind cuddling!”

You shake your head and giggle with him, running wet hands over your hair you smirk.

“I’m pretty sure he does mind cuddling. He just allowed you to because you’re you. We’re gonna set up some basic ground rules before bed tomorrow.”

“One of those rules is going to be it’s okay to cuddle” Buck crosses his arms over his chest childishly and you sink further into the water sassily.

“It’s really not.”

“You know what? Stay like that.” Buck hits a few buttons on his iPad and suddenly the phone is ringing you sink down to your eyes and Buck steps out of the camera for a minute.

“Uhh hello?” Eddie looks at his phone, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Are you alone?” Buck does his stupid nose camera thing again and you snort.

“I am… though I’m starting to not want to be oh my god get your fat nose out of the camera”

You come out of the water, the bubbles strategically placed and Buck steps into view, this time enough that it’s just his head and torso. Eddie chokes on his spaghetti and has to turn the camera away to die.

“What the fuck?!” He comes back on screen and downs half his water and Buck full-on ignores the dying part.

“You and Y/N are gonna be sharing a bed right?”

“Right??”

“And we’re going to have ground rules right?” You add

“Right…” Where the hell was this going?

“Is it okay to cuddle?” Buck has his arms back over his chest and you’re staring between the two of them and Eddie has to push his chair back and take a breath before he deals with the stupidity in front of him.

“You called me in the middle of… whatever the fuck this was. To ask me if one of the ground rules would be cuddling is okay??”

“Yes”

“Yup”

“Buck. Why would I cuddle with your girlfriend??”

“Because she’s pretty and cute and the sweetest thing ever and you can’t help but put your arms around her.” He could go on and on about all the ways he’s into you and all the ways Eddie should totally be into you but Eddie cuts him off.

“Buck I don’t- buddy I don’t think about your girlfriend like-“

Both you and Eddie fucking know the shit he’s pulling right now when his face immediately drops and he gets all pouty and wide-eyed. Eddie stops speaking for a second, looking over at you and you let your head drop onto your knees.

“Oh my god”

“Cuddling is on the table” Eddie throws his hands in the air and Buck's fist pumps.

“I fucking told you!” He yells out and your jaw drops

“Because you cheated!! And you know you did!!”

“I did no such thing” he sticks his tongue out at you and you’ve never been more upset he’s not close enough to strangle.

“You know what! Don’t come crying to me when Eddie wakes up with a hard-on pressed into my thigh.”

Eddie crumples in his seat with a strangled noise of embarrassment.

“Are you kidding me?” Buck scoffs “I would be dying to hear every detail of how you fixed it and expecting pictures.”

Your eyes do that cartoon thing? Where they pop out of your head and are just like massive circles and Eddie’s jaw falls so hard you hear it pop.

“Evan”

“Jesus Buck” Eddie is completely speechless and you’re both left floundering, mouths gaping and boy does that shoot the biggest thrill up Buck’s spine.

“Anyway… Cool cuddling is on the table. But in all seriousness Eddie if it wasn’t that’s totally okay. I’m just joking around I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable in that way.”

“It’s- no it’s. Uh- it’s fine” Eddie stutters over his words just trying to get something out. “I guess- uh you know in all seriousness I would have offered anyway, just to kinda comfort her… if you were cool with it man.”

“I am. I know my best friend will take care of my girlfriend while I’m gone.”

There is the wildest undertone to whatever the hell Buck is saying, there is a huge ass read between the lines shit happening here and Eddie shuts it down immediately. There’s no way in hell he’s thinking about doing things with his best friend’s girlfriend… in front of her face anyway.

Later that night, Buck receives a very long text detailing how Eddie thought the plan to seduce you was going better than they thought it would.

Anyway.

After a few very awkward goodbyes, it’s you and Buck on the phone again. Your cheeks are flushed a pretty pink from the conversation you’d just had and you’re a bit quieter now.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Buck wonders aloud as he turns on the shower. You lean forward and reach to pull the drain plug to make room for more hot water.

“I miss you”

He watches your body being unveiled to him inch by inch and he gets lost in it, all the perfect little dips and curves he loves to kiss so much.

“You wanna pick my bath bomb?” You reach forward again to turn on the hot water, your breasts in the camera, and Buck squeaks.

“Uhh sure?? Yeah sure why not?” You grab the basket and hold it in front of him, showing them all off and he gets easily distracted by the colorful set of bath bombs.

“I’m gonna be basic and pick intergalactic. I really like the color the water turns”

You take it out of the basket and aim the camera down at the water, his breath catches in his throat over the smooth expanse of your skin in the clear water. He hears you set the basket down and suddenly your hand slides down between your legs and you teasingly rub your lips before setting the bath bomb down and interrupting his little show.

“I hate you so much you know that” He rolls his eyes and you put the camera back up and give him a cute smile.

“Love you too honey!”

You lean forward again and pour some soap into the spout and a nice crowd of bubbles shows up again before you turn off the water.

He notices a distinct lack of your hands above the water like they had been earlier and he’s getting curious.

“Are we gonna do what I think we’re gonna do?”

“I think so…” you bite your lip playfully and he’s already embarrassingly close to making a mess all over this shower.

“Ladies first”

You smirk and push the table back some so he can see your body. He watches you slide your hand down your torso and between your legs and he’s cursing himself for picking such a dark-colored bath bomb. He shouldn’t have picked one at all really…

“You gonna be a good boy and rub your cock for me, baby?” You’re squirming in the water and it’s setting his body on fire again.

“My sweet baby Buck” Your voice is dripping with seduction and he’s fighting back all the embarrassing shit he wants to say “Come on, you can do it”

Bucks fist collides with the wall in front of him to keep himself steady and he groans softly, pumping his cock tortuously slow in time with your fingers.

You giggle and push the little table back all the way and scoop up some of the water letting it pour down your body. He watches the glittery streams flow between your breasts and over them and he moans.

“Oh god,” He pants as your fingers find your clit again, rubbing faster circles this time. Your other hand teases your breast, playing with your hard nipple and squeezing it between your fingers.

“Do that to your clit baby, lemme see you be mean to it.”

Your cheeks flush deeply and you spread your lips for him, letting him see your pulsing clit. You pinch it like he told you to, wincing at the pleasurable pain and he pumps his cock faster.

“Fuck I wanna taste you, I should come up there. It’s only a couple hours away…”

“Absolutely not” You pant, letting your head rest back against the rim of the tub “You have to be ready and well-rested for tomorrow and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t make a good first impression.”

“Hey, Buck? Why do you look so exhausted?” He makes his voice weird and high-pitched. “Oh just because I decided to go back home and fuck the brains out of my gorgeous girlfriend”

“You know in theory… I don’t- I mean I can work from home tomorrow.”

Buck knows you’d make the two-hour trip to see him, you’ll drive in the dark and get there and he can ravage you in any way he wants and he knows you’ll take it with a satisfied smile.

“I can’t ask you to do that, not at night. But- maybe this weekend?”

“I miss you,” you say again, and this time it feels different. His body was hot and ready and on the edge, raw with need… and he’d do anything to get to you.

He sighs deeply and looks at you with that winning smile, the one that had you saying yes to your first date and yes when he asked you to be his girlfriend

“Only a few more weeks, I promise”

His words hang heavy in the air for a minute and you sigh softly, smiling back finally and reaching forward.

“Guess I’ll be using my new boyfriend” You wave a little pink toy to the camera and the emotional roller coaster that’s been tonight suddenly goes right back up.

You show him the pastel pink suction toy and he whines and his hand is right back on his cock. You stand up on your knees and angle the camera down again and he’s drooling.

You run the tip around your clit and gasp, your hips shuddering a little and he moans with you.

“Keep it on your clit and turn it to your favorite setting. If you take it off I’m getting out of this shower and driving to you.”

“B-but-“

“Do you think I’m joking?”

He’s not, not with the way he stares at you so intensely you could cum just from that. You do as he says, picking your favorite setting with the pretty blue light and pressing it to your clit. You nearly double over and the water sloshes against the tub.

“Oh m-my god,” you grab the wall and he pumps his cock faster, in time with your sweet moans and writhing body. He can almost imagine being buried deep inside you. He doesn’t dare close his eyes either. He wants to, wants to moan into the wall and pretend it’s you against him and not the cold stone but then he’d miss the way that toy sucks and vibrates around your clit and the way your hips start to grind against it, twitching involuntarily.

Lowkey, he misses your strap too.

“Come on baby you’re so close for me, lemme see you cum I wanna watch you ruin yourself”

It’s like a dam breaks open and your orgasm comes rushing out. Your hips stutter and shake as you ride the toy between your legs. It sucks harder and vibrates faster when your hand accidentally slips on the button and you scream out Buck’s name. You can hardly hear him groaning your name as hot ropes of his cum coat the shower wall and he’s fucking his hand like a madman.

You gingerly plop back into the water and Buck stumbles back onto the bench, the hot water cascading down his chest and washing away the cum between his legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ” He pants harshly and you laugh deliriously through his iPad speakers.

“Only a few more weeks” you groan in distress and he snickers, letting his head fall against the tiles.

“I promise”

#words by rhys #rhys writes #911 x reader #911 fox #eddie diaz #911 show #911 abc #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader

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13tinysocks · 10 hours ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

Viltrum culture can be quite a shock. Everything'll be fine, as long as you listen and do everything the Emperor says. Oh... Well, things wouldn't have to be this way if you weren't such a bitch!

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

World building tiem... Look guys, they be flippin' that shit around tho. NSFW

[Part one] [Ao3] [23]

24 * Bitch [14.4k]

"I get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog."

Cop Car - Mitski

Having a master bathroom was only something you could dream about. With a deep, wide tub, products hidden away, on demand at the press of a button (Technically there weren't showers in Viltrum, just gas chambers that ionically cleaned whoever was inside but Mohawk had some more human amenities added to his room). Double sinks, clean mirrors that seemed to hover off the wall. Not a cobweb in the corner or spec of dust on the shiny tiled floor. The grand prize, a toilet with a bidet- that you were currently puking in.

You gripped the edges, heaving. Orangey vomit was quietly flushed away without back spray. Viltrumite plumbing was something else. You wanted it to be over but you could still feel your guts flipping, deciding whether to let it end now or drag the torment on for another hour.

"Why didn't you slow me down?" You whined, tears squeezed out the corners of your eyes.

The party had gone on awhile longer. It was all a haze after your seventh glass. You didn't entirely remember when you got back to Mohawk's room but you knew, you'd been at this toilet for what felt like forever. Hurting like a motherfucker.

Mohawk (held your hair/rubbed your) back, as helpful as he'd get. "Cuz she could hold her liquor."

You'd had beer that tasted like cardboard that didn't get you nearly as fucked up. "I can! Your girlfriend was just an alcoholic bi-bllarrgggg."

Mohawk watched your body slump and shudder in misery. Smiling despite it, because karma was real. "This is what you get for being a bitch to me earlier." He singsonged over the sound of puke hitting toilet water.

When it was over, you said, "I'm not gonna say sorry for being a bitch when you fucking kidnapped me."

"Baaabe, we've been over this." He whined. You tried lifting your head to glare but another wave of nausea dragged you back down. "Just accept it already. You're here with me now and you're safe. I'm not gonna hurt you, unless you ask me to." He remembered how you liked it. How willing you were to be choked or pinned down or restrained.

He was going for sexy, you just heard creepy. "You're actually crazy, dude."

He patted your (head/back), tutting, "Only for you."

Through it all, he stayed. Idly chattering in the bouts of quiet between episodes. Asking you about your favorite shows or movies he could put on because the Viltrum Empire had archives of most media from the planets they conquered. Especially the programs he listed as favorites of yours- you'd never heard of. There was Jackets-Yellow or Interrupted, Girl. The titles sounded so stupid and you felt so bad you shot them down immediately.

Eventually, it was over. You were empty and tired and dry mouthed. Mohawk left the room, pressing a button beside the bed and pulling out a bottle of water imported from the medicinal springs of planet Zigguart of the southern sector. Viltrum developed most of its own medicines but sometimes other races just did it better, it was why they still conquered after millennia; there was always something to gain, to learn from other races. The people of Zigguart made a damn good cure for post-vomit, pre-hangover party girl sickness. He often had to make you drink it back when you were alive. You had been right- the old you was something of an alcoholic, because watching you drunkenly vomiting over the toilet bowl was deeply nostalgic for him.

He held your neck while you drank. Praising quietly when you didn't think you could take anymore, "You're doing so good, just keep going, it's going to help. I've got you, babe."

He pulled you gently off of the floor, put a mouthwash tablet in your mouth, and told you to chew. Pepperminty suds washed over your mouth and dissolved any taste of puke and of course all of the plaque. You spit out the remains according to his instructions and felt somehow the cleanest you had in months.

Then he took you to the closet and set you on the bench, handing you a white set of pajamas. A loose white button-down with Viltrum's logo on the breast pocket, paired with white pants.

"It's Martian silk." He said. "Super comfortable."

You'd stopped puking, were still lightheaded, but your stubbornness was steadfast. "I told you I'm not wearing her clothes."

He set the pajamas next to you on the bench. "I don't gotta lotta rules but it's no outside clothes in the bed or none at all."

You watched him as he pulled out his own pajama set, matching yours exactly.

"I'd rather sleep naked." You said.

"Oh would you?" Mohawk turned to you, looking hopeful.

"I'm not fucking you, I'm sick."

"Don't gotta kiss your pukey mouth to fuck you." He leaned forward, fingers pushing between the magnetic fastening of your bodysuit, "Gonna get naked or what?"

You grabbed the heap of pajamas next to you. "I'll wear these, actually."

He patted your head, "Good girl." You were a lot easier to corral into doing what he wanted than he expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

"Don't call me that, I'm not your dog." You say as you watch him start to peel off his emperor's clothes. Revealing his clean body beneath.

"But you're my bitch." He said not unkindly, like it was some new form of endearment, personal to you. You watched as he pulled the suit down his torso, over his recently trimmed pubes (a landing strip), stopping right before revealing himself. Meeting your eyes with a smirk, "What? You changing your mind, pukey mouth?"

You turned around immediately, hot in the face. "No." You opened the front of the suit and started to wriggle out of it when Mohawk hovered slowly into your periphery. Already changed into those stupid pajamas, wearing a stupider expression on his face at the chance to see you naked. You held the open portions shut, "Turn around, freak."

"Aww, come on, nothing I haven't seen before."

"And nothing you'll see again if you don't turn around!"

His brows waggled, "That a promise?"

"Turn! Around!"

Mohawk sighed dramatically, "You're no funnn." But he turned, listening to the shuffle of clothes as you changed. He tried peaking but was whacked in the face by his bodysuit, blinding him. He pulled the clothes off his face to see you, alive, in those same pajamas, swaying slightly from drinking. You looked so similar in this closet, it scared him. He wanted you, a copy, a re-do, but not the same person who betrayed him.

Quietly, he led you to the bed, dimming the lights. You didn't have the energy to argue for your own place to sleep, you just slid into her old spot and flipped into her usual sleeping position like a glove. Just like she had a million times, normally in bed before him. He watched you, not feeling himself in his own body but knowing he was again lying in bed with you. He was too scared to reach out, to touch you in this room.

You were asleep within minutes. He tried to sleep but couldn't. He stayed up through your twitching nightmares, rubbing your back and telling you it was okay, you were safe, until you calmed. He was utterly still for the first five hours you slept, the first natural sleep you'd had since arriving and it was in his bed, in your bed. At some point you rolled, shifted your leg over his then flopped your arm over his chest. She used to do the same thing. He shifted his arm under you, his shoulder now your pillow. You grunted something in your sleep, nuzzled into him, and went still again. Finally, Mohawk fell asleep.

***

Southeastern space wasn't known for much. Most of it was empty due to a supermassive black hole slowly eating away at it. It was speckled through with minimal stars, a handful of debris fields, and fewer planets. None of which housing societies the empire deemed advanced enough to meddle with.

For the most part, the empire was correct in their assessment. In the hundreds of millions of miles, there was nothing worth anything. That's why when Mohawk learned of Thragg's plans for him, he gutted the motherfucker and dumped him into southeastern space to die. Thragg's heart, the most integral part of a Viltrumite biology, had been pierced. He was to die in the black cold of space alone, without an empire.

His survival came down to luck. The Thraxans saw him, a floating ball of blood and gore, when out on a routine clearing of a nearby asteroid field. They took him in, healed his wounds, and for the last few years and generations of the Thraxan people, he'd been there. Using the Thraxans as he saw fit, siring children, catching the mantis-people up to almost Viltrumite levels of sophistication.

He was nearly ready to make his move on account of one thing. These last ten months, the empire he'd loved so much had been quiet. What transmissions he did intercept about the empire from the Coalition were bad. The empire had lost its grip, taken losses it never would've taken had he been in charge. Rumors floated that the boy-king finally died but nobody had seen a body and Thragg was too disillusioned to hope.

Scanners that the Thraxan scientists had made showed little movement from the Empire. The only thing he knew for certain was that they hadn't taken that lazy idiot's favorite shortcut to western space in all that time. It had been routine for millennia to take the long way, checking and rechecking on seemingly conquered planets just to ensure they were still under Viltrum hold. Pathetic. He was unfit to rule, just like his father.

Imagine Thragg's surprise when a scientist came stumbling into his throne room, right when he was about to get started with one of his hundreds of concubines. "Sir! You're gonna wanna see this!"

Thragg considered killing the insect for the interruption. But he went along, deciding if this was nothing, the useless bug would die. It wasn't nothing. Far from it.

Lo and behold, the emperor's personal ship was flying through his favorite space passage. He was alive and back at the helm for whatever reason. Thragg was as ready as he'd ever be to get his plans rolling despite the danger it could mean for him and the Thraxan people.

"Prepare me a ship."

***

Mohawk woke up long before you. In his sleep, he'd tangled his legs between yours. Had pulled you into his chest so your ear rested on his heart. He was never a prude but the sight of your face, so relaxed and contented, made him flush. He hoped, wished you would be like this more. But he knew you wouldn't. He was still afraid you'd be just like her and betray him the same. Of course you'd try, he'd be suspicious if you didn't try at least once- but it was the secrets he was scared of, if you could keep them from his prying eyes and cameras like she had.

But it'd be a welcome surprise if you didn't. If you just stayed sweet and compliant and a little bitchy for the fun of it.

You woke up and thrashed until he let you go, which wasn't very long because he was scared he'd accidentally crush you play-fighting in bed. Again you refuse to wear her clothes, taking another one of his suits for your own use. He wore his same uniform, power washed during the night by the closet itself. Sensors built into the walls detected dirt or skin cells, pulled them into a cleaning chamber where they were cleansed down to the molecular level. This time, when he tried peaking you used your powers and made him face the wall. Last night was one thing, he didn't mind you using your powers to entertain. But using them on him, the literal emperor? Was another.

"Maybe you shouldn't do that." He said as you both stepped out of the closet, headed for the door because he had said he wanted to show you something before his work began for the day.

"Maybe you should listen the first time I ask you to do something." You snipped back.

"Who has the power here?" He said half-testing, half-joking. He hoped you'd back down, take the joking route.

He isn't surprised when you say, "You're the Emperor of Viltrum, not Earth."

"Uh, actually." He said, stepping through the bedroom door and into the hall, "Earth has been part of the Empire for almost six years, so I'm the emperor of Earth and two-thousand-seven-hundred-forty-two other planets which, by the way, was the number when I first started. No clue what it's at now, probably over three thousand. So yeah, I am your Emperor." He didn't tell you now that the Empire had conquered over ten thousand planets, but most of them hadn't survived the initial culling of dissidents or had been stripped of all useful resources. You would learn about the Empire's history at some point.

You made a face he laughed at. "Don't be so sour, babe. Play your cards right and you could be my Empress. Still not as powerful or important as me but, it'd have a lotta perks." You recalled the ring he threw down, one of the first nights stuck in the desert. The weird look he'd given you. He'd been planning on proposing before he killed her. He wanted you not just to take her current place, but the future he had planned with her as well.

"If you're proposing, you're doing a shitty job." You followed him as he turned into another hall and floated up a flight of stairs. "Answer's no by the way."

"Answer'll be yes eventually." He landed at the top of the stairs and turned, waiting for you the climb the last few steps. "Plus, my proposal's gonna be big. Not some lame ass chicken shit like that. What am I? That asshole, pussy bitch you dated?"

"You literally are." You ignored the hand he held out for you to take.

Fine. That was fine. You'd come around. He could deal with a few disobediences here and there. He'd correct them all in time.

"Yeah, but I'm not an asshole, pussy bitch." He floated backward, you followed.

"You're so good with your words." You paused to take it in. The stairs gave way to a long room, half an oval. The walls were mostly glass, smoothly curved and reaching the ceiling. What little stars you saw bent around the glass in yellow, white blurs.

"I am when I need to be. That's why I'm the Emperor, duh." Mohawk moved further into the room, stopping a few feet in front of the glass where the room came to a head. He watched you through the crystal clear reflection. "This is the observation deck."

"Seems kinda shitty, the only thing you can do is look at stars? Needs a telescope or something." No way he could tell the stripes of stars apart.

He gave you a look, walked to the wall, and pressed a single finger to it. Suddenly, a blue screen was projected over the glass, highlighting stars and planets as they passed, giving at a glance scans of their surfaces, expected resources, gravity force, and compounds of the atmosphere.

You approached and tapped one of the popups. The small data sheet enlarged, tells you the planet is called T-47. Showed you a distant photo of a purple-blue ball. Inhabited by a suspected insectoid race. Status: Not ready for colonization. Potentially suitable in 398 years.

"This is just the simple shit, but we're not here for that." Mohawk tapped a button and all the data was gone. "Come on." He walked away from the screen and headed toward the back of the room where the glass ended, and returned to the regular Viltrumite wall paneling. He pressed a finger to a button set into the wall and a door slid open. You followed him inside to find what looked like a Viltrum version of an office kitchenette.

You squinted, "This is where you make all your food for like? How many people?"

He laughed, "Nah. The main kitchen is six levels down and takes up the whole floor. I had this put in just for you cuz you spent a lotta time up here. You hated when the servants did their job and served you food or drinks. God, this place was such a pain in the ass to get built. You wanted the contractors to be paid with money instead of letting their family live. Ugh." He opened a cabinet, stocked full of snacks, some you recognized, some you didn't. "Still got everything stocked." He checked the mini fridge embedded into the wall, which was stocked so full that canned drinks nearly fell out when he opened it. He shut the door, turned to you hopefully. "Like it?"

You shrugged, unable to ignore the love put into it, how she was immortalized into parts of the ship, how she would always haunt you here. "Nicer than my apartment, so sure."

That wasn't as impressed as he'd like you to be but he wasn't done yet. "How about a drink?"

He remembered how you took your (coffee/tea), made it just right, like he had a hundred times. Sure, the servants could've done it but the old you had always appreciated the gesture. He waited, more anxious than he was willing to admit for your approval. Nearly exploded with relief when you had to hide your surprise, looking away as you said, "It's... good." He can hear the lie in the rhythm of your heart.

Satisfied, he led you back into the main room. Near the glass again, he pressed the toe of his boot into the floor. Paneling you hadn't seen before split apart as a chair rose up. A single white thing comprised entirely of hard edges. Mohawk flopped down into it, making the cushions that looked nothing like cushions, sigh.

He patted his knee. "Come'ere."

You stayed standing, sipping your drink from a pale mug. "There's seriously not another chair?"

"There's a bunch, but I'm not tellin' you where." You opened your mouth, he raised a finger, "Use your powers on me an' I won't take you down to torture that pussy bitch later."

"I could use my powers now and later."

His smirk doesn't quite reach his eyes. "We both know you can't keep that shit up forever. Either you sit down willingly, or I gag you, tie you up, and then put you on my lap- which you'd love by the way- your choice. Oh and-" From the side of the chair came a study table. He took the mug and set it down.

Your cringe was like a reward, but not nearly as rewarding as you shuffling forward and leaning on the arm of the chair. "You're fucking ridiculous."

"I didn't say to sit there," He put a hand to your back and pulled you down. Ass falling over his thighs. "I said here." His hand stayed in place, ready to pull you back onto his lap if you moved. "Good. I can finally show you this." From the arm of the chair, he plucked a narrow thing that was flush with the fabric. Translucent at first but after a moment it lit up, glowing blue. At your confused face, he said, "It's a data pad, dummy."

"Like an iPad?"

"Yeah, but a billion times better." He tapped a circular icon and brought up the landing page for the archive. "Check it, we've got every book in the galaxy." Technically, every book, news article, research paper, and leaked nude uploaded and categorized from all of the thousands of planets the Viltrum empire had conquered. With Viltrum-powered artificial intelligence, any confusing alien text was immediately translated and not in the chunky Google Translate way, it was actually understandable.

He pressed a few more buttons and brought up your personal favorited list. The Southern Book Club's Guide to Vampire Slaying. My Heart Is a Sawchain. The Games of Hunger and all its sequels. You both paused, looking at the last book she was reading. The progress bar said she was a little over halfway through- Jaymocking. Mohawk's fingers went still, but you pulled up the summary. It was some dystopian fantasy, the third in a series about a corrupt, murderous government and its evil figurehead. Ouch.

"I still don't get it," Mohawk said. "I gave her everything she ever could've wanted and more, and she fuckin' betrayed me." He's quiet like you'd have an answer. "You won't do that to me, right?"

You're suddenly very aware of everywhere he was touching you. Every place he could pierce through your soft, human flesh. "I don't even know what she did and uh... What could I do against any of this?"

"You askin' cuz you wanna know?"

Kinda. "I just don't even- I? I just fucking got here? This is like, the first time I've been in a spaceship. I hace no idea what's going on and even if I did try to leave, I'd be sucked into the vaccume of space. Also, I almost starved to death multiple times. I don't know what the fuck you think I'm gonna do if I can't find the other chairs."

His face relaxed. "Right.. Right." He was tempted to tell you what she did but then what if you snuck a data pad and got into contact with the Coalition too? The best thing he could do was make sure you were happy, never starved or wanted for anything ever again. "So... you like reading?"

"Hate it." You lied.

"In that case-" He moved to put the data pad away. You snatched it, you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to read. Gotten to snack and relax and be calm. You scowled at him, "Knew it."

You scrolled though the catalogue, looking for something to catch your eye. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Not for an hour." He said.

"Are you gonna show me the other chairs or have me on your lap the entire time?"

He pretended to consider. "I'll think about letting you up if you read to me."

You laughed, "No fucking way."

He hummed, "Guess you gotta stay here then."

You did. Finally finding something good to read. Titled Spill Your Guts. You didn't read aloud, knowing he was full of it. The writing was terrible but you couldn't stop reading it. Mohawk asked if you wanted to read something better, something cool from an alien planet. To spite him, you said no and kept reading the worst published text you'd ever laid eyes on.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd relaxed like this- aside from the sitting in the lap of an evil Emperor part, but still. You ended up so engrossed in doing something as trivial as reading and drinking (tea/coffee), you didn't notice the creep of his hand until it was set between your thighs. Gently gripping and ungripping to try and get your attention.

You lowered the datapad to its indented bed in the arm. "Move your hand."

He didn't. "Do you reaaally want me to?" He said into your ear, "Don't you remember yesterday?"

You'd focused on the good part, Mark's suffering. Forgetting after the party and getting drunk about the cute little detail of almost letting Mohawk fuck you in that prison cell. "I don't."

"You're such a shitty liar." Mohawk's fingers moved side to side, ghosting over the inner thigh of the suit. "But fine, I'll play along, you want a reminder?"

You snapped your legs shut as you started to feel a pooling heat, inadvertently trapping his fingers. He could've moved them but he didn't. "I'm still mad at you."

"Oh, I can fix that." His other hand moved to the front of your body, aiming for your chest. You should have gotten up, used your powers, but you didn't. Part of you wanted to feel him again, left unsatisfied from the way things ended yesterday. Maybe if you fucked him again, it'd get the need out of your system and the next time he tried something you wouldn't be so defenseless, so easy under his hands.

Still, you put up a mild fight. Trying to tighten your thighs to give him more resistance- give yourself more time to come to your senses. But he was stronger than your thighs, sliding his fingers between them easily until he was rubbing the side of his hand against your apex. Other hand, kneading your chest.

You held in a sigh. Stiffen your muscles so you wouldn't grind against him. Through clenched teeth, you tell him to, "Stop messing around."

"Man, you're really determined to act like you don't want this." He laughed against your neck. He pushed your legs apart, just enough to flatten his hand against you and rub you entirely through the fabric. He felt you twitch, heard the sound at the back of your throat you swallowed. "Just give in."

Open-mouthed kisses were laid to the side of your neck. He listened hard for the start of your words and bit down when you spoke- forcing you to trip over the phrase, "N-no."

But you didn't stop him as he unlatched the magnetically attached front of the uniform, letting his hand slip in under the fabric and toy with your nipple. Fingers pressed harder to fabric, finding the shape of your clit. He knew just where to put pressure and it was terrifying. You held in the urge to gasp but you were starting to lose your head. Hips twitching, unknowingly grinding your ass against his hardening cock, getting him off.

"I'm serious." You spit out. Face hot, pussy throbbing, but still, your mind was intact enough to know this was a very bad idea. Your body didn't agree.

"You know I love it when you play hard to get." That was one difference he really admired. His version of you was perfectly trained, submissive. He wanted that, of course he did, but he liked a little push and pull. Liked to prove to himself over and over you couldn't resist him, and didn't actually want to. It was like a game he just kept winning.

"You know I love it when you fucking listen to me." You hissed.

"Use your powers then, stop me." He said with a particularly harsh twist of your nipple that made you throw your head back against his shoulder and groan. He went on, watching your face flash between pissed and utterly desperate. "Thaaaat's right, good girl. You know you want it." He knew you could be good, deep down, he just had to dig for it. But at the same time- he wanted to antagonize you. Wanted to bring out your mean side because you were so predictable when you were angry. If you stayed predictable, he'd know what to expect.

"Stop calling me that." You snarled weakly.

"Don't like it? Hm. Let's see about that." Fingers left your clothed cunt, traveled up and under the open flap of the bodysuit. They ghosted over the flesh of your belly, slowly getting lower and lower. Your legs were spread but enough enough to be easily fuckable as he'd like so he said, "Open your legs."

You didn't. Still contemplating getting up, leaving him with blue balls. You excuse yourself saying, "What if someone walks in?" Wasn't like there was a door, just a staircase leading to the open room.

"They got jerkoff material for life," Mohawk replied. "What're they gonna do, huh? I'm the emperor, and I can do whatever I want and everyone has to listen to me, even you. Open up." You consider this so long he takes it as an answer. "Oh, I get it, you wanna get manhandled." Faster than you could protest, both your legs were hooked over the arms of the chair, spreading yourself wide and easy. His finger moved viper fast before your brain even process shutting your legs.

"No, I do-haaaahhh." His middle finger slid inside of you to the knuckle. Glided in smooth as silk. His palm was already pumping, finger curling. Shutting your protests down.

"Again, terrible liar." Mohawk hooked his chin over your neck, watching you half-exposed body jerk and twitch. Your eyes were watching the outline of his hand pumping your cunt through the tight suit. "Are you always this wet or is it just for me?"

You opened your mouth to argue but he pressed hard against your g-spot, thumb savagely rubbing your clit. Your eyes screwed shut and your reply was an incoherent moan.

"Good girl." He goaded, feeling your cunt happily squeeze around his finger, trying to suck him further in. "You do like that."

"I'll-" Gasp, "I'll kill you."

"Will you?" His pumping slowed, finger nearly pulled out as he added another. Sliding in easy to your slick, needy cunt. "Cuz if this is you trying to kill me, I think I'm winning."

You jerked and nearly squealed as he filled you further, "Fuck you-"

He grounded his hard cock against your ass, "You are."

"Shut up." You writhed against him. Grinding into his fingers, against his cock.

He took a sharp breath. "Keep that up and I'm not gonna get the chance to cum in you." Mohawk always had to wear a condom with her. She'd get mad if he didn't. He'd offered better birth control but you'd been adamant. Never wanting the possibility of children.

And yet.

"You should stop... They aren't fighting back anymore." You said in this very room, overlooking the orange planet below where Kregg was ripping it to shreds. Taking the resources since they wouldn't offer them up.

You'd been such a bleeding heart, it was a boner killer. He tried working with you around it. "Aww babe, do you want me to keep one alive so you can have a pet?" He put his fingers to his earpiece to contact Kregg.

"No but-"

"Ah, okay, so they all can die, got it."

"No!" He gave her a look. She shut her mouth, backed down.

"If you want a lil thing runnin' around the ship so bad, just let me cum in you already."

"I don't think..." At the time, he thought she wasn't ready. Now he knew, she didn't want to have his child because she saw him as a tyrant. Fine. Fine! It's fine because he saw her as a pathetic revolutionary fighting against an ultimately better future. Not like he wanted kids anyway, the empire wanted him to have an heir, yeah, but it seemed like such a pain. Plus, he didn't want to become a weak fool like his dad had.

Your gasps bring him back to moment. Bucking your hips, desperately riding his fingers while accusing him of being disgusting.

"You're the one taking two..." He slipped out of you a moment to add another digit to the fold, filling you so sweetly, "Three fingers, I think you're a little nastier than me right now." He had to prep the other you for something like this. You just took and took. Whimpering pathetically and never whining about pain- if there was any- hell, maybe you liked that he was moving so fast.

"I-I'll-haaahh- I'll k-kill you."

"Death threats again, babe? You gotta get some new material." You could only gasp and shudder in reply, grinding your ass harder against him. "Or can you just not think of anything else?" Teasingly, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, kept them there, pulsing into you.

Your back arched, eyes fluttered back, "Shut up!"

"You've said that one too. You really going stupid this quick?"

"No, I'm just close, you shith-aaaah-head." He could feel it, the way you clenched around him. The way your whole body was tensing up.

He mumbled into your neck between hickeys, "Just let it happen." The pre-wave of orgasm cinched tight around his fingers. He went in for the kill, "Good girl, just-" He didn't get to finish because you were wailing, cumming around his fingers hard. You really did like that.

Mohawk worked you through the orgasm. Never slowing or stopping his abuse of your weeping cunt. You started to go limp on him but he kept going, growling into your neck, "You're done when the emperor says you're done. I haven't even fucked you yet. Come on, babe, don't wimp out on me."

You're stuck by a moment of clarity, "Don't fucking talk in third person while you're fingering me."

Mohawk clicked his tongue, "You just gotta be a bitch when I'm-" Did you just moan? Just throb around him? "Do you fuckin' like that too? Holy shit?"

"No I-"

"What else you like bein' called, hm?" His words came with a pinch to your breast, "You gonna fuckin' cum if I call you a slut or something?"

You did, in fact, cum. So hard and fast you lost yourself, sounding horrifically embarrassing when you arched your back and gasped out a pathetic, "Y-yesss."

Mohawk muttered, "This is so awesome, holy fuck." She had been fine with some meanness from his end but this much? God, he couldn't wait to find out just how much of a slut you were. How many loads you could-

"...Sir?"

You went stiff. Mohawk didn't, still pumping away. "Shit." He hissed. "The meeting."

Kregg hovered at the top of the stairs. Arms folded behind his back, expression expertly poised. He'd been through this sort of messing about with the Emperor before. With you, he was often distracted, late, off task- but if it meant the empire would have an heir and the emperor had something to fight for (because apparently ruling the greatest empire in the galaxy wasn't enough for the spoiled brat) then so be it. Still, Kregg's fellow Viltrumites were deeply uncomfortable with your... messy lovemaking. Nobody ever told him as such but the others seemed to make themselves scarce when you and the Emperor were at it. Leaving Kregg, experienced with the pleasures earthly women could bring, to deal with whatever fallout came from these dalliances.

"Did you not get my message?" Kregg asked.

Mohawk thought he'd heard some bug buzzing in his earpiece a few minutes ago. He'd been so engrossed in unraveling you, he forgot to respond.

"I did." He said, thumb idly tracing circles on your clit, "Am I late?"

You folded up your legs, tried to get up or snap your suit shut but Mohawk wouldn't let you go. Didn't stop moving his fingers despite the fact that you were mortified. Fucking in front of people to hurt their feelings was a little far, but it'd happened, whatever. In front of Mohawk's political right hand who had nothing to do with this? God, you wanted to jump through the observation deck glass and float into space.

"We waited five minutes, sir." How long had he been at it?

Mohawk hummed, ignoring your thrashing. "Ten more minutes?" It wasn't nearly enough but Mohawk could finish fast, get the rest of his fix later.

"Are you crazy?" You hissed.

Kregg didn't often find himself in agreement with a human. Especially you, back before you were dead. It was an annoyance you were back, and a danger as the council privately advised, but the Emperor didn't care. As long as he had you and Angstrom Levy to bring him more dimensions, he was perfectly content. Still. "This meeting's important, sir. We require your presence."

Mohawk hummed, thinking a moment, fingers slowing. "How important is it really?"

"Incredibly."

"Fine." All at once, he exited you with a loud, wet sound that Kregg definitely heard. You scrambled upright, snapping your suit shut while Mohawk lingered in his seat. "But if this is going over those boring ass charts again, I'll take your other eye." He took the moment you spun to look at him, suit fixed, to suck on his fingers. Obnoxiously rolling his eyes back at the taste of you. Much cleaner than you'd been in the desert.

Kregg shouldn't be afraid of him, but he was. He killed Emperor Nolan, the strongest of them all. Despite his attitude he wasn't that bad of an emperor, just rather nontraditional so he held his tongue, "It's not, sir."

"Good." He stood, boner obvious in the outline of his suit. He turned to Kregg, still hard, uncaring. He waved for you to follow like some well-trained pet. "Let's go." This really had been a mistake.

The war room was large. Table stark white against the gray floor. Viltrumites filled the seats lining its side, the Marks save for Phantom were counted among them. All of them looked at personal data pads while a large 3D map of space projected blue from the table's center. More complicated machinery blipped on the walls, displaying ever changing coordinates and other space travel bullshit. At the table head was a large seat, back nearly reaching to the paneled ceiling.

Mohawk sat himself there and splayed his thighs, patted them for you to sit. Again, there were no more seats. When you hesitated, you were met with an icy glare from the woman whose name you thought was Thula. You shuffled to Mohawk's side, but again he pulled you to his lap. You glared at him, but were hesitant to fight in a room full of murderous aliens.

In the dim of the room that allowed the projections to shine, you couldn't quite tell them apart. They'd gotten so cleaned up since the desert and wore such similar outfits of gray and white, it was a little hard. Most of them cut their hair back to what you knew as the typical Mark cut. Some went back to how they were before. Scars was the only shape you could identify with his longer hair he hadn't touched.

Kregg got down to business. Instead of sitting, he was standing at the other end of the table, in front of a screen that he gestured to along with the 3D map. Battle plans, strategy, shit you didn't understand in the slightest.

Gray understood plenty, chimed in to Kregg's annoyance at first but quickly morphed into relief. Gray had conquered some of the planets that had rebelled and looked to be an issue- solo. His input was valuable, whereas Mohawk had nothing to add. Kregg wouldn't say it, but at first he'd been hesitant about there being more versions of Emperor Mark, but if the others were like Gray? Fuck, let them stay.

Markus was a little too focused on you and how stiff you were to really give much valuable insight. He'd worked for the empire, but not long or deeply enough to be of much value besides in battle. Still, Kregg appreciated that someone was paying attention, nodding along and scrolling on his data pad to follow along. The longer the meeting went on the more he noticed his Emperor's hands starting to roam. Nowhere devious or obvious, but he'd slept with you before, he knew the moves to pull. A hand on your hip went a long way.

Seb gave absolutely nothing. He had no idea why he was even here. He'd be a solider, whatever, but it wasn't like he had to care about the wider plan or planetary shit affecting landing physics bullshit. He worked with Dad, got the job done enough to go home without any of this fuckery. He spun a stylus between his fingers and ignored his datapad, much to Kregg's annoyance. Sometimes he glanced at you, wondering the next time you could hang out so he could talk to someone kind of normal. He never looked long, Mohawk was getting too heavy-handed, too alpha male 'she's mine' about the way he was touching you. Seb wouldn't say no to fucking you again but he seriously didn't want to die.

Scars watched in mostly silence. If he was going to sell subjugation, he needed to shut his mouth a little more. Needed Thula to believe he wasn't as much of a threat as he was before he found a way to kill the old bitch. Then kill that bastard sitting smug in his tall chair. He didn't deserve The Empire, or the fine, fearful thing sitting stiffly in his lap. Scars did.

Lensless wouldn't shut the fuck up, giving terrible ideas that'd get his fellow soldiers killed or injured. He'd been with the empire some years, he knew how these things worked, but always ended up disregarding safety procedures just to get to the carnage faster. Kregg made a note to not put him on the front lines.

Lucan tried reeling him in. He'd done a decent enough job following the boy around, but it was concerning how easily he could be lost. He had a feeling Lensless was letting him follow most of the time. Trying to make him think he wasn't as fast or clever as he really was. The thing was, Lensless was twenty-two, a child to Lucan, well over three-thousand years old. Those tactics wouldn't work.

And yet he couldn't get the twit to shut his mouth.

To your absolute horror, he pointed out Mohawk's hand, resting casually over your thigh, inching to settle between them. "Is he allowed to do that? Can I do that? Cuz he's me, so I'm also technically the Emperor? Hey (Y/n), can you come over here, pleeaaassseee?"

"I can do what I want," Mohawk said, hand slipping further down. You tried not to flinch away, at least he wasn't rubbing your clit in front of ten people. "You can't, shut the fuck up." He pulled you backward, chest firm to your back.

Lensless didn't say, "Yes boss," for him, but for you, and your withering glare that made him shiver excitedly.

The meeting resumed, dragging on and on. You had no fucking clue why you had to be here. It wasn't like you were going to be on the front lines.

You didn't know that you were here because Mohawk had ears in the Coalition. If anything got out of this room, he'd question you first. This time he wouldn't gut you, just... imprison you awhile to teach you a lesson. It wasn't a fully sound plan, but he also liked the comfort of you on his lap. The entertainment of your legs twitching whenever he dragged his fingers down them. He knew you still wanted him. That your cunt was wet and waiting for him to take.

By the time you'd gotten to the meeting room, he'd gone soft enough to flash by the others without setting off alarms. Now, bored, with your ass pressed up against him- he was hard again. Straining against his suit, poking at your back for attention.

You gave no reaction. Unwilling to cause a scene, to give him what he wanted. You'd chew him out later, make him listen.

He ground against you ass. You twitched, catching Gray and Markus's eyes. You did your best not to meet them, to look at the meeting screen as Mohawk, slowly, as not to catch any more attention, ground his cock into you.

You shifted forward, trying to hover off his lap because this was so not happening. He couldn't be serious. He pulled you down, repositioning his dick under your legs, rubbing himself against your clothed pussy. Of course you were still horny but not insane. You shot a hand back, hitting him in the chest as a quiet 'stop it'.

Mohawk thought you were playing. Even if you weren't, he knew once he got his dick in you, you'd stop fighting. He wonders how quiet you could be, wonders how long he could warm his cock in the tight heat of you before one of you broke and started humping the other in front of the whole crowd.

The others did their best to act like they didn't notice. Markus and Gray stayed on task. Seb thought if he looked at all, Mohawk would have his head. Lensless watched, smiling dozily at your discomfort, wishing it was him. Scars counted on his fingers, hoping he could get you alone soon. You needed to be taught a lesson.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on Lucan's bald head. You wondered what Mark would think. He wouldn't even be here, actually. Wouldn't stand for any of this. Would've taken you back home or away from the empire that ruined him. Even if he stayed, he would've spoken up. Wouldn't have let this bullshit happen. But he was dead in another dimension. Mohawk ground on, breath hot on your back. His council let it happen. The Marks let it happen.

"Can you fucking stop?" You snapped over Kregg and Gray's conversational back n' forth. Heads turned, eyes stared into you but at least Mohawk stopped.

"(Y/n)." His voice was quiet, dangerously sharp. You turned, meeting his eyes that bore into you, trying to telepathically tell you to obey. To not make a scene in front of his council when he was the one who started it. "Do not interrupt my general when he is speaking."

"Are you fucking serious?" You went to stand up, but his hands on your sides tighten to keep you down. You do it without thinking, "Let go." He does. You stand up fast like you'd been burned. In a way, you had, with the lingering want, but you didn't want this, not in front of so many people. Not when he blatantly disregarded your feelings.

The council had been advised of your powers. It raised concerns, lots of them. You could be dangerous, a valuable asset to the Coalition. Mohawk had assured them you were weak, could barely control him at all. But that was in the desert when you were living off cave water and cannibalized rations, always with some wound or ailment.

The command was finished, Mohawk was free but still he sat. Angry, humiliated in front of the council that already doubted him despite how he'd won the empire- pried it from his father's soft hands. But he could almost hear their thoughts as you glared at him, Nolan had been a better Emperor, Nolan kept people in control. If Mohawk couldn't control a human- again- he'd lose more of the faith Argall's blood lent him.

He said with feigned calm, "I think you forget who you're talking to. Sit." His boner still ached in his suit. He was mad about your defiance, but he'd be more mad if you gave him blue balls.

"How could I forget when it's all you talk about? No." You backed up a few feet, keeping a distance from the table and chairs despite how fast they all were. You couldn't feel hands on you yet, only the crawling feeling of so many eyes and their judgments.

He turned to the others, "Stop fucking staring and keep talking." Kregg went back to presenting but all ears were strained toward you. Mohawk growled through barred teeth, "I'm not going back and forth with a human. Sit."

The air crackled between you two. He opened his mouth again, desperate now, but you stopped him in his tracks.

"Shut up." His mouth closed. You held onto his mind with an iron grasp, "Do that shit to me again and I'll kill fucking kill you." This time it wasn't weak sex talk, you meant it, he knew it, the whole council knew it. You turned your back on all of them and almost ran out of the room.

Gray was close to the door, he considered turning to you and saying something, but he couldn't look weak. So he just watched you go out the sliding door and listened as you stomped down the hall. Kregg knew to shut up, making any noise when the Emperor got red in the face like that and was certain doom.

"We should count her as a loss." Thula said as soon as the door slid shut. She did not fear death, for if she died, she deserved it. "This one doesn't even like you, and she's obviously a flight risk. Vidor, the pods are locked, yes?" The ginger nodded. "Good. I know you're... attached to the human, Emperor Mark, allow me to assist you in disposing of her."

Thula never liked you, not then, not now. Humans were a weakness, she saw how their affections weakened Emperor Nolan and Mark. Saw them ebb away at Kregg though he stayed strong and true to Viltrum's core values. You also had a habit of ruining things, the Emperor lost it after you died, then left for ten months to go get another you who was more likely to stab him in the back. Kregg had told her young humans could be awfully flippant, that this must be his humanity shining through. A couple thousand years of experience would squash that out- but not if you were alive during them if he ever reached his goal of keeping you by his side for eternity.

The Emperor's head rigidly turned on her. Hands now empty of something to squeeze so they curled into fists. "Nobody's killing her, she just needs to get broken in. Just get back to the battle plans." He wouldn't go after you, was afraid if he saw you right now, he'd grab you and gut you just like he had before. He needed to calm down.

Markus stood from his chair, "I'm going after her."

"Sit." The Emperor hissed.

"Apologies, sir." Markus said as he walked out the door.

He found you not too far away, headed nowhere in particular, he could tell you didn't know where to go. He landed from his float, trotting to your side. You didn't look at him, eyes set ahead on nothing as you said, "I'm not going back."

"I won't take you back." He said, because he hadn't even been planning to.

It was the first time he'd been alone with you since arriving in One's universe, he had so many things he wanted to say but he knew he only had a few minutes. He had expected you to like it here, to be grateful for food and shelter, but Emperor Mark had always been too overbearing, you couldn't recover from the trauma with him hovering. Markus's grief was the most recent of the living variants, he had heard plenty from the others, knew that the Emperor's version of you had been dead for years. He thought it was weak-willed of him, shortsighted and foolish to push you like this especially when you had just begun to tolerate him in the desert. Markus knew you more than tolerated him now, but he still expected venom. This version of you had always been defensive, moved between cages you had no chance of escaping.

"Then what do you want?" You knew it was Markus from his stupid quiff streaked with gray hair but you couldn't look at his face- Mark's face. It was always Mark's fucking face.

"To talk." He knows you won't start the conversation, you never had when you were mad at him. He began, "I'm sorry that happened. You have the right to be upset but you have to understand-"

"Why didn't you stop him?" His heart ached at the way your voice cracked, trying to cover the hurt with anger and failing.

"You have to understand you can't win by fighting back. None of us can fight back here. You have to play along." The Emperor wouldn't kill you, but he was so scared if another Viltrumite found you, an unwilling human against the empire, they'd make you suffer. The Empire had been ruthless in his universe and it was much the same here.

"Play along?" You stopped, turning to him with a scowl. "Are you serious? He was gonna fuck me in a room full of people! Nobody did anything! The fuck do you mean, play along?"

"Play along until I figure things out." He said. "I can't protect you if I don't have sway with the council. The more they trust me, the more clearance I'll have, I'll know when Angstrom can be used again. I can get us out, but you have to listen to me and play along so you don't get hurt until then." He was already taking a hit to his budding reputation as respectable and obedient unlike other Marks by being here with you.

Your gut reaction was that you didn't want to go with Markus, but it might be better than here. This fucking humiliating place where you were just a pet. You'd probably be the same thing with Markus but he at least wouldn't fuck you in front of bunch of multi-thousand year old aliens. All you wanted was to... You didn't know where you wanted to go, hadn't known what to expect since you stood on that roof and told Mohawk to stop. He was right, you didn't have shit, your life sucked even before he tore it to shreds, but you knew you couldn't stay here. Wanted to be anywhere else.

"Can't we just try running now?" You blinked, held back tears but he saw them shiny in your eyes.

Markus put his hands on your shoulders, resisting the urge to hold and placate you. He'd placated and lied to the other you too much, had built a tower of lies that led to your death, he needed to be honest with you.

"We can't." He said, "I know you're scared-"

"I'm not." You lied.

He lets you believe he believes. Bringing a hand to cradle your cheek, the most he would allow himself, even as you leaned into the touch, "-But you have to be strong, my love. I need you to promise me you'll listen to him."

Your lips wobbled. You'd been holding in how much the desert had affected you, how much the deaths, Mohawk treating you like a pet, had deeply burned you. You held it in because he was keeping you at arms length. Held onto it so hard the sorrow hardened to anger. "Fine."

He took you to Mohawk's room, a hand on your back that he hoped you interpreted as affectionate instead of controlling. He told you to stay and take whatever punishment Mohawk gave when he came back, to know that he was with you. Then he left. Went right back the meeting and murmured in Mohawk's ear that you were dealt with and where you'd be.

You stood at the shut door. Stood over where she died for having the daring to plan on leaving. Fists shaking, eyes burning. You should have stayed, listened, been a good bitch.

But you didn't.

***

You didn't know how long you'd been wandering the ship, looking for Mark in his guarded prison cell. You couldn't quite remember the way, all the halls looked the same and were so long they were disorienting. Had Mohawk taken you through this door or this other identical door? All you remembered was it was a long way down.

You were surprised by the fact that you never ran into anyone. Maybe the servants kept to particular passages or maybe they'd been ordered to avoid you. The thought made you feel strangely lonely. When you finally heard voices behind a door, you didn't think before feeling for a button to let yourself in.

The room was no larger than your studio apartment. Complicated equipment was set into every inch of the wall. Some of it hummed, some of it buzzed. Sat on a patient table in the middle was Phantom. Listening intently as the alien bio-engineers explained to him the state of his new limbs. The machinery that sprouted from his bicep and hip respectively, were attached to his body via strong magnetic implants sewn under the skin of his stumps, nerves connected to intrafascicular electrodes so he could control each analogous part of the limbs. It'd take time for the prosthetics to move exactly the way he wanted, there was no telling how long it'd take for him to be able to curl his fingers or kick his new leg.

The machinery was stark white, smooth, but nowhere near streamlined as everything else on the ship. Viltrumites weren't often amputees, it seemed. Phantom had been changed out of his torn costume like everyone else, into a sleeveless tight fighting tanktop that bore the empire's sigil. His pants only went down his flesh leg, his skirt was tucked back into the belt that held some sort of emergency battery pack or connector or something sciencey you didn't understand. Everything was tight and tucked out of the way of the delicate mechanics.

Blue eyes had already caught onto the shape of you. He didn't know if you were real, standing in the doorway unacknowledged by the scientists. He'd been out of the goo-chamber for only a few hours. They'd told him all of the relevant information, but he still felt the whiplash of everything. It was hard to believe this place was real, hell, that anything in the desert that happened... happened.

One of the Martians turned to grab something and finally noticed you, who he correctly assumed wasn't staff. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Leave. Do something else. You didn't see me."

The Martians did, easily enough, filing out of the room as you stepped in. Their minds were weak and brittle compared to the Viltrumite ones you'd been training against. You and Phantom were alone as the door slid shut behind them. Room blipping and beeping with machinery.

His buzzcut had been evened out and beard shaved, clean of blood and free of bruises, looking at you with unabashed awe and surprise. You were also surprised to have found him of all people. Mark should've lived, not him. You feel a burning urge to settle the score, to get one more danger to your survival out of the way.

On Phantom's end, he had just realized you were real. You who he failed to covet and protect, whose name he heard in this very lab while the scientists worked over some sort of bendy cuff. Similar to the one he'd thrown on you in Sydney with all its micro-monitoring devices. He took the cuffs as they were from the GDA but the Emperor apparently kept sending them back, telling the workers to make it 'cuter'. He hoped it was some sort of mapping device, something to help you get around the ship, because clearly you were still alive. But he'd helped the GDA make containment units for difficult aliens or villains, he knew what electrical probes looked like. He hoped it was a nerve connector, similar to his own but you hadn't lost any limbs so what if-

"I can't believe they kept you alive, but they let those others shitheads live so why not?" You said, mulling over ways to make him die.

"You should know I-" He sounded much better than he had in the desert, though his voice still fizzled and cracked at the end of words. "I'm sorry."

Your lips twitched into a frown. "Don't lie to me."

Phantom's face went from crestfallen to flat as your powers took hold. "I was terrified for you there, now we're here, and I'm more scared for you than I've ever been. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I want to help you." He couldn't lie under your control. He meant every word.

Even under your control, you could see the fear in his eyes, the want to do better. You needed more lifelines to escape, because what if Markus failed? "How do I know you won't fuck me over again?"

"I'm too scared to lose you." His voice cracked and warbled but you understood well enough, he wanted to fix things between you.

It hurt. God, it hurt so bad. He ruined everything then wanted to get better. Mark couldn't change, couldn't recover because Mark was dead. Dead because of the man in front of you.

You let him out of your grip. Sick to your stomach by his devotion. "You barely know me."

"I want to know you." He was desperate for new happy memories with you. Not the fractured ones from the desert, "I- I don't know what parts from the desert are real. I'm not sure what I said to you there." He couldn't tell the difference between the narrative he told himself and what really happened. He slid off the table, tried to land on his feet but was met a with a jolt of pain in his hip where the prosthetic was attached. "But I want to know, want to remember the time we had together." He floated into the air as he said it, inched closer but stopped when you stepped back. He was being too intense again.

You could easily use your powers, check again if he was lying. You both knew it, that's why you believed him. You don't mean to say it but you do, "You're the only one who's apologized to me for any of this."

Phantom wasn't surprised but finds himself pleased, this would endear you to him. He had done you wrong but, he still had a chance because he was the most humane of them all, the most willing to admit he was wrong.

"I took no pleasure in finding out what Mohawk has planned. I won't submit to him." Keeping the others and him alive was too good to be true. There was no way they could be alive and happy with you and jealousy in the mix. Mohawk was going to use them until they were good for nothing, string them along with you as a prize and lead them to fall into their graves. He wouldn't fall for it, wouldn't help the empire that took his whole family from him.

You were quiet a moment, trying to formulate a plan. "You really want to help me?"

"Of course." It was almost instant, bubbling up from him like a well.

"Then help me find Angstrom Levy."

It was like two blind rats in a maze. Phantom had only been in the med wing, had barely known Angstrom Levy was on the ship. You'd only been to Angstrom the once.

He floated over the ground, twitching his digits to test the movement while your footsteps filled the halls. The quiet was heavy between you, there was so much you wanted to say to him, to ask. You didn't know how long you had together before Mohawk inevitably found you. Did whatever he was going to do.

"It's my fault he died." You found yourself saying like a deathbed confessional. Phantom turned to watch you. "I choose when I use my powers and I chose then to tell him to stop and he just... He told me for days it was your whole plan to let him die then you confirmed it and everything was easy because I could live as long as I had someone else to blame but... It was still my fault."

Phantom wanted to hold you. To tell you it was okay, that it was over. He had planned to kill the Viltrumite prisoner, but it shouldn't have been you to do it; it should have been a weight off your chest not a scar that would haunt you. But he knew you didn't want placation, you wanted the truth. "My plan failed and I hurt you. It's okay if you hate me." Though he didn't want you to. "But know I'm different now, I won't lie to you. You can trust me." Getting tortured and eaten alive for weeks really changes a guy.

"I think I'll have to." You said, and Phantom had to suppress his joy. "But if you get any ideas, I'll actually kill you."

He nodded, "I'll make sure you don't have to."

You gave him the greatest gift, a small, genuine smile. "Offering to kill yourself for me? What are you, one of my exes?"

He hadn't meant it like that, but he played along, "Well, technically."

You snorted and turned into another hallway expecting the same old smooth white walls. But you knew this hallway, a slightly darker gray than the rest, with big sliding double door in the center. You raced over to it.

Only when Phantom stood beside you did the door scanner register the Emperor's DNA. You both stepped inside and looked over the railing. You were hit with the same sight as yesterday, Angstrom strung up.

You didn't entirely know what you were doing. Didn't know if making Angstrom open a portal was safe, if he even could in his state. You didn't know where you'd go but this felt like the right place to be. Having a choice in front of you would make deciding simpler. You could just-

A Viltrumite rose up from the ground to float in front of the railing, looking down his narrow nose at you both. "You're not the Emperor. And you're not supposed to be in here without the Emperor."

"You think he's the Emperor."

The Viltrumite blinked then shook his head. "They told me you might do that." He sighed and floated over the railing, going to press a few buttons set into the wall. "I'll call the real one over to pick you up right away."

"Stop." Your powers bounced off him, a pure blooded Viltrum soldier, well over three-hundred years in age. You struggled to control Gray, no older than twenty-two. You didn't stand a chance.

He did. Fingers poised over the call button. "Mmm, you're right he's in a meeting, it'd be better if I brought you to him." He reached out for you, slow as not to startle a rabbit. You were still the Emperor's pet, he couldn't have you screaming and thrashing about.

Phantom's prosthetics made his muscles seize and jump, electric with pain but he still reached out to attempt to catch the man's arm with his new robotic hand. Before the white metal made contact, he went utterly still, the servos locking up, before a bolt of agony was shot right into his nervous system. Liquid lighting hot, electricity. He crumpled to the ground, letting out a torn scream.

"They didn't tell you?" The Viltrumite scientist said. "If you exceed three-hundred miles an hour and Viltrumite DNA other than your own is detected within a few feet, you get a controlled shock." Or in simple terms, he couldn't attack other Viltrumites. Mohawk had flagged him as a risk, had the Martians set him up on an older model of prosthetics that could be tampered with, hence its non-sleek design. "I still don't how that's going to apply to the Emperor, if you're stupid enough to try attacking him at all, but I'm sure those lab rats figured it out. As for you-" He reached out while you were stunned, staring at Phantom on the ground, still convulsing.

The door behind you slid open. "We can take care of them."

Gray and Markus stood in the doorway. Finally having found you minutes after the meeting ended- off track as it'd gotten after you left with most of the Marks trying to leave to follow. Lucan had to force Lensless to sit back down, shut up. It took threats from Mohawk to get the room in order.

Mohawk returned to his rooms, angry but a little contented in knowing you could be reasoned with, as proven by Markus. But you weren't there. He'd rushed to Markus's room thinking him a liar. Thinking he was trying to keep you to himself, but you weren't there either and Markus insisted you'd been in the Emperor's room. So began a quiet, panicked search for you where Gray and Seb were added to the party along the way. Scars and Lensless weren't a consideration, not with their tails or whatever ideas they'd get knowing you were alone.

It was Gray who thought to check the cameras. They all chose a level to search through while flipping through the camera feeds on data pad displays. Gray found you, Markus saw him on the way and followed. Now they were here, witnessing whatever this was.

The Viltrumite paused, "You sure?"

"I won't mention you in my report to the Emperor." Gray said flatly, you knew it was him because he had somehow found the same model uniform he wore in the desert. His voice became a little less rigid when he turned to you, "Come, he wishes to speak to you."

You stayed in place, bristling with the memory of the meeting. He too was complacent, pretended like he didn't see. "Fuck you both."

Markus wore disappointment on his hard-set face, but said nothing to you. He simply grabbed Phantom from the floor and said to Gray, "I'll return him to where he needs to be. I'll meet back up with you." He needed to cool off, to get ahold of his head so he didn't look a fool in front of another Viltrumite. He gave you one last stern look before he was out the door.

Gray waited for you to follow but you didn’t. "I'm not talking to that asshole."

It pained him to see you upset, it really did, but at the end of the day you were just a human who didn't know any better. A cornered animal who was lashing out, he found it endearing, but knew the others would not. His eyes flickered to the Viltrumite scientist who was watching the exchange closely, Gray had known this man vaguely in his world. He was high ranking and ruthless, the overseer of a large group of slaves. He would not be endeared to your nature, would see your resistance as a need to break your will. He kept his breathing level and looked back to you, willing you to cooperate, to know he had to play his role.

"How difficult do you want this to be?" He said flatly.

Your head jerked back like he had slapped you, surprise at his tone evident. He stayed level as you stared at him, remembering what he was. From his boots floating off the ground to the way his body was held taught under his Viltrum uniform, he was a soldier with an order from his Emperor. He could make you go. Make you shut up but he was giving you a choice.

"I thought we were friends." Or something more, mixing romance into this only made the sting worse.

"There are no such things as friends on Viltrum," Though inside, he was felt a rush of warmth at the declaration. He'd have to ask later but for now, he had to put on a cold front and you- you needed to be corrected, not coddled, despite the primal urge he felt to hold you. "Come." Gray inched back into the hallway, eyes hard set on you. You had seconds to follow or else.

Miserable, you followed him.

The walk back was shorter than you'd liked. Gray had been on the ship the same amount of time as you but he knew just what turns to take. You tried dragging your feet, making conversations to slow him down but he caught on every time. Chided you sternly that one more squeak of your heel and he'd be forced to carry you to the Emperor.

Mohawk was on the observation deck. Gray stopped a bit away from the bottom of the stairs, wanting to stop whatever was going to happen. Your behavior had been dangerous and foolish, but he knew you didn't know what the Empire was capable of. He had taught multiple races what Viltrumites were capable of, and he was worried Mohawk would do the same. You stopped beside him still scowling but he could see the fear in the set of your body, hear your heart pounding.

He was quiet, he didn't know what to say, he wanted to protect his mate, but like the version of you before, he couldn't defy the Empire, he had already made too many exceptions. You looked to the stairs while he considered, "Is he up there?"

Gray nodded solemnly, "Yes, he's quite upset."

You bristled, he had said the wrong thing again. "He's upset? Poor little Emperor. You're not upset about what he was doing? You kicked his ass just for touching me in the desert."

He had been upset, had been upset everytime you chose to be with one of the others, but he respected that your situation was unique. But you hadn't chosen this situation and his anger had been shoved down just like it always had to be. He wanted to tell you everything, had from the moment he came inside you, from the moment you became his in his mind. But he knew there were cameras, had been hyper aware of them as a new recruit with his father. They had been an unconventional family by Viltrumite standards, and he had learned quickly to hide that on battle ships. Had learned even earlier to hide it in front of other Viltrumites. He didn't want to hide anything from you. But now wasn't the time or place to share.

"I'm in no place here to be upset, I can only follow orders. Your safety here relies on your ability to do the same."

You scoffed, "Fuck you Gray, seriously. You guys keep acting like there's nothing you can do but there has to be something!"

He looked at you, trying to communicate with only his eyes that he was helpless, had always been despite his desires to protect you. He reached his hand out to yours, a gesture his mother had always done to show sincerity, to show love. You batted him away, so he spoke instead, "There are Viltrumites here older than your planet's recorded history, and they obey the Emperor. You shouldn't upset him."

You said nothing, only watched him with that same sour expression on your face. She had never looked at him so defiantly, only with fear, and he thought he would prefer that now. You were asking for punishment, for correction and it scared him.

"We shouldn't keep him waiting."

You turned to the stairs without him and began to climb silently. He followed behind.

The chair you had sat in before was tucked away under the floor, Mohawk's back to you both as he watched space bend around the ship's window. He had been standing there stiffly a long time, letting the dread brew in you. He didn't turn, instead listening to the quickening of your heartbeat when you saw him. Gray had sent him a ping when he found you so he came here to wait, watching your dower approach on a screen embedded into the wrist of his suit.

Gray lingered as you reached the deck. He should have left, he could feel Mohawk's murderous rage thick in the air. He spoke despite it, "Be patient with her, she is only human."

Patience for lesser species didn't exist in the empire, it barely existed for other Viltrumites. Mohawk could feel how terrified he was for you. How attached.

"Leave." Was all Mohawk said, voice rife with impatience. Gray gave you the best sympathetic look he could, which read more constipated than anything, and left, though not fully. He hovered quietly at the bottom of the stairs, close enough he would be able to hear, maybe step in. Despite what he had told you, he wouldn't be able to stand by if the Emperor hurt you. He wasn't sure what he would do if anything happened, but he couldn't leave you.

The stairs were unguarded but you knew if you tried running things would be worse. You were frozen in place, terrified, angry and deeply lonely because nobody had been a friend to you today. It was just like you were back with Machine Head all over again, just a cog.

"I care about you so much." Was not the opener Mohawk had planned but there it was, echoing off the walls. "I think about you all of the time. I wonder how I can make your life worth living. I knew her for years, I did it for her but not good enough. All I'm asking is you give me time to get to know you. I want to make you happy."

It was sweet, the most genuine thing he had said to you, but you couldn't forget why he was angry at you in the first place. All at once your anger overrides your fear and you snapped, "You dry humped me in front of your council."

He huffed a laugh, "And you directly disobeyed me. We're even now. I'll forgive you if you forgive me. I think we make a lot of sense. We're both angry people, we both care harder than we should about things we shouldn't. We can be good together, (Y/n)."

The more he talked like this, the angrier you were. "I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not your Barbie doll. I'm not like you at all." That last part was a lie, you both knew it. "You love me so much? Then let me go cuz this?" He watched in the glass reflection as you pointed between you both, "Isn't fucking happening, you freak."

He sighed, turned on the heels of his boots and faced you, forcing his expression into indifference. Under his clothes, his muscles twitched and flexed with the urge to hit something.

"You know," his voice slipped into a menacing quiet as he took slow step after slow step towards you, "She never said rude shit like this to me and I still killed her. She listened better than you too. You should watch what you say to me." He hadn't wanted to steer the conversation this way. Really, he had wanted you to break down crying, to apologize for being so ungrateful. He'd have forgiven you, fucked you till you were numb and dumb. But he knew that probably wouldn't happen, that was why he came prepared.

You were scared. Mohawk could see it all over your face but still you pushed. "Kill me then. I bet it'll work out sooooo well for you." You both knew his plans for the empire would crumble without you to keep the other Marks satiated.

Mohawk's mask of indifference cracked down the center. "Would you stop complaining then?"

"Yeah, I'd be dead."

His brow twitched. "You really don't know when to stop."

"Neither do you." Words fall to the floor and there is silence. Neither of you move, it was a western standoff at not-quite high noon. You couldn't take it, his scrutiny. You just wanted this to be over. "Don't do that ever try and fuck me in f-"

Mohawk was all you could see, right in front of you, hand hard on your throat. Crushing the words before they could come out. "Don't tell me what to do." His eyes were dark, flashing feral, but all you could focus on was the pressure in your head. So fast and absolute you thought he was going to crush your windpipe right there. "I didn't want to do this but you just had to be a bitch." You actually were going to die and you couldn't even beg for your life.

Something cold was slapped around your throat. Encompassing it, replacing Mohawk's hand before it was shut tight. You gasped in air, gagging, pulling at the thing as Mohawk stepped back. Finished. The labs had a short turnaround with the design process but they'd made it work. Especially with the cute metal heart in the black center of the collar.

Your heart was racing. You didn't know why he was just standing there watching. You wanted to run, but you knew you wouldn't make it. You settled for trying to tear the thing clasped around your neck off. It had some give, sides occasionally dotted with cool, rounded metal. You scrambled for a back clasp but there wasn't one. You felt around with shaking hands for anything to take it off but whatever you tried did nothing.

"What is this!?" You couldn't keep the panic out of your voice. You didn't know what it meant, but the cool metal touching your neck set off memories of prison, of being helpless and afraid.

"A collar," he said, smiling meanly, "because you act like such a bitch."

"Are you serious? Take this off m-" You couldn't scream because you couldn't breathe. The electricity that shot into your neck made all of your muscles seize at once, your nerves screaming at each other. It was worse than being shot, stabbed, gutted. It was fire all over, under the skin, in your bones. You didn't know you'd fallen to the floor until it stopped, the aftershocks rippling through your twitching muscles.

Your vision pulsed around your hands splayed on the floor, framing a pool of spit that still leaked out your lips. It took multiple attempts to make your neck work the way you want it to, to look up at Mohawk who looked deeply content. "I forgot to mention, it's a shock collar. From now on, anytime you use your powers at all, that'll happen."

You opened drool-slick lips to tell him to die but you couldn't talk, muscles jumping, heart pounding in your ears.

"Ah, shit, maybe I should turn it down a little." He tapped at a screen set on his wrist. "Okay, now try." You didn't, could barely process the command. "Fine, disobey me, I bet that'll go so well for you! Lemme just try the remote control." The pain was back again. It didn't matter that it was lessened when your body was already so abused. When you returned to yourself, you were laid twitching on your side, tears being forced out of your eyes. "How was that? Still feeling like an asshole?"

Through the erratic twist and pull of your muscles your hands shot up and tried to pull the collar off. He smiled, "Oh baby, no one can take that off but me. You're stuck with it until you learn how to behave."

You didn't stop pulling couldn't stop even as the panic ebbed away. You were trapped again, going to be worn down to an empty husk once again. The tears weren't forced anymore.

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therobotsarestuckinmyhead · 3 days ago

Text

♡ [TFA] GRIMLOCK HCs!

i wrote this eons ago on ao3 and is one of my first few HCs for this fandom so yay! also where my tfa grimlock fans at???

scenario: you're a nerd stuck with your insufferable excuse of a Space-Bridge Repair Crew on an organic planet and you're the only one happy about it.

— You were a part of Optimus Prime’s space bridge repair crew and ended up being the defenders of the planet called “Earth”, fighting off the Decepticons. Megatron and his goons were causing quite some havoc on this primitive organic planet that you’ve grown attached to.

— Most of the others liked Earth as well. You especially. You were fascinated by its rich history and its numerous organic creatures. It was far more diverse than Cybertron, you hadn’t seen a single planet with so many unique varieties of creatures. More specifically, you grew really fond of Earth’s prehistoric creatures.

— Which is the main reason as to why you felt so enthralled when you first met Grimlock. A cybertronian(?) that was a Tyrannosaurus, you’d read quite a bit on the mighty creature. It was like a dream come true for you in a way given you were about 66 million years too late to see them. it was a nightmare for Optimus who kept getting his skid plate handed to him.

“Me, Grimlock, will crush puny autobots!” His roar shook everything around him. Honestly, you didn’t want to hurt him, he was WAY too cool to get terminated and it's not like you could really do anything against him in the first place. Thankfully, despite how ruthless the T. Rex seemed, you thought that maybe you could reason with him. The fighting against the Dinobots is causing some collateral damage and that human named Fanzone might pop one of his 'blood vessels'.

“But why would you want to do that, Grimlock!?” You shout out to him. Something deep down in your spark told you that maybe, just maybe, Grimlock could be reasoned with. He was a sentient being after all and he did possess some kind of intelligence.

Grimlock turned his snout and walked towards you. The whiplash from his erratic change of movement causes his tail to swing and it swats Optimus back into the stratosphere for the fourth time this solar cycle. He lands with a loud crash, thumping onto the floor backside first and his back shooting up from the pain. Ouch. But currently, you cant bring yourself to focus on Optimus as the gears in your helm turn to somehow get this Bot to calm down.

“Because, puny Autobot...” Grimlock paused, he almost looked confused. “Because, Me, Grimlock… Uhm… Uhhhh…” Grimlock stopped moving and pondered for a second. It was evident he was not very smart and you couldn’t help but frown slightly out of a strange sdndd of concern. This Grimlock character didn’t seem to have any malicious intent. Was he running on instinct? Or... was someone controlling him? If so who? Grimlock certainly didn't look like a criminal mastermind and he most definitely didn't just spawn out of Earth's soil.

Within the time you and the Dinobot took to think, Prowl lunged forward onto Grimlock. “Thanks for distracting him!” This wasn’t what you intended. Prowl tried to throw an attack onto Grimlock only for him to...

— HOLY SCRAP HE CAN BREATHE FIRE. Can this bot get any cooler? Honestly, you were way more mesmerised by him than you should be at this point at this point. He's dangerous but you can't help but marvel at his abilities.

— After your little skirmish with the Dinobots, Commissioner Fanzone presented the idea of melting down the Dinobot for extra parts and that made your spark drop. That was too harsh! For all you know, they were programmed yesterday! Of course they wouldn't understand collateral damage yet. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who thought Fanzone’s decision was too harsh. Prowl felt bad for them too. Even if Prowl got a few burns here and there...

— So, you, Prowl and Bulkhead secretly team up to save the Dinobots. It was against Optimus’s orders but you didn't care, Optimus could go ahead and suck your shiny metallic-

“Why puny Autobots saving me, Grimlock and Dinobots?” He inquired, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence. Honestly, Grimlock was surprised that you guys were willing to save him and his friends. The King is confused even. Why would you do such a thing even after all the damage he's caused? Even after he nearly sent you and your friends to a long trip to Ratchet's?

You thought for a second, careful about your words.

“Well, cause we care about you! And I personally think that you’re really cool, Grimlock. Besides, I don't think you’re just some mindless brute. ” You replied, whispering out the last part to make sure that Prowl and Bulkhead couldn’t hear you. He might’ve not been bipedal (or so you thought) but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a mecha like you. The thought of being cared for, the thought of being seen as cool was all unfamiliar to the Dinobot— He didn't exactly spend a lot of time on his emotions after being made by the funny looking helm but...

You thought he was cool? And you cared?

Grimlock was speechless, he didn't know what to say or have any idea on what would even be appropriate to say in such a situation. He felt something in his power core, something… that he could only describe as nice. Your words kept ringing in his head but in a pleasant manner. Like a song he didn't want to turn down. Meanwhile you look over to Prowl and Bulkhead, the coast was clear and you lean closer to Grimlock.

“Hey, is it alright if I visit you guys more often?” You ask in secret with a hushed tone, Prowl and Bulkhead seemed to be engaged in some conversation. You didn’t want either of them hearing this knowing they'd reprove.

Grimlock tilted his head slightly and thought about it for a second, contemplating your words and considering it heavily.

“Of course, puny Autobots can visit Grimlock and Dinobots anytime.” He replied in a low, almost soft tone, as if he was somewhat uncertain but willing to give it a try. You couldn’t really make it out as his helm was that of a T-Rex but you swore you saw a smile.

— You had been visiting Grimlock and the gang regularly after missions. None of the other crew was aware of your friendship with Grimlock, Swoop and Sludge. You just told Optimus that you were ‘exploring’, thankfully, the Prime bought it since he's known you to be the curious type but never the reckless kind.

— But Prowl didn’t. Prowl knew damn well what you were doing. He just didn’t want to interfere. It wasn’t hurting anyone so he really didn’t see any reason for interference. However, Prowl was growing concerned about the extensive amount of time you spent on Dinobot Island. And he did often privately vocalise his concerns.

— You were the first to see Grimlock’s bipedal form! This confirmed your previous theory that they might be of Cybertronian descent. However, their biologies remained a mystery considering their frames weren’t built with the usual minerals and metals Cybertronians were made out of. Maybe they were the result of Sari’s Allspark key? Either way, it narrowed the possibilities. You have a datapad dedicated to figuring out the origins of the Dinobots.

— You taught Grimlock, Swoop and Sludge about Cybertron and how you were from there. You told them stories that they greatly enjoyed. Grimlock loves your stories and hearing about your life. You told him what a spark was, some of the things you told him did confuse him but he would just nod and pretend to understand while the other two look at you blankly.

— After two or three days, Grimlock will eventually reach the grimm conclusion [ba-dum tiss] that he wants to be with you after you told him what romance is and what love was. He'd always felt it but never knew how to label it. But his pride makes him feel embarrassed that a puny, tiny Autobot wiggled their way into his spark.

— Grimlock prefers to hang out with you in his T. Rex as it allows him to carry you on his back as he roams around the island and talk. Scaring the local wildlife and laughing at the way they run away while you glare at him for a moment. He doesn’t get why you don't find it funny!

— Now, Grimlock isn’t the best conversationalist out there but he is a good listener. He will listen and give his own commentary. Sometimes you rant about Bumblebee being stupid or how you fucked up. He honestly doesn’t have much to say as he’s confined to Dinobot island, nothing’s really going on in his life.

— Grimlock can be a real asshole. He will tease and joke about you, this happens mostly because he doesn’t get how to express love. Grimlock gained sentience like three days ago, give him a break. He really isn’t ready for such complex emotions, he’s brutally blunt and doesn’t usually care how blunt he is. So he will end up coming off as insensitive. He's new to this relationship stuff!

— He will try to find some other way to annoy you if you tell him that his teasing is annoying or if you don’t like it. Grimlock is smug.

— The second he sees your drooping expression in response to his words of mockery, he will freeze. Grimlock was just being playful! He didn’t mean to make you sad! He doesn't understand the weight of his words and he's still new to empathy.

— Grimlock will laugh at your fuck ups. He will laugh at anyone and everyone’s fuck ups. You’re no exception unfortunately. Grimlock would fearlessly laugh in the face of Primus without any hesitation. He’s just that kind of bot. He does not give a fuck. He doesn’t know how to hold back a laugh either

— It should be noted that his sense of humor can be bubbled down to Tom and Jerry or Oggy And The Cockroaches. He's immature. People accidentally hurting themselves, childish irony and bad puns make him laugh out loud. He would watch children's cartoons and laugh at them but then immediately smolder and stop laughing when Sari tells him that they're for children. Now he doesn't want to watch them. He cannot fathom higher forms of comedy like sarcasm, he will try to get it but it just doesn't tickle his funny bone..

— He’s a tsundere. Big fucking tsundere. But instead of blushing like an anime girl, Grim just grunts and his voice goes in a slightly higher pitch. He does get all nervous like an anime girl though. You can see him blush slightly if you look really closely onto his faceplates when he’s in his bipedal form, what really gives it away is his click of his cooling fans and the not so subtle steam from his vents.

— Despite his tsundere nature, Grimlock will do whatever you want him to. Grimlock is a simp (we saw that in the Blackarachnia ep), no questions asked. He will not hesitate to do whatever you want him to. Especially if he’s fallen for you hard.

— If you tease him back, he will pout and protest. Won’t admit it but he likes being commanded around by you. Grimlock can be really adorable without ever realizing it. Wait. Did you call him… adorable? Are you falling for a fragging metal dinosaur? Tch. Tch. Tch. What would the others think?

— The first sign that shows that Grimlock is deeply in love with you, is that he stops referring to you as ‘puny Autobot’ or by your alt. mode with robot as a suffix but rather by your name. 'Car robot', 'truck robot', 'jet robot'... depends on your alternate mode but he will stop calling you that.

— Grimlock, unlike Predaking, has no restraint when it comes to jealousy. He will openly fling himself onto Swoop or Sludge if they are taking too much of your time and attention away from Grimlock. You’re unaware that the conflict is because of you, you just think that Grimlock has some weird spontaneous battle instinct. You look clueless and confused, trying your best to diffuse the situation if it's getting out of hand. You wouldn’t be surprised, Grimlock and the others do have play-fights with each other. And when they do, you always cheer for Grim

— He hates that you can’t spend all the time you have with Grimlock here on Dinobot island. Grimlock desperately wants to spend more time with you. he kinda wishes that you were also a Dinobot, he hates knowing that you spend more time with the others.

— Sludge and Swoop are completely aware of Grim’s huge crush on you but they shut up about it knowing that Grimlock would throw them into the sea if they ever revealed it. But they do tease him. A lot. It would go like "Hey, [name] ! Did you know that Grim has a-" *ding* *ding*, Grimlock has KOed the opponent!. Flying punch to their faceplates in his bipedal.

— You were also quite attached to Grimlock which is why, when you ventured to the island and saw Meltdown, you quickly informed Prowl all panicked.

— Grimlock seethes with jealousy knowing that you’re under the command of Optimus and not him. He constantly tries to put up displays of strength by lifting up stuff like boulders or heavy weighing items or heck, you to show you how much cooler he is than Optimus. Honestly, he just hates Optimus. Optimus does not understand why Grimlock dislikes him so much when the two meet up once again because of Meltdown. Once Meltdown was defeated, an terribly embarrassing exchange of words took place.

“Listen, Grimlock, I don't understand why you don’t like me. If it's about-” Grimlock rudely cuts off a stern and angry Optimus. “No! Me, Grimlock don’t like you not because you put Grimlock and friends into cement!” He snarled, irritated. Grimlock was easily annoyed and the way Prime was so persistent on an answer bothered him. You, Prowl, Sentinel and the rest of the Dinobots went silent as all of you watched this exchange.

The tension withered away as awkwardness crept into the empty space left for words as the T. Rex figured out what to say next, a hint of vulnerability as he looked down, trying to articulate what was on his processor. Grimlock switched to his bipedal form, facing away from you and Optimus. Optimus looked confused, very confused. He was almost certain that was the reason.

“Well, then… Why do you hate me?”

Grimlock grumbles something, incomprehensible to Optimus which makes Optimus' temper flare, he's in a bad mood and the Prime only just wants to resolve this mystery dispute he has with Grimlock and he doesn't even have the slightest clue over what Grimlock is being so aggressive over. “Come on, Grimlock! I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!” He exclaimed with a hint of exasperation, the Prime was extremely frustrated. Optimus wanted to right whatever wrongs he did to Grimlock, he’s certain that Grimlock could prove to be a powerful and useful ally, given how he helped out with tackling Metldown. Only if he weren’t such a difficult mech!

“You have what Grimlock wants.” He speaks, hesitant. His tone was low and uncharacteristically soft, almost as if he was embarrassed.

”Well, what do you want?” Optimus asks, completely dumbfounded now. He questioned if Grimlock even had the capacity to have interests other than wrecking things and fighting. What could he possibly have that Grimlock would want? Was it oil? Energon?

“Grimlock wants… Grimlock likes…” He’s simply too embarrassed to say it out loud, his optics fixated on the ground as if he was some overgrown sparkling. He sighs and lifts a single digit, pointing at you. Helm to the floor as his faceplates are practically on fire, steam puffing from his vents as his dermas are pursed into a thin line.

“...”

“Pfft- reall- OW.” Prowl bonked Sentinel’s head.

— After the whole extremely awkward confession, Optimus agreed to let you hang out more often on Dinobot Island but now the aura between you and Grimlock is also extremely awkward. Bumblebee is teasing you. Sentinel on the other hand thinks its pathetic, he isn’t even a proper Cybertronian for Primus’ sake. Prowl isn't sure how to feel and Bulkhead is sort of supportive? He thinks it's sweet.

You and Grimlock were sitting on the floor, Grimlock was in his bipedal form with his legs crossed, you sat in a similar posture next to him, both of your optics averted from one another as you stare into the grassy ground below you.

“…” Grimlock began as he leaned close towards you. “Me, Grimlock, am sorry for…”

You cut him off as you hesitantly turn towards him. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything, Grim.”

You cupped his helm between your servos and he's frozen, you've never really touched him so tenderly but he immediately loves it. “I… kinda like you too.” You muttered out with embarrassment, your own faceplates on fire as you look away for a moment.

Grimlock felt like the happiest mech alive at that moment, his faceplates flushed and his jaw slightly parted as his optics went wide, of course you wouldn’t notice his optics due to his visor. You know what, maybe truck robot isn’t so bad after all.

— Grimlock lets you hold his flame sword but he’s extremely cautious about the whole thing to make sure that his sword doesn’t even bring the slightest harm to you. Grimlock doesn't want you hurt. He cares deeply about you.

— Grimlock is the type of guy to try and fight the sun if you start complaining about how hot it is. He might not look like it but he’s willing to go across the universe for you.

— One time, you caressed his helm when he was in bipedal form and his head literally caught on fire. You were extremely concerned after that. Grimlock had to convince you that it was a natural response to affectionate touch.

— The thing Grimlock likes the most about you is the way that you treat him. Everyone else treats him like an idiot, even his fellow Dinobots sometimes but you don’t see him as a brainless brute. You treat him with patience and respect and that makes him swoon.

— He will give you rides on his back in T. Rex mode.

— Grimlock is a huge cuddle bug. He craves your physical touch and affection and attention constantly. Grimlock can be real childish some(most)times.

— If you won’t give him the attention he so desperately craves for, he will just loom over you and follow you around in his alt. mode until you do. He’s like a puppy but a really stubborn one. He demands your attention. He will even swoop you up into his servos at one point with pleading optics.

— If you threw something, Grimlock will fetch it for you out of pure impulse. Running after it in his T Rex alternate and walking back to you in bipedal with the item in his servos. As I mentioned before, he’s like an over-grown puppy that can breathe fire.

—When it comes to romance, Grimlock is probably one of the most coy mechs out there. Grimlock tries to be stoic but it doesn’t work, he falls apart fast. Simplest words of affection like “I love you.” or “I missed you.” is enough for him to go from confident to shy in an instant. Interfacing would probably kill him from embarrassment.

— But once he gets used to your words (which he will at some point), he will just be incredibly smug about it. Like you missed him? Hah! Of course you would! He's the Grimlock. There's a lot to miss about him.

— Grimlock adores rubs, neck scratches and just being caressed in any way. He hates getting tickled though. Grimlock is really ticklish and you have used that to your advantage on multiple occasions.

— Grimlock loves it when you fawn over how cool he is and he will get jealous of whoever else you find really cool, the poor bots that are on your ‘cool people’ list are the sworn enemies of Grimlock. They are his tackling practice dummies.

— P r a i s e t h e m i g h t y G r i m l o c k. Feed his ego and tell him how amazing he is. He will be cocky afterwards so brace yourself for the consequences. The other dinobots will damn you for that because now they have to put up with an even more ego inflated Grimlock.

— He might not say it outright but he’s actually sort of embarrassed at his way of speech. Grimlock just doesn’t know how to speak outside of in third person and he won’t show it but he’s sort of insecure about it. He’s insecure about lots of things and he needs your constant reassurance. Grimlock is well aware that everyone thinks that he’s just a big dumb brute and he doesn’t want you of all people to think so about him. He usually doesn’t care about what other’s think but what you think means the world to him.

— He’s a sucker for headpats.

— Since he can breathe fire, sometimes he takes the liberty of being a walking talking heater. You rest on his chassis, face against his chest as he warms himself up and the two of you drift off into recharge.

— He will get all flustered over the smallest bits of affection. Yes, even hand-holding. Holding each other’s servos is probably his favourite thing to do with you. Yours are very nice to hold onto and he likes how it feels to have your digits intertwined. He loves you servos in general because you use them to touch him.

— One time, you smothered Grimlock’s faceplates in kisses while you sat on his lap and his whole frame went rigid. He swore that he almost passed out from overheating. The confident leader of the Dinobots turned into a stuttering mess. Just don’t do it in front of the others... please.

— Grimlock pretends to hate pet names but he actually kind of likes them. Its a love-hate relationship.

— Grimlock loves it when you bring back things for him from your missions. He revels knowing the fact that he’s always on your mind. His favourite things you bring back for him are probably the weird dinosaur keychains. Grimlock is flattered that the humans make merchandising of him and it sort of makes him more chill around humans.

— Now, the love of his life is an Autobot who’s here on Earth to take care of the Decepticon pest so naturally you have to engage in the field and he won’t say it but he’s worried. You’re so puny and small... the Decepticons are so much more deadly! He knew that especially since Megatron basically made him. Speaking of which, you came to learn you were dating the enemy’s technical ‘son’. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

— Speaking of Decepticons, he will without hesitation tackle down a Decepticon if they are a treat to your life in any way whatsoever with Swoop and Snarl joining in. They will literally jump the Decepticon which ends up giving the rest of you time to prepare yourselves.

— Grimlock will gladly accompany you on a mission if you ask him to tag along. Him falling for you has made him far more complacent with the Autobots as a whole so Optimus is a bit more approving of your relationship. You're like Cybertron's ambassador to Dinobot island.

— You had to introduce him and the rest of the Dinobots to hygiene. Like, none of them cleaned themselves until you came along.

— He really really really loves you, he’s your number one simp and fanboy. If anyone insults or makes jokes about you when he’s around, he will start a fight. Only Grimlock is allowed to tease you. Bumblebee once joked about how shitty your aim was when Grimlock was present and Grimlock began rambling on in grammatically broken sentences that would’ve made any English teacher’s head explode about how amazing you are then and there. Anime fans can’t compare to the way he defends you from such horrendous accusations.

— You’re probably the only person who’s able to make Grimlock form a sentence without using less than fifteen words.

— Grimlock love love love loves when you come to him for protection from something. He loves knowing that you rely on him and yes, he will be smug about it. He’s just like that.

— In private, he will be slightly bolder and give you soft chaste kisses on your faceplates.

— Rest of the crew teases the fuck out of the two of you, except Ratchet. Sentinel is on your case 24/7 and Optimus… doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, your relationship is cute and helps repair his and Grimlock’s weird enemy-friendship but on the other hand… It's Grimlock. He’s like the most arrogant mech the Prime has ever met. Bumblebee calls you a ‘Xenophile’ as a joke while Sari teases you, asking you where your dinosaur boyfriend is (you had to do research to understand what a boyfriend was). Prowl is like 'i know what kind of bot you are' with a knowing smile and Bulkhead is lowkey very chill about it, he's given you his thumbs-up.

— This mech is willing to give you his life. He really loves and cherishes you. Grimlock is a good boyfriend. For a ruthless fighting machine. Golden retriever but really possessive.

also, if it does interest anyone, a friend of mine decided to use these HCs to make a fanfic series on ao3! please check it out, it's titled Dino Lover!

#transformers #transformers x reader #cybertronian reader #reader insert #tfa #transformers animated #tf animated #tfa grimlock #grimlock #tf grimlock #grimlock x reader #tfa grimlock x reader #i wrote this ages ago #hes such an idiot dum dum what a himbo #i didnt know if i wanted to be blackarachnia that one EP or be grimlock ngl #but personally i wanna be grimlock #blackarachnia full on homewrecking gng </3 #fighting for your man on the daily ‼️

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