#jackson academy.... just came out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jensensfanfic · 1 year

Note

could you do a protective ellie one shot? like maybe the reader gets hurt and ellie loses her shit on whoever hurt her? thank for considering !

DRAW YOU, DEFEND YOU, OH, AND I LIKE YOU

pairing: student!ellie x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fighting (not much), bullying, mentions of a few minor injuries, reader wears glasses, reader has anxiety

a/n: i'm gonna say you're both around 16/17 in this. school systems confuse me everywhere, so just apply that to whatever year group you'd be in. reader is written as being quite shy and quiet in this one! also, i name the a-hole liam :). hope you like it!

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

Unsurprisingly, the news that you were the new kid in class had already travelled well, making it through the entire school within a day. The thing that made this bad news was that everyone's eyes were on you. They were probably waiting to see if you were going to be a spitfire, loud mouth who took nobody's crap, or one of the quiet kids: an easy target.

You were the latter. Quiet, introverted, not used to having more than one friend, but very accustomed to eating alone every lunch.

Nobody bothered you much for the first month or so, but then one guy had seen you eating lunch with a teacher, and now you were the subject of nerd jokes.

You had sat with your Maths professor one time to go over some homework. It had taken longer than expected, and you decided to grab a cereal bar from your bag, your tummy begging for it through growls. This tiny choice had deemed you nerd, teacher's pet, and a plethora of other jokes relating to the fact that you wore glasses.

Then, one day, it escalated. One of the self entitled 'popular' guys had taken a seat in front of you at lunch. He started blabbing on, tossing around the nerd jokes, clearly looking for some kind of response that you refused to give. Even if you wanted to tell him to piss off, you never would because the thought of doing so made your heart race.

You were caught up in your own thoughts, his voice sounding as though he were underwater, when he suddenly bangs his hands down onto the table. You flinch, glancing around, seeing that the movement had caused your drink to spill.

"Crap." You mutter, picking it up before it could get onto your clothes.

"Oh, so you have a voice." The guy says, mockingly as he looks over to his friends, who are all laughing. "The freak actually talks."

"I—" Before you can speak, you see a shadow move over the dining table. Looking up, you're surprised to see that it's Ellie Williams.

Ellie wasn't a quiet kid like you, but she also wasn't a nobody either. You'd seen her with a couple of friends, but you'd also seen her alone, smoking on her way to and from school, or sitting in windows with her guitar or a notepad. Ellie was that girl that no one knew too much about, but they were all curious – mostly about her tattoo since she didn't even attempt to hide it on most days.

Ellie was in a few of your classes, one of which she was seated in front of you. You would sometimes find yourself trying to peek over and look at her sketches she doodled during lessons. She was incredibly talented, once or twice you wanted to compliment her, but then your pounding heart would stop you.

She was also really, really hot, but that was a thought you pushed away, for fear that if someone found out, that would be the next thing you'd be singled out for. Plus, it's not like you would ever tell her.

"Hey, Liam." Now, she was standing next to you, notepad tucked under her arm, one hand pressed against the table. "Back off, okay?"

"Williams? The fuck do you want?"

"I want you to leave the girl alone." She glances at you, and you immediately cast your eyes down. "Go fuck with someone else."

Liam scoffs and then goes back to his friends, flipping Ellie off as he walks away.

"Jesus." Ellie refills his seat, plopping down with a grunt. "Sorry about him. He's a dick. Hard to believe he used to be kinda cool. Anyway... Are you good?"

"Uh..." She waits patiently for your answer, and you gather quickly that she's not planning on leaving until she gets one. "Yeah... thanks."

"Cool." She stands again. "See you around."

You mutter a 'bye', but she is already halfway across the dining hall, shooting a glare at Liam's table as she goes.

Over the next few weeks, Ellie comes to your defence several more times. She tells you how sick she is getting hearing Liam and his friends torment you.

"I just... don't really care. If I react, it'll just make it worse. I can handle it." You momentarily realise that Ellie has gotten more words out of you than anyone else since you'd transferred here to Jackson Academy.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have to deal with it. Tell 'em to fuck off." Ellie sighs then, loudly. "Hey, you wanna get lunch together today?"

"What, so you can sit there like a bodyguard or something?"

"Maybe." Ellie laughs, grabbing her things, along with your own bag. "Come on."

"Uh, okay..."

—

After you've eaten everything, Ellie pulls out her sketchbook while you tap away at a game on your phone. You watch her squint and twist her head, concentrated on whatever it is she's drawing.

"You know..." You remind yourself that Ellie has called you her friend many times, and she defended you, so she's not going to lash out or anything... you decide to bat the anxiety away for a second. "You're really talented. I've seen a little of what you've drawn here and there and... it's really good."

Ellie's pencil stops, and she looks up at you through her lashes. "Really?" She smiles and then looks up fully. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You feel the spread of heat on your cheeks and rest your head in your hands in an attempt to hide it. "So, uh, what're you drawing?"

"You." Ellie answers instantly.

You blanch. "What?"

"That's okay?"

"No, it's fine. Just, uh– why me?"

"Your face." Ellie pauses again and drops a pencil into her case, swapping it for a slightly thinner one. "It's interesting."

"Interesting?" You feel a drop in your stomach, you anxiety ridden brain immediately thinking of the worst case scenario - that maybe this was an elaborate plan to mock you and—

"Pretty." Ellie sees the panic and diminishes in a word.

"Huh?"

"I meant you have a pretty face, and I wanted to draw it. Okay?" She chuckles softly, pushing her pencil into her hair bun and then reaching over to touch your arm. "Chill."

"Right... uh–"

"What's going on here, ladies?" You are once again met with the sight of Liam's annoying face. He stands inches away, obnoxiously smacking his lips as he chews on some gum. "Aw, you two pals now? Or..." He wiggles his brows, and then you realise that Ellie's hand is still on yours, and he's looking right at them.

Years of pent-up frustration fill your chest, and you stand suddenly, your chair scraping along the floor and creating an ugly sound that makes you cringe. "Liam, for fuck sake, can you just... leave me the hell alone."

"Ooh, the kitten has claws. Did Williams tell you to–"

"Shut up!" You yell, gaining the attention of a few more students as they look on and listen in. "Just fuck off. Go smoke a joint or jack off with you buddies, whatever the fuck. Just get lost."

You tap Ellie on the shoulder, who raises her brows in question. "Wanna go?"

"Uh, yeah." She gathers her pad and pencils and stands with you, looking a little impressed. "Let's go."

Before you can make even a couple of steps, you trip over something and go tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately, your elbow and chin take most of the fall, but you ignore it for a moment to twist and find the source of what happened.

Liam is standing above you, his foot still frozen mid-air, and he actually looks surprised. For a second, you think maybe he regrets tripping you, but then his friends are all cheering. He looks back and forth between them and then echoes their laughter, but it sounds forced - and you should know, he'd laughed around or in front of you a lot by this point.

"Are you okay?" You hadn't even noticed Ellie kneeling at your side.

You look up at her and nod, but upon seeing your face fully, she switches from concerned to pissed off. She abruptly stands, and you follow her movement until she is nearing Liam. You notice her fist is clenched, and before you can scramble up to stop her, it connects with Liam's face.

She shakes her hand after, flexing her fingers and looking down at where he now sits on the floor. "Asshole."

The next day, you meet Ellie on the bleachers before school. "So, what's the damage? Detention?"

"Yeah, every day for a couple of weeks. But it was worth it."

"Not really. Haven't you had like a perfect record before this."

Ellie nods, and you sigh. "Ellie..."

"What? It's done, I can't take it back."

"Why did you have to hit him?" You gently prod your bruised chin, the dull ache less painful and more annoying.

"Literally, you ask me that question as you flinch and poke around your fat bruise. I fucking hit him because he hurt you."

"Ugh, it's not that bad."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "That's not the point. I don't know if you've noticed, but over the past few weeks, I've gotten kind of attached to you."

"Um..." You frown, not quite believing what you just heard, but something blooms in your stomach, sends a wave of tingles up your arms and legs. "Okay. I... don't know what to say to that."

"It's pretty simple, my oblivious friend. I've had my eye on you since you enrolled in this crappy fuckin' school. Everytime that stupid fuck said something to you I wanted to hit him. And then when you were on the floor and I saw you were hurt... I wanted to rip his face off."

"Jesus, Ellie."

"What can I say? Maybe I have some anger issues. The point is... I finished your drawing."

"What? I-" You're so confused that you laugh. "How does a drawing conclude your point in this conversation?"

"Take a look." Ellie smiles, smug, but with a hint of nervousness. She points to her notebook between you, and you take it. Flipping through the pages, you search for your drawing, and when you find it, you blush right away. "So?"

Your hand glides down the page. Ellie has drawn you with your head resting on your hand during lunch, one hand on your phone. She has even drawn the name of the game you were playing in that moment. Underneath, your name, followed by your name.

'I always thought it was kinda weird to gift someone a drawing of their own face... anyway I like you. Can I buy you dinner sometime? —Ellie :)'

You pluck the pencil from her ear and find a new page. You scribble for a minute or so, and Ellie is impatient, tapping her foot on the metal seats.

When you're done, you turn the sketchbook around. Ellie quickly reads it and then grins.

In big letters you had written, 'YES'.

Then, underneath, in much smaller writing:

'(Also, I think you're really, really hot.)'

☆•°°•☆°••°☆•°°•☆°••°☆

#jackson academy.... just came out #but i kinda like it #anyways it's almost 6am as i post this #so pls be kind even it turned out shit haha #but i really hope it's not and that you like it!#my writing #mine #millerswritings/millerstation #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #protective!ellie #tw fighting #tw bullying #((i'm very bad at title))#lmk what you think #reblogs help!!

193 notes · View notes

leaawrites · 3 months

Text

Distant Lover

Percy Jackson × Daughter of Apollo!reader

Warnings: use of Y/n, nothing really (fluff)

Summary: Waiting for Percy to reutrn from his quest.

Masterlist

She watched the sea like it would bring him back. Sweep him onto the shore like one of the seashells that she collected over the hours she waited for him to return.

With Percy gone for his quest to save the world and the other campers already picking sides, the camp was chaotic. Y/n missed the time when everything was still normal. Back when she would be with Percy at Yancy academy, talking about Greek mythology or whatever they could form a conversation out of. It was always so easy to talk to him. Or just sit with him in silence, his arm around her body, her head resting on his shoulder, their hearts intertwined with one another.

Waking early was a blessing and a curse. Today, it was a blessing in her eyes. The world around her was silent, she was alone in her peace. The waves crashed against the shore without a care in the world. By watching nature unfold in it’s beauty, Y/n came to understand why Percy seemed to enjoy the freedom of the sea so much. It was always there, taking it’s routine like the day before. Disappearing when it feels like it, returning when it feels like it. Nature is unpredictable, still you can always rely on it.

The more the world woke, the louder it got around her. Soon enough, kids were running around the beach, screaming in joy. It shouldn’t feel fearful to go away from this place. To watch someone go away from this place. Still Y/n couldn’t resist the anxious feeling she carried around wherever she went. It was walking hand in hand with the thought of Percy Jackson. Since reality crashed around them, she felt more protective than before of him. She had no one else who made her feel special. At least not in the way he did. Percy Jackson was sassy fun mess of a human - or demigod in that case - that she adored.

“I thought, I would be greeted properly by my favorite girl when I returned,” A voice sounded behind her.

Y/n whipped her head around. There stood that sassy fun mess of a human. he was right in front of her, uninjured. Alive. Y/n scrambled to her feet, running into his already outstretched arms. She almost knocked them both over with what force she hugged him. She held him like she’d never held anything before. He was save and she wanted to savor the moment, in case the feeling would be taken from her.

The girl loosened her arms from around his neck, to catch his face in them. She turned his head, her gaze trailing down his neck and arms. “Are you hurt?” She asked, panicking over the possibility of it.

“I’m alright, sunshine,” he assured her. Even when Percy used to call her that already when they were still in school together, Y/n couldn’t help the blush that crept on her cheeks at the sound of it slipping from his tongue.

“And mentally?” She asked, knowing the answer probably wouldn’t be the same.

“That was already bad before, I doubt that can get worse,” he joked, but Y/n only looked at him with disapproving eyes. Even though her mouth betrayed her as the ends of her lips curled up into a small smile. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling when looking into his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re back in one piece, pretty boy,” she said. Gently pressing her lips against his.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo imagine #pjo #pjo series

748 notes · View notes

blossomingmoonlight · 2 months

Text

Undercover

Well I've officially written my first one-shot, a smutty one nonetheless and I hope you like it. I noticed that there are like 0 fics/one shots of daddy Tim Bradford so I took it upon myself to write one.

summary: I used some of episode 7 season 4 where Tim goes undercover and uhm things happen between you.

Warnings: +18, MDNI, vaginal, creampie, handjob, making out, tim having a sir kink, tim being hot as fuck.

Words: 3.7K

tim bradford x fem!reader

It was the early morning of yet another exciting Monday on the job. Only this time you’re annoying yet hot training officer Tim Bradford wasn’t your training officer anymore. Finally you had freedom, even though it felt strange and almost sad even to not ride with him anymore it also felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. You were deep in thought making your to go-cup of iced coffee when a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Well good morning, you’re awake early.” Jackson grinned in the hall leading to his room. He had been your roommate for about 2 years now and after the academy, joining the LAPD out in the real world, called for a friend who knew what you went through. “Yes of course! It’s our first day of freedom. I’m planning on making it the best day ever so I’m going to be on time and prepared. I don’t want my first day to be a failure, I need to prove to Tim that I don’t need him anymore.” You responded to Jackson while pouring the hot coffee over to the to-go cup.

“You know you don’t need to prove yourself to Tim, he knows how good of a cop you’ve become. I mean I get it but still, today will be great. I just know it.” Jackson said as he walked up to you and gave an encouraging pat on your shoulder. “So no coffee for me?” He asked, pretending to look sad as he watched you add the ice. “Sorry, sorry I’ll make some for you too.” You laughed. When you finished up Jacksons coffee as well you two walked out to your car and headed to the station.

After changing into your uniform you headed into roll call while also pretending not to look for your ex-training officer. You took your seat, now in the second row, and talked excitedly to John about the next phase in your career. Some time passed and everyone had taken their seat, Tim as well, but you pretended not to notice his grumbley voice in the early morning. Something you came to appreciate over the years working with him. However you quickly shut up when sergeant Grey walked in. “Good morning everyone, let’s begin today with congratulations to our rookies who are now P2’s. Good job officer Nolan, West and (Y/L/N) it’s not every year that all the rookies pull through. However this new found freedom without your T.O’s does not mean that you’re off the hook, you’ll still be monitored only you now call your own shots. That would be all for this morning, good luck out there.” Grey finished and you smiled at Jackson and John who were both seated on either side of you.

When you walked out of roll call you caught a glimpse of Tim walking behind you and joining you at your side. “Just because you’re not my boot anymore doesn’t mean that you can slack off now, understood?” Tim lectured as he looked at you sternly. “Of course sir, I wouldn’t dream of it.” You responded with a slight smile, you couldn’t help but think he needed to lecture you one last time before you went out on your own but just as you were about to point that out to him Jackson joined your “conversation”. “(Y/n) we should ride together today, already got it approved by Grey.” Jackson smiled. “That sounds great Jackson, let’s grab our gear.” Jackson agreed and you wished Tim good luck today as you headed to grab your gear. You and Jackson then set up the shop and left to go out on patrol. After a couple of calls that were fairly timid you drove yourself and Jackson to the food trucks nearby where your fellow officers were already enjoying a well deserved lunch. The day went on pretty swiftly with nothing major other than a robbery in a convenience store. When the suspect was processed you got called over by Lopez wanting to talk to you about a woman allegedly adding tiger blood in her skin care line and asking if you could join Tim in interrogating her as you were always good at getting a confession out of suspects and Tim could use a hand.

You accepted the challenge and headed over to the interrogation room where Tim and the woman would be. The door creaked as you opened it, Tim’s eyes on you as you entered the room and stood beside him. “I’m officer (Y/L/N), I will be asking you some questions, Mrs Carter is it?” You asked the older woman sitting opposite of Tim. “Yes, but I don’t understand. Officer Bradford is already questioning me.” Mrs Carter almost sneered, clearly she wasn’t happy with the situation. “Well Mrs Carter I am here to uh... learn, I haven’t been on the job long and need some experience, so I hope you won’t mind.” You quickly answered, glancing at Tim who was standing next to you, looking a bit annoyed. “I understand that you recently started your own skin care line?” You asked her while skimming through her file. “Yes we’re a small operation but we’re growing.” She smiled proudly. “We’re hoping to get a write up in Goop.” She continued. “I-I don’t know what that is.” Tim looked at you confused. “I’ll explain later.” You told him, putting the file down. “A friend of yours gave us your night cream, she claimed that it contains tigers blood, like, literally blood from an endangered animal.” You stated. “Firms the skin right up.” She smiled, as if this was completely normal. You almost gasped at her quick confession and looked surprised at Tim before you pointed out, “Participating in the endangered animal trade could land you in jail for up to five years.”

“You don’t understand the wellness game. It’s cutthroat. I need to stand out. How else am I gonna compete with Sloan and her vitamin business? I mean everybody knows that her B-12 rejuvenation pills are just benzos in fancy bottles.” She mused while crossing her arms. Tim gave you an astonished look, which you returned. “Um, she’s selling psychiatric drugs?” You asked the woman. “Oh, the whole ‘westside buffet.” Mrs Carter shrugged. “What’s Sloan’s last name?” Tim exhaled, knowing that this was going to be a dragging one. After some time you and Tim found the woman Mrs Carter had talked about and she was brought in the interrogation room where you two waited for her.

“Take off your sunglasses, ma’am.” Tim sighed at the woman with the big round sunglasses while she was crossing her arms. “Do I have to? These fluorescent lights give me vertigo.” She asked, annoyed. “Okay well that could be the least of your worries. We’ve been informed that you’re selling psychiatric drugs as a vitamin.” Tim continued. “Who said that?” The woman scoffed, now taking off her sunglasses. “Doesn’t matter.” Tim cut her off. “I’m helping people. What’s the problem?” She expressed. Tim rolled his eyes. “You can’t prescribe a controlled substance without a medical license.” You told her. “My husband is a doctor, it's the family prescription pad.” The woman said as if it was obvious. “Yeah that’s not a thing.” You objected, you could feel that Tim was over it. “Look I don’t think you’re hearing me, this makes you a drug dealer.” Tim explained, now getting more irritated. “And given the circumstances a pretty high level one. You could be looking at twenty years in prison.” He continued. “What?! No, no, no, no, no. This whole thing has gotten terribly out of hand. Who ratted me out anyway?” She stuttered. “It was Aston wasn’t it? She’s been trying to break me down ever since I stole her portrait painter. Like she needs to be hung on a wall. You want a real crime to chase? Aston’s trying to hire a hitman.” She claimed almost proudly. “Wh- What do you mean?” You asked her confused. “Her husband's worth more dead than alive, so she’s been on the dark web trying to hire someone to kill him.” She smiled. You and Tim both sighed and looked at each other, this was bigger than you thought. The both of you knew what you had to do, so with permission from Grey, Tim would go undercover as a hitman to try and get the woman to say word for word she wanted her husband dead.

After you got the equipment sorted in the van you waited for Tim to arrive in the parking lot with the Mercedes as the setup vehicle, while the van you were in was parked next to him. You heard a car arrive and opened the door of the van to greet Tim who was now parking the car. “Okay, oh... that’s your disguise?” You asked him smiling, he looked like a completely normal man, not at all like a criminal. “This is what real hitmen look like.” He scoffed as he now stood in front of you. “That is not the point. Come on, get in.” You said ushering him inside the back of the van. He sighs while stepping in the van, sitting down as you climbed in as well, closing the sliding door behind you before you took a seat close to him. “What I’m wearing is fine.” He claimed. “Okay, third rule of undercover work. Know your audience. You are not trying to fool another criminal. You’re trying to fool a woman who gets her ideas about crime from Lifetime movies. Put it on” You explained as you hold the black blazer out to him. “Fine.” He said as he almost ripped the blazer out of your hands. “Thank you.” He removed his open zip up hoodie and instead put the blazer on. “Oh my god.” He scoffed, knowing he looked ridiculous. “Yeah, that’s much better.” You smiled. “I look like an idiot. I’d pull me over in a heartbeat.” Tim sighed. “Exactly, because you look the part.” You said while handing him the earpiece. “Alright mic me up, let’s get this over with.” Tim said as he raised his shirt, revealing his toned abs. You tried to play cool but couldn’t help taking a peek as you peeled the back of the sticker part of the mic off and reached over to stick it on Tim’s chest. “It's a little too high.” Tim said as you stuck the mic on him. “I know what I’m doing.” You said slightly annoyed. You checked the mic and waited for the woman as she should be at your location soon, so Tim moved over to the Mercedes, while you moved so you could listen in and record their conversation.

After some time the woman pulled into the parking lot and Tim stepped out of the car. She pulled up next to him, turned off the engine and rolled down her window. “You made sure you weren't followed?” Tim asked her as he leaned down near her window. “Yes. I drove around in circles for like half an hour.” She said with a smile on her lips. Tim then entered the car as you watched closely, the thought of his toned abs still in your mind. “So, how does this work?” The woman asked curiously. “Well, that's up to you. Your ad indicated you have a problem with your husband?” Tim started. “Yes. I need him to not be alive anymore.” She told him. “Hm, that’s not gonna be enough. We need her to spell it out.” You told Tim in his ear piece. “Do you want it to look like natural causes? A suicide? Homicide?” Tim continued. “Must be a lonely kind of life being a hitman.” She flirted. “It can be.” Tim tried to answer her neutrally. “So you’re not seeing anyone?” She asked. “Oh my god. She’s hitting on you.” You laughed in Tim’s earpiece. “No, not at the moment.” Tim confessed. “You see the thing is the fee varies depending on the method, so I need you to tell me what you want.” Tim tried to press on, only the woman seemed interested in something else. "Ooh. What I want changed a little when you got in the car.” She flirted while putting her hand on Tim’s that rested on his knee. “Wait, is she touching you? She’s touching you, isn’t she?” You laughed again through his ear piece, enjoying this a little too much while Tim is a bit stumped but stays in character. “Look I am down to do whatever you want.” Tim said. “Yeah you are.” You chuckled softly in the ear piece. “I just want the business out of the way first.” Tim continued. “So it’s 20.000 for a straight murder, 25 if you want it to look like suicide.” “Sexy, I’d pay you twice that to kill the bastard.” She said while leaning in a bit. “And the bastard is?” Tim smiled. “My husband obviously.” The woman smirked. “Yes, got her.” You said in Tim’s earpiece. “You know once he’s dead, I’ll be a very wealthy woman.” She smiled. “You’re under arrest.” Tim said while holding up his badge. Finally you got her, so you called for backup on the scene so the woman could be taken to the station in a police car. Tim walked back over to you, you still being in the back of the van. “Well great job we got her.” You smiled as you took off your headset and let Tim in the van. “She really was thirsty, my god.” He said while closing the sliding door behind him and getting in to remove the blazer. You sat across from him secretly watching, hoping to get another glance at his toned chest. Tim lifted his shirt to remove the mic and handed it to you.

“What is it?” He asked you, shit he caught you. “What- Nothing I- I just waited for you to hand me the mic!” You stammered out, a deep blush creeping on your skin and on the tips of your ears. “Really? You didn’t want a show?” Tim grinned, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “No I did not! What are you even talking about!” You scoffed now looking away from him, but still close enough for him to see your blushing features. “I saw you looking earlier, I don’t blame you.” He said looking you up and down. You were in your own clothes as you weren’t on patrol and you were wearing a white sundress with pretty blue flowers all over it. You looked down at your lap shyly. Then you felt Tim coming closer and he grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “(Y/n) are you attracted to me?” He spoke softly, with his sultry voice. “What- no I wasn’t even- no I don’t- I don’t know... maybe?” You stuttered now your face was really burning, not only from the embarrassment that you were attracted to your superior officer but also from the touch of his fingers on your chin. “So you are.” Tim smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. You however still looked away from his piercing blue eyes, knowing that once you gave in, you couldn’t look away. “(Y/n) look at me.” Tim instructed, grasping your chin a bit harsher but not as to hurt you. You gave in and looked at him, at his handsome features, his stubble, his pretty eyes and his perfect hair. He was almost too much, and the smell of his delicious cologne wasn’t helping either.

He looked directly in your eyes as well and leaned in closer, the tips of your nose touching, lips a breath apart. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and your breathing became heavier. After a moment he closed the gap between you and claimed your lips with his. His lips were even better than you could’ve ever imagined, soft and pillowy but slightly chapped as well, which for some reason made them even better. As you kissed him back you felt like your entire body was on fire, you moved your hands from his knees to his neck, holding on for dear life, feeling if you let go, you would lose him forever. He moved his right hand to your cheek while the other pulled you in his lap by your waist, now moving his right hand on your hips as well. The kiss got more heated and his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, you let his tongue in and met his with yours. At that moment you couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper between kisses. He softly groaned against your lips and his grip on your waist got tighter, he moved you to be right on his groin and gave your hips a squeeze as if asking you to start moving. And you did, you couldn’t not move, the moment was almost overwhelming as you started moving right on his hard on. Your underwear grew wet and you started moving feverishly against him, and then you moved right over his tip causing him to moan in your mouth. His hands moved from your hips to your ass and he started to move you harder against him, the movements alone could make you finish. The fabric of his jeans and the hardness of his erection hitting your clothed clit perfectly. But much to your disappointment he stopped you.

“Sweetheart if you want me to finish already you should continue.” He smiled against your lips. “Let me make you feel even better first.” He whispered as you feel his hands moving from your ass to the inside of your thigh, slowly creeping towards your covered clit and moving his thumb over your bundle of nerves. You let out a loud gasp as he touched you, holding onto his biceps when he moved his fingers inside of your underwear. “Fuck you’re so wet for me. All because of me huh?” He murmured in your ear. He moved his fingers right over your clit, pressing a bit harder to see how you would react. You moaned at his touch. “Tim... please just- touch me, please.” You begged, already high off of his movements. “Maybe I won’t, maybe I like it when you beg for me.” He sighed against your ear, ever so slightly moving his middle finger over your clit. “Please just please touch me.” You continued to beg, needing any kind of release. “Please what sweetheart?” At his words you knew immediately what he wanted to hear, something that you realized he might have loved to hear you say for a long time. “Please touch me... sir.” You almost moaned in his ear. He groaned at this and started moving two fingers right over your wet clit. “Good girl, always knows how to address her superiors.” He breathed in your ear, you could feel him hardening under you even more. He then moved his two fingers inside you, your wet cunt almost sucking them in out of need.

As he fingered you the sound of your wet pussy, your moans and pleas and his heavy breathing could be heard vividly in the otherwise quiet van. “Yes, yes, please sir, please I’m so close.” You moaned in his ear, begging for release. At your words he sped up his fingers, curling them up and hitting that perfect spot inside of you, finally giving you mercy and letting you cum. “Good girl, that’s it. You gonna come for me sweetheart? You gonna cum on my fingers?” He ranted in your ear as the walls inside you contracted while you came, trying to not scream for the whole world to hear. “Oh my god, please I need you inside me Tim.” You begged him, wanting nothing more than to be filled by his big cock. “I’m on birthcontrol so just please fuck me already.” You pleaded, moving your hand to pull down the zipper of his pants and reaching inside his boxers, giving his cock relief. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He groaned against you. You removed his dick out of his pants and moved your hips right above him, sliding your soaked underwear to the side so you could slowly sink down on his aching cock. You both moaned at the feeling and you almost immediately started moving after you grew accustomed to his big size. Holding on to his neck you began moving up and down the noise of his snapping hips on yours and your moans filling the van. He then moved the top of your dress down causing your braless breasts to spill out, which Tim decided to knead. After a few moments he moved that same hand to your ass, under your dress and smacked it hard.

“Oh fuck... oh fuck, you feel so good sweetheart, keep moving just like that.” He grunted, completely enthralled by the feeling of your tight pussy around his dick. “You feel so good sir, just- so- fucking- good.” You moaned as you started moving faster, feeling another orgasm approaching. Tim wanted to fuck you even harder and moved you to your seat so he could put your legs on his shoulders and fuck you deeper which had you screaming in seconds. “Fuck! Tim! Yes! Please, faster, harder please!” You screamed, holding your thighs against you chest so Tim could fuck you deeper. He did as you asked and moved faster and rougher against you, seeking his own high. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum for me?” Tim moaned, moving his thumb to your clit and rubbing it in sync with his movements which made you snap, an overwhelming orgasm overtook you as you moaned his name, walls contracting tightly around his cock. The tight feeling of your wet pussy around him caused him to cum as well, filling you completely with his seed as he moaned your name. After some seconds of calming down he moved to sit down next to you as you felt his cum dripping out of you

“Jesus Christ, we need to work together again huh.” Tim chuckled.

“Definitely” You sighed contently.

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

Well christ that took longer than I thought but I hope you liked it, let me know what I should write next!

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader smut #the rookie smut #tim bradford is hot #we need more tim bradford fics #tim bradford x fem reader smut #tim bradford x fem reader #i should go to bed #i should just shut up

433 notes · View notes

thatonepersonwhocantwrite · 4 months

Text

PLATONIC yandere Percy jackson x mother reader

This is based off the head cannons by Lady-Ashfade @lady-ashfade ( thank you so much for letting me. )

I love Sally I really do and I tried to fit her in but I couldn't fit her in also Percy might be a little Out of character idk how I feel about this

Trigger warnings swearing , Gabe is more abusive like the books that the show , blood

Percy didn't like it when you're attention was on anybody other than him. Percy had never wanted to leave you alone with smelly Gabe and go off to some fancy school so he was relieved when he got home. Actually Percy had straight up refused to go to Yancy Academy because it meant he wouldn't be near you . Also you had gotten a few calls from Yancy saying Percy had sent someone to the hospital because they dared to make a joke about you but did you believe them? No you didn't because in your eyes Percy could do no wrong. Percy stood in front of the door to the apartment but stopped when he heard screaming and the sound of glass shattering and your pained yelp as soon as he heard you're yelp he aggressively opened the door. He saw you clutching your left arm which was bleeding badly and probably had glass in it from the beer bottle Gabe had smashed onto it.

Percy lost it when he saw you in pain . Percy hit Gabe in the back with the closes thing to him which happened to be a pen Riptide although Riptide wouldn't do any good since Gabe is a mortal so Percy just jabbed the pen really hard into Gabes back. “ HURT HER AGAIN AND I'LL SLIT YOUR…..” Percy started but you cut him off. “ Hey I'm ok sweetheart I'm ok.” You said interrupting him. “ I'm ok sweetheart.” Although neither you or Percy were entirely convinced of that. “ Mom you're arm…..” Percy said . “ I'm going to clean up then I have a surprise for you.” You said and walked into the bathroom about twenty minutes later you came out showered and you're arm wrapped. “ I forgot to give these to you.” You said holding out a bag of blue sour strings. “ Thanks mom!” Percy exclaimed. “ Of course sweetheart. That's not the surprise though. We're going to Montauk.” You said. “ Really? Just you and me?” Percy asked excited. “ You were serious about that?” Gabe complained.

“ Yes now give me the dam keys.” You said stretching your hand out. “Never. I'm not handing my keys to my car over to you.” Gabe said. “ Yes. You are.” You replied. “ Give her the fucking keys or I'll do far worse than stick a fucking pen into your back. I'll get a knife and shove it down your …” Percy started. Gabe handed you the keys. Well the trip went wrong quickly. “ Dam it I wish I had more time.” You muttered to yourself. “ Mom what's going ON???! AND WHAT'S THAT THING CHASING US???!” Percy shouted. Cue Grover trying to explain. It shattered the glass of the driver window and jammed its horn into the steering wheel causing it to be hard to do anything really. Well the car got flipped. “ Percy I need you to listen to me. What ever happens stay strong my brave boy. Stay strong and brave. I love you my sweet boy. “ You said gently before taking his jacket. “ Mom what are you doing? Mom you're scaring me.” Percy said. “ I love you my sweet boy. Grover make sure he gets to camp.” You said. “ Wait why do you need my jacket mom?” Percy asked. “ He smells half blood…. That's what he's after maybe I can confuse him.” You said.

“Mom No!” Percy exclaimed . You sighed softly pressing his forehead against yours. “ I love you sweetheart but right now you need to be brave.” You said before the minotaur roared again and you ran the opposite direction buying some time for Percy and Grover. The minotaur grabbed you. “ MOM!” Percy shouted . You felt your world go dark. “ NOOOO!” Percy yelled . He charged sword first. “ COME BACK WITH MY MOM YOU FUCKING COWARD!” Percy shouted he wasn't calling you a coward he was calling the minotaur a coward even though he saw it turn to dust. “ Fuck you dad you're a disappointment you couldn't even save my mother. You don't deserve this .” Percy said bitterly putting a blue sour string into the fire.

He jumped on the quest when he found out you might alive somehow. Honestly Percy and Grover were shocked to see you calmly sipping coffee ( or tea if you prefer it or are allergic to dairy) like nothing had happened with Persephone. Also Hades was chill as fuck. “ MOM!” Percy said literally tackling you off the chair and onto the floor into a hug. You chuckled slightly. “ Hi sweetheart.” You said hugging him back tightly. Percy had his precious mother back and he didn't intend to let you go ever again. Even if that meant he had to tear Mount Olympus apart .

Here's the link to Lady-Ashfade's head cannons

#x reader #yn #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #platonic Percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson fic #female reader

299 notes · View notes

olivepatio · 1 month

Text

Shazam x Percy Jackson idea

So Billy gets stuck in 12 year old form in the big apple and has Black Adam hot on his heels. The Justice League unaware of why a super villain is chasing a twelve year old is trying to help (they are not). Billy crashes into Goode Academy Students on a field trip (or which ever school Drew, Lacy, and Sadie Kane are attending). The half bloods and magicians are like kid? Vs god? I'm failing pre-calc I need to vent my frustrations.

I just have a strong image of a meme that would get posted by a random civilian kid:

Picture of justice league just standing in the street captioned "Superheroes" and next to it a picture of three demigods taking swings at a downed Black Adam with what look like baseball bats and brooms. Sadie Kane is in the background shouting, Billy is tucked behind Lacey. That one is captioned "Teenage girls"

Clarify questions in the comments about how he did such good Photoshop would be met with "nah this is real I don't know where the baseball bats came from, we don't have a team, and they all hate each other's guts."

This ignights debates a la the Dress where people are arguing whether the girls have baseball bats or swords

The demigods adopt Billy out of a mutual understanding of how wild the gods are but he also meets up with the magicians since they actually do magic.

#dc #shazam #billy batson #percy jackson and the olympians #kane chronicles #sadie kane #i need billy to just get defended by a pack of girls who ARE known to hate each other with no reason #the reason is they are half-bloods and its camp rivalry

144 notes · View notes

toulousewayne · 6 months

Text

Batfam and Batsis Headcannon: Ages 17-21

Tim:

Timothy Jackson Drake, was a little menace. Y/n knew that from the Time she found him on her doorstep. Tim was the first person Y/n felt like she had to really be careful of her actions in front of. Not because Tim would copy her but because she felt like she was supposed to set an example something she never had to do.

Tim becoming Robin was a bit of a blur for her, she just remembers them patrolling a lot and Tim asking her a lot questions in the beginning.

Tim didn’t live at the manor right away in fact it was a bit into his career before he fully moved in after his parents respected passings.

Tim felt guilty for not saving his father and Y/n spend a lot of time with him to help resolve this feelings because it wasn’t Tim’s fault.

Tim was the little brother she always wanted, he steal her eyeliner and she storm into his room and pick with him while Kon,Bart and Cassie would come over. They loved Tim’s cool older sister and she liked them.

Tim had trouble with words, especially with his feelings. It was no surprise to anyone that Tim walked into his sister’s room on a random Thrusday Night with blush on his face.

“What is it Little Bird?” She inquired while still having her face shoved in a Physics textbook.

Scratching the back of his neck and breathed out a strangled sign,” How do you know when you like someone?”

Y/n turned her gaze to him,”Like or Like Like?”

“Like like.”

“Boy or Girl?”

His blush grew even darker,”Well uhh..”

“Doesn’t matter to me, but just be your normal dorky self. Just don’t word vomit. You tend to do that Little Bird.”

Tim came out to his older sister first years later because she made Tim feel seen but not like it wasn’t a big deal.

Tim and Y/n formed a a very fun bond, it even rivaled his bond with Dick which made the older man a little jealous but it made him become more active with his younger brother which was something Y/n wanted him to do.

Patrol with Batgirl, Robin and Nightwing were the most comical nights Gotham had seen. You had a detective smartass Robin, a chatty hot headed older Bird, and the sassy and mysterious Batgirl. Riddler still has nightmares.

But things began to change and soon other additions became known.

Cassandra:

Y/n had made it clear to Bruce that she wanted a sister, not that she didn’t enjoy her time with Tim and Dick and even Jason. But she wanted someone who could relate to her.

One night after patrol Y/n returned to the Clock Tower and was introduced to Cass. She didn’t talk and once Barbara told her about what happened to her it only made Y/n more protective of her.

Between her and Babs Cass began to think for herself and not like how she was programmed by her father. Barbara taught Cass more about personal and emotional development, but Y/n showed Cass how to be a teenage girl.

She took her to the mall with Tim and let her pick out clothes she felt comfortable with, she let Cass take clothes from her closet in the end because it made her feel connected to people.

Y/n was training and Cass enter the room,”Sorry didn’t realize I was taking so long, I’ll clear out if you like.”

“No,your fine.” Cass responses. Cass takes a stance in front of her. Y/n gets in stance and they too spar. Cass can quickly match Y/n’s attacks and defenses.

The two sparred for a few hours before calling it. “Not bad Sis, how about a Root Beer Float on me?”

“Okie.”

Y/n wraps her arm around Cass and the pair walk out the gym. They two Wayne Sisters scare Bruce. And most men except Alfred.

Y/n was getting ready to graduate Gotham Academy with Honors and she felt kinda sad and Cass appeared before her and engulfed her in a hug.

“She would be proud.” She knew Cass was referring to Y/n’s Mom. “Thank you Sissy.”

Everyone attended,Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Cass. She was so happy and Bruce threw a party at Wayne Manor for the graduation class.

Y/n took Cass from a group of kids she met at school and took her to her room.

“Cass I your aware that I’m leaving in a few weeks for college in Metropolis.” Cass nodded.

“As much fun as it would be to tag along with Uncle Clark, I just won’t have to time or really need to patrol. Which is why I talked to Babs a few days ago and I’m stepping down as Batgirl.”

Cass understood what she was saying but she also knew how hard Y/n worked to become the new Batgirl.

Y/n took a black box and handed it to Cass. “Me and Babs think your ready and I couldn’t ask for someone else to carry on the mantle.” Cass tore open the box to find her own Batgirl suit.

Tears formed in Cass’s eyes and she hugged Y/n

“I won’t let you down.”

“I know sis, your gonna rock.” Y/n smiled and hugged her back.

Stephanie:

Y/n had taken a step down from being Batgirl full time meaning for a short time Robin patrolled alone. She felt guilty but soon she learned that her little bird had a friend.

Y/n meet Stephanie when Tim and her became official, this was only a few months before she totally resigned from the mantle but she did get to work with Steph a hand full of times.

One of the last times was when ClueMaster escaped from Blackgate and threaten Stephanie’s Mom.

Spoiler spring into action and Batgirl responded to Oracle’s request to assist her. The two formed a plan of action to enter Stephanie’s Mom job and save the hostages.

“You take the left side and I’ll go right. Take the goons out swiftly and hard.”

“Rodger that Batgirl.”

The pair made quick work of the goons, and finally found ClueMaster who had Steph’s mom hostage.

Once they save her she was anything but thankful and resented her daughter for re-prisoning her father.

Batgirl called her own and made the woman feel bad but the damage was done as Stephanie told Batgirl on a rooftop later that night, she learned that she wasn’t to blame for her parents choices nor should she have to atone for her father’s sins.

“Your Steph, never let anyone tell you stop being who you are and never stop being a light for others.”

Even once Stephanie and Tim relationship became more friendly and less romantic Y/n loved the blonde just as much.

Steph would drive up on the weekends with Cass and visit her in college. They would go shopping, try new restaurants and go fun amusement parks.

Stephanie and Y/n become really good friends and if Y/n needed to talk someone who was her siblings or Dad Steph was always willing to listen.

Jason Pt 2:

When Red Hood first emerged Y/n was away in school and no one told her. She had a long weekend and came home to surprise her family. Alfred was the most surprised to find her at the door but by the look on his face it didn’t seem like she was the first surprise this week.

She soon found out about Dick’s bruised ribs and broken leg, and Tim being attacked at Titan’s tower. Even Bruce had token a beaten from his last encounter with Red Hood and Y/n was furious.

“HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL YOU GOT HURT!” She scolded her father.

“y/n, please we didn’t want to worry you, we have everything under—“

She scoffed,”Like Hell you do! Your hurt Dick is black and blue,and Tim looks like he just did three tours in World War Two.”

She bit her tongue,”Who is he Father?”

Bruce sighed,”Y/n..”

“I won’t ask twice.”

Bruce didn’t answer her but instead pressed the button on the computer that light up with the DNA test he just got the results back minutes before her arrival.

Over the course of a minute several different emotions washed over her face and it landed on stoic. She turned on her heels and left the cave with Bruce calling for her to wait.

In a hours time she stood in front of a door in an abandoned apartment complex and knocked on the door. When no once answered she kicked the door down. And in the center of the room was a man laughing with a sack on his head as he was tied and chained to a folding chair.

She marched to him and ripped off the sack and there was bloody and bruised Joker.

“Ooh hello your the beautiful Wayne Daughter that left. Welcome back cupcake.” He chuckled. The sound of the gun clicking filled the room with Joker’s blooded laughing.

“Turn around.” The deep voice ordered. Smirking to herself, “if you were gonna shot me you’d pull the trigger already big brother.”

The room is silent and before Red Hood screams in pain, when Y/n turns around his hand is bloody and a Batarang is on the ground.

“Stand down Jason, he’s not worth it.” Batman brooded.

“You never understood me Old man, I never wanted to kill innocent people. Not Harvey,not Bane just him. He took me away from you..from her. From everything.”

The two had a heated argument and fight that ended with Bruce shielding Y/n from the explosion of the building.

Y/n returned to Jason’s grave and laid flowers. Sighing to herself she stood up and turned to the tree adjacent to his grave.

“You could have found me, I would have helped you Jay. I still can.” Jason appeared in a hoodie and refused to look her in the eyes.

“You always saw the best in me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Bullshit Todd, you can play that song all you want but it doesn’t work on me.” She snapped.

He finally met her gaze, it was the first time since prior to his death did she see his face. His blue eyes now a deep green, a white tuff of hair at the base of his hair, a scare on his left cheek, his eyes look tired as well.

“I’m not who I used to be, I’ve changed, I’ve killed and I can’t change that. They don’t see it but what I do is stop the murders, rapistst the monsters from hurting people.”

She signed,”I won’t lie and say Dad’s ways have flaws but so do yours,” she glanced at the tombstone and dusted it off.

“I remember you taking to me, you visted me all the time.” He grinned .

“And now your back.” She smiled

He didn’t meet her gaze,” it’s not gonna be happy in the Manor, maybe never again.”

“You could try to find out what you want Jay, not many get a second chance at life.”

He nodded and with that he sighed with a grin,”I make no promises, I’ll see you around sis.” And he left the graveyard and she sighed to herself knowing that it was possible but it would take sometime for them to get Jason back.

When she returned to the manor she heard shouting and screaming. She rushed into the living room where Bruce and Dick were trying to keep Tim and and a young boy from killing each other.

“That fucking Demon cut me!” Tim shrieked.

“And I’ll draw more of your pathetic blood imposter.” The boy hissed being held in a tight grip by Dick.

“I can’t leave you idiots alone for five minutes!” Y/n snapped and all the eyes turned to her.

The boy with the deep copper skin and jade eyes was the first to speak,”Is she another one of your bastards you plucked off the sidewalk.” He hissed at Bruce.

Y/n eyed the boy before she turned back to her father,”And who might he be.”

“Damian, he’s your little Brother Y/n.” A tired Bruce clarified.

“Brother!”

“SHE’S MY SISTER!”

228 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 1 year

Text

Kiss In Stitches

Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader/OC (Agent Jackson) -> Turns out, Javi is scared of hospitals so you distract him in the only way you can think of at the time, but it comes back to haunt you.

Disclaimer: Doesn't really follow Narcos, techincally. Fluff, angst, not proof read. Mentions of death in hospitals etc.

You had met Agent Peña during a field opp. It had been you - working for Interpol - and Murphy until Peña finally arrived back to the DEA and you all made your way into the apartment block.

With the drug trade growing, Interpol got more and more concerned. That was when they sent you. You were one of the best agents to graduate from your academy year. No-one had marksman ship like you. They also didn’t know as many languages as you, either.

Both of your parents were diplomats. Your mother had the higher authority so you spent more time at home with your dad - who had taught you to speak Italian, Spanish, Russian and French.

It had been a rocky start; Peña not being told you existed was the main thing.

“Who’s she?”

“She has a name.” You voiced before Murphy could introduce you both.

“Javi, meet Agent Jackson. Interpol.”

“Interpol?” Peña questioned before looking to you. “I wasn’t aware-”

“Clearly. Shall we?”

By the time you both got back to the Embassy, you and Peña had gotten onto better terms. Mostly because he’d saved your life. As one sacario shot at you and you shot back, one appeared behind you. If Peña hadn’t gotten there first, you’d probably (definitely) be dead.

It had been a quick turn around and before you knew it, you found yourself permenatly partnered with Peña and Murphy. You became a good trio. It was also nice to learn that Steve had a wife. Connie.

You both got on like a house on fire. And, with your sister back in Europe helping at the hospitals, you had 24hr access to medical knowledge - especially when it came to children.

Your sister had trained, originally, as a general surgeon before she decided to retrain almost 10 years ago to be a midwife and help mothers and their children. Most of your medical knowledge came from your sister because, during the time of her exams, she didn’t have anyone else to help her revise and study. So, you became a sound board.

It just helped that you listened.

This was how you knew, during a raid, that Peña needed stitches. Several to be exact.

“What?”

He seemed a little panicked as you helped him stand and both looked down to the scar in his leg.

“Murphy!” You yelled, and two seconds later, the blond came round the corner.

“Yeah? Oh.”

“Medic’s are still 20 minutes out. I can get him to the hospital in 10. Mind holding down the fort, here?”

Murphy nodded. “Sure.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

You scoffed and titled your head for a second as if to say Come on, Peña. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Grabbing him by the upper arm, you secured your gun away before dragging Peña out of the building, down the stairs and towards your car.

“Honestly, I’m fine. I can wait for the medics-”

“Shut up.”

By the time you arrived to the hospital and basically had to drag Peña all the way inside to the point where he wouldn’t even sit down on the bed once they found him a room, so you had to place both your hands on his shoulders, walk him backwards til his legs hit the bed and sit him down.

“They’ll fix you up in no time.”

“I didn’t-”

“If you say you didn’t need to come, I will personally shoot you myself.” You warned.

It was over the next 10 minutes that you saw Peña’s emotions.

You had sat down on one of the chairs and for at least 8 of those minutes, Peña had been picking his finger nails, bouncing his leg, flattening his ‘tash over and over, running a hand at the back of his neck and through his hair.

“Penn-ya?” You sounded out, getting his attention.

This was a man who was on the hunt for Escobar. A man who you had been shoot down plenty of sacarios, risk his life every single day doing a job that he loves and yet…

He’s scared of, what? A hospital?

“Are you-”

But you didn’t get to ask, “Are you nervous?” because a moment later, the door opened up and in walked the doctor ready to complete his stitches.

You watched as Peña tried to remain calm throughout it all. Every now and again, he’d swear under his breath. Even though they’d given him some pain-killers, he wanted back on the job.

More so, he wanted out of the hospital.

But as it was getting down to the final few sitiches, the pain seemed to be getting worse.

And so was Peña.

His nerves were sky rocketing because he didn’t want to look at his wound being sown up right before his eyes, but he also didn’t want to see around the hospital.

So standing by his side, you got him to focus on you rather than the pain and the white-washed, bleach smelling walls.

And that was when you did what even you least expected.

You kissed him.

It was…a surprise to say the least. The doctor paid no attention, finishing up Peña’s stitches whilst his body was completely still. The kiss, although lasted, still felt (oddly) too short.

hankfully, by the time you pulled away, the doctor had finished and was writing Peña a perscription for some pain killers.

“These should disolve, but if there are any signs of infection, come straight back.”

Peña, after a moment (having to tear his eyes from yours), nodded and stood up.

“It will be sore for a few days, so I say rest. I understand your job isn’t exactly the most ideal, but try where you can.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Peña signed himself out and it was awkward silence all the way to the car. But he broke it.

“Thanks, by the way. For the…kiss. I was nervous, that was why you did it, right?” God, he’d never been this awkward around a woman. It was like he was going bright red from just the word kiss. What was he? A teenager?

“It was the only way I could think about taking your mind off it.” You answered as you walked around to the driver’s seat. “Why…why do you not like hospitals? You attend med school and, what? Faint in the reception?”

In all honesty, you did want to know. But now it was also to deflect from the kiss.

Peña gave a small laugh as he lifted himself into the car and shut the door. “I don’t know…I’ve just never…They’re never a good place. They help people, but anyone I’ve met who’s gone in…9 times out of 10, they didn’t come back out.”

“So? What? You’ve never been in one since?”

Peña smirked. “Welll, if i got kissed every time I went, I’d be sure to turn up more often.”

Your smile back turned into a laugh that both of you shared. So, good, you both thought it was something to laugh about.

But…one question remained.

Why didn’t it feel like that? And why did you (both) want to to happen again?

Okay, maybe two questions.

The weeks that followed, everything seemed to go back to normal. Or, at least, what you both thought was normal.

But, no.

Murphy knew different. Everyone did.

When asked by Connie, Steve couldn’t exactly pin-point it. It was just…something. Like, the way you’d look at Peña when he wasn’t looking, or the way he’d look at you when you weren’t. Or it was in the way, when left alone in a room together, Murphy could walk back in and he could cut through the tention.

But it wasn’t hatred.

Neither of you yelled at the other. Neither of you looked like you were ready to shoot the other given the chance.

It was just, plain awkwardness.

“Maybe the like each other?” Connie suggested. “I mean, if I didn’t know them, part of me would think maybe.”

“But…it’s Peña and Jackson. They work well together, but…romantically. I- I just can’t see it, Connie.”

“Well, have you thought about asking one of them. Maybe they might tell you. Ask Peña. If anyone is going to cough it up, it’ll be him.”

Connie was right.

Peña was a good cop and, every now and then, he could get away with a lie. But you were something else entirally.

In all honesty, no-one really knew much about you other than the information you had given up - even then it wasn’t out right. They’d have to pay close attention.

Or read what they could of your file.

They knew nothing of your childhood other than you moved around a lot, you had one sister (but you could have more siblings for all they knew), you trained in the academy when you were 20 having early admission since you graduated University early. But that was about it.

They knew nothing other than what could be infered from a file.

And they’d asked a couple of questions over the last few months - like your coffee order. But you wouldn’t even tell them that. You’d just stand and go and get the coffee’s yourself and since it was in a to-go cup - like the rest of their’s - they didn’t know what you drank. Creame? Sugar?...salt? Who knows.

You also would disappear at least twice a week at lunch. At one point, they had decided to follow you but they’d lost you after twenty seconds. You were quick and light on your feet.

This was why you were the best in your class.

They had offered you the opportunity to work for the Secret Service at one point but you had turned the job down. Plus, with Interpol, you got to travel.

Even if they weren’t the happiest of ‘holiday’s’.

But all of this changed when Murphy out right asked Peña one day, what was going on between him and yourself.

Of course, he denied everything. Nothing was wrong. Everything was normal.

So, Steve brought in Connie.

Within ten minutes, Connie had it out of Peña about what happened.

“So, she kissed you…then what?”

“We left the hospital and…that was it.”

“And you haven’t talk about it.” Connie could already tell.

“I guess. We joked about it but then we went back to work.”

“And how has it been since?”

Connie leaned back in his husband’s desk chair.

“Normal.”

“You keep saying that Javi, but you keep watching the door waiting for her to come around the corner. Have you thought about telling her how you feel?”

Javi laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you told her that you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” Javi denied.

It was now Connie’s turn to laugh. “Javi, please. I know a love-sick man when I see him.”

“I like her just fine, it’s just…”

“What?Javi, you can say you’re scared. Look,” Connie stood up and flattened the collar of his shirt. “Just talk to her. You might find she feels the same way. Why else would she have kissed you? She could have slapped you instead, but she didn’t. Just think about it.”

After that, he did.

And it wouldn’t leave his head.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to do it again. Because he did. So much. But you were- are a co-worker. There had to be rules around a cop dating a cop. Especially in the DEA.

Nevertheless, it still played on his mind. Day in, day out. If he even looked in your general direction, he was always fearful if you could hear what he was thinking.

Yet, it wasn’t until two weeks later, in the file room, did he try and talk about it.

You had gone in there and shut the door behind you. No-one really came in the room hours after lunch so you had the small cupboard all to yourself, until Javi entered.

“Hey,” he looked flustered.

Nervous.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” you asked, looking back to the file. But that was short lived as he walked over and placed a hand to push to file down from your face. He needed you to look at him.

“We need to talk about it. The kiss. Why did you kiss me?”

“Jav- Peña. Look, I’m sorry it happened okay-”

“I’m not.”

“But you were shaking like a leaf and- what?”

“I’m not.” Peña repeated. “I’m not sorry it happened. I-I don’t know what else to say. I’m just…I’m not sorry it happened and I’d by lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it and-”

“Javi, please. We…we can’t do this.” It felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could smell his colounge and it was intoxicating.

“Please, hermosa.” The nickname rolled off his tough effortlessly. Like the name had always belonged to you. “Why did you…do you want it to happen again?”

His voice is soft and you can hear youself screaming, yes! but…something stops you.

Nerves.

“I…I can’t.”

With that, you left. All you wanted to do was run out of the building but the moment you left, Murphy slammed down his phone.

“Where’s Peña?”

Then he appeared by your side. “Grab your vests.”

A building of sacarios. Three of which were Escobar’s right-hand men. His most trusted.

Get one…get them all.

The sky above was growing darker by the hour and, although the temperature had dropped, it was still warm outside.

And Peña had been watching your every move.

He knew you…to an extent. He knew you well enough to know that you would say “no,” if you didn’t want it to happen. He knew, or maybe he hoped, there was still a part of you, no matter how small, wanted exactly what he wanted.

For it to happen again.

“Jackson!”

He approached the back of your car as you strapped on your vest. You tried to run, but you didn’t get very far.

“Please, can we just talk-”

“No, Javi. I…I can’t do this right now.”

Peña stopped in his tracks, watching you walk down the hill. In truth, you were maybe 6ft in front of him.

“Why did you kiss me?”

You slowed to a stop.

“You could have slapped me, punched me, shot me in the leg for all I cared. But you kissed me. Why?”

He slowly walked closer to you and before you knew it, you had turned to face him.

“Why, hermosa? Why?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know. It was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

“And about what I asked you before?”

“I can’t…Javi. I…”

“Who says?”

It took you a moment. “I do. I…I can’t do this with you, Javi.”

“Why?”

He probably sounded desperate, and he was. He needed to know why before he walked away.

“I just…”

When you didn’t say anything else, Javi held your head in his hand, cupping your cheeks before pulling you closer. The grip was lose enough for you to push him away if you wanted to but when you began to kiss back and pulled yourself closer, his grip became more secure.

When he went to break the kiss, a small noise escaped your lips to which he chuckled and kissed you again.

It was…intoxicating. Addictive.

“Tell me you feel the same.”

“And that didn’t prove it?” You breathed.

Javi chuckled, holding your head against his. His hand lay at the back of your neck, holding you in place. “I need words, hermosa.”

You smiled. “I feel the same.”

174 notes · View notes

embodyingchaos · 8 months

Note

Hello again!!!can I do an ask for the episode when sebastion throws the slushie in blaines face and the reader just attacks him? (Sebastion deserved a beating for that ong) or could you write about when coach bieste first showed up and when everyone was avoiding her the reader does their best to talk to her(bieste also deserved better, shue and sue were jerks)??? THANK YOU

❥ hiii! so glad to see you on my asks again! i shall write the first option! i apologise that this is late and short and the ending is so abrupt 〒▽〒

definitely deserved pairing: glee x gn!reader genre: platonic, angst warnings: light violence, light assault, sebastian being an ASSHOLE, not rlly a character x reader word count: 1.5k

walking through the library on a monday morning was the usual routine for y/n, rummaging through books for research and song ideas. just as they took a book off a shelf, they were jump-scared by the face of a beaming rachel berry.

“holy shit, rachel. you can’t just do that to a person.” y/n scolded, placing a hand above their chest, trying to calm down their rapidly beating heart. “sorry, was wondering what you were up to. needed something to get my mind off… something.” rachel said suspiciously, looking like there was something heavy on her mind as she walked around the bookcase towards them. y/n noticed the tension but decided not to pry. “i’m just looking through some things.” the two of them made their way to the seating area, joining quinn and tina who were having a conversation.

“hey, guys.” y/n greeted, taking a seat beside the blonde. the two only smiled and waved.

y/n went through their books as the other three had their conversation before blaine came strutting into the library, singing a michael jackson classic, ‘wanna be startin’ somethin’’ alongside kurt, mercedes, santana and brittany. the four joined immediately, used to this at this point.

they all regrouped at the choir room soon enough and discussed about the first michael jackson number they’d do for the weak, planning out costumes based on some of mj’s iconic outfits.

after the rehearsal, a small part of the glee club met up after school the next day. “okay, favourite michael jackson memory. go!” blaine tells them and they all smiled. “when i was one, my mom showed me a vhs tape of his motown special, and when he did the moonwalk across the stage for the first time in history, i uttered my first words - ‘hot damn.’.” y/n grinned at the thought of a baby artie saying those words, finding it totally believable.

“i owe the king of pop a deep debt of gratitude. he’s the first one to pull off the sequined military jacket long before one kurt hummel made it iconic.” kurt boasted, “i have to be honest. i never really got him.” rachel’s words immediately caused everyone’s faces to morph into disbelief. “no way.” “and we are no longer on speaking terms.” y/n and artie share a look.

rachel quickly defends herself, saying she believed he is an amazing performer but she never really got what he was about. though these reasons did not calm them down, y/n could understand where she was coming from.

“okay, but just since you guys are so jazzed about him, i think it’s a good idea for regionals-” “that might not be the best idea.” a new voice entered the discussion and it was a voice they all dreaded. “hey, blaine. hello, everyone else.” sebastian smythe, a member of the dalton academy warblers and basically kurt’s arch nemesis. “does he live here or something? seriously, you are always here.” kurt asked incredulously, flabbergasted at the fact he showed up out of nowhere. y/n snorted before taking a sip of their drink.

artie ignored the two of them, “why don’t you think that’s a good idea?” “because we’re doing mj for regionals.” at sebastian’s words, y/n sighed into their cup before sinking further into the leather armchair they were on. “you see, warblers drew first position, so as soon as i heard what your plan was, i changed our set list accordingly.” he explained with a smug expression on his face, y/n really wanted to punch him.

“i’m sorry, how did you hear?” rachel asked, fully upset. “blaine told me this morning.” y/n’s head turned to look at blaine who only rolled his eyes at the boy, “i just called for a tip on how to get red wine out of my blazer piping, and he would not stop going on about it.” at this point, the whole group was staring at him with an accusing look.

blaine avoids their gazes, “i may have mentioned it.” “how often do you talk?” kurt’s question makes sebastian fake chuckle. “oh my god! hey, kurt! i didn’t recognise you. you are wearing boy clothes for once!” santana had enough after that. “alright, twink, i think it’s time that i show you a little lima heights hospitality.” this made y/n throw their head back against the chair in exasperation, “unless you want to join your relatives in prison, that’s probably not the best idea.” sebastian’s comeback only makes them feel worst. y/n tuned him out as he talked even more, wanting nothing more but for him to leave and go away.

when he did, they sighed. “thank god. i thought he’d never shut up and leave. he’s like those never-ending interactive voice responses you get on automated telephone systems. he never shuts up.” y/n groaned, sitting up straight again. “we need to do something about michael.” kurt announced and they all nodded, agreeing to discuss what to do the next day.

the next day came faster than it could. everyone piled into the choir room and were complaining about the whole incident when puck suddenly spoke up about his suspicions over how blaine was still somehow a warbler. “come on, blaine’s with us. he’d never intentionally hurt our chances at winning regionals.” y/n defended, walking into the room with their sling bag, taking a seat beside blaine.

blaine gives them a grateful smile, “either way, he’s on notice as far as i’m concerned.” “we should all be on notice.” finn interrupted his best friend, trying to reason with them. “i mean, next to vocal adrenaline, the warblers are the best glee club in the state and for a lot of us, this is our last shot at a championship, so we should stop complaining about the warblers and figure out how to beat them.” finn told everyone, being the voice of reason as usual.

“i couldn’t have said it better myself, finn.” mr. schue commented, walking into the room. “i’m less worried about our set list right now, and more interested in getting us in the right mind-set to crush those guys. which is why our lesson for the week is…” with a marker, he wrote down on the whiteboard ‘wwmjd’. “what would michael jackson do?” “he’d fight back. he’d say regionals is ours. mj is ours, and if they want it, they can pry it from our sequin-gloved hand.” y/n grinned at finn and nodded along, “mhm. straight up. in 1983, mtv said they wouldn’t air his ‘billie jean’ video, what’d he do? he fought back, they aired it and the thriller album sold an additional ten million copies.” artie added and y/n only stared at him, “you’re like a michael jackson encyclopaedia.” they commented quietly, the boy held a hand to his chest. “why, thank you.” he gratefully said.

blaine smirked, “i know what michael would do. i think he would take it to the streets.” at his words, the whole room filled with excited mutters. y/n kept quiet, though. they couldn’t help but feel like something was going to go wrong with this, terribly wrong.

after the glee club dispersed, they tried to chase blaine down before he got too far away. “blaine, are you sure this is a good idea?” they asked as the two of them walked to the entrance of the school. “i’m sure it’ll be all good. we’ll show them that they’re gonna regret taking michael from us, and then we’re going to get him back.” the former warbler said excitedly before heading out the door. “god, i hope so.” y/n whispered to themselves, clutching their bag tightly.

the day of the showdown arrives quicker than they expected. they’d all agreed to wear matching leather jackets, after kurt’s persistent determination, to have some unity. it was the new directions against the warblers after all.

at the sound of santana’s snap, the rest of the group came out and they started their jackson-off. truth be told, having a dance and sing-off in an empty parking lot was a very 60s thing to do but y/n had no complaints. their only complaint was that the more the song progressed and the closer they got to the ending, they’d seen one of the warblers grab a paper bag.

y/n’s eyes widened when they realise that sebastian was going to slushee kurt. “kurt!” they yelled but blaine had thrown himself in front of the boy, getting the liquid assault instead.

blaine yelled out in agony at the impact, falling to the ground as he pressed his palms against his eyes. everyone froze but y/n couldn’t handle it anymore. “you fucking asshole!” they clenched their fist tightly and laid a hard punch against sebastian’s face, making him stumble back towards his group members. “y/n.” finn warned them, placing a hand on their shoulder to calm them down so they don’t rip their rival into shreds.

the warblers soon fled the scene with guilty looks on their faces as they helped sebastian stabilise himself and walked off. the new directions could see that his lip was bruised and his cheek was swollen when he passed by. it was easy for any of them to say, he’s definitely deserved that punch in a while.

#glee masterlist #glee x reader #glee x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #blaine x reader #blaine anderson #blaine anderson x reader #blaine anderson x reader platonic #reader insert #sebastian smythe #angst #violence #assault #darren criss #grant gustin #platonic

61 notes · View notes

wheelsupin-azarathmetrionzinthos · 11 months

Text

Lucy needed a friend in S4

Whenever I think about episode 4x17 and Chris singing Dream A Little Dream of Me in front of Lucy like it was a normal thing to do or a normal mistake to make. I question like the rest of us “why didn’t she break up with him?” We could assume that it was the show itself minimizing her trauma or keeping Chris around for drama reasons. But ignoring that type of meta analysis, in character I think it all comes back to the fact that in season 4, Lucy doesn’t have the friends and support she had before. Yes I know she had Tim but we’ll get to that. Losing Jackson lost Lucy a very important person in her life, because yes they were best friends but they were also peers. They went to each other about everything. Like we saw with Vanessa Chen, Jackson was willing to go scorched earth for Lucy against her own mother, even while Lucy would’ve just suffered in silence about her parents’ disapproval. Unlike her friendships with Nyla, Angela or Tim, Jackson was a peer, they went through the academy together, they were in a very similar stage of life. He was her sounding board in a way Nolan wasn’t or Rachel used to be before she moved. Lucy in season 4 also became Tamara’s primary caretaker, she got a little sister to care about and protect. Lucy absolutely wouldn’t want to burden her with any of the emotional uncertainty or trauma she was working through. As previously demonstrated with Rachel, Lucy works through her issues by talking through them with someone. Her best ability to introspect is talking through her feelings, and having someone point out the lack of logic, or being able to point out her own logic. She can’t do that with Tamara, she’s not burdening this kid. She can’t really do this with Nyla and Angela, because while they are her friends they also outrank her, and are further in their careers and lives. Thorsen is still a rookie and isn’t quite at that level yet. That leaves Tim, but at this point, I think something would prevent Lucy from really discussing her relationship with Tim. They both can’t really admit to each other that there are problems in their relationships because well...that would require them to address their deal. THe only reason Lucy intervened with Ashley is that Ashley called *her* about Kojo So anyway back to 4x17. Chris sings the song, Lucy spirals, and then she decides to watch the video, she decides not to testify, and then she’s fine? She goes to dinner with Chris? But let’s look at that scene. Even on one of her most vulnerable days, Lucy sees that Tamara is interested in lawyer intern Austin. So she makes it easy on Tamara. She knows if she’s not perfectly okay, Tamara will feel bad and it’ll ruin her evening. Lucy cares so much, even at the detriment of her own feelings. Lucy takes care of Tamara by going to dinner with Chris and convincing herself that yeah this is fine and that being with a man who belittles her career, and doesn’t listen to her, and is moving too fast is okay. It’s okay because the two people who could clock that she’s not okay, are Tim (distracted by trying to not have feelings for Lucy, and also Lucy will always want him to be proud of her which means not being vulnerable about things she’s supposed to be “over”) and Jackson (who is dead). If Jackson had been around, Lucy could’ve let herself fall apart over the SUPER TRAUMATIC DAY, and he would’ve called her on her stubbornness in needing to make Chris work. Jackson was her safeplace, in the way that Angela was Tim’s and Nyla had become Nolan’s. S4 left her unmoored which left with the ability to grow in her relationship with Tim, but it also hindered her when things came up that she couldn’t talk to Tim about, like issues with Chris, or kissing Tim in her apartment. S4 Lucy needed her friend Jackson a whole bunch, and nothing shows that more then 4x17, because Jackson would have protected her from herself.

#lucy chen #jackson west #tim bradford #Chenford #Chris Sanford #the rookie #tldr: if jackson was still alive Chris would not have lasted as long as he had #for many reasons #primarily calling lucy on her own bullshit #affectionately but you know

100 notes · View notes

rippersz · 11 months

Text

ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀʀʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

(A Larissa Weems x Reader angsty one-shot) (TW: Character Death)

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

“Ms. Wilson?”

You blinked.

Someone was calling your name. Their voice was soft.

“Ms. Wilson. Are you alright?” When you looked up, mildly irritated by the gentle tone, you weren’t at all surprised to find the dark brown eyes of Mr. Tom Prince burning into your soul.

They were familiar; exploding with the same fucking emotion you’d been seeing from others for an indefinite amount of time. So much… pity. Pity and grief - even though Mr. Tom Prince barely knew a fucking thing about his client, Larissa Weems. Even though he didn’t seem to truly understand the importance, the nuance, the strangeness behind your presence on that cold dreary rainy morning. Because honestly, at the heart of things, there was no reason for you to be there. At all. You’d only known Larissa for a year and a half, what could she possibly have left to you in her will? You were unimportant. You were the admirer. You were the one who stayed in the shadows at school functions and nearly lost your life each time you looked at Larissa because she was so damn breathtaking. And you were the one with the crush. The one who was in love. The potential interest that was never explored because you never got the chance and because she was your boss and because things just didn’t play out that way and because you weren’t written in the cards. Because the Gods didn’t shine upon you. Because you weren’t meant to be.

And they felt the need to kill her in order to prove that.

And soon your admiring turned to mourning. And your shadowed glances became teary stares. And your crush became a distant memorized feeling. And your love, which consumed you always, became a last thread that you held onto with intense desperation. And whatever potential interest you once were had fizzled into absolutely nothing. Because with Larissa gone, there was no burn in your heart. No buzz in your soul. No reason for you to stay at Nevermore, really. The brightness that had once existed there; the appeal of the country; the draw of the Academy - was gone. It was all gone. And you weren’t sure you could stay there anymore. Not in the place where she once lived. Not in the place where she was buried. Not in Vermont.

And not in that damned room with that damned attorney and the damned desolation that came from the fact that Larissa’s belongings were no longer there.

“Just get to the point.” Your voice was low with apathy.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to get the fuck away from Mr. Tom Prince.

And he seemed to sense that as he stared at you for a quick moment before letting out a sigh. It was the kind of sigh that pissed you off so terribly. As if he had the fucking world on his shoulders even though he absolutely did not. And the bags under his eyes were stupid. They screamed exhaustion. They screamed sadness. They screamed of an understanding that you preferred not to focus on because if you did, you’d probably crumble. And you hadn’t crumbled yet. And you wouldn’t fucking crumble. Especially not in front of Mr. Tom Prince - who was not princely at all and who was not helping at all and who was… bending down… and pulling something out of one of the desk drawers.

“She left this.” His voice had returned to something neutral as he slid the letter across to you.

It was an unassuming thing. White envelope, silver wax seal with the Nevermore insignia, and your name of course - scrawled in thin black cursive.

‘Odette.’

You swallowed with such vigor that you felt your throat ache.

The letter was light, but in your hands it felt like a bomb. A very beautiful looking bomb with words inside it that would surely blow your heart into a Jackson Pollock-esque explosion of viscera and love. And as you stared down at it, letting it rest on the tips of your fingers, delicate and sweet, you felt your world crack just a little bit more. Slowly but surely. Creating a chasm. Breaking you in two.

“If you need a moment-”

“Yes,” you whispered instantly, stuck to your spot by imaginary blocks of cinder that were chained to your legs.

Mr. Tom Prince nodded and let the silence sink in before he hefted himself out of the leather chair and went to leave the room. You hated him, you decided. You hated him and his idiotic grey suit and his haunted eyes and his eternal frown. You hated him and his well-combed hair and his cologne and his very presence. You hated him and his audacity- his nerve- to sit in Larissa Weems’ desk chair and you hated his fucking voice and his fucking existence and his fucking job; because how dare he read her words? How dare he be privy to such delicate information? How dare he hand you your letter when it should have been Larissa giving it to you herse-

oh…

oh.

right…

she couldn’t.

Warm tears tipped over the edges of your eyelids.

They ran in slow lines, salty and ticklish and utterly infuriating. You didn’t bother brushing them away - they wouldn’t stop. For weeks, they hadn’t stopped. Constantly, always, forever. Like your real talent, after all that time, had actually been sobbing and you were really damn good at it and all it took to find out was the detrimental loss of your love’s life. Well… not even your love. Not even your loss. There were plenty of other people who were closer with Larissa. People who deserved memories of her and people who would take care of her things. And although you weren’t one of those people, she had still left you a letter.

A letter. With your name on it. Meaning it was yours.

And with shaky hands, you pried the wax seal off as best you could and began reading.

‘

But whatever happens, don’t forget that there will always be a being in the world to which, at any moment, you can turn or come. I once gave you, from the bottom of my heart, everything I possess and everything I am. You’ll keep it until I leave this weird world that’s starting to tire me out. My hope is only that one day you will see how much I loved you. ~ Albert Camus to Maria Casarès

Odette,

I am sorry about the circumstances in which you find yourself reading this letter. It was never supposed to happen like this, in whatever way it did. And if I have yet to bear my soul to you then likewise, it was not supposed to end like that either.

I’ve figured that if I don’t get around to being vulnerable and honest, I must at least leave you with something - just to tell you that you have always meant more than I have let on. I believe if things were different, if we weren’t colleagues and if I weren’t a nervous fool, then perhaps this letter could have existed in a manner other than this. A manner much less focused on confession and instead centered more on memory and love. Love, I say, because that is what I feel for you. In this exact moment, sitting behind my assigned Nevermore headmistress desk, I feel love for you. And not an easy, light, caring and kind love that is shared between friends or strong acquaintances or close coworkers; but a deep love. One I hide behind my smiles and my professional facade. It saddens me greatly that I must do so, but since I am uncertain of your feelings toward me, I must remain distant. I hope you understand. I hope you understand and I hope you know that if I do manage to confess before I die, this letter will be re-written. Goodness Odette, you have no idea how much I hope it is re-written. But, whether it is or isn’t is a situation for an older version of myself to know and deal with.

For now, I am going to try and stay in the moment. That has been my New Year’s resolution for as long as I can remember. It’s not an easy feat, I’ll tell you that. My mind is always running, and I suppose that’s why I’m writing this letter to you in the first place. You’ve been wondering, I’m sure. And the answer to your question, to your ‘why me?’ inquiry, is because I must prepare for the inevitable. To shield myself somewhat; to feel relief in knowing that this last loose end would be tied up neatly with a few of my words left after my death. Please do not misunderstand, it does hurt to leave you like this. More than you will ever know. In fact, I am trying quite hard right now not to sob. Wouldn’t want to ruin the ink, would I? No. No, I need this to be perfect. But then again, I suppose perfection does not exist within death, does it? No, maybe not.

Well… I fear I’m going in circles at this point. Just postponing what cannot be postponed forever; stalling, if you will. And you will. Or you may not. It truly depends on if you’re still reading at this point. Knowing your love of literature and poetry, you are. But also knowing some parts of your heart, I know loss is scary to you. And it is. It is. But it will be okay, Odette. I understand that my presence and my control gives the faculty and students a sense of safety, and I am unendingly grateful to receive everyone’s trust and support, but things will not crumble after my sudden death. My memory will live on in Nevermore and all of those that I loved, which now includes you. And I hope you enjoy that news. If you don’t, well… there’s not much I can say then, is there? I’m afraid I will not apologize for my honesty - we only live once, do we not? So it’s necessary that I tell you that I love you. And it’s necessary that I say it again and again until you understand.

I love you, Odette Wilson. I am in love with you, Odette Wilson. And I am sorry that I could not say so when I was alive and warm. I’m sure that I will regret it from beyond the grave, but such is the price I pay for my fear. And if there were a sliver of a chance that those feelings were returned, then I’m sorry I missed your smile. And the shine in your eyes. And the happiness in your expression. Even now, I miss seeing your face. It’s a Friday evening, so I won’t be seeing you until Monday. Can you feel my heart beating faster at just the mere thought of that? Of looking at you again and noticing the blush in your cheeks and bell-like jingle within your pretty laugh? You probably can’t. Oh well.

It’s getting late, anyway. And you are most likely asleep. And this is my second glass of wine; the glass is nearly empty. So I’ll leave you with this dearheart:

I love you. I feel as though we were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche to Mathilde Trampedach

Somewhat Yours In Every Life,

Larissa Imogene Weems

’

‘Oh Larissa…,’

You were heaving for breath. Grasping for life. Watching the world fall apart.

'…why didn’t you say anything sooner?’

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

Hope you liked it! I've been a bit busy but I'll get back to requests soon. - Ripley x

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

#fanfictionwriter #fanfiction #larissa weems #rippersz #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #fanfic #larissa weems x you #wlw fanfic #wednesday netflix #sad fic #angsty #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems #principal weems

93 notes · View notes

yeastinfectionvale · 1 month

Text

Uccio rested his hand on Bez's thigh, palm flat against his skin, fingers slipping under the hem of his shorts.

His fingertips were soft compared to the rest of his palm that was littered with blisters. Something in Bez's mind screamed that this was wrong, so very wrong. He shouldn't be beneath Uccio like this, their faces inches apart, breathing in each others air. He shouldn't be this vulnerable with Valentino's right hand man.

Every second spent with Uccio's thigh between his legs felt like a betrayal. Uccio's face against Bez's neck felt like they mutually were betraying Vale, but god Bez couldn't bring himself to rationalise anything at that moment.

Uccio's hand had slipped under Bez's waistband, clutching his dick, causing Bez to throw his head back with a groan. Bez bucked his hips up, Uccio pulling his shorts down to join his own trousers on the floor. Uccio's hand went back on Bez, guiding him to grind on his thigh while he jerked himself off.

They continued like that, the silence filled only by pornographic moans. Uccio came first, covering Bez's stomach like a Jackson Pollock. Bez panted, close himself, for a second Uccio's face morphed into a familiar face. Bez shook his head, it was normal that he was thinking of Celin. They had just had lunch together. He looked down at his stomach and scrunched his eyes as he came, dripping down Uccio's thigh and his leg.

He wanted this, he wanted to be touched like this. He wanted sweaty palms on his bare hips, didn't he?

"Nobody can know this. Nobody." Uccio said, pulling his trousers up and grabbing his iPad. Bez pulled the sheets over himself in a half-assed attempt to retain some dignity. What the fuck was he thinking? This was not going to end well. Uccio stood up, throwing a towelette in Bez's direction. The yellow cloth landed at his feet as the door clicked shut. The weight of everything hit Bez all at once, leaving him sitting there staring at the Valentino Rossi themed towel he was cleaning himself off with.

This continued for what felt like years. Hidden from view. Quick fucks behind closed doors and nothing else. Bez knew if he was going to a proper relationship, it wasn't with Uccio. He didn't want to be hidden anymore. Bez hated waiting in alleyways just got a kiss that felt like a punch to the mouth. He wanted soft, he wanted picnics on the beach. He didn't want to be fucked over Vale's telemetry sheets from his WEC runs. Uccio would disappear as soon as he was done, leaving Bez to clean himself up and pick up the pieces of his heart.

Slowly Bez pulled away, no longer showing up behind doors waiting for a kiss. Uccio would expect to see him in their usual spots, shirt off and hand down his trousers. But instead, Bez was training or with another academy member, blowing Uccio off.

Uccio at first assumed that Bez was just being a brat. But seeing him blow off a quick fuck for a what? A gossip session with Celin and Pecco? That sent him off the deep end. Uccio waited for everyone to finish their biking session on the tracks of the ranch.

Drink bottles in hand, Uccio marched over with determination. He thrusted two bottles to Luca and Franky, turning to look at Bez. "You can ride a bike and pretend that everything is normal but you will never be normal. Not because you're the one who let me fuck you." He scoffed, ignoring how silent everything had become. "You dirty-" he didn't finish his sentence, Mig's fist colliding with his face. He clutched his face, turning to go back to his room as everything turned their attention to Bez.

Bez stood still, ghostly white as Luca tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Bez flug his arm off, running away from them all. "Marco-" Celin reached out, trying to stop him to no avail.

From afar, Valentino watched the whole affair. Shocked, hurt and worried.

#professional yapper #SORRY #actually not that sorry #Anyways enjoy BUCCIO #in the shadows #Adora and writing

17 notes · View notes

dreamgirledward · 2 years

Text

hey! if you're looking for a sign NOT to watch the rings of power, this can be it if you want 🥰 film-lover's psa incoming:

(this was originally a drop-down message on my the beauty of: lotr amv, which i deleted and copied here instead!)

lotr was created out of earnest love for the source material and the magic of filmmaking. the films took a total of 8 years to produce, including pick-up shots. they shot all three films continuously, well over a year, because peter jackson knew exactly what his vision would entail. the fellowship cast got matching tattoos after the experience because of how bonded they were by the end of production (john rhys-davies was the only one not to get one bc he said his stunt double, who does have a matching tattoo, did most of the hard work for him! ha!). the films put new zealand on the map and jackson opened the door for kiwi filmmakers of his generation and beyond in a way the world had never seen before. fun fact! the films also employed a huge number of Māori actors and you can actually hear and watch them doing the haka during specific battle scenes.

lotr is the perfect marriage of both 20th and 21st century filmmaking, expertly utilizing award winning practical and special effects mixed with cgi to create something wholly unique and almost timeless. compared to the two towers and return of the king being colour graded digitally, fellowship was still physically graded via colour timing (colourizing film in a lab, traditionally how all colour films were developed before the digital age), a prime example of just how new digital colour grading was in the industry. gollum was also a big first for the film industry: andy serkis shot his scenes in a motion capture suit (opposite elijah wood and sean astin), and the level of work weta digital put in to bring gollum to life resulting in such a sheer level realism was unprecedented. gollum still stands the test of time today and has aged incredibly well. the ai software, massive, was also developed for the first time for lotr to create large crowds and armies via visual effects, and changed the visual effects and 3d animation game forever. every single (computer generated) battle and crowd sequence you see in film & tv today is thanks to this software and lotr. the first time it was used was for the battle at helm's deep sequence during the two towers - and even then, that scene took over 100 days to film! the lord of the rings trilogy has been nominated 30 times and won 17 academy awards, honouring their revolutionary work in cinematography, score, visual effects, sound and picture editing, costume design, adapted screenplay, and more, and the return of the king was the first fantasy film ever to win best picture. the return of the king also accumulated eleven (!!) oscar wins, a record tied with titanic and ben-hur. aside from academy awards, the films, crew and cast have been nominated and awarded by countless guilds, boards and various awards ceremonies alike.

the rings of power however is a soulless cash grab that actively shits on tolkien's work, which is only loosely based on the novels at best. there are countless tolkien experts that can explain this much better than me, if you're interested in learning more i highly recommend reading up on it. the portrayal of galadriel alone is so severely out of character (just from the trailers!), i would argue these characters we know and love from the lotr books and films may as well be from an alternate reality of middle-earth. peter jackson and fran walsh are not affiliated with the rings of power. much like the house of the dragon, this is yet another attempt at attracting streams through the promise of nostalgia-bait, and it's riding the success of what came before it. and no, this is not because im a racist, woman-hating, anti-progressive, and elitist tolkienist, and the people who say this are performative and dont actually understand the underlying issue. the rings of power was funded because of jeff bezos personally involving himself in negotiations, and the series was created because he wanted it to be after obtaining the rights to develop a tv show. showrunners will label people like me criticizing and asking people not to support the series as anti-progressive until the cows come home because it makes them look good. if you still care about boycotting amazon, boycott this show. it's directly tied to bezos and his rotten money. if you must watch it purely for entertainment, fine, but this is a gentle reminder that pirating is easy and free <3

#this was a reply to my own post but linds pointed out most people would overlook a 'read more' so ty linds <3 #anyway copy + pasting my tags here:#guess i cant shut up about lotr! :)#please dont watch the rings of power for the love of GOD #before anyone comes for me about the show also being filmed in nz well guess what :) they're filming the next season in london :)#which means it will be shot almost entirely on blue/green screen #so do with that what you will !#lotr #lord of the rings #lotr trilogy #the lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #the rings of power #amazon #jeff bezos #sammy.txt

319 notes · View notes

d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

Text

just a kid.

Finnick Odair x F!OC

Summary: Cora Turner is unlucky. Very, very unlucky. At age 13, she is thrown into the horrors of the Hunger Games. Her best friend by her side, and a man she loathes more than anything too, how happy with her Hunger Games be? May the Odds be ever in her Favour.

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: Allusion to ED, Blood, Gore, Canon Violence (it's the Hunger Games for crying out loud), Alcoholism

A cold draft blew through my room, brought to the shore by early morning rays. I tugged my blanket tighter around my body, relishing in the last few moments before I had to drag herself out of bed and get going; it was going to be another long day, and there was no use being late. I pulled myself out of the barren cot I called a bed, grabbing a pair of sandy trousers and a long white shirt off the floor and heading into the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, being careful not to waste the water. The Capitol only provided a limited supply per month, and it was barely enough, even when I rationed it. I braided my hair quickly – there’s be barely enough time to change before going to the academy, let alone tie my hair. I grabbed my nets and creeped down the stairs just as the sun peaked up over the rooftops, being careful not to wake anyone. Dylan was passed out by the door, shoes barely off his feet, bottle still clutched in his hand. How wonderful. I shifted his leg with my toe, grimacing at the stench of vomit and alcohol that surrounded him and headed down to the docks.

The docks, the home to most of our industry here, were as busy as ever. I walked down to dock G – the furthest from the town centre, bidding the early fishers a good morning as they returned home for the day. They would be here again in the evening, to start fishing again, strategically avoiding the busy and hot afternoons. I came to a small fishing boat, painted white with a stripe of deep forest green through the middle: The Carina. I climbed aboard, setting up for a few hours of trawling. The Carina was an old model, probably first released when my father was a boy, but Mr Trent had kept good care of her – she still worked like a dream. The motor ran smoothly, no loud noises or stuttering. The engine didn’t leak oil like some of the other boats in the Marina. I made a mental reminder to drop some money off by Mr Trent’s house. Mr Trent owned The Carina, but he never came fishing this early, so we struck a deal. In return for early morning use of his boat, I gave him some of the fish I caught and some of the money I earned – a sort of rent.

“Hey, Cora!” I could recognise that voice anywhere. I spun around, deep hazel eyes meeting mine. Kai.

Kai Aguafils was a senior at the academy, and a long-time friend of mine. His mother used to work with my father – both of them repairman at a boat repair shop owned by Christopher Connell – one of the first victors ever. His mother left when she had Kai’s sister – replacing the variety of boat repairs for the solitude of basket weaving. My mother was a basket weaver. They became fast friends, and Kai and I became closer. Now, despite almost everything having changed, we remained fast friends. He took care of me. I couldn’t take that for granted.

Jackson followed from not far behind, throwing his nets in my general direction. I flipped him off, which he laughed at. He gave me a quick side-hug, kissing the top of my head lightly. I smiled. Best brothers anyone could ask for.

Kai pushed The Carina off the beach, where it had been docked, and we set sail. We cruised into the middle of the lake where we were far from alone. We cast out our nets and sat down on the deck, waiting for something to get caught in the nets. We generally finished before going to the academy – we could catch up, clear our minds, before a long gruelling day. It was the last day of the school year; the reaping was tomorrow. We had six weeks off school for the Hunger Games, which we were forced to watch. For most, the holidays were a time for swimming at the beach and playing in the square. But every year, two unlucky children, were forced to go to the Capitol and fight to the death, as a sport. For the Capitol’s enjoyment.

“Excited Cora?” Jackson asked, leaning back. The sunlight glinted of his dark red hair, imitating a bright flame. Jackson was known to be extremely beautiful, especially to all the girls in his year. It didn’t help that he was incredibly strong and good at hand-to-hand combat. He really had model potential. More than those Capitol folks, anyway.

“As I’ll ever be.” I smiled nervously. Kai good-naturedly ruffled my hair. This was my third year going. I was scared and I hated the thought of having to kill 23 other children to go home. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much out here. Here in the middle of the lake, no one could hear us, there were no expectations, no agenda. Just freedom.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kai said, looking up, “the sunrise.” Jackson and I followed suit. We watched silently as it rose, before getting to work and pulling the fish in. I steered the boat as Kai and Jackson pulled the net in.

“This is your last year, isn’t it Kai?” Kai nodded, pulling one net and Jackson pulled in the other. Kai was 18: this year was his last in the reaping and he was relieved. In our district it was a privilege to represent the district in the Hunger Games. Other Districts thought that District 4, our district, was a Career district, famous for producing winners.

But a fair few of us were poor, myself included. Kai had to take out Tesserae, to feed his entire family and I almost to take out some myself. I generally had to survive on the meals I scrape by, or school meals, but Jackson was not so lucky. Tesserae was a ploy to make the less able more likely to fight in the games. Tesserae was a yearly allowance of grains, rices, and hygiene necessities. The price was that, for every person that you took out a Tesserae for, you had an extra ticket with your name on it put in the ballot. That meant that, at the age of 18, with 4 family members to feed, Kai had his name in the ballot 35 times. His chances of being picked were exponentially higher than mine.

We sailed back to land, before splitting the fish between the three of us. I got the most as I was going to sell. The 3 of us went our separate ways, and I scurried off to market to sell before academy.

First, I went to Dee, a young woman who owned the best soup kitchen in town. She had a soft spot for salmon, a rare delicacy in the market, most being shipped off to the Capitol. I knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” I heard her yell, her voice loud from behind the closed door.

“Just me.” I hear her heels tapping on the floor, and the door opens to show her suspicious face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite young fisherwoman in town. What do you have for me today?”

“2 salmon and a few mackerel.” She opens her mouth in shock, before quickly catching herself and shutting her mouth.

“Really! Well, how much are you offering for?” She asked. This was usual for Dee: she would ask a price, before gambling lower.

“220.”

“Ha!” She laughed. “I’m afraid not, dearie. 22 a fish is too much. How about 100?”

“So little for our efforts? Come on, Dee! We all need to eat.” Dee started to loosen up.

“Fine. What’s your price?”

“200.”

“120.” Dee retorted.

“Last Price: 180.” Dee smiled and handed over the money. I waved her goodbye, and she went back to cooking with 2 salmon and 8 mackerel in hand.

Next stop was Alex.

Alex was an old man, known for being particularly well-endowed in his money. He was the nephew of a victor, and was a member of the district council, meaning he grew up with luxuries and was a fan of expensive foods - he loved lobster. However, lobster was not the easiest to find, especially since most was shipped off to the Capitol. Good thing you didn’t exactly work for the Capitol yet, because Alex would always consider a good price. I guess today was a lucky day.

Alex opened the door, slowly. His back was giving out on him, medicines and treatment too laborious to keep up with, especially since he was alone.

“Hello Cora. How are you today?” He greeted me kindly, as always.

“I’m good, as always. And you?” He smiled.

“Good, good. What do you have for me today?”

“2 lobster.” His eyes widened, before he settled on an indifferent smirk.

“How about 160, eh?” I smiled, just like Alex to set down a price. Always ridiculously low, so low that only a fool would accept.

“You and I both know that is an insult to the lobsters. At least, 280.”

“185.” He asked, patiently. He knew my game but was always willing to play it.

“265.”

“Final Offer: 245.” He said, and I reached out my hand. He handed the money to me and I gave him the lobsters. He smiled and bid me adieu. He closed his back door, muttering to himself about extortion. I laughed. One more place to go.

It had just turned 7 o'clock when I reached the bakery; Olivia and Liam were just opening up when I arrived. “Hey,” I breathed, walking in, the scent of fresh bread making my mouth water with a single whiff. They both turned to look at me, greeting me with a wave as I dropped my nets by the front door. Olivia pulled me into a tight hug, her flour-stained apron smearing my shirt. Liam ruffled my hair, and asked me how my morning had been.

“I have 12 haddock, if you want them.” I said to Liam. He smiled.

“How much are you asking for them?” He asked, a caricatural suspicious look on his face. Olivia and I laughed.

“80.” He looked at me, inquiringly.

“Only?”

“Half free.” I say, “in return for dinner last night.” He smiled. Olivia and Liam had offered me dinner every night since they found out I had been considering taking the Tesserae. They had argued with me then, telling me it wasn’t necessary – that they could provide for me.

“Let us take care of you, Cora. It’s the least we could do,” Olivia ran her fingers through her curly black hair, frustrated. I was sat in their dining room, both of them stood in front of me.

The cold season had hit me hard. With fewer and fewer fish to sell, and more hours being taken up with training for combat exams, there was barely any time, or money, to put food on the table. Liam had caught me sneaking into the town hall, the Tesserae slip in hand. He’d grabbed me by the scruff of my collar and dragged me back to his house, where he had evidently vented his frustrations to Olivia.

“I don’t see why you need to help me. It’s ok, I don’t care.” I whispered, my voice near failing me. I’d never seen them angry before, despite all the time, I’d lived with them after the funeral. I had found a new place – a boarding house near the western marina. It wasn’t much, especially compared to our old cottage, but it would do. It was mine.

“I DO! I CARE!” Olivia yells, her voice breaking with emotion. “I care! I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not again.” I stand up to hug her, melting into her tight embrace. Her heart beats hard against my chest, and I hug her tighter, willing myself not to cry.

“Please Cora. Let us help you.” Liam says, wrapping his arms around both of us. “Don’t take out the Tesserae. Just this one thing. Please.”

I had been swayed and thus this arrangement began. If I couldn’t cook or feed myself, I’d find myself at Liam and Olivia’s house for dinner.

“You are welcome to dinner tonight too,” he said, “if you want to come.” We exchanged our goods, and I bid Liam goodbye, just as the bells began to ring. 7:30. I needed to get going. I quickly gave them both hugs and was out the door in a flash.

I ran back to the boarding house, running up the stairs and fiddling with my keys. Most people were up now, trudging through their days at a tortoise-like pace, where I was scrambling to not be late.

I pulled on my Academy commissioned uniform – a pair of tight navy-blue leggings tucked into polished combat boots, grey socks invisible underneath. A grey tank-top with a dark navy and white coat overtop. There were badges that denote your year group, sortings, and successes, all pinned to the left side of the coat. You wore it with pride – these were the only clothes that you could afford to keep immaculately clean.

I grabbed my school bag, before dashing out the door, remembering to double and triple check the locks. I didn’t want Marcus making his way in through the door again.

The day at the academy was a long one, what with people thinking about the reaping tomorrow; they were excited at the prospect of being reaped. Not me. I knew the true brutality of the games. At lunch, I made my way over to the boys, sitting in the back, as usual. We ate listening to Kai reminisce about the school. After today, Kai would be an adult, no longer worrying about the Hunger Games, instead worrying about taxes, job offers, marriage and his own children. Deep down, I knew that even I would miss this place when I grew up. But as of now, I couldn’t wait to get out.

I walked alone to my last period of the day: hand-to-hand combat. The most boring lesson of them all. I was placed up against a girl named Irene, who wanted more than anything else to be reaped. Irene was a girl of status – her father was the mayor of District 4. He was a tall, slender man, with a taut face that always looked like he was eating one of those lemon candies that Snickity’s sold before they shut down. He was a strict man, having had 2 sons who never got reaped. It was a matter of great shame to him, and Irene wanted nothing more than to impress her father.

Irene took a preparatory stance in front of me, just as coach blew his whistle. Let the fighting commence. Irene looked at me determinedly. Her silky black hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her jacket tossed to the side. She ran towards me, ready to tackle. I took a defensive stance, and we collided. All hour, she made efforts to throw me over her shoulder. They were all unsuccessful. I got in some good defensive practice and some throws. Same old, same old. At the end of the lesson, everyone wished each other luck for the reaping tomorrow. Irene’s excitement was uncontainable; we all wished her extra luck.

I walked home alone: Kai had already left to go out with his friends from the academy before the reaping tomorrow and Jackson had a detention, probably because he was caught snogging the coach’s daughter. Again. I walked through the marketplace – still as busy as it had been this morning – bag slung over my shoulder. I watched as people bartered for their daily necessities, before turning and walking through the city square – where the reaping would be held – all the way to Victor’s Village.

Victor’s Village was an upstate area of District 4 where all the Victors of the Hunger Games lived. District 4’s Victor’s Village was on the opposite side of the academy, overlooking the sea. They built the houses as Victors won, so there were only 5 currently here. Only one of them was empty. I looked at it melancholically, before hurrying on past. I came to the last house, House 70. I knocked on the door of the last house in a pattern. 2, 2. The syllables of my name: Cora Turner. I heard knocking from inside. ‘Come in.’ I opened the door.

The Victors’ Houses were always extravagant. There was moulding on the stairs; the one in this house replicated flapper style from the olden times. There were pearl decorations on the wall, all the architecture within the house was inspired by the Art Deco movement; black, white and gold, intricate architectural gems. I had seen inside many of the Victors’ houses and yet Annie’s always seemed to be my favourite.

Annie, herself was sat on her couch, curled under a blanket, unmoving but awake. I went and sat across from her, before standing up again and picking up all the things scattered around on the floor. There were blankets, pieces of paper, clothes, pillows and even utensils laying around. I put everything away: blankets in the cupboards, paper in the bin, pillows on the sofas, utensils in the kitchen. I went back into the living room; Annie sat still on the sofa; her soft eyes fixated on the waves outside her window.

I stood up to open the windows, allowing the sound of waves crashing on the shore and smell of sea salt to drift into the house. The new sensory input draws Annie out of her catatonic state, and she looks me in the eyes briefly before casting her eyes away. Annie never made eye contact with me for more than a few moments. She grabbed my hand and pointed towards the kitchen, signing for food. She was hungry.

I helped her up, and we walked into the kitchen together. I initiated small talk while pulling out ingredients for her dinner. I began chopping some onions and peppers for the stew as I asked her about her day. Annie’s days hardly varied, but I never wanted her to feel left out. She idly wandered around the kitchen, ignoring my every question. I was used to it.

Annie was a gentle and kind girl before she left – a pacifist. But the games changed her as they do everyone. She couldn’t bear to be in her own head, she couldn’t come to terms with the things she had seen. Knowing what she’d lived through, no one could blame her. So, she shut down, stopped living, and started just surviving. She barely spoke to anyone, never left her house unless she had to, and yet she held out for some reason.

A reason I would never know. But I did not care to press about it.

I made her a pot of stew, a recipe I learnt from my mother. It was one of her favourites, and often I made her some if she had a new shipment of ingredients. Victors’, among other privileges, received the freshest and best produce and finery from all of Panem. A small apology from the Capitol for putting them through hell, I supposed. I set up the table for her as she went to bathe. If there was one thing Annie enjoyed, it was bathing. I had this running theory that she loved the water – it was the one place she felt truly unburdened – as if the water carried the weight that she usually had wrapped like a noose around her neck. I laid one bowl and a glass for her. I served the stew as she came down in a clean dress.

I sat with her as she ate, making sure that she wasn’t starving herself. Annie had gotten into a bad habit after her Victory tour: having no energy to cook or eat, she began to wither away. Annie had been my friend before she had gone into the games, so I took it upon myself to ensure that she got better. Slowly but surely, she would eat in the company of others, and then even alone. I glanced at the clock – anxious to not be late for training. It was almost 5. Annie finished her meal, washing her plate and leaving it to dry, before returning to her position on the couch.

“Bye, Annie. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?” I waved from the door.

“Bye Cora.” I heard her whisper almost silently. My face broke into a grin as I shut the door. I ran to the training hall, where Kai and Jackson were waiting for me. They smirked when they saw me, Kai shaking his head, almost laughing as he let us in. We began to stretch.

“So, how is Annie?” Both of the boys cared for Annie too, but they had almost no free time on their hands to visit.

“She’s good. She said something today.” Something so trivial, but it was an improvement.

“That’s great!” Jackson exclaimed. Annie’s non-verbal nature didn’t bother anyone but the Capitol, but it was always nice to know she was still comfortable enough to break through from time to time.

Kai turned his business hat on, “Cora, what did you do today in Combat?” The guys liked to help me practise my new skills. I was good at combat and intricate knife work because I was small, but things like long distance and sparring I wasn’t so good at.

“Just recapping.” I pulled my jumper off: the heat in the gym was unbearable.

“What do you want to do, then?” We eventually decided on some hand-to-hand practice. We had made a simple game to practise hand to hand combat. Our first rule was that there should be no blows to the face and if we tapped the other person 2 times, we forfeited the round. Otherwise, 5 minutes was the max time. The scoring system worked as such: 1 point for a draw, 2 points for a win and 0 points for a loss. Jackson and I went first. At 1 minute, Jack and I were in a stalemate, we tapped out simultaneously, meaning we both got 1 point. This went on for half an hour. By the end, Kai had won, beating me by 4 points and Jackson by 6.

We then moved on to combat with weapons. Kai took out his pack of wooden sticks. They were carved to look like swords, daggers, spears, even tridents. I grabbed two small ones, Kai took the spear, and Jackson took the sword. I took a defensive stance. Let’s begin.

I woke up to the sound of waves crashing up against the rocks. My street was up on a cliffside, overlooking the lake that stretched beyond. The only way around it was the Capitol trains, that only Tributes rode. Today was the day, the dreaded day. Today was the day of the reaping. I pulled myself out of bed, thankful that I wasn’t going fishing today.

After training, yesterday, I had dinner with Olivia and Liam. We talked about sales within the district, and I found out that a shipment of their sea bread had been taken to the Capitol, prior to the beginning of this year’s Hunger Games. I told them about the last day of school for this year. We also talked about the shop, and Annie, and fishing, and Mr Trent’s wife, who had just given birth to a son. Before, I knew it, Liam was walking me home and saying goodnight to me at my doorstep.

I pulled on an old knit jumper and some shorts, before deciding to go out to the market. It was a nice sunny day, beautifully masking the horrors that the day would undoubtedly hold. It was very rare that I would go to the market without anything to sell, but today was unusual anyway. The day of the reaping was national holiday, so most of the district was still asleep. It was on days like this that you could really appreciate the beauty of District 4. The sun shining on the beautiful waters, not once revealing the treasures that lied within. Simple swaying grass that covered the dark rocks of the cliffs, each crack telling its own story. The sandy beaches, home to birds and boats alike, each their own person, if you got to know them.

As I got to the market, an eerie feeling drifted through the city centre. None of the shops were open, everyone being given the day off: everyone was asleep, except me. I walked around for a bit, closing my eyes to imagine the sounds of the busy marketplace, the scent of the freshly made food in the morning, the light shining through the windows of the market square. The marketplace was always the liveliest place every other day of the year. But today, they would clear out the marketplace to make space for people to watch the reaping. Those being reaped had to wait in the city centre, but there were far too many people to fit into the city square alone. Instead, they set up screens here and people watched from the comfort of this place.

I walked back to the docks, only to see Kai and Jackson chatting with a girl near the docks. She waved them goodbye and walked away, just as I arrived. I raised my eyebrow, Jackson swatting my shoulder in response. Kai and I laughed as Jackson looked longingly at her. We walked down to the cove and sat down on the rocks.

“So, how are you guys feeling?” Kai looked at us.

“It’s fine, just another year, am I right?” Jackson replied.

I wanted to agree with him, but my upper lip trembled, revealing my fear. I was nervous. This was my third time, but it was still scary. I hoped to all the gods that I wouldn’t be chosen. I was too young to make it back alive. I knew that.

No one my age had ever made it out of the games alive: the youngest was Finnick Odair, the winner of the 65th Hunger Games, who won at the age of 14.

“I’m scared,” I whispered. Kai pulled me in to a tight embrace, and the tears that I had kept stored away, slipped from my eyes and onto Kai’s shirt. Jackson came and joined us. For a few minutes we stayed like that – all of us feeling safe and whole, tightly wrapped in each other’s embrace. We pulled away after a while, still sitting close to one another. The clocktower at the city centre struck 10, and we hurried to get ready for the reaping.

Jackson dragged me back to his house. One of the many things that gave Jackson’s mum joy was dressing me up every reaping. I had been to the ceremony with her many times - over the years though, the dresses got progressively simpler, a fact which I loved. As I walked through their door, I was greeted with the scent of flowers; vases of flowers were scattered all around the room. From the door at the back, bustled a large woman - Jackson’s mum, Marie.

She pulled me into a warm embrace and – talking all the way - ushered me into the bathroom: a tub of warm water was waiting for me. She had laid out a towel and some fancy soaps and creams. She smiled at my confusion, before she shut the door, allowing me some privacy. I washed myself, scrubbing the salt and sand off me. I then wrapped myself in one of the threadbare towels that she had. I walked out into Marie’s bedroom.

“So, what colour do you want to wear?” Marie came out carrying 2 dresses, one was a beautiful cream, the other was duck egg. I fell in love with the duck egg dress immediately. She noticed my eyes light up at the sight of that dress. “The duck egg it is then.” These dresses had once belonged to her, but she never wore them anymore.

I slipped it over my head, and instantly felt like a mermaid. I twirled around to show Marie and she smiled joyously. I was the daughter that she always wanted and didn’t have. Jackson had a sister, but since his parents no longer lived together, Elsie hadn’t been home in years.

Jackson ruffled my hair as soon as I walked out of his mother’s room, earning a high-pitched screech from his mum. We all burst out laughing, before Jackosn and I headed out half an hour later - Marie would soon follow us, as it was mandatory to attend the reaping, but she needed to get ready. We arrived at the city square which had been cleared of all the stalls and rows of tables had been put around the centre. At them, sat Capitol-appointed peacekeepers, waiting to check us in. It was the Capitol’s way of keeping tabs on the children that attended the reaping. There were severe consequences if you didn’t.

I lined up on the girls’ side, behind a tall girl with dark brown hair – the one the boys were talking to earlier. I knew her, she was in Jackson’s class; her name was Amira. She told them her name and then they took a smear of blood from her to check her DNA matched a previous sample. I always wondered what would happen if something went wrong at one of these tables - like, for some reason, if someone pretended to be someone else. Would the peacekeepers shoot them, right there? Publicly flog them? Things like that had never happened in this district before, but I had heard rumours from the academy of it happening in other districts.

A few seconds later, Amira moved to find her spot in the lines of kids waiting to be reaped. I walked up to the desk. A young male peacekeeper sat there, looking bored out of his mind. He acknowledged my presence with a nod, before beginning.

“Name?” The peacekeeper monotonous voice rung in my ears.

“Cora. Cora Turner.” He checked something, before nodding. he turned back to me and grabbed my finger, carelessly pricking it and swatching my blood on the piece of paper. Someone from the back of the line shoved their way forward, pushing me out of the way. I rolled my eyes. The eagerness. I found my place at the front of the crowd with the rest of the girls my age, looking up at the stage.

Thus, the living hell that was this year’s reaping began. I was very close to the front, despite not being in my first year, and could see the victors lining up on stage. The 4 of them walked up solemnly, faces set in stone.

Closest to the edge of the stage was Annie. She had won her games three years ago and had never been the same since. She’d been dressed up at the request of the Capitol, no doubt, her frail figure swaddled in clothing she probably hated. Her face was painted extravagantly – she looked like a mermaid.

Next to her, gripping her hand tightly, was Arnold. Arnold was a man in his early-50s and wasted his days drowning his emotions in alcohol. Most days of the year, if you wanted Arnold, you just had to offer some free alcohol. But not today. Today was one of the only days, Arnold kept sober.

Mags, his mentor, stood next to him. Mags was one of the oldest victors alive, having won the 11th Hunger Games, almost 62 years ago. She was the quiet type though, never overselling herself, never trying to make herself visible, as opposed to the man next to her.

Finnick Odair, front and centre. The Capitol’s sweetheart. Finnick had won his games at 14, and according to many revelled in this fact. He was a peacock showy and vain. He was the only one who dared to crack a grin. I looked at him in disgust, the Capitol’s little plaything. Still got it in his head that these games were glory for the district’s, not just a muse for a Capitol.

Usually, all the victors tried to hide away from their glory, dressing down and keeping their head low. But on Reaping Day, all the Victors dressed up, showed face, smiled and clapped along with the rest: they needed to have good outward figures because they wanted to remain in a good relationship with members of the Capitol.

The Capitol loved District 4, simply because of our victors. All of them were charming and charismatic, and over time, the Capitol had fallen harder and harder in love. Especially with Finnick.

My heart panged at one missing face. Christopher, one of the kindest Victors, had passed away recently. His face was always a welcome sight on the Reaping stage, even if he was always tucked away into the corner. He had been the oldest victor alive prior to his passing – he had won the 2nd annual Hunger Games, at the age of 17. The entire District had mourned him when he passed away earlier this year.

All around me, the sound of distinct chatter drifted through the air. My eyes were fixed on Finnick, who stood almost in the centre of the stage, Annie to his left. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear quietly. She giggled. Odd. Annie never spoke to anyone, let alone cracked a smile. I smiled involuntarily.

The mayor and other District officials filed in and sat down in their seats at the podium, and the national anthem began to play, eliciting silence across the crowds.

Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. The sound of clacking heels rang ominously around the city square. Even above the chatter that filled the great space, everyone could hear her steps clearly. The heels of the one and the only, Genevieve Bravador. Genevieve was District 4’s Capitol Escort. A very official job. I hated the sight of her; her powdery white skin and her stupidly dyed hair made her look more of an outsider than anything. She had a distinct Capitol accent when she spoke, something that everyone mocked at every opportunity. Obviously, Genevieve never changed. The only thing that seemed to change was the colour scheme she went with. This year it was baby blue. It looked as if she had frostbite and was on the verge of death. Somehow, she managed to pull it off.

Genevieve stared off into the crowd, hoping to catch their attention. No one gave it to her. I looked back at the tributes. Finnick and Annie were looking at me, but as I soon as I looked back, they turned away. Odd. They were definitely talking about me. I made the decision to ask Annie about it later. Genevieve tapped on the microphone and then cleared her throat into it, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Welcome, welcome.” Her singsong voice filled the empty space, “welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour.” She looks around at us, pausing for effect. “Now, before we begin, we have a special video. Brought to you all the way from the Capitol, the history of Panem."

A video began behind her, talking all about the districts’ rebellion, and how the Capitol overcame them. I tuned out 10 seconds in. I couldn’t care less about the history of the Hunger Games. No one that had lived in the peak of the rebellion was still alive now. We knew the history of our country; yet every reaping they show us the video. As if we are going to forget that easily.

I had watched the video before; everyone had. They showed it to us at the beginning of every school year, meaning I had at least watched it 5 times, forgetting even the number of times I had been to the reaping. On top of that, I had been to so many Capitol-sponsored events, which increased this number even more. At the mere age of 13, I could probably recite it.

It was the same old, same old. The then-13 Districts of Panem rebelled against the Capitol, but the rebellion was unsuccessful, so the Capitol remained in charge. District 13 was obliterated, and the Hunger Games were celebrated every year to remind people never to rebel again.

The video ended to no reaction from the crowd. No one cared about the formalities of the reaping. People wanted to know who to place their bets on, which families were free for another year, and which would hide away and cry for the rest of the evening. Genevieve broke me out of my thought, "Now the time has come to reap our tributes.” She smiled gesturing the girls’ bowl. “Ladies first.” Genevieve reached into the glass globe, her hand swirling around. In my head, all I could hear was my conscience telling me that any one of those pieces of paper could have my name on it. I shook the feeling off; my name was one in thousands. The chances of it being me were as low as possible, but still in my heart of hearts, I had a feeling. Genevieve kept rifling until she picked one.

Slowly, she dragged out the piece of paper, the seconds feeling like years. She ripped open the seal delicately, holding it in front of her face as she leaned into speak: “Cora Turner.”

Pin-drop silence. My heart of hearts was right.

#hunger games finnick #finnick x y/n #finnick x annie #finnick odair #hunger games #the hunger games #the hunger games aesthetic #thg #mockingjay #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #oc #fanfiction #original fanfiction

118 notes · View notes

richincolor · 7 months

Text

If you're looking for a few books to get you into the Halloween spirit this week, we put together three book lists earlier this year:

3 YA Black Horror Books for Spooky Season

Haunting Reads for Your TBR

Celebrating Women of Horror

And in case you've already seen all of those lists, here are six more books that came out recently that might also fill your Halloween needs:

The Forest Demands Its Due by Kosoko Jackson

A Lesson in Vengeance meets The Taking of Jake Livingston in this page-turning YA horror/fantasy set in dark academia about a queer Black teen who discovers the sinister history of his boarding school and the corrupt powers behind it all. Regent Academy has a long and storied history in Winslow, Vermont, as does the forest that surrounds it. The school is known for molding teens into leaders, but its history is far more nefarious. Seventeen-year-old Douglas Jones wants nothing to do with Regent's king-making; he’s just trying to survive. But then a student is murdered and, for some reason, by the next day no one remembers him having ever existed, except for Douglas and the groundskeeper's son, Everett Everley. In his determination to uncover the truth, Douglas awakens a horror hidden within the forest, unearthing secrets that have been buried for centuries. A vengeful creature wants blood as payment for a debt more than 300 years in the making—or it will swallow all of Winslow in darkness. And for the first time in his life, Douglas might have a chance to grasp the one thing he’s always felt was power. But if he’s not careful, he will find out that power has a tendency to corrupt absolutely everything. A high-octane mystery of murder and magic for fans of Ace of Spades, House of Hollow, and Get Out!

And Don't Look Back by Rebecca Barrow

Harlow Ford has spent her entire life running, caught in her mother’s wake as they flit from town to town, hiding from a presence that Harlow isn’t even sure is real. In each new place, Harlow takes on a new name and personality, and each time they run, she leaves another piece of herself behind. When Harlow and her mom set off on yet another 3 a.m. escape, they are involved in a car accident that leaves Harlow’s mother fatally wounded. Before she dies, she tells Harlow two things: where to find the key to a safety deposit box and to never stop running. In the box, Harlow finds thirty grand in cash, life insurance documents, and several fake IDs for both herself and her mom—an on-the-run essentials kit. But Harlow also finds a photograph of her mom as a teenager with two other girls, the deed to a house in a town she’s never heard of, and a handful of newspaper clippings discussing the disappearance of a woman named Eve Kennedy, Harlow’s grandmother…relics of a part of Harlow’s life she never knew existed. With these tantalizing clues about her mother’s secrets and the power to choose her own future for the first time, Harlow realizes she has two choices: keep fleeing her mom’s ghosts or face down the nebulous threat that’s been hanging over her for her entire life.

Mermaids Never Drown: Tales to Dive For edited by Zoraida Córdova and Natalie C. Parker Feiwel Friends

14 Young Adult short stories from bestselling and award-winning authors make a splash in Mermaids Never Drown - the second collection in the Untold Legends series edited by Zoraida Córdova and Natalie C. Parker - exploring mermaids like we've never seen them before! A Vietnamese mermaid caught between two worlds. A siren who falls for Poseidon's son. A boy secretly pining for the merboy who saved him years ago. A storm that brings humans and mermaids together. Generations of family secrets and pain. Find all these stories and more in this gripping new collection that will reel you in from the very first page! Welcome to an ocean of hurt, fear, confusion, rage, hope, humor, discovery, and love in its many forms. Edited by Zoraida Córdova and Natalie C. Parker, Mermaids Never Drown features beloved authors like Darcie Little Badger, Kalynn Bayron, Preeti Chhibber, Rebecca Coffindaffer, Julie C. Dao, Maggie Tokuda-Hall, Adriana Herrera, June Hur, Katherine Locke, Kerri Maniscalco, Julie Murphy, Gretchen Schreiber, and Julian Winters.

Brooms written by Jasmine Walls & illustrated by Teo DuVall Levine Querido

It’s 1930s Mississippi. Magic is permitted only in certain circumstances, and by certain people. Unsanctioned broom racing is banned. But for those who need the money, or the thrills...it's there to be found. Meet Billie Mae, captain of the Night Storms racing team, and Loretta, her best friend and second-in-command. They’re determined to make enough money to move out west to a state that allows Black folks to legally use magic and take part in national races. Cheng-Kwan – doing her best to handle the delicate and dangerous double act of being the perfect “son” to her parents, and being true to herself while racing. Mattie and Emma -- Choctaw and Black -- the youngest of the group and trying to dodge government officials who want to send them and their newly-surfaced powers away to boarding school. And Luella, in love with Billie Mae. Her powers were sealed away years ago after she fought back against the government. She’ll do anything to prevent the same fate for her cousins. Brooms is a queer, witchy Fast and the Furious that shines light on history not often told – it’s everything you’d ever want to read in a graphic novel.

The Changing Man by Tomi Oyemakinde Feiwel & Friends

A teenage girl is pulled into investigating the truth behind her new boarding school’s decades-old legend in The Changing Man , this debut Young Adult speculative thriller by Tomi Oyemakinde Face front. Watch your back. BE BRAVE. If it was left to her, Ife Adebola wouldn’t be starting at Nithercott School. Because despite her being in the Urban Achievers scholarship program, her parents can barely afford the tuition. No matter who is trying to be friends with her, like her classmate Bijal, or how much the prestigious boarding school tries to pull her in, Ife is determined not to get caught up in any of it. But when another student, Malika, begins acting strange, Ife can’t help but wonder if there’s more going on at Nithercott than she realizes. Could there be any truth to the school’s decades-old legend of the Changing Man? Is there any connection to the missing older brother of her classmate, Ben? As more questions arise, Ife has no choice but to team up with Ben and Bijal to investigate. But can the trio act quickly enough to uncover who is behind everything, before one―or all―of them is the Changing Man’s next victim?

The Grimmer by Naben Ruthnum ECW Press

The small-town mysteries of John Bellairs are made modern with a dash of Stranger Things in this spine-tingling supernatural horror-thriller. After his father returns from treatment for addiction, highschooler Vish ― lover of metal music and literature ― is uncertain what the future holds. It doesn’t help that everyone seems to know about the family’s troubles, and they stand out doubly as one of the only brown families in town. When Vish is mistaken for a relative of the weird local bookseller and attacked by an unsettling pale man who seems to be decaying, he is pulled into the world of the occult, where witches live in television sets, undead creatures can burn with a touch, and magic is mathematical. Vish must work with the bookstore owner and his mysterious teenage employee, Gisela, to stop an interdimensional invasion that would destroy their peaceful town. Bringing together scares, suspense, and body horror, The Grimmer is award-winning author Naben Ruthnum’s first foray into the young adult genre. This gripping ride through the supernatural is loaded with vivid characters, frightening imagery, and astonishing twists, while tackling complex issues such as grief, racism, and addiction.

#halloween #the forest demands its due #and don't look back #mermaids never drown #brooms #the changing man #the grimmer #book lists #horror

25 notes · View notes

klbwriting · 2 months

Text

Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 12: Merely Players

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: the aftermath of the kidnapping and the start of competition day

Notes: one more chapter after this! Then there will be a sequel! I'm trying to think of a musical theater related title for it so if anyone has ideas let me know, I am stumped

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

All the world's a stage, / And all the men and women merely players

— AS YOU LIKE IT, ACT 2 SCENE 7

Jason knew he couldn’t prove that one of the other seniors sent out the video of him and YN’s conversation, how did he know this? Because for the two weeks between YN’s kidnapping and the Shakespeare competition he tried. Dick had Barbara do a deep dive, but the video was posted to a social media site using a burner phone, a fake email address, and the phone was already destroyed. Even the IP address it came from was some random café where they conveniently didn’t have any security footage from the time that the video was posted. It was infuriating, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t still confront them over what happened.

After rehearsal the Thursday before the competition Jason walked over to them before they could run out like they had been. They looked at him, then at each other, then at him again. He didn’t say anything, letting the awkward silence string along, hoping one of them would break. Jackson folded first.

“How is YN?” he asked softly, an almost guilty look on his face. Jason folded his arms.

“She’s healing,” he answered. The silence drew out again and he let it, eyes moving from one of them to the next, trying to bare their souls with his currently green gaze.

“Are you sure she was actually even kidnapped? She was gone for like a night, what if she was just being dramatic? Or out with another guy?” Chelsea said. Jason’s glare shut her up, the other guys taking a step back. He took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench.

“I got the phone call from her, I saw her face after the cops brought her home, she was not being dramatic,” he said, voice calm but they seemed to sense the danger in it.

“Well, whoever posted that video was right to do it, we should be aware of the kinds of people who are trying to win the competition,” Jackson said. “And the kinds of people who are trying to break into our society.”

“And what kind of people are you referring to?” Jason asked, gritting his teeth a little now. Jackson clearly wanted to be the tough guy right now. He glanced to where Sydney was watching the interaction, and he puffed his chest out some.

“Those from certain places, who don’t know how to act, those who don’t know how to belong,” he said. Jason nodded.

“So, someone like me?” Jason asked. Jackson shook his head.

“No, you were a Wayne, you are a part of our world, YN is not, she’s trying but she was never meant to be going to a place like Gotham Academy,” he said.

“You know I was born in Crime Alley, right? My dad was a degenerate gambler, my mother a drug addict. The only reason Bruce Wayne adopted me was because I tried to steal his tires and he took pity on me when I told him my sob story,” Jason said. This part of his history was always hidden from the public. Bruce had fed out that he was the son of some European friends of Bruce’s who had died in a private plane crash.

“Well, either way, you aren’t an embarrassment like she is,” Chelsea said. Now that they knew who his adoptive father really was they were trying to stay in his good graces like the lap dogs they were. It was disgusting. “Not only that she gossips about others and gets their opportunities taken from them because she’s jealous.”

“Are you talking about that stupid competition last year? Where the actress from here was sleeping with a judge to win and she just, told the truth?” Jason asked. Chelsea glared.

“She should keep her mouth shut,” she retorted.

“I have to pretend to be in love with you in two days and you are making that very difficult right now with your fucked up world view,” he said. Sydney walked over then, standing with Jason.

“YN is really nice you know, and she at least doesn’t seem the type who’s going to peak in high school like some people, don’t you think Jason?” she asked, turning to him. He chuckled a little as the three others wrinkled their noses in annoyance. Of all people to gang up on them the children of Wayne Enterprises and Arkham fame were not the ones you wanted. Even if Jason was pretty much disowned, not like Bruce didn’t know about him by now, he was still powerful in the eyes of the city.

“Maybe people should be nicer to her, if they want others to be nice to them,” he said, still staring at the three of them. They gathered their things, heading out together, heads close as they talked.

“They are seriously such a pain in the ass,” Sydney said. Jason nodded and turned to her. “Do you have any holiday break plans?”

“No, probably just staying home and recovering from this Shakespeare thing,” he said. She nodded.

“Maybe we could hang out,” she offered. “My family is going to Europe, and I’m really not interested this year.” Jason nodded slowly before shrugging.

“Maybe, but I’ll probably hang out a lot with YN, so we’ll see,” he answered. Sydney nodded and waved bye before heading out. Jason grabbed his things, heading home, glad he at least seemed to make a friend while he was at this school. Even if she was part of the Arkham family. Maybe she could get him in to see Joker sometime. His therapist would love that, reopening the traumatic wound of his death and all, but he couldn’t lie, taking a crowbar to the clown sounded really fun.

Saturday morning Jason woke up to a text from YN that just said, ‘you die today Hamlet’ to which he replied ‘so do you’ and he received ‘date night in hell?’ he answered ‘see you there’. He was still smiling as he sat at the table for what Dick promised to be a good breakfast. He plopped donuts from the shop down the street in front of Jason.

“Well, this is better than your cooking,” Jason said. Dick sighed.

“At least you’re in a good mood today,” he said. It had taken Jason over a week to even smile again after the incident with Falcone. Dick was pretty sure he knew what happened in that warehouse but neither Jason nor his doctor were telling him about it, so he just had to guess. He was conflicted about confronting Jason about the deaths, wanting him to feel comfortable talking to his brother, but maybe him reacting the way he did to YN had ruined his trust.

“Ya, I’m good today, gotta be good for the competition, you excited? Today you get to witness my death, although it is significantly less bloody than the first time,” Jason joked, and Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Jason fell quiet after a minute, picking up a chocolate donut that had the Batman symbol on it.

“Sorry about that one, it’s a special they’re running, goes in every box,” Dick said, hoping this didn’t sour Jason’s mood. Jason bit into it, chewing and swallowing.

“Did he ask about me?” he asked. Bruce had to know about him being back, probably also figured out Dick was lying about not knowing who Red Hood was. Did he care? Did he want to see Jason again? “No, he hasn’t asked,” Dick said softly. “I think he’s waiting for you to talk to him.”

“Of course, because I’m the parent, I’m the one who should be mending the relationship,” Jason muttered, tearing the donut in half.

“Why don’t you go get dressed? Maybe call YN, she seems to make everything better,” Dick suggested, standing to go get himself ready for the competition. Jason headed up to the loft, calling YN like Dick suggested.

“Hey Jay, can I talk to you after the competition?” she said as soon as she answered. Jason furrowed his brow.

“Ya, sure, is everything ok?” he asked, noticing she seemed out of breath.

“Yes, we just got word about something for my mom, its not bad, but we’re talking it through while I’m getting ready. I promise I’ll tell you about it after the competition,” she said.

“Ya, sure, I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, go actually break a leg, ok? I really want to win,” she said, making him laugh before hanging up. He sighed, getting into the bare bones of his costume. He would finish getting ready there. His mind wandered to what had happened for YN and her mother, he hoped that something good was happening, they all needed something good right now.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

16 notes · View notes