#stops fighting and slumps back against him. His entire body shakes and he's just like ''it's Tommy Eddie. I can't lose him. I can't I won't | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oftidheard · 4 months

Note

hi! i saw you wanted holiday themed requests so i was wondering if you could write something fluffy about either sejanus or treech where their gf is feeling kind of insecure bc she thinks she doesn't deserve christmas gifts (maybe because she was a victor and she thinks shes a bad person bc she had to kill people in the games) and they reassure her? <3 i love ur writing btw!

thank you!!! ♡♡ i went with treech because about half of my other seasonal requests are for sejanus + this is my first time writing for treech and i'm very excited! warnings: a few mentions of vomit, descriptions of reader's ptsd from the games (dead bodies, murder, gore) this has a bit of a heavy moment, but i promise it's a very happy ending

"just look up, please." treech x reader ↳ 2.7k ↳ angst to fluff ↳ gender neutral

treech's grip on your hand is horribly unwavering as he guides the two of you up the — what would normally be perfectly easy for you to traverse, but in your overtiredness the steepness might as well be perfectly vertical — hill. you aren't exactly playing this game of tug-of-war fairly, with the way you're all but dropping to the ground as dead weight that you hope your boyfriend will finally stop trying to drag along; but in your defence, you don't think it was very fair of him to drag you out of bed on christmas eve the moment the clock struck over to christmas day with no explanation.

he's lucky you feel this innate safeness around him, because if it had been anyone but treech shaking — albeit very gently, he's not entirely horrible — you awake in the assumed safety of your house, in the middle of the night, you would have erupted into screams and stabbed him with the nearest sharp object you could get your hands on.

instead, you'd just stirred and groaned when your eyes had fluttered open to the face of your grinning boyfriend looming over you, and not even had the energy to protest his undisclosed plan.

by the time you'd gained your footing — metaphorically, mentally, absolutely not physically, if your sleepy stumbling is anything to go by — you'd already made footfall on the base of the hill he's leading you up, and he's grown too determined to let you roll down miserably by now.

you've had a pit making home in your stomach since the beginning of december, and though you'd be fooling yourself to think you'd been perfectly alright before then, treech unsubtly trying to find out what gift you might want for the holidays has been the sickening reminder of the month approaching — the one which brings happiness you simply don't deserve.

you'd told him you want nothing, which he'd thought was some sort of joke the first time, and then he had only grown concerned when it remained your answer.

you know you don't deserve something like a christmas present; it's as simple as that. someone like you — a monster, a killer, a murderer, a victor — doesn't deserve neatly wrapped boxes under trees and heartwarming traditions. you deserve to rot in your bed long enough that your persistent boyfriend finally gets the message that you can't be 'saved'.

you fight against whatever treech's plan is — because deep down, you know it's going to be a gift, you don't know how yet, you don't know why he's leading you up a hill you didn't even know existed — but you know at the end of it there'll be something wrapped with a shining bow so pure you can already feel the vomit rising in your throat.

so just like you'd rejected well-wishes and invites to festive events all month, you fight.

you slow your steps and imagine your shoes are coated in heavy mud, weighing you down so deep that the earth opens up to swallow you — which, with how tired you are, the feeling isn't too hard to imagine.

you slump and let your eyes close absently, your tactic really just consisting of forcing treech to try to carry you up the hill on his own — and getting to go back home when he inevitably gives up.

but still, you feel his hand tugging on yours, and a, "come on!" that is way too enthusiastic for someone who woke up in the middle of your night and decided to make it your problem.

you groan when he somehow keeps making — albeit much slower, but still noticeable — progress in dragging you up the hill. the tired ache running through every one of your bones cries out for your warm bed, and you almost audibly tell your sore body to shut up!, because surely your body of all things trudging up this stupid hill, should be well aware that you are also begging to just collapse.

it occurs to you, just as the thought pops into your mind, that it might not be such a bad idea — so, naturally, you don't hesitate to entirely relax your muscles, and relish in the silence of no longer hearing the complaints of your body as you fully flop to the ground.

the sound of a surprised "woah" is just about as important to you as the feeling of your knees impacting with the dirt beneath you; which is to say, almost not at all — as long as the dirt plans to cooperate with you and provide a comfortable bed — until you realise treech had been so clung onto you that when you fell he fell too.

he loses his footing swiftly following you, and tumbles down on top of you with a thud paired with your low whining.

his chest sandwiches you to the ground, and even though the weight of your boyfriend awkwardly on top of you feels like a pretty sure sign that there won't be any more progress on making it up this hill, you're hesitant to just about declare this a win.

you wriggle your hands up to cushion your face against the sparse grass and whatever else you can't see in this light, and mumble a, "goodnight," after a moment of waiting that tells you treech has given up on regaining his footing.

or so you thought.

it's probably your fault, your small victorious declaration is probably what spurred him on to push off of you and dig his shoes back into the hill — and you cry out when he pulls your hands from under your face, and your cheek falls to the dirt.

you're not even sure what you're muttering as he lifts you up with an admirable strength — that which's persistence you'd probably appreciate, as you do most things about your boyfriend, if he weren't currently using it against you. but even once he's picked you up off the ground and beginning to move upwards again, you keep gloomily complaining under your breath.

treech's hand's grip on your own tightens, and the sickness in your stomach coils.

you wish you had the energy to do anything but make a fool of yourself like a toddler who didn't get their way. you wish you could make him understand that this is far more than grumpiness from some sort of lack of beauty sleep, and that the overwhelmingly dark cloud that looms over you is more than just trivial grouchiness.

maybe the worst part is that in some corner of your mind, you know he knows this; you know he even tries to understand how you feel.

and now, he's failing that endeavour, all to push you past your limit for something you could never want — not anymore.

he looks over his shoulder at you, and you can tell he's trying to withhold a smile. whether this is for your sake or because he thinks he's kept his plan a secret and doesn't want to spoil it is anyone's guess — but you're just about ready to tell him to just smile.

he should be happy right now, he should grin and laugh and find joy in holding your hand — because when you reach wherever he's taking you, you'll either blow up in his face, or deflate and suck all the air out of the world. either way, you'll ruin the mood, and he'll realise whatever his hard work led to was for nothing when you shove the gift in his chest and fail to withhold the vomit growing inside you.

"c'mon!" he encourages you, with a softer voice than you'd have expected. helplessly — and ever so weakly — you find yourself pliable to his request, and attempt to catch up to him before you even realise what you're doing.

he's quick to tuck you into his side, his arm finding a secure hold around your shoulder, and letting you drop your head to rest on his own.

you accept the embrace quietly, folding against him with all your weight now his to hold upright, in a silent admission that now that you are so far from home, you'd much rather be as close to him as possible than out in the dark — scared, alone, mind suddenly stuck back in the arena.

you resign yourself to the light-headedness of dissociating from any risk of even a single thought, and letting your muscle memory take the wheel; ghosting up the hill with dreary eyes and yawns gone unheard to your ears so deeply submerged in the miserable inky water you drown in.

after your aching legs get into the rhythm of matching treech's footsteps, you have no idea how long it takes for him to finally stop the both of you.

though your hear the occasional "almost there" echoing through the caverns of your mind, and barely register the feeling of the wind growing colder against your skin not long after, you let yourself slowly fall into the dark pit that awaits your just before you fall asleep every night.

your muscles grow heavy and footsteps fumbled just as the two of you finally still, and lower to sit on something rough and uncomfortable.

you think you might hear treech whispering to you, trying to get your attention, but you refuse to delve out of the darkness to even try to catch his words.

even as he pulls your side flush against his and his arm drifts down to wrap warmly around your waist — you will your eyes to remain screwed shut.

you remind yourself; sleep grants you peace, dreamless nights grant you the warm hug of nothingness that has become a welcome friend after nightmares of corpses and waking days riddled with reminders of the blood on your hands. sleep keeps the sinking feeling at bay, sleep drifts you so far out into the empty void that you can forget, even when you don't deserve to.

treech's body, adorned in a fluffy sweater and wrapped around yours, would be a welcome feeling if it didn't remind you of the hearts that no longer beat on the arena floor, of the bodies no longer warm by your hand.

sleep doesn't make you throw up your blood and guts and very soul until you have paid enough of your organs to all the throats you slit and all those lives lost to deserve forgiveness.

his head gently pushes against yours in an attempt to draw you out. his breath unknowingly brushes against your pulse point.

you think of the scrawny body facedown on the ground and your desperate scramble to check their pulse. you couldn't bring your shaky hands to flip them over, and from the clothes alone you had no chance at figuring out which of your fellow tributes was gone.

in your dreams, it's a different person every time. sometimes it's the district two girl who almost cracked your skull open, sometimes it's the two siblings from six laid side by side. sometimes it's one of the peacekeepers using their last breath to take your own. sometimes it's treech.

and sometimes it's you, your own lifeless eyes inhabiting a cold, dead body.

the tickle of a soft sensation on your face suddenly draws you out, and your eyes involuntarily flutter open to find your boyfriend's face so close to yours that the tips of his curls brush against your skin.

you want to close your eyes again and pretend his efforts hadn't been successful, but his breath along with the strong wind fans across your eyelids just uncomfortably enough that you have to readjust your position and begrudgingly open them.

you shuffle further into treech's hold, and try hide your face in the crook of his neck, but get disrupted by his contrary movements, forcing you to stop hiding.

he whispers your name, and repeats what you realise he's been saying this whole time, "just look up, please."

this makes you frown, and the only thing that gives you enough motivation to finally give into his pleading, is the fact that there's still no wrapped present in your hands — a sign, you desperately hope, that he heeded your wishes — and it makes you more amiable.

you finally lift your head, and meet his gaze, still with questioning downturned brows — but his eyes light up as if you're looking at him with the brightest smile he's ever seen, and he nods his head ahead of the two of you.

you reluctantly follow his gaze towards the night sky, blinking away the blurriness and adjusting to the darkness.

then, as you face more light than you'd expected, your breath hitches.

above you, like a piece of art that any canvas painting hung in the capitol could never even dream to compare to, there dances strokes of greens and pinks lighting up the night sky.

your eyes widen, begging to see the entirety of the sight and wishing to never forget it, even the sudden cold wind blowing through your slack jaw is a distant concern in the face of this.

the bright greens swirl through the deep blue of the sky, trailing from behind distant mountains until it drifts above you, and you feel the urge to jump from your seat and run your fingers through the tendrils.

as your eyes notice the dusts of pink shadowing the strong greens, you realise — further inside your chest — there is a calmness that has overcome you, a deep tranquillity that has slowed down your heartbeat and run something lighter than blood through your veins. if treech weren't holding you down, you're certain you'd float away until you joined the clouds above — and you'd let it happen.

minutes pass as the lights swallow you whole, eyes reflecting the colours and a sparkling joy you haven't felt since long before your life was ruined.

even as centuries pass in silence, the lights continue to dance for you, and you don't even realise you're grinning widely until you turn to your boyfriend, and his own smile only grows stronger at the sight of yours.

you can barely force your question out through inaudible wonder, as you simply ask, "how?"

you recognise the twinkle in his eyes as the same sensation fluttering through your chest and pumping your heart.

"it happens every year," he explains, your gaze back on the sky, but a warmth peering into the side of your face hinting that his eyes may be fixated on something else.

"always past the curfew, so no one's really dumb enough to sneak out to see it."

you're not sure if it's from the slight humour in his comment, or the euphoric feeling that's overcome your entire being, but you find yourself throwing your head back and laughing — something you might as well have forgotten how to do after so long. and it might have even hurt your throat after months of being out of practice, but you don't notice — nor do you very much care.

"but we are?" you joke, and feel your heart swell when his laugh joins yours with an amused nod.

minutes pass again, and still the colours don't fade. you wonder if you've somehow found yourselves trapped in a time capsule where you can never leave this moment — you find yourself hoping so.

you follow a tendril of pink and the softest purple on the outskirts of the lights, and smile when treech's hand finds yours to lead you both closer to the edge of the hill, where you feel even closer to the view.

"do you like it?" he whispers, and you let out a breathy laugh before you can even overthink your every reaction like you've taught yourself to. you don't even have to remind yourself that you're safe here, that while enveloped by love and the same magic that caresses the leaves of trees that reach the clouds, you're free — because you feel it, in every breath and every nerve-ending that comes alive when your boyfriend's face snuggles against the side of yours.

you nod.

you wobble on your feet as you simultaneously try to embrace treech and try to keep your eyes on the sky, and through giddy giggles, you whisper, "merry christmas," and you mean it.

a/n: the lights are specifically aurora borealis/the northern lights! incase anyone might not be familiar with them ♡♡

this also happens much more frequently than once a year in real life, but i imagined either treech simply doesn't really know that, or due to some sort of crisis that happened that might have led to the hunger games universe as we know it, the earth's atmosphere might has been affected, thus maybe making the occurrence a bit different/not as common ♡

#treech x reader #treech tbosas x reader #tbosas treech x reader #treech thg x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #tbosbas x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

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omgreally · 2 years

Text

Round One

Din Djarin/F!Reader E 18+ MINORS DNI - Smut drabble, 800 words Warnings: bit of fingerplay/handkink if you squint, cockpit smut, helmet stays on, top!mando, unprotected p in v (recommended in my smut only), creampie, microdosing on feels, but mostly just big strong Mandalorian bending you over a console and going to town.

The first time he takes you from behind in the cockpit.

It’s not as impersonal as you expected it to be. Sex with a near-stranger,one whose face you have never seen - but there’s something about it, about him that you knew meant you were doomed from the start.

He holds the entire length of your body back against him with one hand as he undresses you with the other. You let him, standing on trembling feet while he peels away your layers as if they’re his.

The only sound is the soft hiss of his breath through the vocabulator, stuttering only briefly when he bares your breasts and takes one in his palm to squeeze.

The way you arch and gasp is embarrassing but he reacts as if he’s just nailed a bullseye in the center of a quarry’s forehead. Triumphant he hums against your neck, an amber buzz in your ear that lifts goosebumps into your skin.

“Mando,” you mutter, not really sure what you’ll say but not getting the chance to say it when you find two fingers suddenly in your mouth and a hand in your panties. His fingers are bare, you realise as the flat of your tongue contacts the warmth of his whorled skin. He tastes like leather and cordite; you scrape your teeth against a knuckle and he groans, pressing the outline of his hardening cock against your ass.

He works you open with the clever digits down the front of your underwear. Predictably, you’re already damp, and he swirls the pads of his fingers through your slick before ghosting them up over the hood of your clitoris. You go still, choking back a gasp, and he takes the opportunity to withdraw his fingers from your mouth so he can free his cock from his pants.

Your underwear is forgotten, a damp scrap of fabric shoved to the side to make room for him. You feel the warmth, the pressure from the thick head as it meets the glistening entrance to your cunt. He drags it back and forth a few times - never averse to teasing you, albeit usually in more subtle ways - before your impatient little noise has him rearing his hips toward you in response. Or perhaps reward.

It certainly feels like a reward when the fat tip breaches you, sinking in and in and in, filing you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You haven’t even seen it, haven’t even seen him, and yet here you are in the verge of collapse while he fucks you over a console -

And you love it.

Mando knows it, too. Or maybe you imagine the smugness in the faint whisper of his filtered breath. He pulls back and feeds you his cock again slowly, and it feels like something in the perfect space between torture and absolution. By the time you feel the bite of Beskar on the backs of your thighs again, you’re panting and fighting the urge to squirm.

He stops, a hand on your back as he waits, infuriatingly, for you to still. But then Mando proves himself capable of mercy when he responds to your needy whine with an aching grind that has you feeling him in the back of your throat.

You wait, fingers curled around the console, and then he draws back and jostles back into you with an impact that jolts your whole body. You groan in what you hope sounds like enough encouragement, and to your relief Mando begins to set a steady, snapping pace in time with renewed pressure from clever fingertips against your clit.

He plays you like the trigger of his blaster and it’s not long before he fires, pinpoint-precise. The pressure of his fingers and his cock sets you off into a leg-shaking, blistering orgasm that makes you tense all at once and then go weak, slumped and pulsed and shaking. Mando holds his hips to yours and you hear a soft, punched-out groan from the vocabulator - a sound like he’s been wounded - and warmth blooms within you as he slumps over your back, so suddenly it shocks you to feel the coolness of his chestplate between your shoulderblades.

“You okay?” he asks after thirty seconds, maybe more filled with just the sound of your breathing, and can you feel the rumble of his voice through your spine. Still shivering, you nod, hoping that’s enough. You feel one of his hands leave your hip to brush sweaty hair from the back of your neck - almost tender - and something smooth and curved presses against the side of your throat.

His helm.

You imagine what the feel of his breath against your skin might feel like as you say, “Next time let’s do this somewhere more comfortable.”

The unexpected sound of Mando chuckling has your toes curling in your boots.

And the way he growls, “Yeah,” against the back of your neck makes you really hope he'll be up for round two.

#the mandalorian fanfic #mando smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando/reader #mando/you #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin/f!reader #din djarin x female reader

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ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater · 4 months

Text

Shed Your Titles (Satoru Gojo x Reader) (NSFW)

Switching it up a little this time with Gojo plus my first nsfw, also reader being a mamaguro of her own because i love megumi with my entire heart

I'm not going to lie to you I almost entirely disassociated to my shuffled liked songs playlist and wrote half the smut section to Life is a highway by Rascal Flatts on accidental loop so I’m sorry if it’s incoherent as fuck lmaooo

warnings: established relationship, smut, unprotected sex (WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP), praise, comfort sex

2.7k words

“Satoru!” You exclaim, “What on earth happened to him?” Megumi’s face is trickling blood and he’s heavily favouring one side of his body, clutching his ribs. You race up and cup the boys cheeks, tilting his head to get a better look as he grumbles, “Stop fussing, I’ll be fine,” His futile attempts at batting your hands away do nothing to deter your anger at the white haired sorcerer beside him, “What on earth did you do?” “Why do you assume everything is my fault?” Gojo says, “Come on, you think I sent him out there because I knew he’d get hurt?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not assuming it’s your fault, but you did send him out on this mission, only for him to come back looking like he’s just stepped out of a fight club, so what the hell happened?” Gojo grabs you by your arm as Shoko appears from her office and collects Megumi, pulling you off to the side, “He was supposed to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers,” He whispers, leaning down into your space, “But the boy he met who had it ended up eating it to save Megumi and his two classmates from a powerful curse,” Your eyes widen, “Is the other boy-?” He shakes his head, “It’s worse than what you think, Sukuna manifested inside him,”

You find yourself unable to say anything, your mouth wide open as you stare at Gojo. He shifts a little and then taps your chin up to jokingly close it, shocking you back into words, “Is he okay?!” You whisper-yell. He shrugs, “He seems to have some level of control over Sukuna, the discipline he carries over his body is unprecedented, but the elders are terrified and want me to execute him,” He brings his hand from your chin to his, thinking, “Megumi asked me to protect him, let him live, and I intend to do just that as soon as we figure out his standing when he wakes up,”

Your mind is still racing a marathon, you can’t even begin to imagine the consequences this will have, a thousand year old curse in modern day society. Especially with how powerful Sukuna is said to be, but you bottle up these fears and shake your head, “Have you lost your mind?” You ask. He laughs, a loud sound that carries, “Not recently, I was hoping you’d jump on this bullet train ride with me, see where it takes us,” He lowers his blindfold a tad, just enough to meet your eyes, “Darling, he’s a good kid, I’m sure you’ll love him when you meet him,” He murmurs, taking your chin again in his other hand, “Trust me, please?”

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut and shoulders slumping, before you push forwards and bury your face in his chest. The blindfold falls to rest limp on top of your head and his arms tighten around your back and waist, “I’ll take that as a…?” He coaxes softly, making you groan, “Fine! I’m on your side, it’s not right to kill a kid when he just wanted to protect others, is that what you wanted to hear?” You grumble against his black jacket. “Great!” He scoops you up and spins around once before putting you back on your feet, albeit a little dazed, “I’m gonna go keep an eye on the vessel, you stay with Megumi,” He pats your shoulder, “See you later!”

You can do nothing to stop him leaving as you shake your head to clear away the daze, resigned to follow after Megumi and watch over him as Shoko treats his wounds. Once finished, you allow him to lean on your shoulder as you take him back to his room, “How are you?” You ask as you sit beside him on his bed. He huffs, “You don’t need to be so fussy, I’m alright,” You put your hand on his knee, “Megumi,” You murmur, “Please, let me be worried about you,” He shifts towards the pillows, moving the covers until he can slip under them, lying on his uninjured side without replying. A few moments of contemplative silence pass by as you look out the window, thoughts elsewhere, when his voice brings you back to the present, “Well, aren’t you going to tuck me in?” He grunts.

You smile softly, “I thought you were too old for that kind of thing,” You tilt your head, examining him, “Tell me what happened, Gumi,” You murmur, shifting up and bringing the covers with you, sitting in front of him with your legs off the bed as he shifts back to make space. He looks up, a shimmer of vulnerability in his eyes, “I wasn’t strong enough,” He sighs, “I told him to run, but he insisted on staying, and then gambled eating the finger to save everyone,” You brush some of his hair back from his forehead, “I suppose I should thank him for that, shouldn’t I?” You say, “After all, he brought you back to me,”

When Gojo took Megumi and Tsumiki in you’d had your doubts considering who Megumi’s father was, and Gojo wasn’t exactly ‘father’ material, but that was fine because he never pretended to be their dad. He simply guided them through life his own way and silently protected Megumi from the Zenin clan, like any reasonable person would. You’d been the only one out of the female sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech to take an immediate affectionate liking to Megumi, much to his chagrin, and that had meant you eagerly secured your spot in the softer maternal role he’d been lacking since his mother died. He liked to pretend he was annoyed when you doted on him, but over the years you learned to read him better than anyone else, making you the one he called if he needed to talk to someone. He’d also been the reason you’d eventually realised your feelings for Gojo, though you thought them to be in vain, Megumi had convinced you otherwise when you caught the pair of them scheming and he’d immediately confessed he was helping the man with his master plan to ask you out to dinner.

Megumi’s face flushes lightly, “Yeah,” He murmurs, “But now Sukuna is back, so was it really worth it? I could have prevented that,” You shush him softly, “If anything, Gojo should have been more alert and ready to step in, especially dealing with those damn fingers, tch,” You snort, “But from what I’ve heard, the boy can suppress Sukuna, so there’s that at least,” His eyes close and he relaxes into the pillow. “I’ll let you get some rest, but there’s one more thing,” You say, “Why did you ask Gojo to spare him if you’re so worried about Sukuna?” He cracks one eye open, “I don’t know,” He mutters, “Just felt like it was right,”

You sigh, “Alright, sleep well Gumi, I’ll see you later,” You murmur, touching your hand to his arm briefly before standing and leaving his room. You take a few deep breaths in the hallway once the door is shut, before steeling yourself and setting off to go let out some steam on the school’s training field.

After a good few hours of training, time well spent since the second years were drawn in and ended up training with you for a while before leaving for dinner, Gojo shows up once more with a pink-haired boy in tow. You can sense the immense cursed energy coming from him even from a distance, it rivals that of Gojo’s energy and you have to calm yourself as they approach. “Hey!” Gojo raises a hand in greeting and you find it in yourself to smile weakly, “Thought you’d like to meet our newest first year, Yuji Itadori,” You bow slightly to the boy, “It’s good to meet you, I’m Y/n L/n, I’ll be your other teacher,” He bows in response before looking up, “Does that mean you’re as powerful as Gojo?”

You look pointedly at Gojo for a moment before rolling your eyes and shaking your head, “No, as unfortunate as it is he’s the most powerful of us at the moment, I just happen to have a proficiency in teaching so I can pick up the slack where he’s lacking,” Yuji looks at Gojo like he hung the stars in the sky and you chuckle, “I’m hope your time here is fulfilling,” You murmur, “Cherish what you love,” He nods, grinning happily, “I will,” “Go on Yuji, go get some sleep,” Gojo waves him off and the head of pink hair disappears off towards the boys dorm.

When he’s out of sight you reach up and gently cup Gojo’s face in your hands, “Thank you,” You murmur, “For bringing Megumi back to me,” He smiles softly, leaning into your touch, “I’ll never be able to save everyone, but I’ll always do everything in my power to save him,” He breathes, “We may not be his parents, but he’s our son,” He leans down and presses his lips to yours, warmth spreading through your body as you sink into his touch. His hands clutch your hips, clingy and fiddling with the edge of your shirt as you reach up and remove his blindfold, stuffing it into your pocket. He is insistent, seeking out your warmth and your skin and tasting you with everything he can.

You pull back only slightly, looking deeply into the hazy blue as he stares back, eyes half-lidded as he pants, “Are you okay?” You murmur, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, “Megumi will live, but you…” You brush his hair back, “Please, promise me you’ll talk to me if you need to?” He nods, blinking slowly, his six eyes taking in excessive information about your body and your energy. It’s strange, you can almost feel where his eyes pass over as he examines you, but it’s never been invasive, he’s always done this to make sure you’re okay reuniting after missions. “I love you,” He murmurs, “I’m so happy you’re alive, so happy you’re with me,” He mumbles, “I promise, I promise you my life, my everything,”

The weight of the Gojo name seems to lift from his shoulders for a brief few moments and you do everything you can to stay in this little bubble, “I love you too,” You whisper, “Satoru,” He tugs your arms lightly and you follow him back to the small house you share on campus before he presses you up against the back of the door, “Please, please, I need you,” He whines softly. His vulnerability is written all over his face and it almost makes you cry, “I need you so badly,” You nod, “I’m right here, Satoru, I’m yours,”

He pushes his face into your neck, licking and biting as tears drip onto your shoulder, his hands grabbing at your curves through your tight fitted clothing. You become pliant under his touch, one hand buried in his hair and the other over his shoulders as he lifts you and carries you to the bed you share. “You’re so pretty,” He mumbles against your skin, lifting his head to reveal his eyes, almost entirely black with a thin ring of the bright blue you know and love barely showing. “Satoru,” You coo softly as you softly undress one another, quickly becoming a heated tangle of limbs and tongues. Your fingertips trace down his chest and he shivers lightly, taking your hand and kissing the back of it before crawling over you, caging you beneath him. He watches you intently as his hand trails down, fingers dipping slightly into the wet heat between your legs, “So wet for me, huh doll?” He smiles, giddy with love.

His pupils are practically heart shaped as he gently works one finger into your warmth, making you gasp and arch your back up off the bed. His other hand kneads your breast lightly, tongue flicking out to caress your nipple. Soft moans and breathy repeats of his name fall from your lips as he works you open on his finger, curling it inside you to graze the spot that makes your vision blurry with ecstatic tears. “Y/n,” He groans, pushing a second and third finger inside with little to no preamble, making you grit your teeth a little as you squirm, “You can take it, I know you can,” He murmurs, lips trailing over your bared neck, “Such a good girl,”

You nod breathlessly, moaning as you screw your eyes shut with pleasure, “Satoru!” You cry out as his thumb pushes up against your clit, kneading the area softly. “Good girl, say my name,” He rumbles, swallowing your moans with his mouth for a moment as his hips rut against your thigh, desperate for some contact. You moan and tug him away from your lips with your hand knotted in the hair at the back of his head, “Please, please, Satoru I need you so bad,” You whine, trying to close your thighs as you feel the knot in your stomach build up, “Wanna cum with you!” He looks just as wrecked as you feel and his hips stutter against yours again, his hot length slipping through your folds with ease.

He blinks and shakes his head, dislodging your hand which falls to rest on your own chest, his hand reaching down to grab the base of his cock and pumping it a couple of times to spread the precum. He bites his lip as he properly shifts his knees between your legs, pulling your hips up towards his with his exceptional strength and then lining himself up. “I love you so much,” He whispers, “Never wanna let you go,” He groans as he pushes the tip inside, your toes curling and back arching. His hesitation only lasts for a moment before he drags you to him by your hips and pulls you into a seated position on his thighs, sinking you the entire way down his cock.

You slump against him, arms over his shoulders with his fingers digging into your hips as he lifts you up slightly so he can thrust shallow and hard, “Fuck, so pretty, this pussy’s all mine,” He grunts, slurping his tongue all over your neck and chest as he leaves teeth marks and bruises in hectic patterns. You’re lost in the feeling of his cock pressing insistently against the sensitive places inside you and dragging against your walls, “S-Satoru~” You moan, “M’ close!” You cry out, gripping the hair at the back of his head as he increases his pace, his eyes drawing you in almost hypnotizing you, “Me too doll,” He mutters, “Can you come with me? Be a good girl,” He leans in to whisper against your ear, his muscles tensing. You nod, “Yes, yes, g’nna cum with you, please!” You whine, clenching hard around him as the knot in your stomach snaps, your walls pulsing around him.

You go limp in his arms as he pushes himself to the hilt, crying out and burying his face against your neck as he holds you close, letting his body fall forwards so he’s resting on your chest. His warmth fills you and then spills out past where you’re connected, trickling down your ass and onto the sheets, but you can’t find it in you to care right now. You slowly remove your fingers from his hair and rub his scalp gently as the two of you find your way back down to earth, his heartbeat thumping against your own and his breath hot on your neck. “Satoru,” You whisper, voice hoarse, “I love you,”

His only reply is a hum and the softest butterfly kisses with both his eyelashes and his lips on your skin, pushing himself closer to you despite the combination of sweat and cum that slicks your skin. Right here right now, he is allowed to just be Satoru, and can shed the titles and the responsibility that he’s carried since birth. Being the strongest means nothing if you have nobody to love, and you vow to make sure that he will always have someone to love, be that you or Megumi, so he doesn’t ever come close to losing himself.

I hope y'all enjoyed my first nsfw work, I don't often write nsfw because i get halfway through and get writers block or don't write it very long so I hope what I wrote here is of sufficient length :)

remember my requests are open if you have something in mind! <3

#satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru gojo #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojou #gojou satoru x y/n

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shadeysprings · 11 months

Note

Hey, Beanie!💜 for Thicker than water fic - what if Tommy catches them?👀

Of the Same Feather

—Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary — Tommy catches you and Joel.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, graphic violence, manipulation & the Millers just being complete jackasses.

A/N — Please be gentle with me, it's my first time uwu As y'all can see, this is a continuation of my drabble Thicker than Water. Also, I apologize if it's quite sloppy. Ya girl's rustee mcgee

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Tears stream down your face as you cower on your kitchen floor. You’re paralyzed, shock and fear cocooning your body and your senses as you bear witness to Tommy pinning down his brother on the ground, his fists raining down on Joel’s face.

Tommy snarls as Joel tries to fight back, pushing to get the upper hand from the younger Miller. But Tommy is nothing but determined, anger and pain flaring in his eyes and his mouth almost foaming as he snarls and continues with his assault.

“She wanted it, Tommy!” Joel grunts when he successfully grabs a hold of Tommy by the neck of his shirt, blood sputtering from his mouth and dripping from his nose as he speaks. “She begged me to do it!”

“You shut the fuck up, Joel!” The younger Miller snarls before throwing another blow to his brother.

Just when you think Tommy would start beating Joel once again, he stops, grabbing Joel by the collar of his flannel, and growls like a vicious animal before letting him go and pushing himself off his brother.

He leans against the cabinet under the sink, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. Anger curls around him like fire, low groans of frustration emitting from his lips and all you want to do is reach out to him and soothe him from the pain he’s feeling. But as soon as you try to move to touch his shoulder, he turns his head and his eyes meet yours.

Despite the deafening silence that fills the entire house, you hear your heart shatter when you see no love nor concern in his hazel orbs—only rage. And he has every right to be. You could have screamed and stopped Joel from his perversion but you didn’t and allowed him to do to you what he desired. So now, you take the consequences as painful as it is.

He grunts as he pushes himself off the ground and yanks his brother along with him.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you bastard, and don’t you ever come back!” Tommy yells and doesn’t wait for Joel to regain coherence before pushing him out of the kitchen.

Even when out of your sight the image of them continues to penetrate your mind as you hear both men struggling once more in the front room. A grunt echoes through the house then a cough and you push yourself to peek from behind the counter, wanting to make sure that Tommy is safe, that Tommy succeeds in making Joel leave.

“You’d choose that—that whore over your own flesh and blood?!” Joel spits, blood smearing on his arm as he wipes it off his face. “Open your goddamn eyes, Tommy! She’s just using you!”

“If I ever catch you near my property, I swear to God, Joel, I’ll fucking kill you!” Tommy threatens.

Silence surrounds the entire house once more, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you wait for Joel to respond. But the slam of the door comes instead, making you flinch at the intensity before huffing out a breath of relief when you hear a car door open and close and tires rolling against the pavement.

That’s when you slump from where you’re hiding, eyes trained on the blood staining the tiles of your kitchen. Fear remains in your chest as the scene of Tommy beating up his brother replays over and over in your head. You know Tommy to be fierce but also very loving in his own sweet way, but never in your mind did it cross how violent he can be and you sit there, praying, hoping that he’d see reason and believe you.

You visibly start when he calls your name, hands shaking as you clutch on the edge of the counter and make to stand from your hiding place. Tommy’s anger seemed to have dissipated but with the way his chest heaves and his fist winds tight, you’re certain it’s still boiling within him.

“Tommy—” you start. “I—I didn’t ask for it, I swear.” The worry suddenly comes rushing in and you can’t help but cry once more, the tears streaming uncontrollably down your face. “Please, Tommy—please,” you beg, your voice cracking as you force yourself to speak, to voice your side and to let him know your feelings. “Please believe me, Tommy. You’re all I want—you’re the one I love and I would never—”

“You mean that?” His question catches you off guard and you stare at him, seriousness and sadness painting your face. “You really love me?” he asks.

“I do, Tommy,” you rush to him and immediately wrap your arms around his middle, his eyes focused on your face as you look up at him, fingers clutching on his shirt from the back. “I love you—only you.”

He doesn’t speak but from the way he looks at you, you know he’s thinking. A small smile then forms on your lips when he presses his hand against your cheek. You lean against his touch, reaching for his hand, all the same, to keep a hold of him, to keep him near.

“Then prove it.” He utters, the words making you blink in confusion. “Bend over.”

“Huh?”

“If you mean what you said, that I’m the only one you love, prove it to me by bending over.”

“But—”

“Then Joel was right. You are just using me.” His eyes flash a different shade, turning darker by the second.

“Tommy, no!” You cry once more, clutching his hand when he pulls it away from your face. “Please, Tommy! I love you, I really do.”

“If you mean that, you know what to do.”

His tone scares you, cold and callous, concern all gone as if the Tommy you knew and fell in love with flew out the window. Your hands shake once more, fidgeting as you think of his words. Slowly, you turn around, swallowing thickly as you face the countertop and do as he says, leaning forward and exposing your behind to him.

Your lips quiver when he closes the distance, his crotch pressing against your ass, a whimper escaping your throat when his hand moves to caress the cheek, his foot kicking yours apart and your spine going rigid when he cups your clothed cunt.

“Who owns this pussy?” He snarls against your ear when he bends over, his chest pressing against your back. “Who. Fucking. Owns. this?”

But before you can respond his fingers flick through the fabric of his boxers that you’re wearing, pushing it aside only to caress your pussy lips and pushing in a finger while his thumb presses threateningly against the tight ring of muscle.

“Y—you.” you mumble and everything you once knew seems to fade right in front of you when he slips another digit within, fucking you the same way his brother did.

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibraryand turn on notifications.

Also, send me some What If requests hehe Help boost my creativity ❤️

#tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #dark tommy miller #dark!tommy miller #the last of us #au #of the same feather #shadeysprings fics #gabriel luna characters

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artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Staying Alive, Staying Alive

I was feeling a little angsty today and now here we are. I hope you guys like this and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

Title brought to you by @lumoschild!

~*~*~*~

Steve’s stomach dropped when he heard Dustin’s screaming from the trailer park. He and the girls were only about halfway back in their trek when they started hearing his cries which caused Steve to sprint in his direction. Why was Dustin screaming and where was Eddie? They were supposed to be out of danger. They were the goddamn decoys and Steve told them not to be heroes!

The sight he stumbled on when he broke through the barrier of the trees would forever haunt him. Just past the rows of trailer homes, Dustin was knelt on bloodied knees, sobbing, with an unmoving Eddie situated half on his lap. The two of them were sitting in a pond of blood that was growing ever larger. Steve had never seen Munson so still, he was always flamboyant and larger than life in everything he did. His face, usually so expressive and full of life, had never been so pale either, only made worse with the sluggishly bleeding wounds still leaking from his neck and torso.

“Dustin!” Steve screamed for him as he ran closer and fell to his knees beside him in a careless slump. “What happened? When’d he stop breathing?”

“I-I don’t know, just before you got here, I guess. He-he saved me. He didn’t run away this time, Steve.” He grabbed onto Eddie’s shoulders even stronger in a desperate hug while tears ran down his cheeks.

“Okay, I know he didn’t. Munson’s a strong guy and he still has fight left. I need you to put him down so I can bring him back, okay?” Steve muttered soothingly. If Eddie had just lost his pulse a few minutes ago, there was still a chance that he could get his heart beating again.

“What? Steve-”

“Put him down, Dustin!” Steve would feel bad for yelling at him later but he had a very limited window for CPR to work and he didn’t have time for any more niceties.

Dustin flinched back as if struck and let go of Eddie abruptly. His face screwed up in a vicious sob when Steve started applying forceful compressions to his friend’s chest. “Steve, you’re hurting him!”

“He can’t feel pain if he’s dead, Dustin! If this works, he can complain about it later.” Steve struck Eddie’s chest over and over again to the beat of Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees like he was taught to as a swim instructor. He never could’ve imagined then that this is how he’d be using his skills.

Both Dustin and Steve winced when they heard Eddie’s ribs crack but Steve didn’t stop applying his full body weight into every push. Nancy and Robin showed up at some point between Steve giving compressions and breathing into Eddie’s mouth but he paid them no mind. In fact, he didn’t pay anything any mind until Eddie gasped for air on his own.

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled and tried to scramble away from Nancy’s arms that restrained him.

“Ouch,” Eddie whispered before his eyes slid shut once more.

“No, no, no. Munson, wake up. Keep your eyes open. We have to get out of here, c’mon. Robin, help me pick him up,” Steve ordered. She quickly stepped forward and helped situate Eddie bridal-style in his arms. With a few well-placed cloths to act as bandages, she patted Steve’s shoulder and he bolted towards the gate in the Munson trailer. The entire Upside Down started shaking and the ground started to fracture in a horrific version of ‘the-floor-is-lava’ game.

But Steve could only focus on holding pressure against a particularly deep wound on Eddie’s side and the soft breaths fanning his neck. One step in front of the other, he sprinted as fast as he could without jostling the injured man in his arms too much. His efforts proved fruitless if the muffled moans of pain into his ear indicated anything.

When he got to the trailer, Robin was right behind him. She threw the door open and pushed the small kitchen table underneath the quaking gate and threw herself through first, ungraceful and uncoordinated as it was, in order to catch Eddie when Steve pushed him through the portal. Which she did. By falling with him and kneeing him in the spine. Seeing them mostly safe, Steve carefully guided Dustin onto the table and threw the gate with his injured leg and then offered a hand to Nancy and gave her a gentle push.

As the gate started to close, he hardly had enough time to jump through the portal into the Rightside Up himself. He could feel the sizzling heat on his sides and burning on the outer parts of his leg until his back met a soft surface on the ground. He made it.

They didn’t have time to celebrate though because Dustin was crying in pain about his leg, Robin was rubbing her side in discomfort, and Eddie was still groaning and bleeding out onto his own stained mattress. Steve’s sides were screaming but he didn’t have time to acknowledge his own wounds until he was sure his friends would survive.

“Alright Nancy, where’s your car? We have to get to the hospital.” Steve asked her, easily falling into the position of leader once more.

“Um, it's right outside.” With a peek out the trailer’s window, Steve could definitely see that it was not.

“No it isn’t. Where’d you park it?”

“I swear,” Nancy promised. “I parked it right in front of the door. We’ll just have to call for an ambulance.”

Steve shook his head and ran a stressed hand through his hair. Eddie didn’t have time for an ambulance. With the earthquakes and the preexisting stigma around the people that lived at Forest Hills, an ambulance would take up to thirty minutes and he didn’t have that. Fuck, what were they going to do?!

He sent another glance out the window to see a small sedan parked outside the neighboring trailer. Bullseye.

“Okay, new plan. Eddie and I are going to hotwire that car and drive to the hospital. You guys are going to call an ambulance and meet us there.” He nodded to himself and went to pick up a blurry-eyed Eddie.

“Steve, we should stick together. It’s not smart to go off on our own,” Nancy expressed condescendingly.

“Well, no one’s ever mistaken me for being smart so I guess that’s par for the course. We’ll see you at the hospital.” Then they were off. Steve was once again carrying Eddie as gently as he could but this time Eddie’s eyes were open and searching.

“Who knew that Steve Harrington would be so adamant on keeping me alive?” He muttered.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Munson.”

“I’m bleeding all over you, surely we’re on a first name basis now. Right Steve?” His tone was pretty challenging for a guy that was dead less than five minutes ago.

“You can call me whatever you want, Eddie. Just keep your eyes open.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best. What’re you planning on doing? Lisa always leaves her car locked,” he said as soon as he saw the direction Steve was walking in.

Steve didn’t dignify his question with a response. He just grabbed the ax from its position secured on his back and swung the dull edge towards the driver’s side window, shattering it instantly.

“Holy shit,” Eddie murmured in amazement. Unknowingly to Steve, that was the exact moment that Eddie fell in love with him. He had risked his life to save him in the Upside Down and carried him bridal-style out of hell. Now he was committing crimes to keep him alive and looking hot while doing it. Eddie’s heart didn’t stand a chance.

Steve gently leaned Eddie against the car while he worked to get the driver’s side door open and then picked him up again to gently settle him in across the backseats. His movements caused Eddie to whimper in pain but they were so close, they couldn’t stop now.

“Okay Munson, focus. How do I hotwire this car?” Steve looked back at him and saw the seats quickly staining red. “Shit Eddie! Put pressure right there, we have to slow the bleeding. C’mon, how do I do this?

Eddie tried to press his bandana into his worst wound as he gave Steve directions. “Pull off the steering column and grab the wires. Did you get my pliers? You’ll need those to strip the coating.”

“Yep. Okay, I got the cover off and I see the wires. What next?”

“There-there should be… two wires. One red and one black. You have to s-strip them and tap them together until the ignition starts…”

His voice started to taper off towards the end of his explanation and he could hardly keep his eyes open anymore. Steve pulled the wires from the steering column and stripped them just as Eddie had in the RV. When he looked into the backseat, he did a double take. Eddie’s skin was even paler and clammier than it had been before. Most worryingly though, his eyes were glazed and his breathing was labored. Steve reached an arm back to shake at his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking die, Eddie! I didn’t carry you out of the goddamn Upside Down just for you to die in some stranger’s backseat.” He hissed in angered panic.

“Ooo kinky.” Eddie mumbled through chapped lips.

“Not kinky, dying is not kinky! Wake up, Eddie!”

Just then, the engine turned over and the ignition started. “Yes, yes! Eddie, hold on. I got the car to start. C’mon man, five minutes to the hospital. You’ve got this.”

“Okay…” Eddie whispered. Steve could hardly breathe as he sped down the roads and broke every traffic law. He didn’t care about the consequences of his actions as long as Eddie lived. He didn’t care about speeding tickets or jail time, he just needed his new friend to survive.

“Eddie, you doing okay?”

“I wouldn’t… characterize this as- as being… okay,” he answered between labored breaths.

“You’re doing great, man,” Steve told him. He looked back at him in the rearview and saw Eddie’s eyes looking back at him.

“Thanks for doing this, Stevie. You didn’t have to. You-you could’ve left me there-”

“Shut up, man. I wasn’t going to leave you after you risked your life to help us. You’re one of us now whether you like it or not.” Steve told him. He wasn’t going to stand for any self-deprecating comments after he’d almost died (did die for a few minutes) to save Dustin.

Eddie hummed before the car lapsed into silence for the next minute or so, only broken by the sounds of Eddie wheezing for air and Steve’s fingers shaking against the steering wheel. When they arrived at the hospital, Steve pulled right in front of the emergency room and screamed for help. Nurses, doctors, and assistants came rushing out to help him and they placed Eddie on the gurney.

His lips were red with blood and his face was ashen without it. But when Steve looked at him, he smiled wide. “I’ll see you later, Big Boy.”

Steve couldn’t even threaten the hospital staff to treat him well or tell them to ignore the rumors on TV (although he would find out later that Nancy and Robin did that well enough on their own). As soon as Eddie was wheeled out of sight, Steve collapsed from his own injuries.

Just a few days later, Steve woke up from sedation to find himself in a hospital bed with Eddie as a roommate. And if his heartbeat sped up on the monitor when Eddie smiled at him, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.

Permanent tag list:@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild

#Robin walks into their shared hospital room just a few days later to find them kissing in the same bed #They end up clearing Eddie's name by blaming Jason and pointing out that he had connections to all the victims #unlike Eddie #Dustin is really happy that they're friends now until he walks into their hospital room to see them making out #then he's not so happy (they're both his brothers so its basically incest)#Wayne finds out about Steve carrying Eddie to safety and decides that the kid was going to become a Munson one way or another #whether he married Eddie or got adopted by Wayne #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler

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applebutter-and-cinnamon · 7 months

Text

The Beach

Summary: Lieutenant Bradshaw takes the reader out on the date that they agreed on.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Nurse Reader

Warnings: None.

Read the Story: The Dance Hall

"Please, stop pacing," Natasha pleaded as she watched you from where she was sitting on your bed.

Her words forced your body to pause in front of the dresser. Turning on your heel, you face her and slump back against it. "I can't help it," you mumble. "I keep thinking about everything that could go wrong."

Her mouth dropped open slightly and her eyes widened, "What could possibly go wrong?"

"So many things!" You started, fidgeting with your hands, "We could have nothing to talk about, or he could decided not to show up at all, or -"

"It could go really well," Natasha interrupted. Standing from your bed she walked over to you, brushing your hair over your shoulder and smoothing down the pieces that had fallen out of place in your haste. "He seemed to really like you," she reminded you gently."

You nodded and her face softened at how hesitantly you did it. "Look, if it goes South or you just decided that you don't want to be there with him anymore - call me. I'll sit by the phone all night and drive to come get you if I have to."

To prove her point, she marched out of your room towards the living room, leaving you no choice but to follow. Crossing into the room, you watched as she planted herself down on the desk chair - in direct reach of your landline.

You laughed softly and placed your hands on your cheeks. "I just really want it to go well tonight."

She grinned, her eyes glinting. "I would be so surprised if it didn't go well, considering how he's starting the night."

"What do you know?" You asked, eyes wide.

She smirked, "Just that he's walking up to the door as we speak." Like she'd summoned him, a knock sounded on the front door. You inhaled sharply and tossed her a panicked smile as you frantically smoothed out your dress.

Your heels clicked against the floor as you walked to the door. Pulling it open, you looked down at a pair of shined shoes and the ends of a white pair of pants. "Good evening, Miss," Lieutenant Bradshaw's voice reached your ears.

You looked up quickly at the sound, his warm brown eyes capturing yours entirely. His hair was neat, his shirt was without a wrinkle, and in his hands were a bouquet of flowers. You didn't try to fight the delighted smile that spread across your face at the sight of him. "Good evening, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

His cheeks pinked a little as he cleared his throat and tilted his head slightly, "I insist you call me Bradley."

"Alright. Good evening, Bradley," you laughed. "You must call me by mine as well."

"These are for you." His voice was so much richer than you had remembered. It came directly from his chest and flowed smoothly over his tongue.

The flowers he extended were beautiful. His eyes were alight as he drank in the sight of your excited face and shaking hands as you reached for them, muttering a soft, "Thank you."

Clearing your throat you invited him inside, "I'll just go put these in some water and be right back. You remember Natasha?"

His eyes left you for the first time since you'd opened the door as if remembering that there were other people in existence outside of the two of you. "Of course," he nodded to her. "How are you this evening, Miss Trace?"

You missed her response as you hurried to the kitchen to take care of your beautiful flowers. You could hear them just enough to tell that they were discussing the poor behavior of his friend, to which Bradley apologized on his behalf. By the time you'd made it back to the living room, Natasha had gone over everything that Bradley was not allowed to do while you were in his car. "And -," Natasha was continuing.

"I'm so sorry for the delay," you interrupted her. Bradley was smirking, very much trying not to laugh as he watched you ignore your friend's attempt to continue talking. "Shall we head out?"

Bradley extended and arm to you, "I'm ready whenever you are."

He led the two of you out to his car, pulling the door open for you and helping you inside. Sitting on the leather seat, you watched as he rounded the car heading towards the driver side. His car smelled of his cologne and the leather of the seat was buttery smooth against the skin of your hand. Bradley slid into the car smoothly, turning it on and setting the radio to a lower volume.

He drove the two of you to the beach where the sun was sinking into the glistening water. Both of you exchanging idle small talk about your days and what you'd been up to since you arrived on the island. He parked in an empty space, hurrying out of the car to pull your door open for you.

"Thank you," you smiled.

He shrugged, "It's really no trouble." He closed the door behind you and reached into the backseat to pull out a small basket and blanket. "I thought maybe we could eat on the beach?"

Bradley gripped the handle tightly, his eyes flickering between yours as he tried to read your expression. Not that it mattered, you would've been excited about anything he'd planned for the night. You took his open arm and peered up at him through your lashes, "That sounds lovely, Lieutenant."

He flexed his arm under your touch, muscles jumping slightly at the contact. Bradley's lip twisted into a half-smile that made your heart jump in your chest. He nodded, "Right this way."

As you approached the sand you pulled on his arm to stop him. "Hold on," your voice had him turning towards you. Using his arm for balance, you tugged off your heels and let your bare feet rest in the sand. His eyes trailed over your form as you moved them into your empty hand. "Sorry," you blushed, "Ready now."

The sand was warm from the afternoon sun and soft as squished around your feet. Bradley's arm was an anchor that kept your from tripping on the divots in the sand. He stopped the two of you at a spot a distance from the water line. You helped him to roll out the blanket, chuckling with him as the wind tried to blow it every which way.

"I hope you like chicken," he said as the two of you settled on the blanket. "It was all that Penny was able to help me make."

You nodded reassuringly, "I like chicken." He ran a hand through his hair, the setting sun casting him in a golden glow as he unpacked the food around the two of you. "Who's Penny?"

"My Uncle's wife," Bradley paused from unpacking to look at you. His head tilted to the side like he was thinking something over, "Well, he's not technically my uncle. My dad was his WSO before he died and he's helped to look after me for most of my life."

Bradley had taken an expression of fondness as he talked about his uncle. It wasn't the same as when he rolled his eyes playfully while talking about Lieutenant Seresin or the way they softened as they looked at you. Instead, it was like a million memories played behind his eyes as he spoke of him.

"What's his name?" You asked, pulling your legs underneath you to face him more directly. Bradley leaned back on his arms, crossing his legs in front of him. His position bringing the two of you much closer together.

"Pete. But, his callsign is Maverick," he told you.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "And a callsign is?" You asked, laughing.

He smirked and shook his head, "Like a nickname that all of the pilots/WSO's get. It's typically used in the air but it just kind of sticks sometimes. My dad's was Goose. Seresin's is Hangman."

You leaned in conspiratorially, "Is that why he called you chicken the other night?"

Bradley threw his head back laughing, his smile brighter than the sun itself. "I'll have you know that it's actually Rooster," he corrected when he had calmed down.

"Rooster," you tried out. His eyes staring into yours and were hooded as he nodded, his tongue reaching out to wet his lips. "Is that what I should call you then?"

You looked away from the growing intensity there to save the heat you felt flooding your cheeks. His answering chuckles was husky, rising from his chest to reverberate in your ears, "If you like, although, I quite like how my given name sounds when you say it. Not many people do anymore. It's either Lieutenant Bradshaw or Rooster, most of the time."

"Bradley it is then," you agreed, turning your head back to face him.

~~~~

A/N: Stay tuned for the next parts of this story. I hope y'all enjoyed this little drabble of their first date.

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun x reader

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mathanlin · 9 months

Text

Royalty/Hybrid AU where servant!Phil is assigned to the care of child king!Techno.

Phil’s heard of his reputation, despite his age. Violent, brutal, cold.

He doesn’t expect Techno to cower when Phil arrives. To tremble as he extends a wing.

“Make it quick.”

Phil’s instincts — both avian & fatherly — roar to life at the sight of the kid’s battered wings & pale face.

At the way he braces himself when Phil lays a gentle hand on his wing.

Like it’s going to *hurt.*

“I said make it *quick,*” he spits, voice edged with command & yet strangely frail. “Don’t—”

Phil softly slides a feather back into place.

And Techno goes limp.

Phil works as fast as he can, but not at the cost of being rough. Techno still shivers every time Phil lowers his hand.

And the kid’s eyes stay squeezed shut the whole time. Trembling, like he’s afraid.

Like he’s fighting something.

“I’m done,” Phil says quietly, pulling away.

Techno doesn’t move, still limp. Phil leans forward, catching a glimpse of Techno’s eyes as they flick open at the sound, panicked.

Of his pupils. Wide, *dilated*—

“Get out.”

It’s spit out, strangely slurred. Phil hesitates.

But the command’s still a king’s. Phil obeys, trying to forget Techno’s trembling, his broken expression.

To ignore the feeble, pleading chirp he hears as the door clicks shut.

By the advisor’s orders, Phil returns each evening.

He braids Techno’s hair, preens his wings, unclips his jewelry. Without it, he looks even more like a child. Like Phil’s sons.

But he still tries to act like a king. Never leans into Phil’s touch, just stays rock-still.

“Go faster.”

Phil blinks, but obeys.

“Faster.”

Phil frowns, trying to steady his hands.

“I said—”

With a painful pop, a healthy feather comes free in Phil’s hand.

Techno flinches. So does Phil.

But only Techno relaxes, letting out a shaking breath as his pupils start to shrink. “No. No, that’s good, keep—”

An apologetic croon slips from Phil’s throat, low and soft.

And Techno collapses.

It’s graceless. His entire body slumps, forehead bowed against the floor. Like a peasant, not a king.

“Techno?” Phil cries, scooping him up. “Techno, hey—”

Techno looks up, eyes soft & wonderstruck, pupils dilated to massive, dark circles.

His breath catches.

He blinks.

Wrenches his face to the side, eyes squeezed shut.

And slashes his claws across Phil’s arm.

“Get out,” he screams, hurling himself away, clutching his head with eyes squeezed shut. “Now, now, get out—”

Phil stumbles back in shock, clutching his bloody arm.

It makes sense now. Why Techno’d been called violent. Cold.

But Phil still reaches out.

“I’m here, mate, let me help—”

Techno lets out an agonized sound — a chirp, strangled beyond belief, mixed with another scream.

“Stop ‘t. Stop— Go, go, get out—”

He only uncurls to take another swipe at Phil, who finally jerks away & flees, slamming the door behind him.

But he doesn’t run. Just stays outside the door, listening.

He almost wishes he hadn’t. Everything he hears is gut-wrenching — Techno crumpling to the floor, biting down pleading chirps and desperate, agonized sobs.

And finally, silence.

Phil stays there all night. And the next morning, he “returns.”

The moment he knocks, Techno rasps, “Go away.”

“Techno, mate, I…” Phil trails off, hand hovering over the wood. “I’m worried.”

A strangled chirp. Then, “Stop it. Stop *saying* that.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I never—”

“You *have to* hurt me,” Techno snaps. “Okay? Or you’ll— I’ll—”

He cuts off with another feeble chirp — one that breaks Phil’s heart, even before the kid speaks.

“If I imprint, they’ll kill you.”

Phil shivers, understanding. He can *hear* Techno do the same, frazzled wings rustling.

“So— you can’t— don’t be gentle. And you can stay.”

Phil hears it plainly. *Hurt me, so you don’t leave me.*

“Please.”

(And Techno, young & desperate, hates himself for breaking.

It’s what his advisors wanted, after all. A way to get Techno off the throne. They’d kill Phil.

Because Techno, who can’t take one more broken bond, would die too.)

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #technoblade #philza

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blueicequeen19 · 2 years

Text

Overflowing

I hope you guys like this one! I can’t be the only one that’s ever pretended to be mad to get their way 😈

“Can I get in with you?” I opened one eye at my sweet husbands voice from my spot in the soaker tub I’d insisted he install. I nod, my head still resting on a rolled up towel while the rest of my body was perfectly submerged. I close my eyes, fighting a smile as I listen to him eagerly strip out of his clothes for the day.

I lean forward so he can get in behind me, the warmth of his body against mine feeling ten times better than this hot water every could. I immediately slump against him, his semi hard cock already digging into my back. I rest my arms on his bent knees as his hands starts to massage my back and shoulder then up my neck.

“Why are you sucking up?” I tease, my breathing becoming rapid. I loved this man’s hands on my body no matter what it was he was doing. His lips grazed over the spot below my ear and heat rose to my cheeks.

“I missed you.” He murmurs, his voice deeper than normal and filled with need.

“Mmhmm. Did you buy another fishing pole?” I turn slightly so I can see his face. He never could lie to me. His eyes narrow just a bit but I can tell he’s trying to fight a smile the way his lips twitch.

“It’s a good investment.” He blurts and I roll my eyes as his big arms circle me to hold me against his chest. I click my tongue in fake annoyance. I was clever in getting my way with this man and I sure loved when he’d suck up. His hand slides down into the water and between my legs, two fingers slipping between my folds.

“Don’t be mad at me.” He says softly, kissing along my neck but I turn my head to keep up the game. I wanted him to try harder. His fingers press on my clit then he starts to circle them. I clench my jaw, fighting the sounds that he’s trying to draw out of me. I shudder when his tongue flicks up my neck and goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

“Look at me.” JJ tries to capture my chin in his free hand but I turn and he growls angrily. His two fingers plunge inside me abruptly and I cry out, arching my back off his chest and digging my nails into arms. He finger-fucks me fast and hard, just how I like. When I feel myself getting close, he stops.

“Look. At. Me.” JJ growls and I turn around in the tub, glaring at him as I straddle his waist and sink down on his cock, my need for release was too great to be teased any longer. I grip the tubs edge behind him as I start to ride him, his cock dragging along every nerve inside me. His mouth hangs open, eyes hooded as I take my pleasure from him. Using him. And he loves it.

“Fuck, baby.” JJ groans, his hands gripping the edges of the tub. He leans up to kiss me but I push him away with a hand to his chest. Anger sparks in his eyes and he immediately wraps his arms around me, rolling his hips to meet mine.

“Are you mad, baby? Gonna fuck me to teach me a lesson? Take your frustrations out on my cock?” One hand fists the hair at the nape of my neck and I cry out, the burning in my core only intensifying.

“Kiss me.”

“No.” I bite out, digging my nails into his shoulders so hard that he hisses in pain. I was so close. So so close. My entire body tightened and when he sucked my nipple into his mouth, I came with a cry that echoed through the tile bathroom.

“Fuck, there it is. Thats my girl.” JJ’s praise fueled me further as I continued to ride him. His cock was so deep it almost hurt. He must notice the pain on my face because he starts to rub my clit, his eyes not tearing from my face.

“Are you sore, baby? My big cock too much for you?”

God, his filthy mouth.

“Kiss me.” He demanded but I fought a smile, determined to defy him as I bit my bottom lip. I rode him harder, faster, making the water start to overflow from the tub.

“Oh, god.” I cried, lunging forward and smashing my lips to his as I came. He groaned into my mouth, our tongues clashing and fighting for dominance as he came inside me, his body shaking and pulsing against mine as we slowed to a stop. JJ brushed some hair from my face, cupping my cheek as his eyes searched mine.

“Please don’t be mad at me. I’ll take it back.” He pleads and I break out into a smile, kissing him again.

“I’m not mad. I just wanted you to fuck me like that.” I tease, quickly lifting from tub and wrapping myself in a towel as his mouth hangs open.

“You tricked me.” He says, pulling the stopper on the tub and grabbing his own towel. I shrug and give him a playful smirk as my eyes linger on his cock.

“You pretended to be mad so I’d kiss up.” He states, moving towards me as I back away into our bedroom.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it. Call it a good investment.” His eyes widen before he lunges for me. I squeal as he throws me onto the bed and comes down on top of me. I giggle as he kisses and bites every inch of my skin, sucking hickies into the flesh of my breasts.

“You little fucking brat. What am I going to do with you?” JJ growls, coming up to kiss me. I reach between us and grab his already hard again cock. I fit the head against my entrance and he watches me with a smirk.

“Punish me.” I taunt, lifting my hips as he starts to sink inside me.

“Oh I will.”

#smutwarning #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj obx #jj maybank fluff #obx2 #jj maybank x you #rudy pankow #wattpad #outer banks smut #outer banks x reader #tw unprotected sex #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank

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fullofgutsndopamine · 18 days

Text

shake up the scenery (know you love the greenery)

or or: Hasan is the reason you're going to fail out of class, you're entirely convinced

You flick the light on at your desk, crack your knuckles, and take a deep breathe.

This exam has been weighing heavy on your shoulders, too frozen in fear to even study for it-finally talked yourself into studying, got out the highlighters and pens and notecards-ready to at least try studying now.

You opened the digital copy of your textbook, a groan coming out of your lips the second it loaded and you saw the amount you had to read-

and right on cue, as if he was planning it, deep in his basement rubbing his hands together waiting for his masterplan to work, loud music thumps outside.

"You have got to be-"

the music thumps under your feet, can feel it radiate down your body

Look, you aren't a confrontational person-really, you aren't-but this is the last class you have, so you gather up your courage and stomp across the yard

You don't even have to knock, the door opens as you stomp across the yard-Half empty beer bottles laid on their sides in the grass, stepped on cans of beers in between bushes and lining the steps

"Well, well, well-"

He smirks as he opens the door, practically takes up the entire doorframe, crosses his arms in front of his body-

"Finally decided to join our parties?"

"I'd rather pull my teeth out one by one-" You huff out, "The music, Hasan-"

"It's pretty good, right?"

He leans in to you, into your ear so he can really be heard, and you just know he can feel and see the pink on your face, even if it's dark in the house-

"Join us," He pulls on your sleeve. His voice drops, gets a little softer, is harder to hear him over the music. "Come on. Have some fun, finally."

And this isn't the Hasan you know-the loud mouth abrasive guy who's ready to fight with anyone, make them repeat themselves so he can show them what an idiot they are-this Hasan is soft around the edges; kinder. His voice drops and his shoulders slump, like he's trying to make himself smaller for you.

"If I fail, it's on you-"

"If you fail," He smirks, "I'll make it up to you. Take you out."

His voice borders on slurring, is obviously drunk, and you roll your eyes, "Turn the music down, asshole."

and before you can make a fool out of yourself anymore, you turn around and disappear

It's around 4 in the morning when you give it a rest. Eyelids are heavy with sleep, and you know you held onto none of what you just read-climb into your too small bunk, pillow pressed against your belly as you set your alarm to go off in an hour and a half, hoping Hasan will eventually give it a rest.

Walking into the classroom feels like death march; slow and steady, can feel the war drums behind you as if they're wishing you one final goodbye and thanks for the expensive tuition prices-

three hours later, one exam down (that you definitely failed)

"Hey!"

You could recognize Hasan anywhere-and no, not like that-the long hair that desperately needed to be cut, the backwards baseball cap for baseball teams and sports you know he didn't watch or know-

"Hey-you!"

and before you can stop yourself, you're throwing the chain link fence of the basketball court open, making his friend Connor, who holds the ball in his hands as he's about to pass it-pause, smirk and throw his head:

"Hasan," His voice is honey and you hate it, the sarcasm drips, "Another groupie."

Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead but if it bothers him, he makes no effort to move it-instead stops, a smirk slowly creeps on his face:

"We can't keep doing this."

The bastard is enjoying this.

And that's enough for you.

Finding some confidence you didn't even know existed you march over to him, shoving a finger into his chest

"You're the reason I failed my biology exam."

He laughs, the kind where he throws his head back and the laugh comes back more of a giggle: "I'm the reason?"

And as you realize how much you're looking up to him to speak, noticing his freckles in the sunlight and the different colored nails on his hand as he holds a hand to his chest in mock horror-you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, can't believe you're doing this.

Like sure, you and your roommate spent months practicing what you'd both say to him to get him to shut up: the insults and how hurt he'd look but that was just for fun-mostly for when you were slightly tipsy over cheap, bottom shelf wine-

"Y-Yeah!" You shake your head, "Your stupid fucking music and-and-"

You shake your head again, before you can stop yourself from saying something stupid, show how you've been watching him-

He laughs; "My music right. Well-"

He leans down, closer to you, his voice a whisper: "Sounds like I owe you that coffee, eh?"

You want to punch the smirk off his face.

"No, Hasan-"

"One coffee," He says, "And if I say something stupid you can leave, I promise."

"You won't last two minutes."

"Try me."

It's quiet as you both stare eachother down.

"Fine. 6pm. The cafe. Don't be late-"

"Right," He smirks, "See you there, sunshine."

The sunshine is obviously a jab, but you take it as you walk away, hoping your feet don't give out as you make your way to your dorm, now having to figure out what to do with yourself for the next five hours.

#caroline writes #hasan #hasan piker #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker ff #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker fic #hasan piker x reader #hasan piker x y/n #hasan piker x you #hasanabi #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x you

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huffle-dork · 4 months

Text

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 6: Stitched

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix

Read Swapboys | Read Stitched | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched Taglist: @brokentimewatch

Alt flies as fast as he can down the street, despite the spots in his vision warning him he’s near his limit. Except in his panic he’s running into things and tripping over himself. Usually he’s not this much of a coward- usually he fights, usually he lashes out. He doesn’t give up- he stands his ground. But now he’s scared- he’s scared he’s scared he’s scared!

Anti's laugh trails after him. "Someone's s̨lo̵w͞i̧n̡g d͟o-own͡~!" He sings, sounding almost playful. The old streetlights overhead randomly flicker on and off. "Save your eńe̢rǵy͡! Maybe you can t̨r̕y̨ to fight me! I'll win, but you might have ̧a͟ ̧c͞ḩan͡ce͞!"

One of the lights up ahead bursts, showering the ground with broken glass. Anti appears underneath it, grinning, a knife in his hand that wasn't there before. He throws it right at Alt.

Alt chokes on a terrified sob, trying to glitch but only being able to fizzle. He yells out as the light bursts and skids to a stop then shakily backs up , eyes wide. He tries to dodge the knife but it slices through his calf sending him crashing to the ground. He groans then desperately tries to claw his way back up. “No no-! Nononono!!”

Static fills the air as Anti's grin widens. Suddenly he's standing right above Alt, leaning down over him. "Did that hurt? G͢ò̡̡o͟͠d͝҉.̡" He grabs Alt by the wrists and pulls him up. "You were in our br̡a̵͢i̡͡n, Alt. I know w͢h̵at ̶s̶c̕a̷res͝ y̢ou. And you h̸ątȩ losing control." Suddenly he lets go--but Alt can still feel a tight grip around his wrists. It's strings. Green strings, with Anti holding the other ends. "You hate p҉u͠p̷pe͝ts̷."

Alt squeaks quietly as Anti appears before him and tries to run as he’s grabbed. He squirms and weakly struggles as he heaves in panic. He yelps as he drops then looks down to see the strings. He looks up pleadingly to Anti and tries to scramble back, screaming internally as he feels the strings go taut. “P-Please- don’t do this…! Please I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry just leave me alone!!”

"'S̶ó͟͏r̶̢ry̸' isn't enough." Anti's eyes burn blue and red. "It's n̛̛̕ę͞v͝ȩ̨r̡ been e̵͠n͠óu̵͞͏g̨h̵." He doesn't say anything more, just yanks on the strings. The static is inside Alt's skull. It's getting louder but he can't cover his ears to block it out.

Alt gets pulled and he tries to fight against them but then the static comes. And he freezes even more, static always sets his nerves on fire- he’s scared of the noise. He sobs, trying to fight against the static but he can feel himself losing quickly.

"That's it." Anti's face is bright with triumph. "Like th͏̧̨a̢t͢͠."

This is different than his usual approach. He is pouring static waves into Alt's mind to overwhelm him. Even as his body relaxes, Alt is dimly aware of what's happening.

Alt screams as the static hits him over and over, writhing and wanting to claw out of his skin. His insides are turning to static- his mind is too. But- there's no peace of forgetting... no he's still there, agonizing in the static that has enveloped his entire being. He falls to his knees and lets himself slump to the floor, looking at the ground with wide static leaking eyes.

A cry rings out, not too far away. Anti's head snaps towards it. He'd recognize that voice in any universe. "Just in ti̷m̵̨e̛. Let's pų̷t ͟o̧͞n͞ ̷̛a s̸̀h̸o̴̴w̢, shall we?" He laughs madly. Though his body disperses, the strings remain, and Alt can tell he's not far.

-----------

A blue disk spins down the street. JJ, Jack, and Chase run after it. Bro is there too but he is not nearly as winded as the rest of them.

"Look!" Chase shouts, and points. Schneep is slumped at the base of a building.

"Oh shit!" Jack breaks off from the rest of the group first, crouching down to shake Schneep.

"Hen--" Schneep's eyes immediately fly open and he sits up straight, gasping. "He is going after Alt!" he shouts.

Bro is probably the one keeping the best pace with the tracker, determination keeping him going. Bro stops when Jack stops and then stares at Schneep wide eyed. Then he doesn’t waste another second as he continues to run towards where the spell is going. “Alt!!”

"Chase! Wait!" Schneep scrambles to his feet and immediately runs after Bro. "He will make you two fight!" The other three follow right after.

“I don't care!" Bro shouts, desperate tears in his eyes. "He needs me! I promised him I'd always be there for him!"

The four others all exchange a look--even Schneep joins in, knowing how the others will react. They do not leave people behind.

"Just--be prepared!" Chase says. "You know what to expect."

As Bro--the others behind--turns a corner and comes into view, Alt hears a voice in his ear. "That's h̵i҉̨ḿ͞," Anti says, delighted. "You know w͠hat͞ ̸t͝o͞ d̵o͟."

Bro rounds the corner and he skids to a halt as he sees Alt on the ground. More tears come to his eyes as he breathes easier for a second. "A-Anti...!"

Alt's head snaps to look at Bro, static pouring out. An unsettling grin pulls at his lips as he pushes himself up and starts to limp forward. He giggles quietly, arms swaying by his side. "C̴̛͑h̸͈̐ä̴͜s̵̟̾e̶͉͐ ̶.̷.̶"

He holds out his hand and in a collection of glitches and static, a green and blue knife appears. It glitches with red. Alt's eyes widen with madness as he barks out a laugh. He launches at Bro, trying to slice down his chest again. "W̸h̶a̸t̷ ̴h̷a̴p̶p̵e̸n̸e̴d̸ ̶t̷o̸ ̸t̴h̷a̵t pr̶e̷t̷t̴y̷ ̶w̷o̷u̴n̴d̸ ̷I̸ ̶g̴a̵ve you?"

Bro braces himself and then rolls to dodge out of the way, as Alt cracks the knife into the road. "Alt, c'mon please! Snap out of it!" Bro pleads.

The others gape in shock at Alt. Chase, in particular, winces. Is that worse than what happened to him? Well, if it is, hopefully they can make sure it doesn't last as long.

"He has to be somewhere nearby," Chase mutters. "He always was."

"I cannot feel him nearby," Schneep says.

"Doesn't mean he isn't." Jack closes one eye, activating his soul vision. Where? Where? Wh--There. The collection of broken shards and string that represents Anti, floating not too far behind Alt. "There!" he points. JJ sends a wheel spinning in the direction Jack points. There's a flicker of static as Anti glitches out of the way, becoming visible--if not physical--a few feet to the left of where he was.

"Nice tri͞c͟k," Anti snarls. "But you c̢an̡'̡t̷ eǹd̕ this. Try a͠ga͡in, Alt! As m̕a̶ny ͞t͠i҉mes as it ta͝k͡e͝s."

Schneep takes a step backwards--suddenly disappearing. He does not reappear.

Alt is screaming in his head, banging against the static walls as he feels his body move without his say so. He wants to warn Chase, the others- but he can't!

The glitch giggles and pushes himself up, glitching and breaking apart for a second before trying to slash at Bro again.

Bro ducks again, his brain fumbling for some way to get to his brother.

Alt tilts his head at Bro and grins wide, "I̸ ̵w̷a̴n̴t̴e̶d̸ ̷t̶o̴ ̸k̶i̸l̵l̸ ̷y̶o̸u̴ for so ̶l̴o̴n̷g̴.̴.̴.̶" He whispers. "N̶o̵.̸.̷.̶ ̸m̷a̵y̷b̵e̴ ̵n̷o̴t̵ ̸t̸h̸a̶t̸.̸ ̴B̵u̶t̶,̵ I wan̶t̵ed y̵ou̴ ̸d̷e̷a̷d̶.̴ ̵" Bro's eyes widen,

"A-Anti... c'mon... this isn't you!" Alt's head gets thrown back with mad laughter.

"You don't know that! Maybe it is! M̶a̴y̵b̸e̷ ̴I̴ ̶w̴a̶s̸ ̸m̴a̶d̴e̴ ̷w̸r̵o̸ng̵ ̷b̵e̴f̷o̴r̶e̸!̴ ̷" He then glitches, though its mostly made of static, and manages to grab Bro by his hair and then slam him to the ground. He pins him down with his shoe and grins, static tears dripping down on bro and the street as he leans over.

"H̷e̸y̵ ̶B̸i̸g̷ ̴B̵r̵o̵.̷ ̶Y̵o̸u̸ ̶t̶r̵i̷ed t̴o̴ ̴d̵i̷e̴ ̵b̷e̴f̷o̵r̶e̸ right̴?̷ ̴W̴hy d̷o̴n̴'t̴ ̷I̶ ̵f̶i̶n̴i̴s̸h what̶ ̸y̸o̴u̸ ̵s̷tar̷t̷e̵d̶?!̶" He flips off Bro's hat and then braces his hands on his knife. The point hovers over the scar on Bro's head. Bro freezes.

"NO!" The response is instant and terrible. Chase starts running forward, but JJ grabs him and holds him back. "Let me go JJ, you don't get it I need to--"

"You need to go for the source!" Jack says urgently. "Do you remember the last time we went there?"

Chase is confused for only a split second. Then his eyes widen. He whirls around, raising his gun, and-- BANG!

Anti had gotten careless. He thought none of them would be able to stand up to him without Schneep, whose scissors were the biggest threat. But he'd forgotten. Magic is slower than bullets.

There's a spray of static-tinged blood and Anti gasps, staggering backwards as it leaks down his chest. His concentration immediately weakens.

The effect is immediate. The static dies down in Alt's eyes before he can even move to try to sink the knife in. He immediately scrambles away, dropping the knife and dragging his wounded leg painfully on the ground. He's heaving, terrified, getting tangled in the strings around his wrists. Bro pushes himself up and tries to reach out, " Anti-!"

"No! D-Don't touch me!" Alt sobs, curling up on himself. "Just- Just leave me alone! I'm only ever gonna hurt you!!"

"Anti please, that's not true!" Bro cries, distressed at seeing his baby brother so broken. "And- e-even if it was, I don't care! I don't care what these fucking universes say you are! You're not them! You're you! And I promised you I'd never leave you again!"

"You just got fucking mind controlled, bro!" Chase shouts. "Trust me, the guilt gets old!"

"Oh do͟e͠s ́i͢t̕?" Anti growls. Suddenly he's in front of Chase. "Then how about--" And then Schneep reappears right behind Anti, eyes glowing turquoise. His scissors are open, and he tries to slash them across Anti's throat.

Bro and Alt stiffen and then Alt looks at Bro and quickly whispers, "Chase- throw me."

He grips onto the strings on his wrists. Bro hesitates for half a second before nodding, picking up the shorter boy, and yeeting him at Anti. Alt grabs the strings and then tries to wrap them around Anti's neck and uses the momentum of him going towards the ground the drag the glitch down with him.

Anti stiffens as he realizes Schneep is behind him and starts to glitch away--and then Alt hits him and he shrieks as he gets pulled to the ground. Chase steps backwards, shocked.

"Thank you!" Schneep says hurriedly. And before Anti can get up again he leans down and slashes his scissors across his throat, cutting the strings.

Anti screams. He glitches away, then back. He tries to grab Chase but Jack pulls him back--maybe a bit too fast as the two of them lose their balance and fall. Anti glitches away again, clawing at his neck. Glitches wrack his head and torso, squares of blue and red static as his head snaps back and forth. His features are... shifting. Chase and Jack aren't looking, Schneep can't see, and the shifting features mean nothing to JJ. But Bro and Alt--they might recognize the faces that Anti's becomes for a split second.

Alt watches in horror as Anti's face splits. Bro hurries over and tries to throw himself in front of Alt in case Anti tries to attack.

And then there's an electric snapping sound, like a fuse blowing, and Anti disappears.

Bro deflates- and looks ready to scoop Alt up in a hug- but Alt shudders away and curls up, breaking down into quiet sobs. Bro is at a loss for words as he sits back, watching his brother with worried eyes.

Schneep lets out a shaky breath. He'd had that theory for a while, that the strings were somehow keeping Anti together. He starts to tell the others about that... but then Alt starts crying.

"O-oh..." Chase sits up straight. "Alt, I... I know. I-I know." It's all he can say.

Do you need a moment? JJ asks, signing gently.

"Or... anything else?" Jack adds.

"i... i want it to stop...." Alt's voice breaks, "I just want it all to stop....!" He wails, digging his fingers into his hair and curling up smaller. He's shaking like a leaf.

Bro's mouth opens and closes, trying to find something to say. But, he falls short. He closes his eyes and feels himself crying too, aching for Alt.

"Oh..." Jack whispers. "Y-yeah... It's.... you went through a lot just now." He pauses. "Look, I... don't know if this helps, but if anyone knows what you're going through, it's us. I mean, I guess not exactly, I mean we can't know what it's like to be in another dimension, but... We've all been fucked with by Anti in different ways. So... I-I get it. We all do."

"He's a real bastard," Chase mutters. "And he's good at getting in people's heads." JJ nods, reaching up to touch the spot on his mask over his mouth. "If we need a moment, we can wait," Schneep says quietly. "Sometimes you... just need a moment."

Alt's voice is so quiet, "...its only a matter of time... isn't it...?" He laughs, hardly louder than a whisper and full of pain. "...i... i felt that there were other ones... worse ones but....i..." He starts to cry between weak giggles, "i never thought i'd... i'd actually see them... that'd i... i'd be-"

He hides his face against the ground, then spasms and screams, body threatening to break completely apart as he screeches so loud it tears at his throat. "WHY ME?? Why did it have to be ME?! I didn't want this- I DON'T WANT THIS!! Ȉ̶̘ ̸̠̍J̴͈̔U̶̠̚S̶̥̈́T̶̳̓ ̶̀WANT IT TO ͇STOP!! ̸͕̓" He tries to dig his nails into his scar again- as if its the reason he's suffering.

"ALT!" Bro shouts and then finally grabs his brother and hugs him from behind, squeezing him tight and pulling his hands away from him. "P-Please... don't- you're okay..." He lets go of one of his hands and hides his face against the glitch's shoulder. "... just... breathe- please..."

Alt trembles in Bro's grip, eventually hanging his head to cry silently.

A figure watches the scene from the shadows clutching at bleeding wounds. But- he doesn't intervene. He... doesn't feel remorse. He can't but... He doesn't move to break up the scene. He just watches.

The others watch quietly for a moment, realizing that the two of them need this moment. Then, once he's sure that Alt has calmed down enough, Schneep crouches on the ground next to him. "This will not be what you want to hear," he says quietly. "But it cannot stop yet. You... you have to get home." He takes a deep breath. "So... if you need a break, take it. But..."

I don't think this is the time, Schneep," Chase mutters.

Bro nods slowly against Alt, "I know its hard Alt... but we have to keep going... we can't give up. That's how they win... we can't let the bad guys win."

"Look. Alt... it gets better. Even if you think it won't." Chase hesitates, then reaches down and pulls off his wristbands. Beneath are strings...green stitches going into his skin.

Alt doesn't look at the others at first- until Chase shows his wrist. On instinct- he grabs the purple tattoo like marks on his arm.

"I tried... so hard to get these out. I wanted to get rid of everything that reminded me of what happened. Of what... still happens, sometimes. A-as you probably guessed, hah. I want it all to stop, too. But... then these guys come in. JJ really helped, actually. When you're.... when it all feels like too much, that's what others are for. Friends... and family. A-and it looks like you have some pretty good family."

Alt looks slowly around at the others and feels his chest ache. He... he misses his friends. He wishes they were here... but he's also so glad they aren't. He glances back at Bro and his brother smiles, going to hold Alt's hand instead of holding it back. "... i haven't been the best but... I'm here Alt. And no matter how these... things or us-es or universes try to tear us apart, I will always find you. Just keep an eye out for the light, okay?"

The younger Brody is quiet as he holds a hand over his heart. Trying not to imagine the string that was there before. Feeling the beat of his heart- the pulse of his magic. There's... light in there somewhere... right? He slowly breathes, and then nods, "Yeah... o...okay...."

Jack smiles. "We haven't known each other that long, but I know you guys will be okay. You're those sorts of people, if that makes sense." He takes a deep breath. "And not to ruin the moment, but we are just sort of sitting on the sidewalk out in full view of people."

Wonder what they thought of everything that just happened, JJ says. "If anyone was even nearby," Chase adds. "These places don't exactly look... habited."

"You mean inhabited?" Schneep asks.

"Eh, you get what I mean."

Suddenly there's a quiet cough before Magnificent lets himself step out of the shadows. He doesn't look angry, just- resigned. He clutches his shoulder and stares evenly as the swaptics. "...I believe its time we ended this chase." He says evenly.

"Holy fucking shit!" Chase scrambles to his feet and quickly backs away. JJ instinctively covers them all with a shield while Schneep spins his scissors into an easier-to-stab-with position.

"Jesus!" Jack stares at him wide-eyes. "Wh-what?! What the fuck do you want?!"

Bro jumps and then goes to push Alt behind him, baring his teeth. "Fuck off Mag! Alt has been through enough!" Alt tries not to look at Mag and hide how he wants to shake.

Mag sighs dramatically, "You all misunderstand me... I mean to say... I cannot continue this if my cub is close to falling apart." He looks at Alt through the shield. "...do you still have the device, Alt?"

Alt hesitates and then slowly nods, pulling out the TRVLR. "... can it still operate?"

Alt looks down and experimentally tries to shoot some electricity back into it.

The TRVLR lights up immediately, showing the same three-option menu as before. JJ leans over to look at it. Strange that such a simple device can do something so... great, he says. Schneep narrows his eyes at Magnificent. "Do you two trust this?" he asks Bro and Alt without turning to them. Even if he can't see that doesn't mean he can't level Magnificent with a bright turquoise glare.

"Yeah, is this... something he'd normally do?" Jack adds warily.

Alt stares up at Mag with a steady glare too, probably matching Schneep’s expression. He doesn’t take his eyes off him as he responds to Jack. “…kinda.” He remembers the moments he thought Mag cared about him when he worked as impulse. But, now he has the scars that show what trusting him did.

But, he’s tired. And so is Mag… he can still feel pain. And whatever that.. thing him and anti were- it did a number on him. If he tries anything… bro can probably handle him. Bro doesn’t move from being in front of Alt, glaring mag down too.

“…I hold it, Mag. No funny business.” Alt bites out coldly.

Magnificent just nods.

Alt purses his lips then opens up the options on the map- looking for what could be home.

The others all glance at each other. Their Anti would never offer an olive branch to them. But... it's best to trust the guys who know Magnificent. "Okay," Jack says quietly.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," Chase says.

"We should never say for sure," Schneep adds. "The world and the spaces between are infinite, and so are the possibilities."

Once you know where you're going I'll drop the shield, JJ says.

There's a slight difference in the TRVLR map. Obviously the code of their Current Location has changed, but also, the code for the last universe is in gray text instead of white. There's a little home icon next to it: obviously so that the user will never forget which world they came from... or at least, the world the device came from. Choosing one with the exact same prefix didn't work, so maybe choosing a slightly different one would be better? UA-0807022PN... That looks promising.

Alt nods slowly and then looks at the gaggle of septic boys surrounding him and Bro. He looks away and tries to keep his tears back. “…I’m sorry… for all the trouble.” Bro is about ready to lightly smack him before alt looks back up and adds earnestly, “But- thank you. Your guys’ words I… I’m gonna try to remember them. I promise…” He especially looks at Chase and attempts a small smile.

Bro smiles and lightly pats Alt’s shoulder. Then he helps them both get up, letting Alt lean on him as his injured leg flares with pain. Bro smiles at the others. “I know this was crazy but- you guys are… really strong. The fact you can keep going through all of this? Metal as fuck. You have my respect- and… I wish you all luck. It was an honor to meet such brave lads.”

Magnificent rolls his eyes, “Can we get on with it? I can still bleed out, you know.”

“Maybe you should get on that then.” Bro deadpans, flicking a glare his way.

"Awe." Jack smiles. All of them look touched.

"Happy to be of help," Chase says, grinning back. "And... thanks. That really means a lot."

JJ drops the shield. Discreetly, so that Mag doesn't notice (and get pissy) he brushes against Alt and heals his injury the same way he healed Bro's. Good luck. You're both very 'metal' as well.

"I hope you get home soon," Schneep says.

Alt jumps slightly at being healed but then smiles at JJ and Schneep, "Thanks..."

"Schneep! if we can ever come back- we need to train or something!! You fight like a bat outta hell! Its crazy to see from someone who's blind!" Bro adds quickly.

Alt's eyes widen and he looks between Bro and Schneep quickly before gaping at Schneep comically. "wait, you're BLIND?"

Bro blinks, "...did I not say??"

Schneep bursts into laughter. "Yes, it is a long story, but yes. I would be happy to, ah, train with you both if you return."

"Why do you think I was repeating everything JJ signed when we all know BSL?" Jack asks. "Because you can't see sign language if you can't see shit at all."

Alt opens his mouth- and then closes it with a confused expression. ...did he not notice that?? "...i guess i didnt really think about it..."

"But thank you, I try very hard," Schneep says. "It took me a while to get oriented to jumping everywhere without facking seeing anything. In any case. Do not let us hold you up any more."

"Goodbye, guys!" Jack waves. "Sorry about pointing a knife at you, Alt."

Alt grins and waves at Jack, "hey no problem! maybe- try to get a pocket knife or something- just in case something else glitches out at you."

Bro waves, "Bye guys!" Alt waves bye as well. Bro then helps Alt over to Mag, even though Alt can walk fine he's still exhausted. They all glare at each other before Alt offers his hand. Mag bares his teeth slightly and then grabs it. Then, Alt breathes and presses the jump button.

The guys all nod and wave their goodbyes before the jump happens. Then, to Alt, Bro, and Magnificent, there is a split second where they area falling--it is dark, and there are balls of green light all around them--and then they are no longer here.

"They are gone, aren't they?" Schneep says.

"Yeah." Jack sighs. "I hope they get home. And that Magnificent guy doesn't cause any more problems."

"He's like Anti, of course he will," Chase says. "Well, I hope that they're not too big of problems, then."

We should get home as well, JJ says. Though I'm not too keen on going back to the flat now that Anti has been there.

"I...know somewhere we might be able to stay," Chase says slowly. "If she'll let us."

"You mean Stacy?" Schneep asks.

"Yeah."

"Well, it is an emergency, I'm sure she will understand," Schneep says. "While we go there, I should tell you all about something I thought about with Anti. About those strings of his..."

The group turns and begins walking to the nearest bus stop.

#SITCV Stitched #swap into the crystalverse #stitched au #alt anti #swap magnificent #bro fantastic #mind control #stitched anti #antisepticeye #alt really starts to have a mental breakdown about being a 'good' anti in a multiverse of evil ones hakb #like poor guy- but i had so much fun writing it #next chapter is gonna be a bit more lighthearted! :D

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zv5x · 2 years

Text

"Rule 1.4" (Yandere!Saul Goodman: Romantic-centered scenero)

hello again, breaking bad fandom !

warnings //::// use of the yandere trope , unhealthy relationships and unwanted advances , drugging , abduction , restraining , manipulation and abusive mindsets , slight/subtle victim blaming / mocking

For what was happening, it was more than simply suspicious that breathing was becoming so terribly difficult. Wine glass in your hand, your pounding head turned to face your houseguest for any explanation as to what was happening. He turned to you with a smile, laughing as he gave his head a gentle shake.

"Why the wide eyes? You're fine." Sipping his own drink, Jimmy exaggerated the exhale that followed. "You're gonna be fine. I promise." The slight exaggeration of the word promise almost sounded mocking to you, but your mind quickly pushed that aside in favor of the more important matters at hand. As you would have put it verbally if you were able to; what the hell was going on with your body?

It was practically falling apart with every second that passed, your form further slumping until Jimmy had to be the one to push you back up and demand you "stop fighting already".

You knew that it was against general etiquette to let your house guest fix your drink for you. You insisted, practically begging Jimmy to sit down and let you handle everything. He insisted, and sounded so convincing doing so as well.

You never recalled the world around you being so distorted.

Decorations were smearing in appearance, colors mixing in with the floor and the wall. Sweat spawned in pools on your ice cold forehead and you tried reaching your hand out to hold Jimmy's, though your lack of depth perception resulted in you barely even grasping his inner thigh. Through your blurred hearing, you heard him laugh, though it sounded muffled and distorted. It was almost as if the two of you were underwater, and your brain was too busy shutting down to question the optics of your situation.

Jimmy grabbed your hand as he knew well that you could not, squeezing it gently and rubbing little circles on your skin with his finger. Right as the last bit of consciousness slipped away from you, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you, Jimmy gave a sound to signal his supposed relief. "Jesus, fuck." He gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head, trailing his hand across your mostly limp body, with the acception of a few twitches. "Finally."

And with that, you were gone, and now Jimmy had to deal with the transportation aspect of his plan. First however, he just needed a moment to look at you. With a slow series of motions, you were removed from his lap and placed in a laying position as Jimmy removed himself from the couch.

He swallowed hard. You were absolutely perfect in this position. Eyelids completely shut as your lips stayed parted ever so slightly, arms and shoulders slumped; you were completely at his mercy. Perhaps that was the way it always was, and you laying knocked out on your couch was just the physical manifestation of such. It was so difficult to get you in this position, so he had to forgive himself for taking as long as he was to marvel at the sight.

To say finally winning this game of cat and mouse was satisfactory would be an understatement for Jimmy.

You were too shy and reclused to speak to him after he won the case that prompted you to call him, too professional to accept his dinner proposals at first, and you were almost too good of a host to let him prepare your drinks for you. So many times he was either close to being found out, or denied the oppertunity to see you entirely. For too long he was denied you. He just couldn't take it anymore.

It felt like yesterday you first called him, asking for something as simple as help getting out of a traffic violation. If only you had called him sooner, for he was able to quickly rationalize that you had no idea how to run your life like you should. The life you led was far different in quality to the kind Jimmy could offer you, but you almost fucked it all up with that blood boiling resistance. Maybe it was just in your nature, or maybe it was an internalized hoax spawned from Jimmy's desperation to have you. Whatever it was, it led him to the conclusion that you were in no state of mind to make decisions for yourself. Not without his help, anyways.

So, into the trunk you went.

It took you hours to finally regain control of your body, innocently sleeping as you were hauled off to a place you had no knowlage of. Even your hungover, weak body was able to feel the uncommon feeling of consternation immediately upon awakening.

"I really gotta be truthful with you."

With a terror-struck expression, you snapped your head upwards just to be met with a gentle smile. Jimmy stood proudly at the other side of the dark room, turning on a lamp while twirling the cord around his fingers. It wasn't until that smile burned it's way into your brain that you realized what had happened, and anger bubbled up inside of you like a pot of boiling water for every second you stared at that vile, satisfied grin of his.

Your wrists mindlessly tugging at the ropes that binded your body intricately, you couldn't help but feel absolutely disgusted at the idea of being fondled in order to get the ropes to tug at your body so suffocatingly. From the fact he did this to you in the first place, you had a feeling he would not have passed up the oppertunity, and the helpless feeling would have been enough to bring you to your knees had you been standing up. Whimpers escaped your lips, though all the desperate sounds you made were muffled by the gag Jimmy had also stuffed in your mouth.

"If you're stupid enough to get yourself in this situation in the first place, you're just not fit for the real world at all. I'm sorry I gotta be the one to tell you that, but look," he gave you a laugh of both understanding and pity, reading the look in your eyes but ignoring the details that didn't convenience him and his own selfish narrative. "I get it. Last thing you remember you're drinking your wine, next thing you know you're all tied up in God knows where. See? I get it. I'm on your side here."

You shook your head, disbelief your bodies aura. Saul scoffed. "You need this more than you realize, baby. You're too stupid and gullible for the real world. How did you not figure out what was happening when I wouldn't even let you in the kitchen? What, did you think I had an early birthday present for you? Or were you just not thinking about anything at all? You need me to do this kind of shit for you, you need someone with sense. That's why you called me to begin with, you needed me. You needed me from the beginning."

Jimmy scrunched up his forehead as you continued to shake your head, and he immediately picked up on the sound of crying. What he felt you needed was a lesson to be more careful around people, a lesson that helped you see that he was the only one fit for protecting you, but a small bit of comfort wouldn't hurt. In fact, he wanted you to get all the crying and the squirming out of your system now, for if he tries to touch you about a week from now and you're still flinching, he fears he'll say something that he knows will really hurt you. Jimmy's intention isn't to hurt you, contrary to your own beliefs. His intention is simply and solely to keep you for himself, where he knows you're under his supervision at all times.

Footsteps echoed against the floor as Jimmy reached where you were positioned, getting down on his knees and cupping your face in his hands. The smile he gave you was an attempt to be sweet, but you could just about taste the smug bitterness it radiated. "It's called tough love, sweetheart. You need it. You need me."

Jimmy was right. Tough love it was.

The quick bit of care ended with a kiss on the forehead, getting back up barely a minute after he knelt down in the first place. Ignoring your whines and muffled begs, Jimmy made his way for the exit, giving you one final glance before he left.

"Dinners in an hour, don't miss me to much!"

With that comment past his lips, Jimmy was gone, and it was back to black.

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

Text

Good Boys Should Know Better

Also on AO3 (comments & kudos there are much appreciated!)

cw: implied/referenced torture, blood and injury

“Please sir, I’m sorry,” Jason’s voice cracked, his throat raw from screaming. He tried to push his broken body deeper into his corner, his bare feet slipping against the blood-splattered photos that littered the floor, hundreds of photos of Batman and his new Robin. “I’m sorry for everything,” he cried. “Please don’t punish me again. I’ve been a good boy like you asked. Please sir, please.”

He should’ve learned months ago that begging was useless. Joker just kept on humming his happy little tune as he strolled closer, his hands clasped behind his back, a twisted red grin stretched across his bleached white face. Jason struggled against his bonds, tugging with every ounce of his dwindling strength at the rope and barbed wire wrapped around his forearms as terror descended upon him again. That tune... that goddamned tune... clawed against the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He was so frightened of what was about to happen that he would’ve puked if he had anything in his stomach.

Two Arkham orderlies with their stone cold faces took their places by the door, looking bored while they waited for their employer to have his fun. When Joker finally stopped in front of him, Jason ceased his pointless struggling. He slumped against the wall, softly whimpering as he submitted like a whipped dog with his tail tucked between his legs. It was easier to just surrender, to obey.

Joker grabbed a handful of matted black hair and yanked him forward, dragging his skinned knees through the sea of photos.

“Why?” he cried, as Joker dropped him in the center of the room. “Why, why?” he begged as the pair of orderlies took hold of him. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong sir. I’ve tried to be good, I swear.” He was too weak to fight the orderlies as they strung him up on the hook hanging from the ceiling. He dangled helplessly like a slab of raw meat awaiting the butcher. “Oh God, not again,” he sobbed, his entire body shaking with panic. “Please not again.”

Joker had his back to Jason as he leaned over a workbench, fingering through the dozens of implements that were neatly arranged on its wooden top. Jason knew most of the implements—knives, saws, hammers, pliers, crowbars—and the memory of their touch made his heart leap in his chest, into his throat. The fear strangled him, and he began to cough, tears streaming down his battered cheeks as he gasped for breath.

“We’ve had this conversation before, remember kid?” Joker said without turning. “Tsk, tsk. Bats really lucked out when I snatched you up and gave him an excuse to replace you and that thick skull of yours.” A few harrowing seconds later, Joker returned to Jason, concealing his chosen weapon in a gloved hand behind his back. “What was he thinking, taking a loser like you under his wing? I say he owes me a big thank you, wouldn’t you agree my boy?”

Joker’s words cut deeper than any of the knives on that that table. It was easy to forget the lessons he’d learned in this room when that old boy, the scrappy street kid who fought alongside Batman, was always waiting on the edge of his consciousness, ready to creep in and try to take over. But that boy was a miserable failure, such a disappointment to his “father” that he was abruptly replaced and forgotten. He had to remember that he was nobody now, just a discarded plaything left to rot in this house of horrors; and the only person in the entire world who cared for him was standing before him. Jason desperately needed—no, wanted—to please him.

“Yes sir,” he answered softly, his tear-filled voice barely more than a whisper. He hung his head in shame at the sniveling coward he’d become.

“Why am I punishing you, you ask?” Jason winced as Joker took his chin in hand and lifted his head. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but there was no mistaking his twisted intentions when Jason looked into those bloodshot green eyes of his. “Let’s review this one last time, shall we? And do try to pay attention. You know how your Uncle J hates to repeat himself.”

Joker grabbed the filthy bandage that was wrapped around Jason’s head and tore it off. Jason shrieked in pain as chunks of skin and clumps of hair that clung to the bandage were ripped away from his scalp. Blood and pus dribbled down the side of his face from the infected wound where the bullet had grazed his skull. Joker stabbed a long, boney finger into the hole in Jason’s head. “Because good boys know when they’re supposed to die.”

#sands writes #jason todd #joker #robin #arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd angst #jason todd whump #jason todd fanfiction #arkham knight fanfiction #dcu #whump #angst

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remarcely · 10 months

Text

Undeath In The Family- Remarcely AO3 [Batman Fanfic]

As his nails tore through wood and dirt, Jason pinched his eyes shut and held his breath. The fact alone he had breath to hold was remarkable and likely the only thing fuelling his frenzied escape from his own coffin. By the time worms and mud broke away and he finally felt air hit his face, he gasped for breath and heaved himself over to roll onto the grass. Cradling his hands, marred and ruined, against his chest, he curled up on his side and heaved with each inhale. His eyes stayed shut, screwed up tight as he struggled through waves of dizziness.

He laid amongst the headstones for a while, shaking, as tears broke clean paths down his dirt-covered face. Jason attempted to shout, scream, but the words died in his throat and came out as groans of pain or stringed together sounds- utter nonsense. It was useless, there was no one around to hear him anyway, and that left him with one last choice; crawl.

At first he tried his hands- purely out of instinct- and let out a ragged cry at the pain. He didn’t have time to waste, however, and instead made use of his wrists. He reached out as far as he could and dragged himself forward, each movement and jostle of bones leaving him in absolute agony. Even upon the padded floor of the coffin, he had been screaming out from his broken bones. How morbid that his hands merely matched the rest of his fucked-up body.

Not one to be deterred so easily, he reached again. And again, and again, and again. His hands bumped into cold marble, taller grass, wilted remains of flowers, and eventually hard stone beneath him. Uneven and leading in a long stretch ahead of him. A pathway.

Continuing to crawl, he nudged his face against his sleeve and built up the courage to open his eyes. It was night and nearing morning. A heavy mist had settled down upon the graveyard and the lights of Gotham far ahead were blurred in the haze. His gaze wandered to the pathway, the next slab ahead, and then down to bloody skin-

He shut his eyes.

After a while, he found a use for the pain. Not only was it keeping him moving, but it was far stronger than any pinch and constantly reminded Jason that he was alive. Barely, screaming and just about hanging on, but alive nonetheless.

When he paused in his journey, panting and forehead pressed against the ground beneath, he did not hear the distant whistle. Nor the mumbled cursed, harried footsteps, and with his eyes shut so firmly the light of a torch also went unnoticed.

He slumped to the ground at a stranger’s feet as trembling fingers dialled 911.

In terms of comfort, had his entire body not been crushed, Jason would have taken the plush lining on his coffin over the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed. He might have said so to one of the nurses hovering by him, it’d probably make them laugh, but at most it’d drag out as a pathetic moan and at best it’d up the dosage of whatever drugs they had him on. Maybe the latter wouldn’t be so bad, the feeling in his legs was beginning to fight back.

The nurse on shift that night, keeping the watch over John Doe while the police did their work, was chatty. From the second he entered the room and started checking Jason over, he had talked non-stop about himself, or the floors gossip (the old lady down the hall was a riot apparently), whatever he could to fill the dead air.

Jason wasn’t entirely awake for it, slipping in and out. With so much of his body either bandaged, splinted, or mottled with bruises, perhaps that was a blessing. Besides, the guy just reminded him of Dick, which made him think of Alfred, and that could only lead to-

“Hm? Did-did you say something there, little guy?” The nurse crouched slightly by the upper half of the bad, so sure he’d heard the patient speak. Poor kid, he must have been dreaming, hopefully something peaceful “Don’t get shy on me now, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listen-”

“Bruce.”

When the phone rang out in Wayne Manor, the officer on the other end knew it’d be a long shot. At two in the morning, any sane person would be fast asleep.

Click.

“Hello? Bruce Wayne speaking.”

Sat at the bat-computer, fresh coffee steaming in his mug, Bruce paused the CCTV footage up on the big screen and swiped his thumb across his phone screen to pick up the call.

“Oh, uh, Mr Wayne. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would- never mind. My name is Officer Riley, I do apologise for calling you so late and all, but there was… well. There has seemed to be an incident concerning the- uh- grave of your son, Jason Todd.”

He stayed perfectly still, as frozen in time as the video he’d been scouring for clues, and took a deep breath “Excuse me, my sons grave? Has it been damaged?” Not by accident, the police would hardly be called in for something so simple, and while a graffitied child’s headstone was horrific it would have been left for the mornings concern.

“That’s a um, a good question, sir. The groundskeeper found someone, a kid- well, frankly beat to all hell if you’ll pardon my language, in the cemetery, and in our investigation, we found he originated from… uh. Something broke out of the grave, sir, and the hospital has just confirmed the ID of Jason Todd from our John Doe.”

Not bothering to find anything more than his wallet and keys, Bruce all-but tore the front door off its hinges as he made straight for the closest car in the drive. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, teetering on the edge of the speed-limit, and barked out for the cars system to dial Dicks phone number. He did not for one second tear his eyes away from the road- barely lit by the dimmed street lights- as it rung.

After two more tries, someone answered.

“Bruce? Come on, it’s like-”

“Gotham General Hospital, second floor, room twelve. Get there. Now.”

Dick didn’t argue, he knew that tone all too well and it was never brought out for anything less than an emergency “I’m grabbing my coat now, is it Tim?”

“No, I’ll tell you when you get there.”

“B, you can’t just leave me with-”

He cut him off, the hospital visible and only moments away “I will not risk you getting into an accident, Dick, just get here and I will debrief you when you do.”

Tearing into the car park, he burst from the car and locked it behind him with the key fob, if not purely out of habit. Showing his ID to the police officers waiting at the front desk, he was guided into the elevator, down hallways and eventually they came to a stop outside a unassuming door, just like any other in the wing yet somehow a hundred times more taunting.

“His bloodwork came back, we got the boys to rush it through, and we’re pretty certain it’s him but anything you can give us would help.” The woman to his left spoke softly and pushed the door open.

Shrouded in tubes and bandages was a boy, dark haired and on the short side for his age- he always had been. Should his eyes have been open, Bruce had not a single doubt in his mind they would have been blue.

A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted Bruce back into the present, hesitantly taking a step across the threshold “Behind his left ear, Jason had a small mole.” He weakly gestured to his own ear, a shaky finger pointing to the area he was describing.

The doctor lightly tilted the kids head to the side, not too much in fear of jostling any of his injuries, and bent down to peer at the patch of skin. He reached for a wipe, the packet sat upon the table next to him, and dabbed away the left-over dirt clinging on. His eyes widened and he looked up at the officers, nodding.

“It’s there.”

Dick found Bruce sat, head in his hands, on a plastic chair in a hallway on the second floor. He looked like shit, to put it likely, with eye bags so heavy it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped to the ground from the weight. At the sound of approaching footsteps, echoing down the corridor, he looked up and stood.

Before Dick had the chance to even ask what was going on, he was pulled into a tight hug. His hands awkwardly lifted to pat Bruce on the back “What’s going on, Bruce?”

The man pulled away, though still kept Dick close, and sighed with a shaky smile “It’s Jason. He’s alive.”

“What?” Dick whispered, eyes wide in confusion “Dad, no. Jason died.”

“I-” Bruce huffed out an exhausted chuckle under his breath, bordering on hysterical, and tugged Dick towards a door “I know, but somehow he’s back.”

Walking in first, Dick was close to stumbling back into the hall at the sight of a hauntingly familiar face covered with an oxygen mask. They were alarmingly pale, mostly swaddled in bandages and casts, but there was no mistaking it. It was Jason and nothing short of a miracle at that.

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

Bruce pulled him closer to his side, squeezing an arm around his shoulders “I got a call, the keeper at the cemetery found someone collapsed on the ground. The police followed the trail and it went back to a grave with the earth pushed up.”

“Is he… like Grundy?”

“No, chum.” He shook his head “They’ve checked him over here, apart from the injuries and lack of oxygen, he’s doing alright. It’s a matter of waiting for him to wake up.”

On unsteady legs, Dick approached the bed. Down on the blanket was a small hand, bandaged with dirt under the nails. He crouched down, holding that hand in both of his, tremors shaking the both of them, so scared of hurting his little brother. His fingers brushed further down the wrist and felt a slow but steady pulse.

By the time Tim dragged himself out of bed and made it downstairs, the phone had already rung once and been answered by Alfred. The young robin did not find the butler making breakfast as he would any other morning, in fact the kitchen was empty with kettle untouched. With a piece of bread (untoasted) in his mouth, Tim investigated the house to find himself mostly alone.

He was wandering about, peeking through doors, when Alfred found him. The butler had shockingly just exited Jasons old room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and was wiping at his reddened eyes.

“Oh, Master Timothy, I do apologise it seems I forgot to prepare you a proper breakfast.” Alfred fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“What’s happening Alfie? Where’s Bruce?”

Wiping the crumbs from Tims sweater, Alfred kneeled down to face him properly “Master Bruce had a call last night, to the hospital. Both him and Master Dick are there now.”

Tim looked from the shut door over the man’s shoulder to the zipped up bag “This has something to do with Jason.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re quite the detective,” Alfred weakly smiled “They found a body that has been identified as young Master Jason.”

His jaw dropped “But… Are they certain?”

“Very, Master Bruce sent further evidence from the boy to the cave for testing. Heavens knows how, but it seems we have been given a miracle, my boy.”

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