#will throw you over a wall and crouch on top and laugh at you
Text
hehe
new oc
#useless flirt of a man#will throw you over a wall and crouch on top and laugh at you#yuzan art#yuzan
0 notes
Text
Finally getting help (prt 9)
Masterpost
“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall.
“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.
“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind.
“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.”
Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.
“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.
“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.
He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.
Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny.
Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.
This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony.
He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.
They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.
Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.
“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.
Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him.
Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?
Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”
When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.
-----
Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.
“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.
“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.
“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”
“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”
“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back.
He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.
“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said.
“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy.
“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little.
“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm.
He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.
“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.
Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”
“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”
“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.
“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.
Next
#danny phantom#dc x dp#fanfiction#dead on main#jason todd#finally getting help au#Danny is pregnant#trans!Danny#vlad is a creep#bruce wayne#jazz fenton#damian wayne#tim drake#multi part fic#long post#unedited#let me know if you find any mistakes
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
EARLY PROMISE
gn!reader | 1.3k words, you see the ring iwaizumi wants to propose with a little (very) early
there’s a box behind shirts that iwaizumi no longer wears in his closet.
maybe that’s why you’ve never seen it before. you never would have, were you not given permission to look for clothes to donate while he went on a run.
it’s small, velvet, and inside there’s a ring that, any other day, you would have lingered to watch for as long as possible at a jewelry store.
but you’re not at the mall, nor are you currently being proposed to. you’re at home, standing alone while your stomach churn, and fingers tremble as you stare at the box in your palm where, right now, it decisively should not be. “fuck.”
“babe?”
the sound of the door and his keys accompany hajime’s voice from the entryway. if you listen closely, above your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you can hear him kick off his shoes—them hitting the step that he’s tripped on a few times after long nights with friends and drinks.
he shouldn’t be home yet.
you will your voice to work. “yeah?”
“you looking through the closet already?”
“...yeah?” there’s a questioning lilt at the end as your eyes scan around, his engagement ring—your engagement ring?—still in your hands.
and you know the pattern of hajime’s walk. you know his usual pace, how the floorboards creak as he walks down the hall toward your bedroom. he’s steady—slippers sometimes dragging across the wood if he’s tired, quiet in the morning when he thinks you’re still asleep.
today his footsteps come closer, a little faster, a little heavier than usual.
you assume it’s from the same nerves as yours.
“i forgot, there’s, uh, some shirts i’m keeping that i don’t want—”
hajime opens the door and spots you easily, standing in the middle of the closet as if you were the worst criminal alive, caught stealing in broad daylight.
you to see.
“to throw away,” he finishes, shoulders dropping. his voice quiets to a whisper, “shit.”
silence circles the both of you.
the velvet feels warm in your palm—much heavier than it was a moment ago. you wish you had an analogue clock in your room instead of hajime’s digital. maybe its ticking could take off some of the weight you feel at the sight of him standing a few feet away. maybe you could stare down its hands, listen to its rhythm, let it guide your breathing instead of standing with bated breath, chest unmoving while hajime’s rises as he catches his own.
seconds pass and you flounder, mouth opening and closing while you stand across from each other, neither sure who should speak first.
you don’t think this is how proposals are supposed to go.
your eyes flicker to the still open drawer to your right.
and you walk over, crouch to put the box where it was, pat the old obscure band t-shirt at the top of the pile in front of it, close the drawer, and go back to stand where you were, hands clenched into fists on your sides.
hajime blinks.
“did you really just put it back?” he asks, a little breathy as if he wants to laugh.
you look to the wall beside him then back at his face, as if you could be confused about his question. “...put what back?”
and this time, hajime really does laugh. and then he shakes his head, the way he does when you ask a silly question. “hon—”
“no, no, i’m not—you—that was—” you shake your head and frown. you wish his laughter would comfort you the way it always does, but you think you need to let guilt stay, gnaw for a little while longer. “this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”
he tilts his head and smiles, just a little. “you’re telling me.”
“hajime.” you purse your lips. “i’m sorry. i feel like i just ruined whatever you were planning.”
hajime huffs and walks toward you, arms reaching out to hold yours. his hands are cool from the morning air, and goosebumps cover your skin as his touch runs from your elbows to your hands, where his fingers find their place in between yours. he’s looking down at them as he speaks—the ones that had held the box, to be specific. “it’s okay, it’s not your fault i forgot. plus i decided to run back a block instead of just texting or calling.”
“you panicked.”
“obviously.”
letting go of one hand, you lightly push his chest. but his hand follows, this time holding you to his heart. you give him a look. “i would’ve done the same thing if i was as fast as you. and i don’t know, i could’ve checked somewhere else. or closed my eyes. or wiped my memory.”
“you would’ve checked eventually, and closing your eyes is not effective for what you’re doing.”
“mind wipe would’ve been okay?”
“how would i have known?”
“...the mind wipe-y gun in my hand.”
he snorts. “what? it keeps a little history of your memory wipes?”
“i don’t know, maybe they have those. do you have one?”
“we’re getting off topic,” hajime chides, though there’s no real anger behind his lopsided smile and tilt of his head.
you sigh. there’s no average way of dealing with the topic of exposed proposal plans, so the best you can offer is a small, closed mouth smile of your own. “...you really wanna marry me?”
he reaches to squish your cheeks. “no, that’s for the other person i’ve been dating since high school and live with while you’re asleep.” you roll your eyes and clasp your hand over his.
“of course i wanna marry you. i’ve wanted to marry you for years,” he says with ease, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“well,”—you fidget—“that’s good to know.” your reply is soft, and you will yourself to ignore the warmth that creeps up your neck and face. your eyes fall to where hajime’s thumb rubs the back of your hand, if only to avoid his gaze. “i...can i ask how you were thinking of proposing or is that weird? or maybe you shouldn’t tell me so you can still do it.”
he pauses.
you look at him. “hajime?”
he tenses at his name, sucking in his bottom lip before answering. “well, i was kind of leaving that part of the plan for later—”
“i didn’t even let you plan the proposal?”
“—but if you think about it,” he continues, already aware of how you’d react, “you just saved me a bunch of anxiety by implying you’d say yes.”
your mouth falls open, hands moving away from his. “i already knew i fucked up our engagement, but i really did fuck up our engagement.”
“you didn’t fuck up our engagement,” hajime breathes out your name as he moves to hold your shoulders.
your head falls forward, landing against his shoulder. “i fucked up our engagement so bad.”
your boyfriend, your sweet boyfriend who always seems to come out of situations calmer than you, snickers, and you hit his chest half-heartedly.
“why are you laughing, oh my god—”
“i’m not laughing—”
“shut the fuck up, you’re laughing—”
“i’m sorry—you just, you didn’t fuck anything up, okay?” his laughter quiets as his arms wrap around you. “i can still propose and keep it a surprise, and i’m pretty sure it’s better you found out while i wasn’t in the middle of the plan, yeah? we just…know your answer already which, seriously, is a relief, so stop beating yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault.”
silence wraps around the both of you again—softer this time. an extra comfort intertwined with hajime’s voice and arms holding you.
moving away to look at him, you let out a deep breath. “okay, but i still feel bad.”
“babe—”
“as if you wouldn’t feel bad,” you retort, which your boyfriend responds to with nothing but a look that says you’re right. “is there anything i can do to make up for it?’
he hums and taps your hips, thumbs fitting perfectly against you. “promise to say yes when i actually propose?”
and this time it’s your turn to laugh, though it’s more a puff of air followed by rolling eyes and a kiss to his cheek. “i can probably promise that.”
little nia luvring comeback Bc my brain Sounds Like a garbage disposal + nails on a chalkboard And only these fictional characters r keeping me going. Hope u all thought of me for a moment the past 2/3 months
@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @momoewn @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @spooky1magazine1bread @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie @sirimirihiro @mylahrins @aria-chikage @heyitstial
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kid II
Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader
Summary: You get injured during the derby against Chelsea
To be honest, getting injured was the worst thing that had ever happened to you.
It wasn't even a big injury but the embarrassment was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and die.
"Oh, shit," You swore, clutching at the side of your face as pain radiated through your entire head.
Chelsea's Millie Bright, the player you had collided with, looked down at you in horror. "You doing alright, l/n?"
"No." You voice came out nasally and you refused to move your hand, laying on your back. "Ow."
"We're gonna need medics over here!" Bright turned her attention fully onto you, trying to pry your hand away. "Let me see."
"No." It was bad enough you got injured during a derby match, even worse as one of the greatest brick walls in the game tried to inspect your injuries. It was frankly embarrassing.
"Come on," She said again," Let me just check you over. That's a lot of blood."
"She said no, Bright." Katie appeared out of nowhere, shoving Bright back with a sneer before crouching over you. "Let me see, kid."
"What happened to me saying no?"
"No concussion then," She shot back," If you're crackin' jokes like that. Bright's right though, awful lot of blood."
When you finally moved your bloodstained hand from your face, Alessia and Vic had arrived with a medic.
"Ooh," Alessia winced, covering Vic's eyes with her hand," That looks mingin'."
"Feels minging," You replied.
Your nose was definitely fractured in some way - not fully out of place but in pain enough that you knew you would sitting out the next few matches. Your eyebrow had a cut on it too, leaking blood at an alarming rate.
Katie looked over your injuries for a moment before she surged towards Bright. Caitlin and Lina hurried to grab her arms, holding her in place as she spat profanities.
"Let's get you up, kid," Kim said as she arrived, helping you to your feet with Jen taking up your other side," They'll need to pressure wrap. Throw in some stitches too."
You groaned, knowing that you weren't coming back on the pitch anytime soon.
"You'll be okay," Jen said soothingly," We'll get you sorted right out."
Beth was subbed on in your place, taking a moment to hold your chin in her hand so she could move your head around. You knew that your eyes would slowly be bruising because of your nose injury and that your eyebrow was still leaking blood.
She nodded firmly before she made her way onto the pitch.
"Come on," Viv took Kim's place," Let's get you treated."
It was blisteringly cold day so you shivered slightly as you were guided to the bench. Lotte reached forward from behind you, draping her coat over your shoulders while Viv looked at you in disapproval (having told you earlier in the locker room to make sure you brought your coat out).
The medics fussed over you for a second. Your nose was the least of their concerns as your eyebrow continued to bleed.
They spoke over your head like you weren't there, updating Viv as Laia gave you her mittens.
"Stitches, definitely," One of the medics said as they wrapped a compression bandage around your head," We can get it done now. You alright to get up?"
You nodded. "I'm good."
●～●～●～●～
The remaining members of the ACL squad joined you in the corridor, abandoning the rest of the match in favour of checking you over.
"Hey!" You laughed as Teyah flopped on top of you.
"Oh, don't give me that!" She grinned at you," You're fine. Nasty looking bandage though." She poked you in your cheek.
"Teyah," Leah said sternly," Be careful. She still needs stitches..." She studied your face. "And someone to take a look at that nose."
Teyah rolled her eyes but clambered off you as Laura approached, clapping you on the back.
"When you went down, I half thought that you'd be joining the ACL squad."
You laughed before wincing when your nose ached. "Trust me, I've no plans to join you all."
Leah, who had stopped scolding Teyah, looked at you incredulously. "What? Why not? The ACL squad is the coolest gang on the block!"
"On the block?" You exchanged a look with Teyah. "Leah, how old are you?"
She swatted you on the shoulder with an eye roll. "I'd take you to the floor, if you weren't injured."
"Then I'm glad I'm injured."
She softened. "The cut looked nasty, though. How are you feeling?"
"Like I hit a brick wall and then the ground."
Leah threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah," She said," That sounds like the Millie Bright experience."
"Can you tell her to work out less?" You asked as the club doctor came in with a suture kit. "It'd be nicer next time we go against each other, not to run into a wall of muscle."
"To be fair," Laura said softly," It's more like she ran into you."
You groaned, checks puffed out in embarrassment. "Then I'm just the idiot kid who didn't see her coming."
"Sit up, l/n," The doctor said," Let's get this over and done with."
●～●～●～●～
By the time you had been properly stitched up and given the go ahead to leave, the match had five minutes left.
You took a seat on the bench, curling into Stina's side (she must have been subbed off at some point during your treatment).
She had very much taken you under her wing for your time at Arsenal - although, you were half sure that was because as soon as Magda and Frido got word about your potential move, they bullied every England based Swede into watching out for you - but this inspection was a new kind of hovering.
"Are you sure that's stuck on properly?" She peppered you with questions. "Did they say how long you had to keep it on? What about your head? Do you have a concussion?"
"Calm down, Stina," Amanda said with an eyeroll," If she wasn't fine, they wouldn't have let her come back." She frowned before turning to you. "Right? They wouldn't have let you leave if you weren't alright?"
"Four days for the stitches," You said," And a week of light training - not on the pitch - because of my nose. Two weeks on the bench. If I get hit in the nose again before that, it might fully break it."
Stina nodded sympathetically as Lina appeared, an arm going over your shoulder and jostling you slightly.
"Looking good, kiddo. Bright really took a chunk out of you."
You groaned. "Don't remind me. I know that this is going to be all over Twitter by the end of the night."
Cloe snickered behind you, passing over her phone. "It's already done."
You groaned again, rolling your head into Stina's shoulder to hide.
Your embarrassment at Cloe reading out the tweets and reaction pictures was ended when the final whistle blew and you hurried away from the group to join some of the others on the pitch.
Kyra giggled at you when you joined her, Frida and Kathrine on the pitch. She poked your nose with a lazy grin. "You're gonna have panda eyes."
You rolled your eyes. "You try running into Millie Bright and coming out unscathed."
"Katie nearly beat her up," Frida said as she and Kathrine looped arms with you," It was kind of funny."
"Caitlin and Lina had to hold her back. She almost got carded," Kathrine continued.
"It's not a game if Katie doesn't get carded."
"Don't let her hear you say that," Caitlin appeared at of nowhere with Steph," She's lucky Bright thought she was more funny than anything."
"It was like watching a chihuahua square up to a pitbull," Steph reported," Wait. Give me a second. I think I can get it up."
"I'm good," You said," I don't need to see it. Not if it's going to show me going down. It's so embarrassing."
"It's already been sent on the chat," Kyra said with one of her silly grins," Bright looks really stricken when you go down though. The camera mainly focusses on her. Total meme potential."
"As long as it's not me."
●～●～●～●～
Escaping the roving eyes of your fellow Swedes was fairly easy when you ducked towards the fans, signing shirts and posters and laughing when people complimented your bandage.
"It's very fashionable," Noelle butted in with a crooked grin as she appeared at your side.
Your cheeks coloured, knowing she was teasing you. "Shut up," You muttered, shoving her lightly as you wiggled away.
Her fingers dug into your sides and you shrieked. She didn't let up and the fans were eating up your interaction. You turned around suddenly and shook her off, preparing to make a break for it but was blocked by Gio.
"Careful y/n/n," She said, sticking out her tongue at you," Don't bump into me or you'll actually break your nose this time."
"Hey!" You exclaimed," That was very traumatic for me! And you just bring it up casually?! For shame, Gio!"
You could feel Noelle closing in on you so you made another break for it, only for Manu to appear out of thin air. Her arms wrapped around your waist tightly and flung you back into Noelle's path.
You crashed into her not unlike when you crashed into Bright but with much more finesse. Noelle guided you down with her, taking a lot of care to make sure that she didn't slam your face into anything else.
From behind you, you could hear Manu, Sabrina and Naomi howl with laughter.
"Honestly," Lia said as she approached," You're all children. She could have been seriously hurt."
"She's already get panda eyes," Sabrina said," There's not much else we could have done."
"Except snap her nose this time," Naomi added and this time you joined in with the laughter.
"I'm fine, Lia, promise." You rose to your feet slowly and did a little twirl to prove your point before Lia pointed you back towards the locker room.
Alessia, Vic, Laia and Lotte were waiting for you.
"You look a lot better now," Vic said as you approached," There was a lot of blood."
"Millie is very sorry by the way," Less added as Laia rubbed your arms in an attempt to get you warm again," I think it really scared her. She's a softie really. She's sending you a gift basket."
"Ooh!" Laia exclaimed," I like marshmallows! Make sure there's marshmallows in it, Less!"
"Hey!" You nudged her in the ribs. "It's my gift basket not yours! I want chocolate. Please, tell her chocolate, Less!"
"I'll tell her," Lotte said," Seeing as Lessi will forget as soon as she goes home." She whipped at her phone. "You're still crashing with Stina, right? I'll text Millie your address too, so she knows where to send it."
You grinned triumphantly. "If it gets here within the week, I reckon I can convince Stina to let me eat some before my cheat day!"
#woso x reader#arsenal wfc x reader#arsenal x reader#arsenal wfc#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
839 notes
·
View notes
Text
blameless (18+)
day 13/31 of the august writing challenge
today’s word: car
contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader, but has a vagina and breasts; car sex!; fucking steve stupid; reader in charge; reader purposefully acting dumb lol; unprotected but no cumming inside
“You okay?”
You throw your arms out. “Do I look like hell or something?”
Steve smiles, shutting his car door and jogging lightly over to you. “What tire is it?”
You gesture. Back right. Total blowout. He crouches and whistles low when he sees the damage. “Where’s the spare?”
You open your trunk and dig it out, biting back a smile as you do. You know how to change the damn tire. You just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend some time with Steve. And you’d apparently had your disaster on the right day - he’s wearing a loose tank top and tiny athletic shorts. Absolutely delicious. The sun is hot as you pull the spare out and put it on the ground, wiping some sweat from your brow. “Can you fix it?”
“‘Course I can,” he says. “Do you have a jack?”
God, you love acting stupid. “What’s that?”
He smiles. “I’ve got one. Let me teach you, yeah?”
It doesn’t really take very long, but it feels like forever. Watching Steve sweat, listening to him explain everything to you. Seeing his ass and member through his little shorts. It drives you nearly to the point of madness.
“Wow,” you laugh. “I’m glad I had your number. I’d have to idea how to do this.” You do know how to do this.
“Always happy to help,” he smiles, raking his fingers through his damp hair to push it back. “I’ll follow you to the repair shop, this won’t take you very far. Then I can take ya home. Sound good?”
“Wait,” you say, a little too quickly. You awkwardly step forward, then place a palm on his hot chest. You can feel his quickened heartbeat under it. “How can I repay you?” you ask, your tone indicative of what you’re implying.
“Oh. Uh,” Steve says, looking down at you with wide eyes. His hands gently move to your hips. At the present, you don’t care about the grease and tar on them. “What do you have in mind?”
Now you’re riding him in the back of his car, the A/C blasting, though you have fun licking up sweat from his neck. He groans and gasps, arches his back to make you take him deeper. “Mmm, shit,” he groans, hips bucking up into your tight, wet heat. “This - this what you wanted th-the whole time?”
“Don’t be silly,” you breathe, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. You bounce up and down so prettily for him. His eyes stare directly at your tits. “Was an accident.”
“Uh-huh,” he says dumbly. He doesn’t even remember what he asked.
“You’re so goddamn - fuck, Steve,” you moan, letting your head fall back. It’s theatrics but you feel him twitch inside of you. “You’re so fuckin’ hot. C-can feel you so deep. You ever fuck someone so - so deep before?”
He shakes his head. He doesn’t know if it’s true. He just knows that right now it’s the best sex he’s ever had. Even if he’s about to die of heat stroke.
You moan again and lean forward to whisper in his ear, your chests pushed together. “You ever fuck someone raw like this before?”
“Oh my god,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hips. He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m - I’ll - gonna pull out, promise….”
“‘s okay,” you coo. “Just tell me when you’re close, ‘kay, Stevie? And I’ll milk you with my hands.”
“O-okay,” he moans, then leans up to kiss you. You kiss him back, moaning happily, feeling his cock push in and out of your plush walls. He feels so good, so big and deep, better than you imagined when you called him from the payphone. His car is surely rocking, motorists on the side able to see, but neither of you seem to care.
“M-maybe I should let you c-cum inside,” you whimper, your hips grinding down, feeling his tip impossibly deep. “For being so helpful.”
“Holy shit,” he gasps, rutting his hips up into you as if he could go any further. “We - we can’t -“
“I know,” you pout. “We’ll save it for n-next time, how about that?”
“Plea-“ He groans loudly when you start bouncing again, harder and faster, sweat dripping down your face.
“Oh, Steve,” you purr. “You’re such a good boy.”
He’s dazed once he cums in your fist minutes later; even more dazed when you lick it off of your fingers. You give him another quick kiss before hopping off of his lap. “Meet you at O’Hara’s, right?”
“Y-yeah,” he stutters. “And then m-maybe we can go to my place?”
“Hmm.” You lick your lips. “I’ll think about it.”
501 notes
·
View notes
Note
Good evening and happy holidays! Since we’re in that season again, would it be alright if I asked for a short little story about some winter fun with the twisted wonderland first years? Like getting into a snowball fight or something?
happy holidays!! ofc, thanks for the request it was sm fun to write, i love these idiots <33
“There’s no point in having this farce of a ‘fight,’ as you call it. My superior fae genes will clearly allow me to sweep the competition, securing victory for my team and liege, and-”
A snowball smacks Sebek directly in the face, causing him to still. The wetness of the melted snow is only mildly uncomfortable, until Ace hits him with another one, this time lower so the snow falls inside his jacket instead of away from him. He twitches at the cold snow that slides against his bare skin, before scrambling to fish it out.
“That second shot was just mean,” you scold Ace, but you can’t help but snicker.
“You know you love me~”
Ace stops laughing when Deuce hits the back of his bare neck with another snowball, causing his shoulders to scrunch up.
“Dude, what the hell?”
“That’s for my teammate,” Deuce yells from across the field.
“Teammate takes priority over best friend now? And here I thought we were actually getting close…”
Like the jerk he is, Ace takes advantage of Deuce’s momentary guilt to chuck his own snowball and hit Deuce square in the face.
“Heartless, truly,” you remark, shaking your head.
“Just be thankful you ended up on my team, MC.”
“Ace is right,” Epel says, still crouching behind your snow fort and working on the stash of snowballs for you and Ace to throw. “Better to have him as our friend than our enemy.”
“I don’t know. They have Jack, I feel like he could’ve been a solid ally instead,” you say.
Across the field, you hear Ortho speak. “Jack Howl, your heart rate has suddenly increased. Have you encountered a stressful stimulus?”
You don’t get to hear his response, but you peak over the top of the fort to catch sight of his suddenly floppy ears.
“You’re the meanie.” Ace sticks his tongue out at you.
“You know you love me,” you mock his previous words.
“Maybe…” he mumbles, but you’re too busy deciding your next target to notice.
Sebek still has his jacket unzipped, trying to stop the snow from making his clothes more wet. You’ll take pity on him, you suppose. For now.
Ortho had to be put on a separate third team for the safety (and feasibility of winning) of everyone else involved. He’s only allowed to throw one snowball every minute, but you assume he’s been waiting for more of the action to start cranking it up. He’s only hit each of you a couple of times, after all. Best not to provoke him and his small (but surprisingly strong with perfect aim) robot arms.
Deuce or Jack, then. Both of them are sweeties, but this is a battle, and hard choices must be made.
You turn to Epel, motioning. He smiles as he places a snowball in your hand. “Go get-’em tiger.”
You rise above the fort, now equipped with your weapon. You make eye contact with Deuce as he nervously eyes the snowball in his hand, the one in your hand, and then you.
Deuce’s eyes widen. “Not you too, MC.”
“I’m sorry, Deuce. All is fair in love and war.”
“I thought we-”
The snowball leaves your hand, flying across the field and hitting him in the chest. He falls to his knees, disappearing behind the fort.
“Deuce Spade has fallen,” Ortho remarks, perhaps too cheerfully.
“And you said I was the mean one? I think you just broke Deuce’s heart with that betrayal. At least he expects it from me,” Ace snickers.
“In the game of snowball fights, you win or you die.”
“Maybe you need to watch less tv.” Epel pats you on the back.
“Is the game truly beginning now? How exciting.” A chill, stronger than any one provoked by snow, runs down your spine. Ortho picks up several snowballs at a time. Quickly and brutally, he takes all of you out with his effective aim. Even hiding behind the wall of the fort, Ortho is able to angle the snowball to make it over the wall and hit Epel. You’re sure the other team faces similar loses.
“Gahh!! Forfeit! You win, just make it stop,” Epel cries out.
-
“No hard feelings?”
“None.” Deuce shyly smiles at you. “Well, maybe none if you promise to get hot chocolate with me after classes tomorrow.”
“Deal, as long as we can go to the place with the marshmallows I like. You know, the small ones that provide just enough marshmallow without making it marshmallows with a side of hot chocolate.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You wanna invite Ace too? Or the others? I think Sebek mentioned he’s never actually tried hot chocolate before.”
“Actually, I was thinking-”
Ace interrupts your conversation, slotting himself between you two and draping his arms across both of your shoulders.
“Are my friends really making plans without me now?”
You roll your eyes. “And if we were?”
He takes his arm off Deuce to place a hand on his chest in a mocking gesture. “Gasp. Heartbreak. Betrayal.”
“Yeah, yeah. Deuce just asked me, I’m sure he was about to tell you too.”
“Yeah,” Deuce says. “You should…you should come.”
“I’ll text Epel, Jack, and Sebek, then. Epel might have spelldrive practice, but if I spin the hangout to be something practical he can do to improve for Malleus, Sebek might actually come.”
“Ortho might want to come too. Although, I guess he can’t ingest the hot chocolate…” Deuce wonders aloud.
“Nah, Idia has custody of Ortho tomorrow. He said I already ‘stole him away’ too long this week. Why can’t he accept I also want to have a little brother?”
“Right…” Ace and Deuce exchange looks like you’re crazy.
“Anyway, I think you and Jack should treat us since you lost.” You swipe off the snow that’s fallen on your jacket.
“We lost?!” Deuce looks incredulous.
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, Deuce-y. You lost,” Ace laughs.
“Nuh uh.”
“Did you just- whatever, I’m sure Jack will own up to your crushing defeat.”
“Hmm, if anything, I think Ortho won. He got more hits than anyone,” Deuce says.
“True,” you and Ace say synchronously.
Ace looks at the time on his phone. “Basketball practice is starting soon, I better go before Floyd tracks me down.”
You and Deuce wave him goodbye. You tell Deuce you can go the rest of the way yourself, but he insists on walking you all the way back to Ramshackle (‘What if you slip and fall on the ice? Who’s gonna call for help then?’)
“Maybe we’ll switch things up next time, and you and I will be on the same team, MC.”
“I’d like that.” You smile back at him.
“Well-” Deuce starts as you arrive at your door.
“Wait here,” you say. You run inside to grab something for him.
“You don’t have to-” he says as you wrap your scarf around his neck.
“You expect me to watch you shiver some more?”
Deuce looks away. You can’t tell if the flush on his cheeks is from embarrassment or the cold.
“I’ll give it back tomorrow, then.”
“No, keep it. It…It looks nice on you,” you say.
Somehow, Deuce’s cheeks get even redder.
#ignore my adeuce bias…i promise i love all of them#twst x reader#ace trapolla x reader#deuce spade x reader#epel felmier x reader#jack howl x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#ace trappola#deuce spade#epel felmier#jack howl#sebek zigvolt#ortho shroud#twst#twisted wonderland
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
Leaving The Web [Part 5 - Finale] - Platonic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Daughter Symbiote Spider Reader
Summary: The situation has escalated to a critical point. You and Venom have grown tired of Miguel's meddling and are prepared to confront him decisively. A confrontation ensues between Venom and Miguel, but the question remains: can the symbiote control its murderous impulses, or will it result in the loss of the Spider-Society's leader?
The Leader of the Spider-Society was taken aback by the thunderous footsteps approaching him. Two massive arms, locked together, were raised high in the air with a menacing snarl. The arms came crashing down at an alarming speed, causing Miguel to swiftly dodge out of the way. The impact of the components caused the concrete roof to crack, but it did not break. Miguel was then faced with Venom, who let out a loud roar before pursuing him with his claws locked in position. Miguel managed to escape by jumping off the building and swinging away using his red webs. Venom followed closely behind, utilizing his black webs to keep up.
"Be careful, V, I have a feeling that Miguel is going to try to lead us o the Portal where he came from." [Name] said from the depths of Venom's mind.
"We know, we're counting on it. We have a plan in case he brings us there and we hope he leads us to where he comes from. Hopefully, there's an audience of Spider-People, watching their leader get beaten by the beings he abandoned." Venom told [Name] with a smile, causing his host to smile at the thought of beating Miguel in front of his people, showing them not to approach herself or Venom.
Miguel swung until he reached the top of another building - where a portal to Earth-928 was waiting - soon enough Venom arrived at the top of the building and glared at Miguel with a smile on his face; that smile scared Miguel but he wasn't going to show it.
"Venom, this is your last chance - come with me peacefully or I will take you and [Name] back home by force." Miguel threatened but Venom started laughing with his long tongue waving around like a whip before it slithered back into his mouth and he spoke.
"You really think you can scare us? We have been alone for the longest time, Miguel, and now we have a home here; the fact you can't understand how much damage you have done to us shows how pathetic of a Father you really are. This is your last chance - leave our universe and never come back...or we shall break you and throw you back in that portal." Venom warned as he pointed at Miguel who shook his head and started running at the large symbiote and jumped to kick Venom in his face, but he grabbed Miguel's leg and started smashing him into the ground over and over again before throwing him off of the roof and chased after him.
Miguel lifted his hand to shoot a web but the air in his lungs was knocked out when Venom's Feet plowed into his stomach, ending the 2 of them crashing into the ground, Venom stomped on Miguel before he jumped off him and landed in a crouch. Miguel groaned as he turned on his stomach and pushed himself off the ground before weakly standing and looking at Venom, who rose to his full height once again; Miguel wiped the blood leaking from his mouth as he looked at the large creature.
"Mija...please...don't let Venom control you..." Miguel tired but his pleads were met with a punch to his stomach and another to his face that sent him flying into a cafe window, causing the people who shriek in horror as Miguel crashed into the wall behind the counter. Miguel tried to move but a black web connected with his chest and yanked him out of the wall, out of the building, and back onto the street before he was punched upward; Miguel went flying until he landed on the surface of a flat roof, groaning in pain as rips in his suit tried to reform themselves but there was a malfunction in his suit that prevented them from closing - his mask faded once again and he coughed up blood once again as Venom jumped up to the top and grabbed Miguel from behind and lifted him off the ground, forcing him to face him.
"[Name]... Mija... Please, come back to me..." Miguel said in his weak voice as he lifted his hand to try and touch Venom's face but the face of Venom moved away from his touch and revealed [Name's] angered face. "Mija... Please...come home."
"How long is it going to take before it sinks in? We. Am. HOME! Venom and I belong here and I won't let you take us away from the home we have built with the people who care for us - people who love us; sure I love and miss the others but I love being here more with Venom. Now, your body can barely move, your suit is destroyed and I will send you back home but the next time you come here; your brain will end up in our stomach." [Name] said as the mask reformed on [Name's] Face to the Face of Venom as the massive symbiote jumped from building to build until they reached the top of the building where the portal was, Venom looked at Miguel's broken body before tossing him in the portal, causing the portal to close behind Miguel. Venom exhaled and returned control to [Name], causing his body to get smaller to Spider-Woman's Body.
"You okay, V?" [Name] asked.
"I should be asking you that. You went through a lot before You and Me became We but now that we are the way we are and we shared memories. [Name], I am grateful for what you said, thank you, my friend." Venom said.
"You're my best friend, V, thanks for dealing with Miguel. I really needed that." [Name] said as she walked over to the edge of the building and swung away, "So, what do you want to have for dinner tonight?"
"I'll let you pick," Venom said.
"Then I want baked chicken and salad." [Name] smirked.
"NO SALAD! I HATE THAT!" Venom said.
"We need to keep the body healthy; we'll have chocolate for dessert." [Name] said.
"Fine!" Venom groaned.
With a chuckle, [Name] and Venom swung off into the sunset of their world, their universe, without Miguel O'Hara.
491 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trying Again | TW00
Pairing: Toto Wolff x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, insinuation of sex
Prompt: Reader was distressed after meeting a friend’s newborn baby due to past trauma. Soft Toto steps in to take care of the reader.
“Y/N” You could hear Toto’s voice even before he entered your shared bedroom.
Getting hold of his happiness he finally informed you about Laura giving birth to a healthy baby girl. Laura, one of Mercedes’s top executive, was also a close family friend of yours.
You could totally relate to his over-excitement because you were elated too.
You both made it to the hospital as soon as you could with happiness gleaming off your faces. You weren’t sure what you were more happy about, a little angel becoming a part of the family or you finding a sweet thing to spoil and shower all your love upon.
“Congratulations” you said or rather sung, hugging the new mother and releasing as soon as you heard the muffled words, “Thank you, y/n” which made you realise that the excitement got the better of you.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a big hugger” You move away and explain with an apologetic tone with her just laughing it off.
You were about to throw in inquiries about her health when a pair of large hands clutched onto your wrist dragging you away.
“Omg, y/n just look at her. Isn’t she the cutest little thing ever.” Toto whispered, his face resembling the joy of a ten year old seeing a candy bar. Your better-half looked so cute that you almost had to force yourself to look at the fragile thing lying in the crib with eyes open wide, looking with astonishment.
The moment you looked at her, you fell in love. You’ve seen new born babies before but why did this feel so different? The day you heard about their pregnancy something inside you changed and you didn’t know why.
And this was all you could think about on your way back from the hospital but somewhere deep down you knew why you were feeling the way you did. The flashbacks were more than enough to tug at your heart.
“Hey, what’s up?” Toto spoke up breaking the lingering silence in the car. Your eyes met with his for a brief moment before he diverted his attention back towards the road.
Taking advantage of the moment, you turned your head to look out the window – choosing not to answer. The blanket of silence once again engulfed with none of you uttering a word for the rest of the journey.
It had been at the very beginning of your marriage that Toto had accidentally knocked you up. And before you could figure out your exact feeling for the unborn, it had slipped through your hands - result of an unfortunate miscarriage.
The loss had obviously left a hole in your chest. But like every situation where you’ve been pushed against the wall and you’ve bitten back, you acted the same then too.
Like a supportive partner Toto had asked you about your feelings, probably to share the loss you both had suffered, but you played unfair and shrugged the matter rather harshly and he never brought it up again. And now in this moment sitting beside him, you didn’t know how to communicate your feelings to him, you didn’t know how to ask for the chance to lean on his shoulders, you didn’t know how to ask him to hold you when you were falling so hard.
Once you both were back in your shared bedroom you gave the excuse of washing off the hospital smell and escaped to the bathroom. However, the shower failed to bring any warmth to your freezing heart.
You got out of the shower and slumped to the floor. You body just gave up with the sorrow weighing you down. And at that moment you heard the door to your ensuite open and saw a worried Toto standing by the door.
He leaped towards you as soon as his gaze fell on your crying structure muttering “Jesus, y/n”.
“Are you alright?” He said crouching down beside you. And those words were enough to break your composure. You started sobbing uncontrollably.
You vaguely registered being pulled onto his lap between repeating I’m sorries. You didn’t know what you were sorry for more; for the loss of your unborn child, for not allowing him to comfort you; for not comforting him? So you just tucked your face in the crook of his neck and let his large arms engulf you.
After what felt like an eternity and your sobbing reduced to hiccups, you pushed back from the nook you were hiding in. He held your face between his hand and said “There nothing to be sorry about my love.”
“I should be apologizing for not taking into account that you might still be hurting. I thought you were over it. I shouldn’t have taken you to the hospital today.”
And suddenly you were aware of the situation you were in; ugly crying on you husband’s lap. You tried to get up but his strong hands forbade you.
“Talk to me baby” Toto said, concern etched in his voice. You hards started awkwardly playing the collar of his white shirt which now carried the evidence of your breakdown.
“I want to try again Toto” The words slipped through your lips but he didn’t say anything.
After a moment you looked up and realized he didn’t have to because his eyes, the warmth and love for you in them did all the talking. He leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses on your lips.
Between those soft kisses he got up with you in his arms and proceeded towards the shower.
“I already showered Toto”, you said voicing your confusion.
“Oh, we’re not showering, baby!" The smirk on his lips clearly conveyed what he had in mind.
#toto wolff#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x you#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#toto wolff x y/n#toto wolff imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagine
588 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑
— 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄
—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔.
—𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟔.𝟖𝐊
—𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
—𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
—𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃
—𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄
𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄
𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀
𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕
“Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl,” Bradley sighs, crouching down and squatting beside you. He knows you won’t be able to move Jake off of you by yourself now that he’s dead weight--you’re stuck. “Don’t think you’re gonna get anywhere anytime soon.”
Sweet Hell, it feels good to let the mask slip, Bradley thinks. To be honest. To openly enjoy the petrification instead of pretending that he cares about you and your feelings. There’s no hiding this divine pleasure in watching you squirm, in watching your helpless figure and your stricken expression.
You’re staring at him, more stunned and more horrified with every aching second that passes the two of you by, with blood matted on your eyelashes as Jake bleeds out over your body. And as soon as he says it, you realize it. It washes over you like the angry waves of the lake: yes, you’re stuck. Jake is on top of you, consciousness fading, mouth wide open with shock and agony still. His blood is pooling all over you, leaking into your hair and into your mouth.
That’s when the hysteria begins. It is sitting on the edge of your body, watching you as if it is a snake waiting to strike. And then it bubbles over--then you begin to wriggle from beneath Jake, fighting to get out from underneath him. But Jake moans--a distant, crumpled thing that is enough to tell you that he is hurting, you’re hurting him. You cease all movements, swallowing hard--all that bloody saliva slink down your throat and pool in your belly in a puddle of ice water.
Okay. I can’t move. You think hard. But he’s alive. For now, he’s alive.
“Bradley,” you whisper, voice quivering. “Please…please…it’s me. It’s--it’s me--Gale. Nightingale. It’s me, Bradley, it’s me! I’m not gonna--what are you? Don’t do this--!”
“Dolly can’t get her sentences straight,” Bradley says softly, laughing. He nods at you. “Try again.”
Sobbing, you shake your head.
“Why are you…why are you doing this, Bradley? I thought--!”
“--You really don’t understand?” Bradley asks. He smiles softly, petting your hair again. You’re too stunned to bat him away, to thrash your head in the opposite direction. “Good golly miss dolly, I gotta bash your ears now, huh?”
When you don’t answer, Bradley sits down on the ground, the ax just beside him. He keeps his palm on your face, smiling softly as he smooths the blood away from your chin and cheeks and into your hair. And there you are, your heart beating out of your chest and your mind fuzzier than the television at your grandmother’s house, staring up at him with big and sad eyes.
Craning your neck, you turn--the shotgun is up against the wall. You wouldn’t be able to reach it in time even if Jake wasn’t holding you down. And even if you could throw Jake off, the ax is just by Bradley. You couldn’t outrun him--not in your prime state, which you most certainly are not in now.
Prickles tickle the column of your spine when you look back at Bradley.
“I shot you,” you whisper to him. “I--I got you. Right outside the doors. I know I did--I heard you.”
Glancing at his arm, you double-check--yes, the sediment and gravel is still there. That wasn’t where you shot him. It couldn’t be. It would be red and oozing and more severe--especially at such a close range.
As if he knows what you’re thinking, he turns so you can see the top of his hip. He pulls his shirt up and yes--there it is. A red, oozing buckshot wound. Severe from the close-range shot of your shotgun.
“Thought it’d be a nifty idea--the whole tripping over Coyote story,” Bradley says. “‘Cause you did get me--but you’re just not as good of a shot as you think you are, dolly. Had to rough myself up in case I started bleeding through my shirt. Really play the part, right?”
And you don’t respond, fat tears streaming down your face. Bradley tuts, thumbing a few of them away. Without another word, he brings his thumbs to his lips and slowly pushes it down onto his tongue. Terror holds your lungs hostage as he suckles your tears.
As the salt melts on Bradley’s tongue, he grins. He can practically taste your fear--it’s as fulfilling to him as nectar is to you. But he’s always preferred salt over sugar.
“What’s happening?” You ask, choking on your sobs. “What happened to you, Bradley?”
“Dolly, Bradley’s long gone now. Been fading ever since I got that specks-wearing fella. Shit, I’ll tell you, though--that boy is a fighter. Kept making it back in.” Brows furrowed, you say nothing. You don’t know what the fuck is going on. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Bradley taunts, pinching your nose. “Dolly, I’m not him. Well--I mean, I’m him,” Bradley says, gesturing to his body. Then he points to his temple. “But I’m not him.”
Vision blurring with pink-tinted tears, you sob again.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, weeping openly. “You must be out of your fucking mind!”
“I guess you could say Bradley is out of his mind,” he says, grinning. “Best to believe me, dolly.”
But you know. You know that this isn’t Bradley. It’s suddenly as clear as a glass windowpane on a cool, spring morning after the rain has passed. The man crouched beside you is Bradley by appearance, yes, with his broad shoulders and powerful legs and short shorts, but he’s not really here. No. Because he would never hurt you. How could he? He’s the boy who would ask you to dip your finger in his coffee to sweeten it. It would be blasphemous if you even thought for one moment that he would harm you.
The realization washes over your face, contorts your expression.
“There she goes. She gets it now. Good girl,” Bradley coos, his voice low and velvety. “Didn’t you feel it? Didn’t you feel it when he was gone?”
Sobbing, you shake your head.
“Who are you?” You ask, trembling.
Jake is growing heavier on your body--it’s difficult to breathe now.
“You know who I am,” he says, nodding gently. “You read all about me in the papers, didn’t you? The maniac. That’s what they called me--right? The guy who killed all the camp counselors and the camp nurse at Camp Arcadia. Some no good devil-worshiper.”
Mind spinning, lungs aching, you shake your head.
“But you’re dead,” you whisper. “They found your…they found your body there with the others. Thirty years ago.”
He takes a long, hard look at you. It is not one particularly seeped in malice, not one that sends a chill down your tailbone. It’s a long, hard look at your face as if he’s playing the part of upset father and you’re the unruly daughter who came in past her curfew.
“I know you felt me,” he whispers to you. “I came to you in the night.”
Eyebrows furrowed, you’re just about to refute this claim, just about to scream out for help! when the truth tickles your cheeks as it lands just before your eyes.
Oh. The nightmares. Every night that you were not in bed with Bradley, every time you finally fell asleep, he was there waiting. He stalked you. He found you. He terrified you.
“Your fear was so sweet,” Bradley coos. “Tangled up in your sheets, frozen, sweating bullets. You let me get so close to you. I would’ve devoured you if I’d had the time.”
“Fuck you,” you whisper meekly.
A tired sobs rips out of your lungs.
“See, now, Bradley did take care of that part all by himself,” he says, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t have to do much convincing. He was really far gone for you, dolly. Did you know that? I’d bet you’re the reason he kept fighting it--poor fool. Didn’t even know what he was fighting.”
Bile climbs your throat.
“You’re a fucking monster!”
He grins.
“I’m not,” he says. “I’m just a man who made a deal with the Devil.”
You shake your head at him, shivering, trembling.
“There’s no such thing,” you spit. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“All those bad things that happen in the world, happening here, and you don’t believe there’s something behind it?” He asks, brows perched. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Last time I came around, nurse’s were still religious. None of this agnostic nonsense.”
“There’s no Devil,” you whisper--thought you feel like you’re losing your conviction as the energy drains from your body. “You’re a--a conman.”
He sighs.
“How do you think I came back?” He whispers. “At random? God’s will?”
You don’t know. You don’t know. All you know is that the person before you is not Bradley.
“You’re lying,” you whisper.
“Let’s not yank each other’s chain. Total honesty, alright? Scout’s honor,” Bradley says, crossing his heart. “It was destiny. The storm. The tree. Our pal Jake here finding the axes--finding my ax.” Bradley thumps Jake on the back--he doesn’t moan. He doesn’t make any sound at all--and he doesn’t move. “Bradley cutting his hand--giving me his blood. And, God, so much of it.”
Bradley’s a bleeder. Oh, God. You remember it so vividly--the blood as it dripped down his arm, his sheepish smile, his quiet apologies.
“You…” You cough--blood spurts out of your mouth and sprays Bradley’s knee. You know, with your entire chest and everything inside of it, that it is not your blood. “Why Bradley?”
He stares down at you--all the flecks of gold in his sweet, big eyes are gone. And behind those eyes, just behind the crystal film, is nothing. Void of life. Void of kindness. Void of warmth. They’re just two black holes in his face, rimmed with pretty lashes.
“You know, I always like it when people were sad. Scared. The best was when people were sad and scared, you know? I didn’t know why I liked it--I just knew that I got a good and funny feeling whenever I could hear my baby sister crying in her crib. I used to pinch her in the night--just to make her wail. And then I’d listen and listen until her voice got hoarse. When she thought I was gone, or when she was all cried out--I’d jump out at her. Get right up in her face and scream.” He sighs. You’re shivering as he speaks, throat dry. He’s smiling fondly in remembrance, left eye twitching softly. “People like Bradley are always a little sad and a little scared.”
“People like him?” You whisper.
He nods.
“Orphans. Lovesick orphans,” he whispers. “He kept me full.”
Closing your eyes, you struggle to move. But you can’t--you’re perfectly, completely pinned down to the floor.
“What about me?” You whisper brokenly. Defeat begins its descent in your body--numbing your fingers and toes, lulling your head to the side, pressing against your eyelids. “Why didn’t you choose me?”
Now he furrows his brows.
“Well, you were hardly ever scared,” he says. “At least when you were awake you weren’t. I couldn’t get you to draw any blood when you were asleep. Hell, I couldn’t ever get you to hold the ax either.”
Sighing, almost completely still, you just stare at him. He stares at you, too.
“I’m scared all the time,” you whisper helplessly.
He shakes his head.
“You’re not,” he answers. “Or else I’d be inside of you.”
Recoiling, you shake your head.
“You’re sick,” you whisper.
“I mean, there were even some hard times, right? Had to slice that Mable girl when I was heading for Jake. Tear her bible up good so she would stop sniffing around. What good is a church girl without her scripture?”
Chills cover your arms and legs--finally overpowering the warm blood on your body as it dries on your skin.
“But why Jake?” You whisper brokenly. “Why him?”
“Because he’s the best shot. Because he was in the way of you,” Bradley answers, brows furrowed. “And you’re something special. Well--you were before you went all the way with Bradley. That’s why this is so perfect--the guy you didn’t pick is holding you down.”
You cough--your lungs are deflating.
“Why was I special?” It’s all you can manage to choke out.
“Virgin blood is strong--pure. Untainted. That’s what…that’s what happened last time, you see. Nurse Abbott was waiting until marriage. I picked ‘em off one-by-one until she was alone…” Bradley says, staring at your face, watching his own reflection in your tearful eyes. He sighs. “And then--!”
“--She killed you. She was the one who did it, wasn’t she?” You whisper, sneering. Your lip trembles. “She killed you.”
Bradley’s lip twitches--his smile doesn’t falter.
“No bullshitting, right? Yes. She…she did,” he answers. “I killed her, too, though. That’s an important part to the story, dolly. And I’ve really been feeling like the universe wanted me to come back and finish what I started. So…that’s what I’m gonna do.”
He picks up the ax, holds it so it reflects off the sunlight. And then he grins at you.
“No,” you whimper weakly. You’re trembling all over, lungs empty, ribs crushed, head aching, throat choked. But something sinks in your gut when he stands, holding the ax against himself. “Please…please--!”
“I love it when you beg for it,” he whispers to you. You stop speaking, just staring up at him, dazed with grief as the reality of right now blankets you. You’re going to die. He seems to see it in your face, smell it in the air. He smiles again. “I’m gonna go back to the bus now. Phoenix will let me in--I’ll get her first. She’ll go fast, I bet. Give in quick. Might have to work hard to get Coyote, though. He seemed pretty determined to keep those kids safe, didn’t he? I wonder if he’ll fight as hard as Fanboy did.”
“He’ll kill you,” you whisper, sobbing. “He’ll kill you!”
“He wouldn’t kill Bradley,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Neither would you.”
Saying nothing, you just stare up at him.
“And when I’ve finished the kiddos off, I’ll come back for you,” he says, pointing the ax at you. It nearly touches your nose. “Saving the best for last.”
Before he leaves, he walks into the kitchen. Something changes--the music stops. He’s started the tape over. Running Up That Hill begins again.
When he reappears, he grins at you.
“See you in a jiff,” he promises.
With that, he’s off. Stepping over Jake’s body and yours, he galivants across the blood-soaked wooden floor and heads for the doors. And then he’s gone--a gust of hot, summer air caressing your face.
Now all you can hear is the sound of your own sobs--they echo in the mess hall, vibrate across the picnic tables, and land uneasily on Jake’s back.
Alone. You’re alone now. All your friends are dead--or they’re going to be dead soon.
Everything in your body--every ache, every muscle, every bone, every nerve--is telling you to close your eyes. Give in. Let go. Wait for it to come. Breathe until you cannot anymore. Think about what flowers you will want at your funeral and hope your father remembers that you hate carnations.
“Is he gone?”
Jolting, you look at Jake--your vision is tinted pink from the blood in your eyes, from the tears. And the heaviness of his body suddenly becomes a bit lighter--lighter like he is lifting himself just barely.
“Jake?” You whisper.
There’s not response for a minute. And for a fleeting few moments, as you gaze down at his eyes that are still closed and his lips that are still shut, you think you’re losing your mind. Making this up. Imagining him here so you won’t have to die all by yourself.
But then his lashes flutter--a tiny groan falls out of his mouth.
“He’s…he’s gone, right?”
And then, without warning, Jake suddenly rolls off your body. It is a quick movement--like he’s using the last of his strength, like he’s doing this final thing for you.
The pain that shoots through his body when he lands on his back is excruciating. It is so excruciating, so blinding, that he almost can’t stop himself from screaming. But he does--he does for you. He breathes through his nose roughly, sobbing softly.
“Jake…” you whisper, suddenly able to move. You scramble to sit up, covered in gore still, leaning over him. “Jake, I--Jake, I thought you were dead.”
And before you can even get over the sudden shock of Jake being alive, of Jake moving off your body, your hands are moving before you give them explicit permission to. You’re pulling on his shoulders, trying to get him to move onto his belly again so you can staunch his wound, but he cries out.
“Stop, Gale!” He begs, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m trying to help--!”
Suddenly, his eyes are open and pouring into yours. And God, there are those green eyes. Greener than grass. Greener than keylimes. Greener than moss. Greener than the earth. He’s looking right at you, the one who’s trying to save him, and you suddenly understand that he doesn’t want to be saved by you.
“Let me help…help you for once,” Jake whispers. “You go.”
Two stray tears stream down his face.
He’s thinking about everything that Bradley said, how he taunted you, how still he had to be so Bradley didn’t really finish him off. He’s thinking about that bus full of kids, thinking about Payback, Fanboy, Bob, Paul. He’s thinking about it all and how you’re going to have to do this by yourself. And he’s going to stay here. He has to stay here--he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t walk. He can’t even feel his toes. He has to stay here.
“Jake,” you mutter, beginning to weep. “I can’t--I can’t leave you here.”
It’s an impossible decision--one that is tearing your heart to bits as you hover over him.
He’s trembling--it feels like you’re rubbing noses with death again as saliva gathers underneath your tongue.
“Please,” he whispers. “Please…go. There’s no time, baby, there’s no…”
“Jake,” you weep. “I didn’t listen to you! It’s him--it’s…it’s…”
You won’t know who to say it is. It’s Bradley, but it’s not. But you can’t get yourself to say that it is Damien Gwyar--the original maniac, the one who slayed everyone all those years ago.
“I love you, baby,” Jake mutters. A few tears stream down his face. “I’d die if I…if I didn’t tell you that before I…before I…”
Die, Jake thinks. Before I die.
“I love you,” you sob. And you mean it--you really, truly do. Even if it is muddled, if it’s complicated, if it’s wrong, if it’s right, if you’re exhausted, if it’s true--you mean it. “I love you, Jake. You idiot.”
And you can’t say anything else, just collapsing against his chest to sob again. And against his blood-soaked shirt, on this blood-soaked floor, you let all the tears and snot run and run until you feel like you’re entirely empty.
With the final bit of his strength, he reaches up--ignoring the searing burning--and holds both of your cheeks. And your cheeks, so wet and sticky and familiar, nearly make his throat close. He wishes he had held you more. He hopes he gets to hold you again.
“Knew it,” he whispers, a sad smile tugging on his lips.
“I’m sorry,” you weep. “Jake, I’m so sorry--I didn’t know what-what to do. I didn’t know what to do and-and--!”
“--It’s okay,” he whispers. His bottom lip wobbles. “Get your gun, Nightingale.”
Like his word is Lord, you do get the gun. Your legs are wobbling and you can hardly walk, can hardly wrap your fingers around it, but you do. And then you return to his crumpled form, sinking to your knees and looking down at him.
“I don’t wanna leave you,” you repeat brokenly. “Jake, I’m so sorry. I’m so…I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been better. I should’ve--I could’ve--!”
But even when you say it--knowing it’s the truth--you also know that Bradley must be getting close to the bus barn. He might even be opening the doors now. He might even be halfway through Phoenix, her screams loud and the blood--
“Shhh,” he whispers. “No time.”
“I can save you,” you whisper. “God, please let me save you! Let me have this!”
You’re begging.
Jake shakes his head.
“Go,” Jake whispers back. He strokes your hair very softly, tries to remember the way it feels in his hands. And then he pushes you softly.
Hastily, and with great anguish, you kiss his lips. All you can taste is blood, but you keep kissing him. You kiss and cry and he kisses back as his blood pools around him on the floor. He’s dizzy and you’re exhausted to the point of near-delusion.
Then you stand up.
“I’m coming back for you,” you promise him.
You really mean it, too. Whether he is alive or dead, whether you’ll bandage him or cover him with a sheet, you’re coming back for him. You will not leave Jake alone here. Not in your lifetime.
“I’ll be here,” he whispers brokenly. He’s staring up at you, quivering. “You’ve gotta…you’ve gotta fight.”
“People keep telling me that,” you whisper.
His jaw is locked in place when he speaks again. You hope, with everything in your heart, that this is not the last time you’ll ever see him looking at you the way he is now.
“You give ‘im Hell.”
You give ‘im Hell.
You’re still sobbing when you walk outside again. The heat is abrasive, the sun is beating down, you’re sticky with blood, but your legs are working and you’re moving towards the bus barn. Right now, in this precise moment when your heart is pounding out of your chest, it’s all you can focus on. You have to get from here to here.
And there he is--Bradley. He’s standing just outside the bus, the bus barn door wide open and letting the sunlight pour in. But the bus doors are still closed.
You don’t understand why this is happening, but it is. It really, truly is. It’s here, right before your eyes. Gone is the man that you love, the one who came inside of you only a few days ago. And standing in his place is whatever the fuck is beckoning everyone off the bus.
“I had to…I had to hurt him,” Bradley sobs. He’s good at this--there’s real tears streaming down his face, snot dripping out from his nose and onto his mustache. He’s holding his palm against the bus, still gripping the ax. “God, I think I…I think I killed him! But he was coming for Gale…”
“What happened to Gale?” Coyote asks, reaching for the handle to open the bus doors. He’s panting already, panicked. Bradley has a lot of blood on him--splattered all over his face and clothes. And when he ripped the bus barn door open, he was sobbing. “Shit, is she…oh my, God…”
Everyone on the bus is looking at Bradley: a man who has seemingly lost everything in the span of only a little while. The tape to lure Jake into the mess hall has restarted, blood has been spilled, and Bradley is sobbing outside the bus from the loss of you.
“He got her,” Bradley sobs. “He…He got Gale. I wasn’t quick enough. He just--he threw her on the ground, cracked her head open. Oh, God…the crack. It was--it was--!”
Bradley cuts himself off with his own choked sobs.
Phoenix’s fingernails dig into the bus seat. She can hardly hear Bradley, can hardly hear anything, feel anything. But she hears him say it. You’re gone, she thinks. You’re dead now, too.
Just as Coyote is about to open the bus doors, just as he is about to let Bradley on and grieve and sob and ask for the full story and just as Phoenix is about to spring to the mess hall to find you, everyone hears a gun cock in utter and complete unison.
And suddenly, you’re here. You’re standing in the doorway, drenched in blood, hair matted against your head. You’re holding the shotgun, legs wobbling but feet planted firmly, and aiming it directly at Bradley. You’re alive--most gloriously alive.
“Don’t open those doors!” You announce. Your voice echoes. “Get the fuck away from the bus!”
“Gale…” Bradley says, feigning shock. His heart is pounding, but he decides to keep it going. Don’t let the curtains close. He turns towards you, stumbles a few steps--he’s still holding the ax. “Gale, I--I thought you were dead! I thought--I thought Jake killed you!”
“Don’t listen to him,” you scream. “You…you fuck!”
Coyote and Phoenix watch in horror, their eyebrows furrowed.
“What the fuck is going on?” Coyote asks.
Phoenix is staring at Bradley as he stumbles towards you. He’s gripping the ax with such conviction, tears still streaming down his face. And from where she’s standing, she can only see a quarter of his face. But she sees it exactly when you do: a wink. Barely there, hardly evident, but real.
And it suddenly clicks--washes over her like a wave of warm, salty water.
“Bradley is the killer,” she whispers. She grips Coyote’s arm, quivering. “Bradley is the…oh my, God.”
“I thought you were gone,” Bradley weeps. And with his back turned to the bus, he grins at you--entirely sure no one will see him. “I’m so--I’m so sorry I left you.”
“Don’t come any closer!” You scream. Your hands are shaking.
“I’m just trying to help you,” he sobs, smile growing wider and wider. “C’mere, doll, I’m so sorry I left you with that--with that monster!”
He grows nearer and nearer with every step.
From your peripherals, you see movement on the bus--Coyote reaching for the handle to open the bus doors.
“Don’t open the fucking doors!” You demand, voice echoing in the barn. “Just--no matter what, don’t do it! Okay?”
Coyote freezes. His stomach is turning itself inside out as all the children group at the back of the bus and watch you point a gun at Mister Rooster.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Bradley whispers to you. “I’m saving you for last.”
“I will fucking kill you!” You scream--voice hoarse. Tears are pouring down your cheeks. “I’ll kill you if you step closer to me! I’ve shot you before and I’ll sure as Hell do it again!”
He’s only a few feet in front of you now.
“You can’t,” he whispers to you. He’s standing with his chest--Bradley’s chest--pressed against the barrels of your shotgun. He grins at you. “You won’t.”
Arms nearly going limp, you open your mouth to retaliate--but nothing comes. Nothing at all. You’re choking on air, staring evil right in the face, and you cannot pull the trigger because it is wearing the skin of the man you adore so.
He knows it already.
Coyote and Phoenix watch in horror as your finger slips from the trigger. And the horror extends to the entire bus, making all the kids clutch the seats and each other, when Bradley suddenly swings the ax.
It comes so quickly that you hardly have time to duck--the blade catches the top of your shoulder, slicing your skin open. Hot blood oozes from the wound as you fall to your hands and knees, scrambling for the gun you dropped.
Bradley’s quicker than you--kicking it aside again before he grabs hold of your hair. He wraps it tightly in his fist and pulls up until you’re screaming in pain, almost delirious with it as you swing your arms to hit him.
“She needs help,” Phoenix says, panting. “Oh my--fuck, she needs help!”
“She doesn’t want us to open the doors!” Coyote says, eyes wide as he watches Bradley drag you forward as you swing your arms fruitlessly. “What should we--fuck, what should we do?”
“You really couldn’t have just stayed put, huh?” Bradley sneers, throwing you against the dirt floor. You don’t have much fight left in you--he can tell. He straddles you, pins your arms against the ground. Even your squirming does nothing. “I wanted to save you for the end, dolly.”
And you’re panicking now, screaming and fighting to get out from under him. Your heart is in your throat and your stomach is falling and you keep bucking your hips up to no avail. Again--you’re stuck. Pinned.
But this time--this time something is different. This isn’t Jake and he isn’t hurt. This is Damien and he’s setting the ax down. He’s wrapping his hands around the column of your throat as you thrash viciously, kicking your heels into the dirt. And then, with the hands that caressed you so lovingly only a little while ago, he’s choking you.
“It’ll do,” he grunts, pushing down on the soft middle of your throat. His fingers are hot as the blood caking your skin begins to crumble off beneath his grip. “You got bloody enough.”
You’ve never been choked before--not in any capacity. You work with a few girls with stories about it; strange older cousins they were left alone with, angry older brothers who used to babysit them, violent ex-husbands who didn’t like them to talk back, strangers in the night hiding in bushes, lovers in the bedroom who kissed it better. Before this very moment, you’ve never known what it means to not be able to breathe.
Grabbing fistfulls of dirt as Bradley’s knees dig into your arms, your vision is already beginning to blacken. And every time you buck your hips, Bradley weighs down on you harder.
“I wanna watch all that light blink off,” Bradley mutters, teeth grit. He’s still smiling softly, pushing down harder and harder. “Dirty, dirty girl.”
It is precisely when he says this that you realize that this is it. You are going to die. He is not going to let up and you told everyone to stay on the bus. And his is the last face you’ll ever see. And even though he’s taking your life--you can feel it draining from your stunted lungs and your purple lips--you’re glad that it’s a familiar one. In a strange, strange way, you wish that he would hold your hand through it.
“Do something!” Phoenix sobs.
Coyote hustles to the front of the bus, searching desperately for a clue of what to do. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know what he can do.
“I don’t know what to do!”
Eyes lulling to the side, muscles going numb beneath your hot skin, you see something in the haze--something bizarre. It’s Bob. He’s lying on the dirt floor beside you, watching you. His face is pink and pale and he’s wearing his glasses that are no longer broken. He doesn’t say anything at all. He just lies beside you, looks into your eyes, and moves to lay his hand on your shoulder. His hand is warm.
Entire body growing warm, heart sinking in your gut, you know that this must be dying.
Yes, this is it. My brain is being deprived of oxygen. I’m hallucinating. There are no ghosts here. Bob is gone and it will stay that way.
And then, sudden as a firework popping in the near distance, there’s a loud noise. It’s loud enough to make Bradley jump, falter--his grip slips down your throat. You can breathe, only for a moment, as Coyote lays on the horn of the bus.
All the blood comes rushing back to your limbs, all that warmth and numbness begins to fade. You know you only have one moment--just one moment to get away and you have to use it.
Because you’re covered in slick blood, because Bradley got spooked, because Coyote laid on the horn, you’re able to slip your right hand out from underneath Bradley. And in one swift and precise movement, you jam your thumb into his eye. It isn’t enough to cause permanent damage--but it is enough to make him jerk off and away from you.
“Go! Go, Gale!” Phoenix screams, pounding on the windows. “Run!”
Scrambling, taking deep breaths and coughing, you get to your feet in an instant. And before you can even think about it, you’re grabbing the ax. And then you’re grabbing the shotgun while Bradley writhes, holding both hands over his eye as blood drips down his cheek.
“You stupid bitch!” He wails. “You fucking cunt! My fucking eye!”
You’re running as fast as your legs can carry you--outside, into the heat, away from camp, and through the oak trees. You’re running as far as you can, you decide, even if your lungs are screaming and you’re still sputtering.
But Jesus Christ--you’re alive. The sun is on your face and your hair is billowing in the wind and the frogs are crying on the water and you’re alive. You didn’t die. He didn’t do it. Bob is gone.
Bradley, still holding his injured eye, stumbles to his feet. And in his haze, blood wetting his hand, he looks around for you. You’re gone--so is his ax and so is your gun.
“Fucking bitch! I’m gonna fucking get you!”
He glances at the bus--Coyote is standing in the windshield with his arms crossed over his broad chest. And before Bradley can do anything, Coyote holds up the kitchen knife in his hand--it gleams in the sunlight.
“You’re all gonna fucking die tonight!” Bradley screams.
You’re running for a long time--at least that’s what it feels like. Your arms are heavy and you’re losing blood and you can hardly see because of the bright sun. Everything hurts and you’re fuzzy, but you know you have to keep going. Keep fighting.
Behind you, you don’t hear any signs of being chased. Not yet. No snapping twigs, no rustling leaves, no grunts, no groans. You’re certain it won’t last long.
“Nightingale!” Bradley bellows, entering the woods. “Let’s just cut to the good part, dolly!”
Whimpering, you run harder and faster. Your whole body is on fire, but you hold tight to the ax and the gun. But you’re tipping over an edge, close to collapsing. So you duck behind the thick trunk of a tree, pressing your back against it.
Your heart thumps in your ears as blood rushes across your temples. You’re panting, panicking. What are you going to do? How are you going to get away? But--no. You can’t get away. You can’t run. You have to fight.
Just as your heart begins to calm, just as your breathing starts to slow, you suddenly hear it.
Hounds of Love is playing now--the tape scratched and skipping, distorted on the loudspeaker. It’s echoing all across camp.
The hounds of love are hunting
I've always been a coward
“Gale!” Bradley screams, stumbling in the woods. He knows he’s hot on your trail--he can smell how afraid you are right now. “C’mon, dolly! Come on out and let’s finish this! I know you’re tired. You’re so close to giving up--I can feel it. So, just give up. Put your neck into my palms and rest. Close your eyes and let it happen! Don’t you want to see your boys again? Bradley and Bob? Mickey and Reuben?”
He’s close--his voice is loud and clear.
Your fingers are numb with panic.
“You were supposed to save all of ‘em! They were counting on you…everybody was. Bob most of all--he wasn’t afraid until he woke up and saw the infection was spreading, dolly. But he thought you had him…he thought you were gonna help him.”
It's coming for me through the trees
Oh, help me, someone
Help me, please
Closing your eyes, you try to go deaf to his words.
No. No. No.
And when you fidget, a twig snaps beneath your feet. So you quickly lean down and rip your shoes off--leaving you in your bloody socks. But then you take them off, too--just to feel the soil and the thorns beneath your feet.
Bradley looks around the woods--the sun breaks through the canopy of leaves from up above. No sign of you, but he knows he’s close. He has to be close. You can’t have made it far--not after what he did to you in the bus barn.
From nothing real
I just can't deal with this
I'm still afraid to be there
“We were all counting on you. Your name--it’s actually the last thing that Fanboy said before he bit it. Well, before I took off the top of his head. He must’ve been panicking--scrambling, I guess. Couldn’t think of any other name but yours, dolly.”
Clamping your hand over your mouth, you stifle your sobs.
He’s lying, you tell yourself. He has to be.
Bradley’s getting angry--it’s bubbling up inside of him in that ugly, ugly way. He sighs loudly, finally moving his hand from his eye. Blood drips off his chin and into the mud.
“You’re a sad, sad little girl who can’t save anyone! You’re a sorry fucking excuse for a nurse! And a fucking coward at that! You’re hiding from me, running away from all those people you’re supposed to protect!”
I've always been a coward
And never know what's good for me
“I’m gonna head back to camp now,” Bradley taunts. “I’ll pick ‘em off--make ‘em scream for you. You’ll hear it. Wherever you are…you’ll hear it, dolly. Believe me that.”
You have to move. You know it. Even if it’s a bluff--even if it’s a trap.
So, with what strength and ammo you have left, you cock the gun. Bradley hears it--zeroing in on your location. You’re only a few paces before him, hiding behind a thick-trunked oak tree.
“There you are,” he whispers as he begins to slowly walk towards you. “Good girl.”
Shivering, you round the corner. Bradley is only a few feet in front of you, glowing beneath the afternoon sunlight. His eye is bleeding--his lashes matted with blood.
“You’re not getting those kids,” you whisper to him. You’re pointing the gun at him, the ax on the ground beside you. Your feet are planted firmly. “You’re not getting back to that camp.”
Oh, help me, darling
Help me, please
Heart pounding, pulse thumping, you stare at Bradley.
“You don’t have much say in the matter, do you?” He asks. He comes closer, knowing full and well that you won’t pull the trigger. Again, his chest grazes the barrels. He looks into your eyes--registers all your exhaustion. He doesn’t know how you’re still standing. “Just let go, Nightingale. Just give in.”
He moves slowly--you watch him, eyes glossed over, as he wraps his hand around the barrels. You don’t move to stop him--not even when your heart jumps into your throat.
“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. You swallow hard. “I’m so tired.”
He looks at you long and hard as he pushes the barrels up towards the sky--you don’t stop him again. He steps closer to you.
“I know,” he whispers. “Don’t you miss him? You didn’t even know when he left, dolly.”
Pain ripples across your chest, your heart constricting.
It's in the trees
It's coming
“What happens if I let go?” You whisper.
Bradley blinks at you.
“You’ll sleep,” he tells you.
Sleep. It sounds so good. So enticing. Dangerously handsome.
“Is he…” you whisper, sniffing hard as tears prickle your eyes. “Is he sleeping?”
He knows you mean Bradley--the real, actual Bradley.
“Your side is so cold,” he whispers. “Come to bed.”
Come to bed. You want to. You want to so badly.
But then you think of Bob’s broken glasses. Jake’s bloody handprints on your face. Mable’s weight on your shoulders. Phoenix holding Bob’s body. Coyote telling you the children won’t be touched. Fanboy and Payback dying together.
“I’m tired,” you mutter. A few tears run down your face as your lip wobbles. “I’m too tired to keep going.”
Hold me down
It's coming for me through the trees
He comes closer to you, vibrating with excitement.
Before you can stop it, his hand is on your hip. You know it isn’t Bradley--but it looks like him. It feels like him. You don’t push his hand away.
“Wanna go out with a bang?” He asks, grinning. He presses himself against you, his hips rutting against yours.
Shakily, your finger falls on the trigger.
“Yes,” you mutter to him. His hand falls on your throat again. “I wanna go out with a bang.”
And then the gunshot rings out. It sends birds fleeing, punctures your eardrum, makes Bradley recoil. And before he can retaliate, before he can wrap his hands around your throat--the tree branch, the one the bullet severed, falls onto his head.
He crumples beneath it with a sharp intake of breath, pinning him onto the ground.
“Gale, you--!”
Quickly, you step over him, breathing hard.
“Fuck you,” you spit. “You’re not Bradley.”
And with that, you bring the butt of the shotgun down against his forehead until his eyes are closed and his body is still.
𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: DAMN WTF.....I LOVE KATE BUSH
𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:
@thedroneranger
@fandom-life-12
@avaleineandafryingpan
@popsycles
@guacala
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@oliviah-25
@zalmael
@chicomonks
@aboutelijahhh
@angelbabyange
@zbeez-outlet
@dempy
@awkwardgiraffe726
@awesomebooklover17
@ofxinnocence
@nyx2021
@callsign-joyride
@flashyourgreeneyesatme
@one-sweet-gubler
@olliepig
@beyondthesefourwalls
@cherrycola27
@hangmans-wingman
@malindacath
@thenewdaysalreadyhere
@shehulkracing
@vemonbby
@ohemgeewhat
@emi-flaces
@mishala005
@headinthecloudssblog
@anony1080
@bellaireland1981
@djs8891
@xoxabs88xox
@stiles-banshees
@birdy-bat-writes
@bananas1234
@shotgunhallelujah
@pono-pura-vida
@agentminnesota187
@onethirstyunicorn
@furiousladyking
@fandomxpreferences
@untoldshortsofthefandoms
@rintheemolion
@daggerspare-standingby
@harper1666
@princess76179
@roosters-girl
@jstarr86
@blahblechblah
@aemondssiut
@twsssmlmaa
@shawnsblue
@wolfiealina
@gothidecorem
@the-philthepill13
@hangmanscoming
@whoeverineedtobe
@lostinheavensworld
@laneyspaulding19
@averyhotchner
@peakascum
@jjlevin
@endofdays56
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@hypatia93
@sunlightmurdock
@tvjunkie08
@okyeeaaahhhh
@ijustwantedplums
@darkheartcherry
@sometimesanalice
@angelbabyyy99
@bradshawseresinbabe
@unhinged-btch
@bradshawbabe
@topguncult
@kmc1989
#cruel summer#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#jake seresin x you#Bradley Bradshaw x you#horror au#80s slasher au#nightingale#summer camp au#dagger squad#tgm#tgm au#tgm fanfiction#natasha phoenix trace#javy coyote machado#mickey fanboy garcia#robert bob floyd#reuben payback fitch#Jake Seresin x you x Bradley Bradshaw#hangster love triangle#female reader#cruel summer spoiler alert
258 notes
·
View notes
Text
Start To Finish - A.T. - 2
Chapter 2 - a blossoming bond and Halloween antics
chapter 1
a/n: so there should be one more chapter after this, sorry about the wait, I haven’t had much motivation to write recently - hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!
warnings: swearing, mentions of children, I think that’s it
—3—
The next few weeks are filled with more cute moments as Bowie becomes more comfortable with you and the three of you grow into a little family unit. You have developed a little routine of watching TV in the evenings, you and Alex cuddling up on the couch with Bowie sprawled across one of your laps, depending on who is in the most comfortable position. On occasion he will lie along the top of the sofa, behind your heads, sometimes batting you if he doesn’t feel he’s getting enough attention.
However, this isn’t usually an issue, not when Alex is the most attentive cat dad in the world. Him and Bowie have formed a bond that you wouldn’t ever have expected, and they're practically inseparable. Of course, Bowie loves you too, but he definitely knows that Alex can never deny him anything, and he uses that to his advantage. You often have to stop Alex from giving the kitten more food when he’s already been fed in the morning.
“But he’s hungry! He told me!”
“Alex, he’s a cat, and I already fed him this morning-”
“He gave me the meow, the special food meow, and look his bowl’s empty!”
Alex plays with Bowie as well, utilising all of the toys that he bought him. Bowie’s favourite is a little pink mouse, ironically the most plain and simple toy that he has.
Almost every day, Alex will spend half an hour throwing the mouse down the hallway, giggling like a kid as Bowie runs after the toy, skidding and slipping on the hardwood as he chases it. After a few weeks, Bowie has been trained - Alex jogs into the living room one day, a grin plastered across his face, Bowie trotting behind him.
“Babe, come and look at this-”
“One sec, Al, just let me finish this-”
“No, I’m serious, this is so cool, you’re gonna love it.”
He grabs your hand and pulls you up off the sofa, leading you to the long hallway, Bowie not far behind (as always).
“Right, watch this.”
Alex positions you out of the way, against the wall, then goes to call Bowie over so he’s stood in front of him. He brandishes the pink mouse in his hand, immediately getting the cat’s attention.
“Bowie…fetch!”
He throws the toy down the corridor and you wince at the scratch of claws on hardwood as Bowie throws himself after the mouse, a black flash down the hallway. Cute, but nothing you haven't seen before. But then Bowie reaches the mouse and bends his head down, picking up the pink toy carefully between his teeth before turning and trotting back up the corridor towards Alex, his tail pointing up happily, his eyes bright and alert. Its quite comical really, a tiny kitten dragging along a toy mouse that barely even fits in his mouse. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. Then, to top it all off, he drops the mouse directly in front of Alex’s feet. Alex turns to you, the biggest smile on his face and he crouches down to stroke and praise Bowie.
“Such a clever cat, aren’t you? The cleverest cat.”
“I’ve got to admit, Alex, that’s pretty impressive.”
“Isn’t it?” He looks stupidly proud as he scratches the cat’s back.
“How long did it take you to train him?” You quirk an eyebrow.
“Erm…like every day for the last two weeks…”
You laugh and reach down to ruffle Alex’s hair, mimicking the way he’s petting your cat.
“You have too much time on your hands, babe.”
He chuckles and rolls his eyes playfully, scooping Bowie up into his arms and turning to you, so the cat is sandwiched in between you. You lean over to peck Alex’s lips, then lean down to plant a kiss on Bowie’s head. Warmth spreads through your chest as you look at your beautiful boyfriend holding your beautiful kitten, a smile on his face and purrs emanating from Bowie’s little body. This is your life, and it doesn’t get much better than this.
-
Later that day, you head out to the shops, grabbing a few groceries and some chicken for dinner. When you left, Alex was practising his ‘fetch’ trick with Bowie, laughing and giggling as he tried to see how far he could get the cat to run with the mouse in his mouth. He was thoroughly entertained. But as you open the door, the apartment seems quiet. A little too quiet. You put the shopping bags in the kitchen, then head to the living room in a search for your boys. It doesn’t take long to find them.
Alex is spread out on the sofa, lying flat on his back with his arms behind his head, one leg falling off the end. You can hear some light snores, his mouth hanging half open. Bowie is spread across his chest, his head nestled in Alex’s shirt, his paws clinging to Alex’s shoulders so that he doesn’t slip off. They obviously tired themselves out and your heart practically melts at the sight of them. You snap a quick photo, sending it to Jamie and Katie because you know they'll laugh, having sent you an almost identical photo of Jamie when their son was born.
You tiptoe quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb their nap, starting to cook dinner.
—4—
Time passes quickly in your little family bubble, and before you know it, it’s Halloween. And of course, Alex wants to buy Bowie a costume.
“Alex, he’s a cat-”
“Yes, a black cat, he’s practically made for Halloween, so he’s got to dress up. All the lads’ kids are gonna dress up and they’ll send photos and-”
“I’m not sure it’s the same, Al…”
But he shoots you a petulant look and you have to laugh. He’s so determined that Bowie will be dressed up, there’s nothing you could say to stop him anyway. Not that you’d want to - now that you think about it, you realise how adorable your kitten could look in a costume.
“Okay, what costume are you thinking then?”
Alex’s face lights up, you can practically see the cogs whirring in his head as he starts listing ideas.
“Maybe like a pirate costume? Or…no, thats weird. A pumpkin. Orange would look good. Or even- he- he could go as David Bowie but I- can you get face paint for cats? That’s probably not a thing…maybe not David then. Or…or wings, maybe? Something simple like that? He could be like a bat, and I could dress up as Batman and-”
You’re giggling at this point and you take Alex’s hands in yours to stop him gesticulating wildly.
“Wings sound brilliant, love. Let’s keep it simple for his first Halloween, yeah?”
“Good idea.” Alex nods and smiles, pecking your lips, then your cheek and your forehead.
“Where are you going to get wings for a cat?”
Alex just smirks and taps his nose knowingly.
“I’m an A-list celebrity, babe.” He chuckles. “I have contacts in the fashion industry.”
You roll your eyes at his antics.
-
Halloween soon rolls around. Alex had been quite secretive about Bowie’s costume, wanting it to be a surprise for you. You’re excited, you won’t deny it.
Finally, it’s the evening of the 31st.
“You ready?” Alex calls from the bedroom. He took Bowie in there 15 minutes ago, and you’ve heard some muffled swearing and laughing coming from behind the closed door.
“Yes!” you shout back with genuine excitement.
Alex opens the door with a flourish - Bowie is settled happily on the bed, a pair of black wings sitting comfortably on his back. As you coo and stroke the happy cat, you inspect the wings more closely. They’re brilliantly made, shiny leather stretched over the frame with diamantes studded along the border of the wings. A smart leather harness secures the wings comfortably around Bowie’s chest. It fits perfectly, almost as if…
“Did you have these tailor made?”
Alex shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe…”
You hold Bowie on your lap while Alex takes photos, his nose scrunched in concentration as he takes pictures on his phone, then swaps the phone for his camera to take some snaps on that too. Bowie is getting restless at this point and you both giggle as you try to get him to sit still and look in the general direction of the camera.
“He looks so handsome, Al, you’ve done well with these.”
“Thanks, babe.” Alex smiles, rubbing a hand up and down your back, pulling you into his side to watch as he sends the photos of Bowie to the band group chat. The other guys immediately send some laughing emojis, while Nick comments on how cute your cat looks.
“Don’t tell them I said this, but my boy looks better than all of their kids…” Alex smirks down at you and you laugh, kissing his cheek.
“I agree. Much cuter. Aren’t you, Bowie?” and you hear a meow echo from the kitchen in agreement.
-
Bowie is growing fast now, but his habits still stay the same. He always sleeps in your bed, usually curled up between you and Alex, or in his favourite spot just above Alex’s head. Bowie loves you, of course he does, but the bond that he has with Alex is special. He knows that Alex is the lenient parent, allowing him extra food and treats, whereas you’re more sensible - more strict, Alex would say.
He’s longer now, growing into a lanky young cat, losing that kitten clumsiness. You find yourself scrolling through photos of him on your phone, wondering how that tiny little kitten is growing so fast.
Christmas comes around fast, and you spend the festive period having fun with Alex and Bowie. Almost all of your friends have met Bowie at this point, and he loves the attention, always trying to get as many strokes from visitors as possible, although usually resorting back to sitting on your or Alex’s lap when he gets tired.
Alex buys and wraps presents for Bowie to ‘open’ on Christmas day, most of the presents being cat toys or treats. He also gets him a new leather collar, a size bigger to fit your rapidly growing cat. You transfer the “Bowie” name tag over to the new strap, adjusting the new collar around Bowie’s neck while he purrs and rubs himself against your leg.
“He’s getting big.” Alex remarks as he watches you pamper the cat.
“Isn’t he? He’ll be 1 soon. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Can’t imagine life without him to be honest.” Alex sighs and frowns. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when we have to tour again. I’ll miss the two of you too much.”
“We’ll be okay, Al. We can come visit you.”
“Bowie? On a plane? That sounds like a good idea.” Alex feigns enthusiasm and you both laugh at the thought, your entitled, loud cat having to sit still for an entire plane journey.
“Well, people take their toddlers on planes. Can’t be any worse than that?” You remark.
“True. Maybe one day, we’ll have to take a toddler and a cat. We’ll have our hands full then.” Alex smiles at you, the meaning in his words making your heart race, and you giggle.
“Let’s stick with a cat for now, Al, take it one step at a time.” But thinking about the future really does excite you - life is good.
Thanks for reading, here’s some reference pics for Bowie in this chapter:
Taglist: @ohladymoon @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider @madnesstaking0ver @atticssmellgood @leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment @averyzversi0n
@lilmisssweetdreams @mathdebate00 @sstar-ggirl @indierockgirrl
(Please let me know if you want to be added/removed)
#Alex turner#Alex turner x reader#alex turner fanfic#Alex turner imagine#Arctic monkeys#cat#moodboard#my writing
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midoriya x reader - confidence and trouble
HEYA, I have yet another idea. So mha boy(s) of ur choice were the reader LOVES herself like they know their powerful and a lowk a BADDIE. And the boy(s) love seeing her be so confident about herself and such😜💪 - Anon💜
Standing with your back against the wall in the training ground, you cracked a small smirk as you listened to the sounds of your classmates training.
“You’re supposed to be training.”
You glanced up at your teacher, giving a small shrug.
“I already know the limits of my quirk All Might, this is pointless training.”
The hero sighed.
“There’s no harm in training some more, I have no doubt you’ll be a strong hero, but you’ve still got a long way to go.”
“You watched the sports festival, do you really believe that?”
“You are full of pride, that isn’t all bad, but s not exactly a good thing.”
You scoffed, bringing a dagger out of your pocket, balancing the tip of your blade on the tip of your finger.
Tossing it up, you grabbed the handle, with a flick of your wrist, you threw it across the training ground, as soon as it hit its mark you followed it.
It only took a couple of seconds for you to appear at the top of training ground, balancing on one of the support beams.
“Get down from there it’s not safe!” All Might scolded.
Picking up your dagger, you walked along the support beam, tossing the dagger up and down in your hand, looking down at the hero.
“Stop telling me you know my strength! You don’t know anything!” You called back down.
You huffed, crossing your arms as you watched all the other students training.
Kirishima gave you a grin and a thumbs up, and you gave one back.
“I love my quirk!” You yelled proudly.
The others all cheered and yelled out with you, and you threw the dagger down, following it to the floor, picking it up you grinned brightly at your teacher.
Aizawa sighed, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a disapproving look.
“You know the rules, you have to train as well.”
You readied your dagger, bracing your feet as you grinned from ear to ear, lunging at your teacher.
He easily avoided your attack, grabbing your arm he threw you to the side, then sighed heavily.
“Stop trying to attack me.”
“Come on! Nobody else in the damn class is fast enough!”
“Train with Midoriya, or Ilda if speed is the problem.”
Throwing a dagger behind him, you tossed another up in the air, when it reached its peak height, you flashed there, grabbing hold of it and you aimed to stomp on your teacher.
“Train with someone else!” He yelled.
Capturing you with his scarf, he dragged you over to Midoriya and dropped you on the floor.
The green haired boy stopped his training, looking at you then the home room teacher confused.
“Train with them, they’re annoying me.”
With that, he walked away, you smirked brightly at your friend, standing up.
“He forgot one.”
“(Y/N)!”
You teleported away, dagger raised as you aimed for your teachers back.
You weren’t actually going to hurt him, and everybody knew that, still, Midoriya acted quickly, using his speed to catch up to you within seconds.
He grabbed you by the back of your jacket throwing you to the side.
You laughed wildly, throwing a dagger, and you pulled another one out of the palm of your hand, throwing them in various places.
“Come and get me Midoriya!”
He followed after you as you teleported you from dagger to dagger, following the same path.
He quickly caught on, and you changed your pattern to keep him thinking.
You two met halfway, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, grabbing his costume you threw him to the ground.
“That’s enough!” Aizawa called out.
You stopped moving around, and you held your hand all, all the daggers flying back towards you, and you caught them all.
“Sit down.” Aizawa said.
You huffed, sitting on the floor, juggling the daggers in your hands to keep yourself busy and he walked over.
He checked over Midoriya before walking over to you, crouching down.
“You need to go easy on your classmates.”
“Then it’s not really training is it?”
“It’s not training if you break their bodies either, you’re fast, you’re strong, but you need to learn to hold back (Y/N). Take Midoriya to see recovery girl.”
Aizawa confiscated the daggers of you, and you stood up, walking over to your friend crouching down in front of him.
“I.. I’m fine!” He rushed out.
“Get on!”
He quickly nodded, climbing in your back, letting you carry him to recovery girl, and you stepped back so she could look at you.
“You need to hold back when training! Both of you!” She scolded.
“Yeah, it’s my fault. I got a little out of hand.”
You looked over at Midoriya, rubbing the back of your head as you grinned a little at him.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to go all out on you, I know I can get carried away but I just love training.”
Midoriya laughed a little bit.
“I can tell, I don’t blame you! You’re amazingly fast!”
You grinned proudly.
“I know! My quirk allows me to create daggers from my bone, which comes out of my hands, because they’re part of me I can move between them.”
“Oh! Like teleportation right?”
“Yeah! When I get close to one of them I come back into sight!”
“Right! I remember now!”
You grinned proudly.
You loved your quirk, everybody knew that, you knew you were powerful, everybody knew that, and you were known to not hold back on anybody.
You wouldn’t cause serious harm to your friends, but you wanted to give it your all, no matter what it was.
You also had a surplus of energy, which meant training for you was more intense to try and burn away and some of the energy you had.
“Anyway, I’m hungry and it’s nearly lunch, see ya later.”
You gave him a wink and walked out of the door.
He blinked a little confused, and didn’t see you again until you came back to the dorms.
Hands in your pockets, you walked through the front door, then you stopped.
“You’re in huge trouble!” Aizawa scolded.
“Catch me first!”
Pulled out a dagger, you threw it behind him, teleporting behind Midoriya, and you gripped the back of his blazer tightly.
You grinned from ear to ear as he tired to move away but couldn’t break free.
“Stop hiding behind him!”
“No!”
Throwing another dagger, you teleported with Midoriya, using him as a human shield against your teachers quirk.
You opened the door.
“Don’t you even think about!”
You pulled Midoriya out with you, then grabbed his hand, running down the path, using your daggers to make you both go faster.
“We’re both going to get in trouble!”
“Nah! You’ll be fine!” You laughed.
“No I won’t!”
You stopped, sliding to a halt, holding his hand to stop him from hitting the ground and you beamed brightly at him as you held him there.
“Come on, Mr Aizawa isn’t gonna be mad at you because I ran off with you. I’ll be in trouble, you’ll be fine.”
You pulled him up, letting go of his hand, and he quickly took a couple of steps away from you.
He nervously scratched the back of his head.
“Don’t you think you should head back before you get in more trouble?”
You waved your hand dismissively at him, walking past him towards the exit of the school.
“I’m already in trouble! I wanna go have some fun!”
“No! We aren’t supposed to leave school grounds!”
“Come on, if anything happens I know I’ll be alright! Nobody can catch me!” You grinned.
Midoriya gave you an unsure look, looking back to the school before turning back to you.
He didn’t want to get into trouble, but he couldn’t let you go alone either in case something happened so he ran after you.
He always admired your confidence from the first day he met you at UA, you knew you were strong, and you weren’t afraid to admit when you in need of help.
You were faster than light half the time, able to move without being seen, that’s one of the reasons you were so strong, you always managed to surprise your opponents.
“Hey (Y/N)?” He asked quietly.
You hummed a little, turning to look at him.
“I want you to teach me how to fight like you!”
Your grin widened.
“Oh hell yeah! With your power and my agility you’ll be an unstoppable hero in no time Midoriya! Let’s go train now!”
Grabbing his hand, you ran straight back towards the school.
One other thing about you?
You loved showing off your quirk, showing people exactly what you would do and why you were going to be a hero.
One day he wanted to have as much confidence as you did, and working with you was going to be his first step into being a confident hero.
He loved how much you loved yourself and you power, and he wanted to learn to love himself that much as well, to not only become a better hero, but he always wanted to ask you on a date some time
#my hero academia imagine#my hero academia x you#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia#mha#mha x you#mha x y/n#mha x reader#mha imagine#Midoriya#midoriya x reader#midoriya x y/n#midoriya x you#Midoriya imagine#Deku#deku x reader#deku x y/n#Deku x you#Deku imagine
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
better than revenge — [k.jones]
wordcount: 2.1K
warnings: none???
requested: no
“C’mon lass, you get what you want, and I get what I want.”
I raise my eyebrows at this. “Oh?” I question, sipping from my goblet, keeping my eyes on him.
“What do I get out of this?” I ask, my voice hard and my gaze resolute. If I knew one thing, it was to never let down my guard, never show weakness.
The man laughs, tips his head back and gulps the rest of his alcohol down. He looks me in the eye. “I’ll let you live, lass… and I’ll even throw in a few pieces of gold for your trouble.”
I stare at him for the count of four.
“Deal.”
Hours later, under cover of nightfall, I tiptoe down the docks. My leather boots are soft and worn from use, and I have perfected the art of silent footsteps.
My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword, ready to pull it from its sheath the moment I perceive a threat of any kind.
I silently go through my mission once again, knowing full well a single mistake will result in my death. If the pirates aboard this ship don’t get me, the man who sent me on this mission surely will.
I have a simple goal: sneak aboard the Jolly Roger, find a magical compass, and get out alive.
My eyes rest on the ship itself, its name painted in cursive letters right on the waterline, so as the ship moves slightly on the waves, the words appear to dance.
I slip forward, seeing no one on deck. With one swift, fluid movement, I place my right hand on the starboard railing, then I use the momentum from a scissor kick to propel myself from the dock to the deck, dropping without a sound onto my feet.
I quickly shift my body to the shadows, crouching down and moving fast, getting to the doors leading to the lower deck.
Opening it, I slip inside, shutting it quietly behind me. I hadn’t spent the greatest amount of time on boats in my short life, and I haven’t the faintest idea of where to search for a compass of all things.
Luckily for me, I have a locator. I pull it from my pocket now, a shiny white stone, glowing faintly. Apparently, the closer to the compass I get, the brighter the light will shine.
I turn in a slow circle, and when I face the corridor to my left, the brightness of the stone becomes more obvious, in a way I can’t describe. It didn’t become literally brighter, exactly, but it was suddenly very clear which direction I should take.
I follow the stone’s magical light, until it leads me to a small desk inside what I think is the captain’s chambers. Luckily for me, no one is at home. I’m daft. the entire ship is empty. The crew must be out for a night at the pub, and good for me too.
I yank at the top drawer of the desk, its hinges crusty and rough. When the drawer finally slides open, my eyes come to rest on the only object inside.
A golden compass.
I smile, and reach towards the compass. The metal is cool to my touch, and my fingertips glide over it as smoothly as if it was polished merely moments earlier.
I lift it up out of the drawer, dangling it in the air in front of me. I stare in awe, watching as the compass catches the light, glittering and flashing. Rainbows dance across the chamber’s walls, filling the room with colour.
I am just about to drop the compass into my dress pocket, when a voice behind me scares the daylight out of me.
“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
I whirl around, shoving the compass into the deep pocket of my skirts. It was safest there; the pocket easily missed due to the many folds of my skirts. I draw my sword, and stare at the dark figure lurking in the doorway.
Shadows dance across his face, distorting his features. He’s tall, and I can tell his sword is also drawn, the blade catching the light of the only lamp in the room. My eyes drop to the lamp on the desk beside me. Without thinking, I blow out the flame.
It’s completely dark. I use this to my advantage, running fast at the doorway, crashing into the figure. We both land hard on the floor, and I scramble to my feet, ready to run.
But then, hands grab at my waist, hold me fast, and my hopes of escape crumble.
“You aren’t getting away that easily, love,” an accented voice whispers in my ear, before something hits my head, and I remember nothing else.
•••
My head pounds, and I dread opening my eyes. When I do, I immediately cringe in pain as light seemingly floods my vision, increasing my headache by tenfold.
I push myself up to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. I’m in a bed, a simple woven blanket over me. I’m still in my normal clothes, which means no one changed me, thank goodness.
With a slight gasp, I hastily check my pocket. Of course, no compass. I shouldn’t have even dared to hope it remained in my possession. Of course that pirate would have taken it back.
Speaking of that pirate, I frown. Turning over all the events of last night (or what I assume was the last night; I’m not sure how much time has passed since I was knocked out; or even what time of day it is. Whoever’s cabin this is, they clearly hate windows), I shiver slightly. The memory of that voice in my ear, whispering seductively…
I shake myself, and climb out of the bed. I must find that compass, even if I am now a prisoner on this bloody pirate ship.
I leave the cabin, finding my way down the corridor, trying to find the familiar door that leads to the upper deck. When I finally find it, I can hear voices from outside. Pirates laughing and shouting and jeering at each other. At least half of the voices are obviously drunk.
My choice is a simple one, but I still hesitate. Remain a prisoner on this ship? Or risk dying in the battle across the deck?
My father always used to call me his little daredevil, before he died, so I decide to live up to his nickname for me, and push open the door.
The moment I step onto the deck, into the harsh sunlight, the chatter all around me stops. A dozen pairs of pirate eyes gape at me in curiosity. I wonder how often a woman has been on this ship.
Suddenly, someone drops down in front of me, swinging off a top with one hand, and landing on his feet. Startled, I take a step backwards, almost losing my balance.
The man straightens, and locks eyes with me. He smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. I mean, it’s nice. He’s fairly attractive, but his smile leaks devilishness.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, love,” the man says, and I would recognise that voice anywhere. He’s the man from last night, the man who knocked me out.
“I’m Killian Jones,” he continues. “Or as I’m not commonly known as, Captain Hook. To whom do I owe the honour?”
My eyes narrow suspiciously. I am a girl who has tried to steal from him, and yet he seems unaffected by this fact. My guard is instantly up, and I prepare for a fight.
“You are going to let me go,” I say stubbornly, wishing badly that I had my sword. I hadn’t noticed it right away when I’d awoken, but they’d taken it from me. “And I require your golden compass as well as my freedom.”
Killian Jones stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs.
His crew joins in the laughter, some pointing their fingers at me, some jeering and making stupid noises and gestures.
I roll my eyes at them. I have no time for men who aren’t my father. They’re a troublesome species that require a great deal too much effort for my own personal liking.
The captain gains his composure, and stares at me, rather dumbfounded.
“Love, there’s no way in hell I am giving you this compass, just like that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then fight me for it. A duel. Winner gets the compass.”
Killian Jones raises an eyebrow at me apprehensively. “I don’t fight women. At least not with a sword.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Then this’ll be an easy win.” I step quickly towards one of the crew members, elbow him in the chest and pull at his sword at the same time, yanking it from its sheath as he stumbles backwards.
I launch an attack on Killian, my sword coming down on his head. In a flash, he brings his arm up to stop my blade.
My sword clangs against metal, and I stare in shock at what should be Killian’s hand… but isn’t. Replacing his hand is a shiny hook, which has caught my blade mid-air.
I blink in surprise. “You…”
“Yes, I know,” Killian sighs. “Captain Hook isn’t just a catchy nickname.” With his other hand, he gently pries my fingers off the hilt of the borrowed sword.
“Now, love, you’re going to stop attacking me, and do what I say. Or else you’re not going to get a very happy ending.”
I stand, deflated, and watch as he tells a crew mate to tie my hands together, and lash me to the main mast. I slump to the ground, a heavy feeling of defeat clouding over me. I watch in silence as Killian and his crew go back to their loud, joyful drinking. I seem to be forgotten, just like that.
I grit my teeth in frustration, but am suddenly aware of how loosely my bonds have been tied. Clearly, the crew member Killian Jones elected to tie me up was more than a little bit drunk. I smirk to myself as I wriggle my fingers, working at the poorly made knots.
Once my hands are free, I still, watching carefully, planning my escape. Most of the crew have wandered below decks now, and only Killian Jones and another man with a red beanie over his messy hair (who I guess is first mate), stand against the ship’s railing across the other end of the Jolly Roger.
Killian seems to bore of the first mate, and dismisses him, waving his hand at the man. The man disappears into one of the doorways at the back of the ship.
I wait, silent, hoping Hook will follow his mate. He doesn’t seem to have any plans of doing this. For a while, I just sit and watch him as he leans his back against the railing, picking at his metal hook, running his forefinger up and down it, tracing the sharp edges.
“You alright there, love?”
The break in silence startles me so much I barely hear the question. “I–what?”
Kilian looks up, meets my eyes, and smirks slowly, his chin tilting up a little as he does so. His tongue traces his upper teeth, his eyes studying me hard.
“I can’t let you go, you know,” he says.
“Why?” I refuse to believe him. There has to be a way for me to get out of this. Silently, I curse that random, awful man in the tavern for getting me into this mess. Even for a bit of gold and my life, I doubt this is worth it. A whole lot of hassle for not much gain, it was starting to seem.
“Because,” Hook replies, apparently not wanting to elaborate.
I roll my eyes. I am done with this rubbish. I stand quickly, my ropes dropping to the deck.
Killian’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem especially surprised at my escape. “What exactly are you going to do now?” he asks me, a glint in his eyes. Whether it’s from amusement or pure evil, I don’t exactly know.
“Get out of here and kill you,” I say, eyes narrowed.
He laughs. “Okay, love. You do that.” For a moment, he does nothing but play with the hilt of his sword. Then he looks up at me. “You know, you could always join my crew.”
I frown immediately. “What do you mean? Why on earth would I do that?”
He smirks. “Because… I want you to.”
I stare at him, unsure if he’s serious or joking. Then, I make a dumb decision and decide, “Why not.”
#killian jones#ouat#ouat fanfic#fanfiction#killian jones x reader#once upon a time#ouat x reader#captain hook#hook x reader
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫
day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar
summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.
warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up
James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.
Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.
James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.
You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.
You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.
You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.
Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.
“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.
“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”
He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”
You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.
You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.
“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.
“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.
“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”
You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.
“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”
You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.
“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.
“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.
“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.
He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.
“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”
You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.
“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.
You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.
“Really?”
He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.
You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”
He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”
Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.
The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.
You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.
Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.
“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy. 
James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.
“You know what’s better, though?”
“What?” he asks after he swallows.
“Christmas pudding,” you smile.
“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.
You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”
“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Right.”
You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x female!reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter oneshots#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter drabble#james potter headcanon#the marauders#the marauders fanfiction#marauder x fem!reader
412 notes
·
View notes
Text
BRAT TAMING
Leon finally snaps after a day of you being a brat.
Pairing: Leon (fast and furious) x reader (smut)
“Calm the fuck down.” Leon tells you sternly.
He’s holding you tightly to his body, a large hand pressed firmly over your stomach keeping you nice and close to him. His other holding an arm tightly in his grasp.
You could tell he was furious and you couldn’t really blame him honestly.
You had been a brat all day. Running off this morning without saying anything to him. Ignoring him when he tried to talk to you. And purposefully spending your time with Brian who you knew had a bit of a crush on you.
The reason for all this? There was nothing better than Leon all riled up. And you loved the attention. Now there was nothing wrong about the usual sex you two had, if anything he was the best you had ever been with. But angry sex with Leon that was a whole new level and usually left you limping the day after.
Which is why when you should of been doing what he told you. Instead you where trying to wriggle out of his hold. Despite how much you liked it.
He lets out a sound of anger at you and you can’t help but feel turned on. Squeezing your things together slightly.
He grips onto your upper arm turning you quickly and pushing you roughly into the wall. You let out a gasp as you hit it hard. His hands holding you there.
“Your being a brat and a stuck up bitch so fucking cool it.” He tells you quietly. His face is stern brows furrowed in annoyance and he moves impossibly closer to you making you shrink into yourself.
This wasn’t out of nowhere. He had finally cornered you dragging you into his room mad and slightly concerned after the day and well you hadn’t exactly been nice when he’d asked what was up with you.
You squeeze your things together squirming as if that’s going to stop the ache between your legs.
He glances down seeing what your doing and let’s put a cold laugh.
“Seriously this is what this has all been about?”
You can feel yourself turning red and you look down unable to look him in the eyes.
“Hell no.” He tells you a hand coming up to your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You been a brat all day because you want to be dicked down?”
You don’t answer which only seems to make him more angry. He presses closer to you and you can’t stop yourself when you let out a moan as his obvious hard on is pressed against you.
You let out a squeak as you’re suddenly picked up and carried over to the bed before being deposited down on it.
You shudder as Leon crouches over you and his hands move there way up you waist to your chest and start to grope it.
“You gonna be a good girl for me now?” He asks you as you look up at him breath shaky.
You shake your head no fiercely and his eyes close in annoyance.
“Make me.” You tell him wanting to see how far you can push him before he snaps. Your voice wavers slightly as you say it and you can tell he heard it when he smirks.
You let out a shriek when your shorts are suddenly halfway down your legs, your underwear quick to follow. Your a blushing mess as you look at him surprised lying bare from the waist down.
It’s not for long as in seconds he has your top off too, thrown someone behind him.
His hands are on you again, squeezing your breasts harshly before groping down you. A satisfied glint in his eyes.
“No Bra? Naughty girl.”
“You going to fuck me or are you just playing around?” You ask him frustrated at the lack of action.
He rolls his eyes as you and suddenly he’s between your legs mouth around your clit sucking hard.
“Fuck!” You gasp out throwing your head back gasping for air.
His goes between lapping you up with his tongue to sucking on your clit.
Moans escape you as you get closer and closer to an orgasm from the feeling alone. Your legs start to shake and they close around his head but he continues anyway perfectly content eating you out.
“Leon!” You whine desperately bucking your hips towards him.
He shushes you but then he has two fingers inside you.
You moan out a sob at the pleasure as he moves them in and out, sucking on your clit.
“Fuck I’m close.” You tell him your hands gripping onto his hair holding him close.
A part of you worries he’s going to stop and punish you that way but your pleasantly surprised when he continues and then your orgasming. Your whole body shaking and eyes rolling back, hips rolling.
You let out a whine and try to move away when he continues with his mouth but he simply wraps both arms around your thighs holding you in place.
“Ahh,” you whimper desperately trying to move back. “Leon stop! I’m too sensitive.”
He stops briefly looking up at you. Your previous release coating his face and a serious expression on it.
“If your going to be a brat to me. Then you’ll be treated like a brat.”
And then he’s back down again, sucking even more harshly than before.
He makes you cum three more times, no matter how many times you try to get away he simply tightens his hold and continues. And when you get too loud a hand over your mouth and his fingers taking over. By the times he’s done your a mess. Soaked and shaky and voice hoarse from the broken moans you had been releasing. Body still twitching from the aftershock of them all.
Just when you think he’s finally had enough off punishing you he’s suddenly stripping off his clothes before getting in between your legs before pushing in nice and slow.
You let out a broken moan feeling impossibly full. Leon was in no way small. His arms wrap around your back keeping you pressed close to him.
“You sorry yet?” He asks you.
You shake your head no again and then cry out and he starts to thrust into you. He guided your legs up until they are wrapped around his waist and you cry as he seems to go even deeper into you.
“What a shame.” He tells you condescendingly as let out whines. He’s looking down watching your face the whole time taking pleasure in the fact that he is the only one who gets to see you like this.
A trembling moan escapes you as a particularly hard thrust moves your whole body. Leon smirks down at you but moves a hand to cover your mouth. His other moving to hold himself steady above you.
“Shhh. Don’t want to be waking up the others now do we?” He asks you condescendingly.
He continues his pace thrusting in and out at a steady pace. He lets out grunts and curses as you tighten suddenly arching your back forcing you even closer to him as he hits that spot deep inside you.
He thrusts in again continuing to hit it as he keeps going. The pleasure is too much paired with the sensitivity from your earlier orgasms and you can feel a large one coming.
“You sorry now?” He asks you and this time you nod wrapping your arms around him and tucking your head into his shoulder.
He lets out a laugh shaking his head in disbelief.
“Next time you want attention.” He tells you as you get even closer to going over the edge. “Tell me instead of flirting with Brian. Because if I catch you doing it again you won’t be able to walk for a week.” He promises and you can tell he means it. And with that you cum his words pushing you over the edge.
You clench around him harshly and your whole body shakes as you cum. Loud moans escaping you only slightly muffled from where your head is tucked into his shoulder. He comes with you releasing into you letting out a low groan. Hips thrusting into you lazily as he fucks you both through it.
When it’s done you relax back onto the bed only to look up in surprise when he starts to thrust again.
He laughs at the look on your face a teasing look on his face.
“You seriously thought that was you out of bother? That was just the beginning.”
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 1
Batman needs a Robin
Ina was a street rat. A dirty, malnourished, eleven year old from Crime Alley. She couldn’t fight well and didn’t even steal, because mama would be mad. Samantha Reilly was a victim of abuse and bad luck all her life, but she refused to subject her daughter to the same fate. The day Ina gets caught stealing something from the wrong person will be her last and Samantha much prefers to prevent it altogether. So, while she was never very skilled in street fights, she could at least throw a punch. She was smart and incredibly fast on her feet. That sufficed. They can survive a little longer, if Ina doesn't cause trouble.
Contrary to popular belief, Red Hood was a kind man. He cared for the children of Crime Alley in a way no one else usually did. Ina spent her day running around and playing with other kids unfortunate enough to live in Park Row. Many of those children, much like herself, more often than not went to bed hungry. But never when Red Hood was around. Gotham City as a whole may have Batman, but they have their own hero. The man was in his thirties (even though there was a visible grey streak in his hair) and always brought food for the kids. That evening wasn't different. Little children and teenagers alike ran to him cheering loudly. The anti-hero only laughed and set down the bag for them to rummage through. Ina's mom wasn't home that day at all. Weekends were very busy days at her work, but in all her stress she forgot to leave something to eat for her daughter. The girl couldn't blame her mama for making mistakes like that, seeing her mother's state every time she came back home. Samantha's boss was the definition of what could only be described as a "motherfucker". With that thought, Ina took out a cheeseburger and murmured a shy thank you before biting into it happily. She felt Red Hood's large hand rest on the top of her head, before ruffling her dark brown hair. The girl grimaced out of habit, but didn't swat his hand away.
In the end, the vigilante vanished as quickly as he appeared, but the kids knew he would be back. Hopefully with more food and some stories from his missions. The sky started to darken and Ina decided it was her que to leave. She said goodbyes to her friends and marched quickly, almost soundlessly home.
[-]
Crime Alley, per it's name, was usually full of very shady people, but as Ina hurried through she didn't spot anyone at all. Now that sparked trouble. She thought about running, but immediately decided against it. Suddenly, she heard labored breathing coming from around the corner. It was a sound of a dying man, she knew. Slowly, minding her own safety first, she peaked at the wounded person. Her blood ran cold. Leaning against the wall, in a pool of his own blood was the goddamn Batman. He clutched his chest, probably trying to stop the bleeding. Not very successfully. Ina crouched next to him in panic.
'Sir? Hello? I will call the ambulance.'
He gripped her arm with much force, before she could take out the phone. The cheapest one there was, but it was all she needed.
'No. They can't know who I am. I have to go to the Batcave' the vigilante's voice was strained with pain. He reached to his belt and took out a small device. Car keys - she realised. 'The Batmobile should be on it's way. Just help me get to it.'
He was right, after a few moments Ina saw a big and probably very expensive vehicle roll onto the road right outside of the dark alley. The girl was so high on adrenaline and focused on not letting the Batman die that she coudn't even bring herself to be amazed by it. She "helped" him stand or rather supported his balance as he leaned on the brick wall, colouring it red with his blood. They somehow got to the Batmobile - as the man called it - and he collapsed onto the drivers seat with a sigh of absolute suffering. Ina didn't know what came over her in that moment, but she quickly sat on the only passenger seat available. Batman eyed her in shock and looked like he wanted to argue, but before he could waste his breath any further, she cut in.
'I'm sorry, but there's no way I will let you go home like that all alone. You're barely conscious!'
He didn't respond, instead opting to relax into his seat. He typed in the destination on a bright panel and felt his eyes close involuntarily. He shouldn't have gone to patrol tonight. His previous injury hasn't fully recovered yet and went out against Alfred's stern discouragement, not putting on his com link for good measure. How foolish of him. Now, he was basically dying with a little, scared girl by his side after getting stabbed between ribs. All because of mild pain making him hesitate and allowing his opponent to take advantage. Father is going to kill him. Unless, of course, Pennyworth doesn't beat him to it.
#dc#dc fic#original character#oc#damian wayne#damian al ghul#batman!damian#batman au#batfamily#batman#dc comics
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
11 for rejanis bc I loved your holiday fic from ages ago
11. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”
No matter how old Janis gets, she never outgrows the rush of giddy excitement when she wakes to an alert that they have a snow day.
The first thing she does is go to the window. There's something so peaceful about everything—the yard, the trees, the cars, the roads—covered in unblemished white snow.
The second thing she does is check the group chat, where she knows Damian has invited them over to build snowmen and snow forts and, most importantly, to have a snowball fight.
That never gets old, either.
Which is how Janis finds herself hiding behind a tree, her fingers practically numb in her soaked mittens but having too much fun to care.
She sees movement out of the corner of her eye and sees it's Regina, crouching behind one of the forts. (Fort may be a bit generous—it's mostly a pile of snow loosely shaped into a wall.) And Janis really can't resist that.
Regina lets out a yelp when the first snowball hits her back, whipping around, one hand reached behind her to dig the snow out of the hood of her jacket. When she sees it's Janis her eyes narrow.
"What are you doing?" Regina hisses. "We're on the same team."
She looks so irritated that Janis has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. There's something so gratifying about pushing Regina's buttons—being so used to everyone doting on her, Regina has no tolerance for even the smallest of inconveniences.
"My bad," Janis says. "My hand slipped." She slowly moves her arm, holding the second snowball, from behind her back.
Regina's eyes zero in on the snowball. "Don't you dare throw that snowba—"
Janis throws it, the snowball hitting Regina just under the chin.
"Goddammit!"
Before Janis can blink, Regina lunges at her, knocking her into the snow, which cushions her fall.
"Regina, what the fu—oof."
The cold of the snow starts to seep into Janis's jeans and the back of her neck where her jacket isn't covering her skin.
"Not so funny now, huh?" Regina says, smirking.
After a moment, Janis realizes that Regina is on top of her, one of her knees between Janis's, one hand braced in the snow and one holding the front of Janis's coat.
The smirk slides off Regina's face and they stare at each other, their faces inches apart, their breath meeting and fogging the air between them.
Janis swears she sees Regina's gaze drop to her lips, just for a second, and Janis has the crazy thought that if Regina kissed her, she would kiss her back. She isn't sure if she's imagining it, but it feels like their lips are moving impossibly closer.
"Keeping each other warm, I see. Love the team spirit."
They both startle at the sound of Damian's voice, and Regina moves off of Janis so quickly she nearly trips over her own feet, muttering a halfhearted sorry. Janis immediately misses the warmth and weight of her body.
Regina is looking anywhere but at Janis or Damian, and Janis's isn't sure if the red painting her cheeks is from the cold or if she's blushing.
I'll kill you, Janis mouths to Damian, and he just laughs.
Until a snowball nails him in the face.
#rejanis#mean girls#mean girls the musical#mean girls 2024#only fitting after we waited outside for five hours in below freezing weather for renee rapp snl tickets#AND it snowed today <3#ask#anonymous#prompts#almost wrote something about having to watch for the snow day announcement on the tv but people probably get the alert on their phones now#pour one out for local cable
41 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ariielleschmiidt
Arielle
myromancedramas
i love love
unadulteratednutcomputer
Untitled
buffaloborgine
Just a know-a-bit-drawing fangirl
wizardcow
Wizard Cow