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allbark-no-bite · 1 year

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Maniac || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: she’s dancing in the kitchen while Rafe’s falling in love

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ smut

author’s note: inspired loosely by Macklemore’s ‘Maniac’

He's laughing now, low and attractive, his pearly teeth on display. His crossed arms bounce against his chest as it rumbles. From the radio sat on the counter, music bounces through the expanse of the kitchen.

"I am not dancing with you."

"C'mon! Get over yourself, Cameron!"

Warm, lemon yellow light slowly creeps across the white kitchen walls, and it makes her hair flash a rich golden color as she twirls through the sunbeams.

Rafe remembers exactly when he fell in love with her because it was a moment similar to this one. She's half dressed, dancing in the kitchen in her tube socks. Her hair is a mess, falling out of the already sloppy bun it's been thrown in, and he's not even sure she's wearing anything under the billowy mass of his shirt. The buttons are misaligned and he's half hoping it will fall further down her shoulder just so he can prove his theory.

God, does she get on his nerves. "Of you? Or looking like an idiot?" Rafe braces himself against the countertop, his lean body relaxed.

Right now he's just content to watch her, socked feet sliding against the white kitchen tile as she does what he has to admit is a fairly decent impression of the moonwalk. Thankfully he doesn't speak too soon because she stumbles over her own feet at the end, catching herself just before she hits the floor.

Rafe just shakes his head, blue eyes shining with a light that only she can put in them. "You're a maniac." His heart hurts. He wishes this wasn't so complicated.

Rafe met (y/n) through Topper, his best friend since grade school. Consequently, Topper was also (y/n)'s older brother. Now, he wants to make this point clear, he never set out to fuck his best friend's kid sister. Shit just happens. He had always liked her, of course, but everyone did. She didn't rat out anything they did at parties, and she was always down to hang out and do... other things. His favorite of those things being the time they had sex in the backseat of Topper's jeep. They'd emerged an hour later, faces hot and clothes rumpled, and returned back to the party as if nothing happened.

Rafe is sure Topper knows he's doing less than decent things with his little sister — they did leave his car reeking of sex for the whole next week — but for the most part, they keep whatever is between them under wraps. She says it's because she doesn't want to hurt her brother if things go south. Rafe knows it's because she's seventeen and doesn't want to commit to anything she doesn't have to.

"We aren't dating, Rafe. You know that."

He's just proposed that they go with Kelce and his girlfriend to the golf club tomorrow.

"Bullshit," he laughs, grinning from ear to ear. She was bad for him, her and her flighty indecisiveness, but so were a lot of other things he did. Rafe figured there were worse things that could kill him.

"You'll get over me eventually. I promise."

He's really grinning now because he knows she's all talk. "Sure," he relents, playing along for the sake of the conversation. "And when I don't?"

She's rolling her eyes now but still smiling as he takes her hand and twirls her around, her toes twirling delicately across the kitchen floor. "You're just like my brother. You'll find another Sarah Cameron and move on with your life."

He actually scoffs at that. "I'd rather not think about the things your brother does to my sister."

"I'm sure Top feels the same way," she refutes, sidling closer to Rafe until they're nearly pressed chest to chest. The collar of the shirt has slidden off her shoulder, well below her collarbone, and still there's no bra strap in sight. He swallows, a hand sliding up the back of her bare thigh to cup the curve of her backside and pull her closer to him.

She must notice his tentativeness because she offers him a cheeky look, cupping her hand over his own. "No need to be shy. If you're going to touch me then get going with it."

Rafe's blue eyes flit to hers, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a shy smile, as if he's been caught contemplating and she read his mind. His other hand glides up her shirt, reveling at the warmth of her skin before sliding home. The bud of her breast pebbles under the swipe of his thumb and she shivers.

"What's wrong with being shy?" he mumbles, his head ducking to mouth at the cavern of her collarbone. Her body is warm and impossibly alive in his hands. There are often times like this one that he cannot fathom the fact that like him, she is a living, breathing person. He can feel her heart thumping under the weight of his palm, almost unbearably alive.

The tent in his pants must betray him because she laughs. "Rafe Cameron, you have never been shy a day in your life." Her hips grind up into his and he muffles a groan into her skin. He would say she knows him too well but really there's no hiding what's happening in his pants.

His fingers tug down at her shirt as he cranes his neck lower to mouth at the tender swell of her breast. A pleased sound escapes her. Before she can grip him through his shorts, he swiftly grabs her wrist, placing it instead on his waist. "Later," he huffs. His dick can wait.

When her hand again slips past the waistband of his boxer, his teeth catch her skin, reprimanding her. "Later, dammit," Rafe scolds, but there's no bite to his voice. He's smiling again as he kisses the welp better. His hands are on her waist, thumbs digging in below her hipbones to pull her body into his. Her fingers are in his hair, tickling his scalp and making him sigh into her skin. Rafe smoothes his tongue over the hickey forming on the top of her breast, making sure to attend to the other side as well.

With her hands still in his hair, Rafe drops to his knees on the kitchen tile. He is very, very pleased to find that she is not wearing panties. Narrowing his blue eyes, he shoots her a knowing glare. "You're nothing but trouble, kid."

Her hands tangled in his hair push his head back down. "You sound like you're trying to catch a case calling me that."

Rafe laughs at her impatience. At first he had been painfully aware of their three year age gap. She was Topper's litter sister for god's sake — practically a baby when he was a senior in high school. That number has faded over the years but it doesn't mean he doesn't like to tease her.

Grinning, his nose drags along the tan of her bikini line. She smells like sun tan oil and something he can't quite place. He would like to linger a while longer to figure it out but he's afraid she'll get too impatient with him.

Palms griping the backs of her thighs, he licks through her folds. The contact makes her body jump, but her fingers tighten as much as they can in his cropped hair, forcing his face closer. He just knows his jaw is going to ache tomorrow. Is it actually good head if it doesn't? He doesn't think so.

Rafe drags his tongue up to her clit before sucking at it. She squeaks at this, legs quivering beside his head. Just when he thinks she's going to lose her balance, she thankfully grabs on to the counter behind her before they both topple to the floor.

"Holy..." she begins, but doesn't even finish her sentence.

Grunting, Rafe has to force his wide shoulders in between her knees to keep them open as he laps at her. His tongue dips further into her, causing his nose to nudge her clit each time his mouth explores her further.

Eventually he becomes more insistent with his actions, lapping at her clit until she's whimpering, sensitive to the point that he doesn't know if she's more keen on shoving his head towards her or pushing it away. She comes with a cry, squirming in his hands as his tongue finishes the job properly.

"Oh god, I love you. Please. Fuck, you're— Right there."

Rafe pulls away just a fraction to breathe. "What'd you say?"

He's sure she can still feel his hot breath against her weeping cunt. There's arousal leaking down her thighs and he can feel it dripping down from his chin to his neck.

Panting, her cheeks are flushed as she looks down at him, but he has a feeling it's not from him. "What?" she stammers. "Nothing."

He grins cheshire-like up at her. His hands rub the backs of her thighs soothingly before squeezing her calfs. "You said the "L" word," he accuses.

Her eyes widen in realization. "No. No, I didn't," she protests.

Rafe rises to his feet, hands trailing up her body as his smile grows wider. She's trapped between his body and the counter and has no choice but to try and dodge him as he tries to catch her eyes. "What was it?" He taunts, laughing. "Say it again, baby?"

She tries to cover her face with her hands but with Rafe's overpowering strength, the attempt is useless. Even hiding halfway behind her arms, he can tell she's smiling. "I didn't! I didn't say anything!"

"C'mon! Baby. Baby, look at me." Rafe pulls her her rigid arms away from her face and holds them out to either side of her head. "Hey, I said look at me."

Leveling his gaze with her, they lock eyes for a moment, neither saying anything. Although her expression is fairly calm, if not a little pensive, he can tell she’s searching his face for a reaction. Timidly, he presses his lips to hers, stealing a chaste kiss before pulling away again.

“I love you too.”

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #obx imagine #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe x reader

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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2112 Days | Ao3 link

tw: memory loss

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is. The last thing he remembers from the night before is the party all piled up in his living room, everyone too anxious to sleep, and now he's in a bedroom that he has absolutely no memory of.

He looks around the unfamiliar room, tries to get a sense of what the fuck is going on, and on the nightstand next to him, he finds a tape recorder sitting on top of a photo album. On the tape recorder is a sticky note, with the words 'play me' written across the yellow paper in scratchy handwriting.

Steve is so confused and frustrated, he doesn't have time for this, they have a plan to carry out. But something deep inside him keeps him in place. Tells him to play it. He picks up the device and sees another note on the album, this one reading 'open me', and he presses play on the tape recorder before grabbing the book.

There's a little bit of sound fuzz before a voice says "Good morning, Stevie!" and Steve blinks, because that's Eddie's voice.

"Today is Saturday, August 29th, 1992, and it's been 5 years, 9 months, and 12 days since we killed Vecna and closed the gates permanently."

Steve's hand jerks out and stops the tape, his breathing picks up because what the fuck? That can't be right, they're supposed to fight Vecna today. That's why they all stayed at Steve's house. One more sleepover, one more chance to be there for each other before they have to split up, before they have to finish the job.

He takes a moment to just breathe, lets the words sink in as he opens the photo album. It takes him a second to realize it, but the first picture is of himself, in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head and a tube down his throat. He looks bad, and he doesn't remember a single second of it.

There's more of that scratchy writing just below it. ‘November 20, 1986. Taken by one of Owen’s guys.’ The next page has a doctor's report, and Steve sees the words 'brain injury' and 'short term memory loss' before he continues.

He flips through the album, sees more pictures of himself that he doesn't remember being taken. Each one has a date next to it, and some have a little description to give him context. There are photos of him with the party, with Robin and Eddie and Nancy, and there are news articles scattered amongst them, important things he should remember, that make his head hurt when he tries too hard to do so.

There are pictures of Nancy and Robin's graduation from college, Wayne's wedding to some woman named Cynthia, the grand opening of Jonathan and Argyle's pizza shop.

A photo of him and Eddie, wearing tacky sweaters and kissing under mistletoe, with the description '1987, Our first Christmas together', and oh, that's something that sends tingles up his spine. He'd had more than a crush on Eddie before their second run in with Vecna, but he hadn't had the courage to do anything about it before they ran head first into danger, again.

Are he and Eddie together now? Like, together together?

The answer seems to be yes, because the next few pages are just more photos of him and Eddie, most taken by Eddie himself, his arm stretching out to capture the moment. Pictures of their first apartment, multiple anniversaries, the day they got their cat (Lucy is written next to this one in Steve’s handwriting, along with a little heart).

And then a photo that makes Steve's heart stop. It's them again, standing on a beach, hand in hand as they face each other. They're both barefoot, wearing slacks and nice shirts, Eddie's a deep, wine red, and Steve's a soft baby blue, and the love on their faces is blinding.

The description says 'June 15, 1991, Our wedding. Not legal, but very, very real.'

And Steve looks at his hand, for the first time sees the gold ring on his finger, like it's perfectly happy at home there, and he thinks he might start crying.

On the bottom of the page is his own handwriting, a small addition that just says 'play the tape.' Steve glances over, presses play again with a shaky hand, and Eddie's voice starts up once more.

"You got pretty banged up during the fight, and your many knocks to the head finally caught up with you. You have some extensive brain trauma, and your short term memory is basically non-existent.

"It's okay, though. You're not alone, you've got tons of people that care about you, baby. The Upside Down stuff is all over, there haven't been any blips on the radar or anything. The kids are all okay - scattered to the wind, but okay.

"Robin's in town today, we're meeting her for lunch at noon, but you've got plenty of time before then. Finish looking through the album, and as soon as you're ready, come find me in the house. Just follow the sound of music, baby. I love you."

The tape ends, and Steve takes a minute to process. He flips through the rest of the album, pictures dated all the way up to a month ago, when he and Eddie had apparently visited Nancy in New York.

It hits him that this is real, this is his reality. He looks at the tape recorder, thinks that this must be an everyday thing for Eddie, and he's suddenly overcome with emotion for the other man.

He climbs out of bed and grabs the tape recorder before he heads out of the room, hears music coming from somewhere, and follows it to a kitchen.

And there's Eddie, with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and humming along to the tape that's playing on a nearby stereo. There are more tattoos inked into his skin, more piercings in his ears, and Steve can see that yeah, he has aged a little.

"Eddie?" he says softly, and the older man turns to look at him with a bright smile.

"Morning, Stevie. How are you feeling today?"

Overwhelmed, Steve thinks, but he swallows hard and holds up the tape recorder. "Do you record these for me every day?"

Eddie's smile softens at the question and he motions Steve closer. "You ask me that too often, like you just can't believe I'd do something like that for you."

Steve goes over to him, sets the device on the counter as one of Eddie's hands settles on Steve's waist, the other moving up to cup his cheek. "I can't believe it, it's so-" Kind? Selfless?

Steve doesn't have the proper word to describe it, and it only adds to that overwhelmed feeling. Eddie's thumb strokes over his cheekbone and he hums softly.

"It's worth it for you, sweetheart. After all the shit we’ve been though, that you’ve been through, you deserve a normal life, and I swore do everything in my fucking power to make sure that happens."

And Steve is definitely crying now. The fact that Eddie has been doing this for almost six years, that he's stayed by Steve through it and hasn't given up on him? The effort he’s put into helping Steve feel somewhat normal? It's too much for Steve to comprehend, and Eddie pulls him into a tight hug, mutters softly softly into his ear as he starts to sob.

"I know, baby. It's okay."

They stay like that for a while, until Steve's tears slow, then stop, and he's able to breathe normally again. "Sorry," he mutters and scrubs a hand over his face, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Don't apologize, Steve. This happens sometimes, and it's perfectly okay. It's a lot to process all at once, and we just take it a day at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, and takes another deep breath. He thinks back to the album, to the photos of him and Eddie, and he knows exactly what he wants in this moment. "Will you kiss me, please?"

And Eddie smiles, says "Of course, honey."

It feels right when Eddie kisses him, and it's weird, because he doesn't remember ever kissing Eddie before now, but it's like his body does, like it knows all of the steps to this dance that his brain can't remember.

They stay in the kitchen for a while just kissing and talking, Eddie answering all of Steve's questions with such patience, until it's time to go meet Robin.

Later that night, just as Steve is dozing off, he feels Eddie pull away before getting out of the bed.

"Where 're you goin'?" he mutters, and Eddie cards a hand through his hair.

"Gotta go record your tape for tomorrow. Just go back to sleep, baby."

Steve hums his disapproval and hears Eddie chuckle, before a kiss is pressed to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, gorgeous."

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is.

#i love 50 first dates and brain-injury-haver steve so i combined them together #they live in a tiny queer beach side town #and everyone knows steve and his condition #and they're all super supportive and helpful #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #joey writes #2112 days

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lousypotatoes · 22 days

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What A Glorious Feeling

This chapter takes place after the pilot but before the first episode of the series.

Reader is a falcon demon, doesn't have a beak, wings drape over her kinda like Valentino's (i want him dead), reader has gray skin, usually wears a black tube top, black and white pinstripe pants, black boots, and has a daisy in her hair. Reader has the eyes and ears of a falcon and is also slightly cannibalistic. Reader can summon any weapons at will and can move things with her mind, whenever she does this, her eyes glow red. Like Alastor, reader can also summon anything at will. If you had something else in mind for how the reader looks, you are more than welcome to imagine something different.

I know Alastor is canonically aroace, but obviously, in this story he is not. Also, in this book, nobody knows the Radio Demon's name unless he decides to tell them. Sorry I should of said this earlier.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

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Present day...

"Ah Dustin," Y/N said, walking over to the man, who was cowering in the corner. "You broke our deal. You know what happens to people who don't keep their word with me, don't you?"

"Please," he begged. "Give me one more month I promise-"

"You said the exact same thing six months ago," she spat angrily, her wings unfolding.

"I swear-thi-this is the last time," he stuttered. "I just need-"

She summoned red chains, that latched onto Dustin's neck. Tugging the chains over to him, she grabbed his face, digging her claws into his cheeks. He let out a yelp of pain.

"The deal was that if I killed your pathetic wife, I'd get your soul, and you would get me what I needed from that idiot overlord who thinks he's the shit, just because he's a pimp!" Y/N snarled, digging her claws in harder, drawing blood. "I have been more then generous towards you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm trying!" he cried out, tears running down his face. "Please just don't kill me!"

She had a small frown on her face. "I should rip you apart limb by limb," she said, calmly but in a deadly voice. "But I'm not goin' to do that," She removed the chains from his neck and put him down.

"Thank you so much Assassin," Dustin said, wiping the blood off his cheeks. "I swear I will-"

He never finished his sentence. As fast as lighting, she summoned an axe and chopped his head clean off.

"Instead, I'll make this is as quick and painless for you," she giggled, licking off the blood from the axe. "I'll have to thank Carmilla for the angelic steel at the next overlord meeting."

Using the axe, Y/N chopped up his limbs and stuffed them in a trash bag she had brought with her.

"Cannibal town here I come," she smiled once she was done.

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"Knock, knock," she said, knocking at the parlor door.

"Y/N!" Rosie exclaimed upon seeing you. "What are you doing here so soon?"

"I brought you a little somethin' to snack on," Y/N said, holding up the trash bag.

"Oh you spoil me so much, my dear," Rosie said, licking her lips.

"Anything for my closest friend," Y/N said, handing her the trash bag.

"This is the fifth one this month," Rosie said, opening up the bag. "Sinners know better than to break a deal with you."

"They'll never learn, Rosie," she giggled as she took a seat on the couch. "Did you see the news the other day?"

"The Princess sure does have her hopes up for this hotel," Rosie answered, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Tea, Y/N?"

"No thank you," Y/N answered. "Do you think anyone would actually check in to that hotel?"

"Who knows at this point," Rosie said, sipping her tea. "But judging by how people reacted, I don't think it's going to work out,"

"Shame," Y/N said. "It's a good idea, if it's actually possible."

"Say Y/N," she said, setting her cup down. "A friend of mine just recently got back into town. He's staying at this hotel,"

"Oh yeah?" Y/N asked curiously. "Who is it?"

"The Radio Demon," she said simply.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "He's been gone for seven years," she said. "Why on Earth would he return now? And why would he be stayin' at the Princess's hotel?"

"Satan knows," Rosie replied. "Y'know, you and him would really hit it off."

Y/N's eyebrow rose up. "Sorry my darlin'," she said, lightly chuckling. "The Radio Demon is most certainly not my type."

"You don't even know him," Rosie said, a slight frown on her face.

"I don't need too," Y/N said curtly. "From what I know, he seems like a self-absorbed prick."

"Oh c'mon," Rosie nudged you. "The both of you have so much in common! You both like whiskey, you both like jazz, you both like killing people-"

"Why all of a sudden are you tryin' to play matchmaker?" Y/N interrupted. "And why The Radio Demon out of people?"

"Because you need to get out there!" Rosie said, smoothing out her dress. "Ever since I've known you, one of the main things you talk about is how in love you were when you were alive. What was his name again?"

"His name was Alastor," she said, her heart hurting. "I've searched all of Hell Rosie. Either he's up in Heaven, or the Exorcists got to him."

"That's why I want you to meet him," Rosie said, patting Y/N's shoulder. "Please? Do it for little ol' me?"

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I was already thinkin' about checkin' out the hotel anyway."

"Marvelous!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together "I promise, you won't regret it!"

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Landing in front of the hotel, she knocked at the door, feeling nervous, her wings fluttered behind her.

"I'm coming!" chirped a feminine voice from behind the door.

Fiddling with the hem of her top, Y/N waited until the person opened up the door.

The princess herself opened the door. "Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hot-"

Upon seeing your face in the doorway, she immediately slammed the door shut.

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"Vaggie!" Charlie cried out.

"What is it?" Vaggie asked, coming down the staircase.

"The Assassin is at the door," Charlie panicked, pointing at the door. "What do we do?"

"Really? Another fucking overlord?" Vaggie angrily said, walking over to the door. "I'll handle this."

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The door opened up a second time. Instead of the princess, a girl with a large X over her eye appeared in the doorway.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked suspiciously.

"There's no need to be so hostile," Y/N said, putting up her hands. "I'm here to simply offer up my services."

"We don't need you to kill anyone,"

"Not those kinds of services," she laughed. "I want to help with your hotel."

"Thanks, but we already have an overlord helping us," Vaggie said, eyeing her up and down.

"The Radio Demon, yes I know," she said, crossing her arms. "I still want to help,"

As Vaggie was about to close the door, Charlie popped up beside her.

"Wait Vaggie, we could use her help," she said, smiling. "With two overlords helping us, we can get a lot more done!"

"You have a point," Vaggie grumbled. "But I'm keeping my eye on you,"

Charlie beckoned you to come in. "Thank you, Princess Morningstar," Y/N said, stepping inside.

"Oh please, just call me Charlie," she waved off. "This is Vaggie," she gestured to the girl with the X.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both,"

"Thank you!" Charlie gushed. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel-er-"

"Y/N," she said. "My name is Y/N."

"Right! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel Y/N! Would you like a tour?"

"Of course,"

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"Why does the bar look like that?" Y/N asked after the tour was over.

"Someone blew it up a few days ago," Charlie said simply. "Our facility manager fixed it up so it's nothing to worry about!"

"Oh-uh-" Y/N didn't know was to say. "I'm glad it's all fixed."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I have to introduce you to everyone! C'mon!" Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

"This is Nifty, our maid," she said gesturing to the small demon, cleaning the floor. "Nifty, this is Y/N, she'll be staying with us

Nifty turned around and her eye widened and she smiled in a scary way.

"Ooooo! I've never seen a bad girl before!" she said menacingly as she crawled up on you. "Do you want to punish some bad boys with me?"

"Just give me the time and place, sweetie," Y/N said, putting Nifty down. Nifty quicky ran off.

"She's mostly harmless," Charlie said nervously. "Just don't let her bite you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed.

"This is Husk, our bartender," she said gleefully.

Husk was drinking from a bottle, he nodded at Y/N but didn't say anything.

"It's nice to meet you, Husk," she said politely.

Husk recognized her at second glance, almost spitting out his booze, he decided not to say anything about it, though.

"Oooooo heya Y/N~" said a voice.

Y/N turned around and grinned. "It's nice to see you again Angel Dust,"

"Ohhh it's nice to see you too baby~" he said seductively.

"Oh that's wonderful!" Charlie exclaimed, her eyes sparkilng. "You two know each other!"

"Yeah, we met at a party a while back," Y/N explained. "He kept wantin' to look at a sword that I had just got."

"Y'know babycakes," Angel said, walking over to her. "I could show you my sword, if you want~"

"Another time, Angel," Y/N laughed, Charlie laughed awkwardly with her.

"Well, I think that's it!" Charlie said, clapping her hands together. "I'll show you to your room and if there's anything you need, just-"

"Oh, we have a new guest? Heavens, why didn't anyone tell me?" said a staticky voice.

Y/N turned and saw the infamous Radio Demon standing right behind her. Upon closer inspection, there was a look in his eyes that seemed familiar.

Too familiar.

Y/N had loved looking into those eyes, it had brought comfort to her.

"Oh my gosh! How could I forget!" Charlie said. "Y/N is going to be helping us around the hotel just like you!"

At the mention of her name, something pulled at Alastor's heartstrings.

"Well, we need all the help we can get, that's for certain," Alastor laughed.

That laugh, Y/N had imagined it every single day when she arrived in Hell.

"Y/N, this is our facility mana-"

"Alastor?"

Her voice, it sounded like an angel. Alastor remembered the first time he heard it. Everything clicked into place for the both of them.

"Y/N?"

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Sorry if all the characters are a little ooc. I need to rewatch the show lmao.

THERES AN ECLIPSE TODAY!!!

stay safe out there you little rascals <33

xoxo, Izzy

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor altruist x reader #character x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #vaggie #charlie #rosie #angel dust #husk #nifty

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

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Platonic!Mad-Scientist + Experiment!GN!Reader

A mad scientist finally crates a humanistic being, but they are so realistic he can’t find it in him to scrap them like the rest of his experiments. Readers physical age is described just as ‘young’ and later he sees them as his ‘child’, but it’s up to interpretation what they look like etc.

Many things are kept secret by the government such as labs of unethical testing and creations, from mutated virus’ to deformed animals. But the mad scientist always had his mind on something bigger, there were many failed attempts, ones that looked like Frankensteins monster others that looked menacing and uncanny or some made partially from mechanics making them to powerful.

One thing they all had in common was none of them acted like a human, none could fool him into thinking they were their own being. Until you, a completely sentient mind and on top of that you looked normal. It took years to grow you from scratch, hundreds of surgeries to be sure you’d continue growing, inserting mechanical pieces and organic but never using organs or cells from others. You were completely from scratch; a human with no lineage.

He intended to experiment on his latest success and later eliminate them to make a newer improved being. This meant he emotionally was distant once he’d brought you to life, he met your needs to keep you alive and left without a word. He continued to see you as a experiment no matter how many times you tried to get some form of comfort from your caregiver.

You were a experiment to him, not a helpless being new to the word, not a child... until you was. Visit after visit and test after test his brain began to recognise you as a person, something he’d never felt towards the rest of his uncanny experiments.

What started as flat explanations to your questions turned to conversations, bland food trays became more colourful, you was introduced to chocolate and soft blankets. He brought you a floppy stuffed dog one morning after seeing you hold onto your pillow throughout the night instead of using it for your head.

He tried to be indifferent when giving you such luxuries, leaving them behind on the floor without a word before he left or using them as bargaining chips- even though he’d give them to you anyways.

Experiments weren’t as harsh anymore and he rarely made you take needles or medicine unless he deemed necessary. Then experiments and tests stopped all together. He became withdrawn for a few weeks, fighting with his instincts telling him to keep you and look after you, while his scientist brain told him to rid of you like he’d planned.

One night he snapped. He interrupted your sleep, ripping the blankets from your grip and pulling you from the bed by your hand “come on, we’re leaving” was all he said as he pulled you out the door. Staggering behind him in confusion, he took you to his office, it was a mess of papers and files- a chalk board full of muddled writing that extended onto the walls- a small television screen displaying a image of your white cell partially blocked by test tubes and vails of weird colours.

He let go of your hand searching for paper, he found a ripped envelope and wrote on the blank side, he scribbled away -writing about his resignation, making up a story about how he found its impossible to create a true human from scratch, how he’s frustrated and loosing his mind so he’s choosing to leave for his own sakes. How he’s exterminated all prior experiments including his latest, you.

It’s was mostly a lie though, he had no intentions of killing you. You his greatest success, he’s not going to share you with the world, expose you to the cruelties of experimentation in the name of science. Not anymore.

He pins the note to his door, collects the documentations that recorded how he had made you and shoved them in his bag. Before grabbing your hand once again, taking you to his car.

You would be on days long road trip living out of the car that you had both fled the lab with, he allowed himself to grow closer to you, for his instincts to protect you. You both shopped for new clothes and games, stopped the car whenever he saw a restaurant you might like, taught you classic games like ‘I spy’ when you’d get bored.

He found a remote town and almost instantly bought a house there, sold his car with no intentions to leave, and moved all the stuff- you both had collected the past few days- into the new house. That night you watched movies on the old chunky tv left behind from the previous owner, comfortably on the sofa that was beside the fireplace, he had bathed you, cut your hair and wrapped you up in blankets. He had one more thing to do to truly feel at peace.

He sat in front of the fire place, feeding it the documents of your creation, file by file and lastly his ID badge from the lab. No body will know, you will forget over time (if not he will make you believe it was just a bad dream) and become just his kid, and him- just a single dad who moved here to start a quiet life for his child after beginning it in a rough patch. Watching the papers become ash and settling on the bottom; he placed another log ontop “Now, what can I make you for dinner?” he smiled turning to you.

#platonic yandere #mad scientist #yandere oc #+reader

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ohgeesoap · 5 months

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There's a lot of reasons I love Soap but his loyalty, strength and resilience just might be at the top. Pulling the knife from his own chest and using it to kill the person who stabbed him with it is something I think about daily.

(journal entries typed out beneath the cut)

Saved again. How many times now, I've lost count. Don't mean I've lost track. The questions are hard: How do I repay his debt? How many times can a man save your life until it's no longer your own? But the answer's easy. At least to me. Loyalty doesn't operate on a sliding scale. It's a safety. On or off.

Think I prefer getting shot. Knife wound healing too slowly for taste. Keep ripping sutures. Internal bleeding a concern. Nikolai's providing antibiotics and pain meds. Providing inspiration? Makarov. The need to clear our names.

Finally after all the Percocet and the feeding tube, I'm beginning to get it all back: My normal diet, my usual range of motion and strength. Before long I'll be better. Strong as before. After that; we're on the move.

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #cod mw #cod mw 2 #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare #soap said getting stabbed is super annoying just shoot me instead

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 years

Text

Wanting it all

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.

Notes/Warnings: it’s pure fluffiness. future dad!hangman, near-death stuff, I guess. Cursing, im sure. best friend Rooster! In anything top gun related i write, there is likely to be something incorrect. I only saw the movie once and it was back in May, so I try my best but i don’t remember the details of everything.

Words: 2833

When you got involved with Jake Seresin, you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew what it meant. You understood the sacrifices. You accepted that there was an element to your life that would always contain a well of fear. You knew, because he was very careful to be clear when he laid it all out for you.

Before you, Jake didn’t do relationships, but he told you there was a piece of him that fought against that choice, a piece that was desperate to have you and call you his, a piece that forced him to make an exception. In the same way, you had made an exception for him in being a part of the life he led, with all of its trials and tribulations that a man not in his profession wouldn’t demand of you.

But it was not something you ever had to mull over. When he told you how a life by his side would be, you had already decided that he was what you wanted. Come hell or high water, you would be with him as long as he also wanted you.

“Not wanting you isn’t something you will ever have to worry about, sweetheart,” he had told you, “Wanting you was as much a choice consciously made as it was something completely out of my control. My heart decided for me, and my mind willingly agreed. So don’t waste time worrying about that.”

But there would always be other things to worry about: the dangers he faced, his health, his safety. Those nagging pieces were tucked away in the corners of your mind, never quite leaving you in peace. And then for the first time since you made the thing between you official, Jake had come horribly close to not coming home to you. Some stupid birds almost got your boyfriend killed, and now more than ever, it struck you at your core.

---

Returning with oddly soft, quiet steps for a man of his size, Rooster sat beside you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs under the harsh florescent lighting and dumped an array of vending machine snacks on the small table between you. Bags of chips to tubes of candies to packets of gum made a mountain that you would slowly pick at for the rest of the day; and to say you were relieved to see the junk food that wouldn’t nutritiously sustain you for more than an hour would be a gross understatement.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just got a couple things from each row,” he said, and you nodded your thanks, grabbing a random bag of chips and tearing it open. He watched how severely your gaze was glued to Jake. “If it’s any comfort, he could be in much worse condition.”

But it wasn’t any comfort, unfortunately. Pain medications, exhaustion, and mild trauma to your boyfriend’s body had him completely passed out in the hospital bed; and he’d been that way for hours, asleep in misleading peacefulness even before Rooster got the chance to call you and tell you to come down to the hospital.

You knew Jake would be fine. But not yet seeing the green of his eyes or hearing the deep sound of his voice pricked at your nerves. The kind nurse's reassurance was not enough to soothe you, leaving you no choice but to wait for him to wake.

Rooster nudged your elbow with his, drawing you out of your daze, and you turned to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It would have been out of character for you; maybe not so much when you were dealing with Jake, but Rooster didn’t deserve such a reaction from you. Not when he had practically adopted you as his little sister and did everything he could to protect and take care of you when you needed it most.

“You mean other than my boyfriend having to eject from his jet, which according to what I was told, crashed into a mountain less than five seconds after he got out?”

Rooster winced. “Yea,” he said, scratching at his jaw, “…other than that.”

You faced forward, eyes training on the ugly beige coloring of the wall as you put a chip in your mouth. You chewed, swallowed, sipped your water, then took a deep breath and said, “I’m pregnant.”

“Wha—” Rooster’s head whipped to you, and the candies he had been picking away at fell from his hand, M&Ms of all colors scattering across an equally ugly, beige tiled floor, but neither of you cared. “Are you sure?”

You snorted. “Pretty sure.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound insensitive,” he blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, “It’s just—”

“It’s fine, Roose. I asked myself the same question about fifty times before the doctor confirmed it.”

He nodded. “How are you feeling? Wait, does he know?”

You shook your head, considering before saying, “I am happy, though. Absolutely terrified, but happy. I just don’t know how he’s going to react.”

Rooster took your hand in his and laid his other on top until a warmth encased your fingers, but the act made it all the more difficult to hold in the overwhelming tears you didn’t even know were at the ready to fall. “Shocked at first, I’m sure.”

You sniffed and wiped at your cheeks.

“But anything less than absolutely thrilled would be hard to imagine.”

“Can you know that?”

“Y/N, you think he’d be upset that you’re carrying his child when he loves you as much as he does?”

Jake loving you wasn’t something you had to question. Both of you knew a life together was what you wanted. But the pieces of that life that, for you, when combined would make a beautiful whole: a marriage, a house, a kid or two, somehow you and Jake never actually got around to discussing. Instead of talking about everything, the two of you made plans to talk. At the time of the plan-making you didn’t quite see the difference, but now, understanding how close you came to losing Jake, you realized that talking and planning to talk were most definitely not the same.

So here you were, living by what you assumed Jake wanted with you, what you were ninety-nine percent sure he wanted. But ninety-nine percent was not a hundred, and Jake had never explicitly told you he wanted to get married, he never told you he wanted children. That one percent could flip your world upside down if it turned out that’s where his wants, thoughts, and intentions laid.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in question.

“You’re getting that glazed over look in your eyes,” Rooster waved his hand in front of your face. “I get nervous when you overthink.”

Shaking your head, you pressed your fingertips against your closed eyelids until you saw little colorful spots in the darkness. When you opened them, a hazy purple hovered around the intense overhead lights, and you blinked hard a few times to readjust your vision.

“I’m just tired,” you said. A half-truth, but the yawn that followed your words aided in convincing Rooster.

“You going to stay here tonight?”

“Is that allowed?”

Your friend tilted his head and ran his tongue over his teeth. You could practically see the gears turning in that crafty mind of his. “Probably not, but I could try to work my charm.”

“Your charm? On what?”

“Not what, who.” He chuckled at the concerned look that took over your face, then he stood and asked for your house key, which you handed him. “That cute nurse kept looking at me in some sort of way and was doing an awful lot of blushing,” he continued, a playful smirk on his lips as he tossed your key up and caught it again. “I think I might just be able to get you an overnight free pass and me a date at the same time.”

“Oh, I have no doubt in your abilities.”

Carried by the confident stride that historically had every girl but you and Phoenix swooning, Rooster went to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit with a change of clothes for the both of you,” he said. Then with a wink and a click of the tongue, he left, the door closing gently behind him.

---

It was soft, warm presses on your forehead and spine shuddering tingles from light tugging on your hair that roused you. Your brow pinched as the arm you’d thrown over Jake’s waist squeezed and tightened in a dazed attempt to pull him closer.

A little grunt echoed in your ear followed by a calm whispering. “Ow, baby. I’m bruised there.”

Then the kisses to your forehead and the sifting of his fingers through the strands of your hair continued, lulling you back to sleep. You were almost gone when your mind finally caught up with your surroundings, and your head shot up as you said,

“Jake?”

Eyes met, and he immediately frowned. “Why did that come out like a question?” he asked. “Was there another pilot’s hospital bed that you were supposed to be crawling into?”

You wiggled your body up a bit until you could press your lips to his.

He chuckled into the innocent kiss, his large hand moving to cup your cheek.

“Are you ok?” you asked when you separated. “When did you wake up?”

A smile spread wide across his face at your eagerness as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “An hour ago. And I feel fine, baby. Beat to hell, but fine,” he said, pecking your lips.

“Beat to hell means you’re not fine.”

“Well, the nice nurse came to check on me and said I’ll live, so that’s good enough. Though she didn’t seem that surprised to see you in my bed at one a.m.” a blond eyebrow quirked, “I was scrambling to come up with an excuse, but she didn’t even acknowledge that you were here; just worked around you while you were laying all over me.”

“Rooster may have done me a favor,” you said.

You glanced over to the short row of plastic chairs where you and Rooster had sat hours before to find one of your drawstring bags, likely stuffed with clothes for the morning. He’d clearly come through, in more ways than one, and you were absolutely going to grill him for the details of his date the next time you saw him. But right now, that wasn’t what was at the forefront of your mind. You needed to tell Jake before you lost your nerve. The band-aid needed to be ripped off before it reached the point of being disrespectful for not telling him. And as it was, you were pushing it.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you said, “Jake, I have to tell you something.”

“Uh-oh.” He gave you a bright smile that didn’t quite conceal the hint of nerves.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No, it’s not bad. Well, maybe—well, no it’s fine, I think. Yea…yea, it’s ok—we’re going to be ok.” You took a deep breath, then the words spilled from your lips in an anxious, rushing wave that left no room for you to properly inhale. “Basically, I wasn’t feeling all that great, but I didn’t think twice about it because it didn’t seem like that big of a deal, and you know how I am when I think I’m getting sick, I just ignore it, so I did, but then it got worse and worse and I got annoyed about it, and then I started having other symptoms and I thought I was going crazy so I took a test, and then four more tests, and they all had the same result, so what I’m trying to say is that I’m—I’m—”

“Pregnant?” He finished for you, his voice soft, eyebrows pinched.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip. “A bit, yea.”

The unreadable expression on his face completely unnerved you. A million questions flashed across those green eyes of his, but he settled on: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you were going to react.” Which you knew wasn’t a good enough reason to keep it from him, more so considering that you wanted the baby. You wanted to be a mother, and you wanted him to want to be a father. But in the minute and a half you’d given him to adjust to this information—impatience overpowering your ability to be fair—he wasn’t giving you any indication of wanting the same. “How are you reacting exactly? I can’t tell.”

“How far along are you?”

“That’s not really an answe—”

“Y/N.” He shot you stern look that was a little too reminiscent of the look he’d often given you that somehow never failed to get you into bed; a look that sparked the event that lead you to be in your current state.

You sighed and sat up, one leg folding in front of you, the other dangling off the side of the bed. “A few weeks.”

The bubble of disappointment you expected to consume you both didn’t come, but neither did Jake smile with full commitment. The corners of his lips didn’t reach far enough up his cheeks to convince you of its sincerity; that rare meadow-green shade of his irises didn’t shine any brighter, or glisten with unshed tears of joy, which you also would have settled for. You couldn’t decipher what was in front of you, but then he said,

“Come here.”

“Ja—”

The deep noise he made in his throat as he shook his head stopped you. Grabbing your hand in his, he guided you closer, then he patted your side to let you know to straddle his hips. You settled yourself down and rested your hands on either side of his neck while his own slowly slid up down the tops of your thighs.

“Y/N, I’ve known that I want to marry you and have you as the mother of my children for a while now,” he said, finally grinning in a way that lessened the uneasy rapidity of your heartbeat. “So, seeing as we’ve just ticked one of those boxes, how do you feel about ticking the other one?”

“Wh—” The words, you definitely heard, but the comprehension of those words momentarily short-circuited your brain. “Are you—” Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Jake…are you serious?”

“I obviously wasn’t planning on doing this in a hospital bed, and the ring is at home, but—”

“You have a ring?”

He ran a knuckle over the blush that coated your cheeks. “I’ve had a ring,” he said, “for a month. I couldn’t figure out how I wanted to ask you, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I love you.”

You leaned your body into his, chests meeting, and wrapped your arms around his neck. It was a melting feeling to be so close to him, the warmth of your combined body heat practically joining you as one despite the layers of clothing between you. But it was always that way with Jake. From the moment you met, if his hands were on you, you were putty for him, completely malleable and moldable for him to do with what he wished.

Mouths barely brushed against one another. You whispered, “I love you,” and before you could close the space to kiss him deeper, he beat you to it, putting a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you forward so your lips could perfectly slot together.

You don’t know what you would have done if you’d lost this, lost him. But now it wasn’t only you, it was your child as well. Your son or daughter who might never have met their father. So you kissed him for more than just the feel and taste of him. You kissed him for more than just expressing your love. You kissed him because he was real and alive, and you shared something that would forever bind you.

You kissed until you forgot what it was to breathe, and it forced you to pull yourself away.

Calloused hands cupped your cheeks. Thumbs ran back and forth along your cheekbones. His eyes scanned over the features of your face, lazily lingering, in no rush to speak or end this moment of simply knowing without the slightest complication or hesitation that you loved one another. You loved one another and everything you made.

“Will you marry me, Y/N,” he asked, “…please.”

A mocking gasp of shock parted your lips. “Did Jake Seresin just say please?”

He swatted your ass. Your chuckles mingled. “This is a yes or no question, Miss Y/L/N. It does not require additional question or commentary.”

“Yes, Jake,” you didn’t hesitate to say. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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covetyou · 2 months

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is there any Santa/Cupid Joel lore you'd be willing to share?

it's a totally normal question i'm not unhealthily obsessed with him or anything

lore you say? I have baubles and stupid cupid lore. more in egg hunt at the end of March too.

word count: 722 warnings: sex toys, brotherly shenanigans, these two things are related but very much not in an incest way don't worry. summary: What started as a simple joke from the youngest Miller brother quickly turned into a... beloved brotherly tradition.

The first time he'd gotten one of those gifts it had been his birthday. He never got anything, from anyone, so when he opened his front door to see a present lying there with his name on it, he'd been wary. When he saw it was from Tommy, he was even more apprehensive. So, he did the only logical thing and left it in the garage until he could open it in a disposable coverall later that night, just in case.

Of course, he looked like a total dick stood in his garage in a coverall at midnight holding anal beads of all fucking things, staring at a chicken scratch of a note from his dearest fuckin' baby brother:

if you won't bring someone into your bedroom, maybe you gotta bring something. hbd brother.

Tommy may have been right, but Joel didn't think anal beads were that thing he was looking for. By the next afternoon, the beads were carefully hung from Tommy's rearview mirror.

And so began the long, tiring, tradition of gift giving and gift returning between the Miller brothers.

On Thanksgiving, Joel slipped Tommy a baggy of finger cots, giving him a heavy slap on the back and telling him he found his size. The next week, the tiny white condoms were neatly pulled over the ends of every single one of Joel's tools.

That Christmas Joel was the not-so-happy recipient of an edible chocolate Clone-a-Willy kit. He was almost tempted to try it out - to cast his cock in the tube just so he could take it out and look at it properly from every angle. He cast his middle finger instead, handing it to a gleeful Tommy on New Years Eve.

For Valentine's day, Joel damn near gave Tommy a heart attack, and ruined the end of what was, until that point, a very good date. He knew he should've kept it to the couch, but damn if his date didn't deserve the full Tommy Miller Experience. Apparently, that also included seeing the blow up sex doll tucked neatly into his bed. He never did hear back from her after that night.

Of course, what Joel didn't know is Tommy had stashed a pink heart shaped butt plug on his dresser, only noticing the thing weeks later when Sarah pointed it out before Joel could sweep it into a drawer and tell her to get going or she'd be late for school. Tommy groveled until Joel didn't quite want to kill him any more, and the butt plug lay forgotten in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Tommy's birthday brought him some vibrating nipple clamps - clamps that Joel never saw or heard about again, save for a thank you and a thumbs up from his brother one day on a job.

For his birthday that year, a full 365 days since this whole thing started, Joel received maybe the most baffling gift of all. A dildo for his balls. Apparently. Now, Joel wasn't a church going man - hadn't been since their parents had given up with it all when they were kids - but he couldn't help but think that maybe his brother needed Jesus.

This one, he was almost tempted to keep. Not that he had anyone to use it with, and it most definitely was not a solo use gift. He opened it, tried to figure it out, even watched the instructional video, before settling on sticking it on top of Tommy's Christmas tree at the end of the year.

But, when he pulled up outside Tommy's place on Christmas Eve it looked, and sounded, like he had company. Not one to cockblock his brother again (at least one of them was gettin' laid) Joel headed back home, toy hidden away in his Santa sack. It was still the right side of midnight when he drove down his street, noticing once again that house with the sparkling Christmas tree, totally bare of any decorations. One look to the back of his truck, ornaments from a house clearance still stashed in a box that he had yet to find a home for, and he made up his mind. Parking up and walking down the street, draped in red velvet with a bag filled with jangling plastic ornaments, he stepped up to your door...

#coveted fics #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #never forget the balls #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #coveted asks #fic: dress up joel

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

Text

Capitol Punishment IX

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 3.3K

Part VIII | Masterlist | Part X

A/N Guys I have to have spreadsheets just to keep all the tributes straight

The next morning didn’t even feel like morning, you were too nervous about the games to sleep. So was Haymitch as you both whispered assurances in each others ears. Neither of you were stupid. While you were confident in Plutarch’s plan there was still a very real possibility that one or both of you would be killed by another tribute or the game makers. But you both suppressed those feelings, each reveling in their spouse’s touch.

But as the sun officially rose over the Capitol, you were torn from each other. Of course you each promised to find and protect the other.

You were flown to the arena with Katniss and Cinna. No one spoke a word except for a Capitol woman as she injected the tracker into you. It was just as painful as the first time eight years ago.

Once you landed you went to your tube first. “Your suit has no thermal. It’s thin and waterproof, I suspect a tropical climate,” Cinna explained to the both of you before becoming serious. “Y/N, it was an honor to work with such an iconic Victor. I’ll see you on the other side,” he said ambiguously. You knew he knew about the plan given all the designs he had shown you for Katniss in the future.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, stepping into the tube. The glass slid down encasing you while they went to Katniss’ tube.

You tried to calm yourself down, telling yourself that everything would be alright once you found Haymitch.

An automated voice informed you that there were 30 seconds until the timer as your platform was lifted. You were blinded by the simulated sun at you approached the top. The smell of seawater flooding your nose as you realized in horror you were surrounded by water. And you highly doubt they put you at the shallow end, you’d have to swim. Once you were fully settled on your platform and your eyes had adjusted, you scanned the arena. You were surrounded by water with rock runways leading to the center where the cornucopia sat. Behind you was beach with jungle laying just past that. You scanned the other tributes, horrified to realize that you couldn’t see Haymitch. Of course they’d put him where you couldn’t see him. But Annie was also stood on the next platform over. She looked like she was about to have a breakdown on her platform.

“Annie!” you called. She looked over at you, chest still heaving although you were glad to see relief wash over her features as she recognized you. “I can’t swim. Will you help me if I find Finnick for you?”

She nodded. 15 seconds left on the clock as you prepared. 10 seconds… 5 seconds… 3… 2… 1. The timer went off and you could see the other tributes dive into the water, many of whom also didn’t know how to swim.

Annie dove towards you, swimming surprisingly fast for such a small thing. Once she was only a couple feet away you slipped into the water, your head going under almost immediately. The water was so cold as you struggled to reach the surface, flailing your limbs desperately. A small hand grabbed one of your arms, tugging you up. Annie is too small to actually pull you out of the water but her touch managed to ground you enough to give you the sense to breach the surface. You took a large gulp of air as Annie helped support you. Together you doggie paddled your way to the rock runway which you desperately climbed up.

As you pulled yourself up onto the rocks you took a second, coughing and sputtering up the water you accidentally swallowed. As you were trying to regain your breath Annie started shaking your arm. You looked up to see one of the District 2 male tributes running at you with a sword and a determined look. But before you could even react he fell with an axe in his back. Johanna ran up, pulling the axe from his back, hitting him with it again before kicking his body back into the sea. “Run!” she yelled as she approached you. With her was one of her district partners, Blight, as well as Wiress and Beetee who was lugging a coil of wire.

She and Blight helped you up while also escorting Annie into the jungle. “Wait!” you called after a minute of running. “I need Haymitch and I promised Annie I’d help her find Finnick.”

“Trust me, we'll find them,” Johanna promised. “But right now we need to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the others.”

As Haymitch stood on the platform he looked for his wife desperately. Seeing no sign of her he knew he’d have to find her at the cornucopia. As the clock was counting down he looked over, finding Finnick in one of the other wedges. They sent each other a nod of understanding. As the timer hit zero, Haymitch dove into the cold water, determined to get to you before another tribute could.

While Haymitch had never been swimming he understood the mechanics of it. After a couple seconds of mostly just flailing, he found a rhythm and made his way to the rocks. He managed to quickly pull himself up, running to the cornucopia. He reached it just in time as Katniss was about to put an arrow through Finnick. “Wait!” he called. He reached them both, stepping in between the pair. “He’s our ally.”

Before Katniss could protest Finnick spoke. “You find Annie, I’ll find Peeta,” he said, already running off.

“Hay-” Katniss started to shout angrily as her mentor grabbed a sword.

“Trust me, you want him as your ally. Keep your friends close and enemies closer and all that jazz.”

Katniss couldn’t get another word in, too quickly interrupted by Finnick calling that he found Peeta. They both ran towards his voice, finding Finnick handing off his trident to Mags before diving in. Peeta was desperately trying to crawl up back into his platform as one of the male tributes from 1 was trying to drown him. They both went under, a body floating up as Haymitch began to worry that it was Peeta who lost. But when blond hair breached the surface he and Katniss let out relieved breaths. As Finnick was helping Peeta onto the rocks he scanned the arena, unable to find you. Had you drowned? Had another tribute killed you? Or did you just run off into the jungle. Haymitch hoped it was the last one as Katniss started dragging the five of them towards the jungle.

“I can’t leave without Annie,” Finnick insisted. Haymitch felt the same about his wife.

“We’ll find her, she won’t be anyone’s target. Right now we need to get off this island,” Katniss insisted, running off with Peeta. Given that she needed to be protected the most, the two hopelessly in love men followed after her, praying that their lives were safe.

After a couple minutes of running Johanna had finally deemed the group “safe” and you were allowed to stop. “Y/N we have to find Finnick,” Annie almost immediately insisted.

“Not right now,” Johanna interrupted. We have no clue where they are and right now everyone is scattered. We’ll wait until everyone has settled for the night.

Annie looked reluctant but complied, settling down with Wiress.

“We have to find fresh water,” Blight said from beside you. Suddenly the canons started going off. You counted 16 deaths.

Once the canons were done you spoke. “Were there any supplies at the cornucopia?” you hadn’t even been able to get a good look of what was in it. It looked like mostly weapons.

“No, just weapons,” Beetee explained, messing with the wire despite the blood you noticed seeping across his shoulder.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Nuts over there just had to have the wire. Took a knife in the back to get it,” Johanna explained angrily.

“Okay so no supplies. They want this over quickly,” you scoffed. “They’re just trying to execute the victors without actually executing the victors.”

“We need to watch for others also searching for water in the jungle,” Beetee explained.

“We may also have to head back to the cornucopia. I don’t have any weapons,” you observed the others. Blight and Johanna both had axes, Beetee had his wire, Wiress was holding a small knife, rocking back and forth, and you knew that Annie would never pick up a weapon. “We can try to go when-” but you were interrupted by a beeping parachute. Everyone looked up with faces of confusion and surprise at a sponsor so soon in the games.

“God I hope it’s water” Blight wished as the parachute landed, getting tangled in some vines. Fortunately it was still withing reach as you plucked it from the flora.

You opened the box spotting a belt with various knives sheathed inside along with a note,

I look forward to seeing you after the games, Y/N. - Your clients

You had a sick feeling in your stomach, different from your usual nausea, knowing that this came from multiple people. But nevertheless you slung the belt onto your hips.

“Seriously? Already?” Johanna asked with disgust.

“It doesn’t come without it’s price,” you muttered. “Might as well get some use out of it rather than someone else.”

A look of respect crossed over her face. You surveyed the others, finding Wiress and Annie sharing what looked like chestnuts. “Woah wait, do you know for certain what those are?” you asked.

“Yeah, they grow in Victors Village in 4,” Annie explained.

You let out a sigh of relief, moving to sit by them. Annie held one out for you which you took. You were starving. You hadn’t been able to eat that morning and even if you were able to eat you’re sure you would’ve thrown it up anyway. Fortunately the fetus, maybe also starving, didn’t cause you to throw up the chestnuts and you were finally able to keep something down.

As you are you tried to talk with Wiress but she never responded and when she did it was nonsensical. Unsure of what was going on you instead turned your attention to the others.

You carried on for a little while after that but soon enough night fell and along with that were the fallen tributes in the sky. You were relieved you didn’t see Haymitch or anyone else you cared about but your heart broke for all of them. They all fought so hard however many years ago to survive in the hopes of living the rest of their lives in peace. Only for that life to be ripped away and for them to die cruel, terrifying deaths back in the arena. If only they could’ve lived just another day or two, maybe Plutarch could’ve gotten them out.

Meanwhile Haymitch and the others were all watching the fallen tributes in the sky, everyone relieved to not see yours or Annie’s faces.

As night settled over both groups, you and Johanna both decided to take watch. You too a seat next to her, leaning up against the tree she was also leaned on. “Do you miss him?” she suddenly asked.

“Yeah, I do. But he wasn’t in the sky so we can find him and Finnick tomorrow.” You looked at Annie who was curled into a little ball a couple feet from you.

“I can’t believe they put her back in here,” Johanna scoffed. “Any of us but her especially.”

“I’m convinced the word ‘cruel’ doesn’t exist in the Capitol. They’re so desensitized they don’t even know what it means. And Snow knows, he just doesn’t care. All he cares about is making sure people know that you can’t ‘overcome the power of the Capitol,’” you mocked his words.

Johanna hummed in agreement. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to *you,” you returned, referring to the fact that Snow killed everyone she loved for her refusal to become like you.

Your heart to heart was then interrupted by what sounded like the ringing of a very heavy bell with a menacing sound. 12 chimes. It woke the others up just in time for them to watch a large tree be struck by lightning a few times. “What the hell?” you murmured.

“Tik tok,” Wiress then suddenly muttered. “Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse went down, hickory dickory dock.”

“Wiress? Are you okay?” Annie asked. But Wiress just continued on with the nursery rhyme.

“I think she may be in shock. Dehydration isn’t helping either,” Beetee explained.

“You think you could bat your eyelashes and get us some water?” Johanna asked you sarcastically.

“Beetee makes all their gadgets for them, make him do it,” you protested.

“Do you think the thundercloud that made the lightning will also rain?” Annie asked from her position still sat on the ground.

“It’s not raining now, doubt it will. The game makers a probably only made the lightning strike,” Johanna dismissed.

“Tiktoktiktoktiktok,” Wiress’ repetitions got louder, catching everyone’s attention. She was looking up at the sky so all of your gazes followed, spotting a heavy looking cloud crawling over your spot. Almost immediately after you all noticed it, rain started pouring from the sky.

You and the others initially eagerly reveled in the cooling drops on your skin but you all came to the quick and horrifying conclusion that it was blood. Blood was pouring from the sky so thick and so fast it was becoming blinding. While you were still able to open you eyes all you could see was red. You had managed to stumble underneath a tree which gave you temporary relief but soon enough the leaves were saturated and pouring blood on you as well. You were still able to see enough when Blight stumbled away from the rest of you, trying to find cover when he was suddenly electrocuted, flying back five feet.

You couldn’t tell who else witnessed it but the second you opened your mouth to shout for him, it filled with blood. You’ve had your fair share of injuries that resulted in bleeding in the mouth and you were no stranger to the horrible taste of blood but now you were gagging on it. It was so bad you felt tears well in your eyes as you continued to choke on the thick, hot, blood for god knows how long.

It eventually lightened up enough for the group to collect themselves. “We have to get to the beach,” you said, blood still finding its way into your mouth. The rain was still very much there except now you could all see. So you all headed out of the jungle, passing Blight’s blood soaked and charred body.

As you got closer to the beach, you heard a scream come from what sounded like across the arena. “Anyone recognize that voice?” you asked. The others shook their heads.

“Good, someone we don’t have to care about,” Johanna dismissed bitterly, continuing on. By now you were withing sight of the beach, just in time to see a giant wave crest over it’s wedge in the sea. It stopped once it reached the cornucopia, the wave forming a 90° angle once it reached the cornucopia. Annie, spotting the wave, clutched your arm, stumbling back a little. There was pure terror in her eyes. You remembered that’s how she won her games, she witnessed the drownings of the last handful of kids in her arena. She had somehow miraculously survived.

“Hey, it’s okay. It stopped, it’s gone” you tried to soothe. “Besides, you’re District 4. You and Finnick can handle a few waves, yeah? You’re okay, it’s not coming back,” you promised.

Annie nodded hesitantly as she allowed you to continue to lead her to the beach. You all stumbled out onto the sand, having to coax Wiress out into the open.

“Annie?!” a shout called, causing you all to turn.

You recognized that voice. And so did Annie. “Finnick!” she called back, running towards him.

Haymitch was half frozen in place staring at his wife covered in blood. He wanted to cry he was so relieved to see you but so worried seeing your blood covered state. You spotted him first, running towards him. He met you, opening his arms to catch you in a tight hug. “I was so scared one of those canons was you,” Haymitch whispered against your hair.

“Me too,” you muttered back.

“Are you... both okay?” he whispered hesitantly, trying not to clue anyone else in, both Capitol and tributes.

“Yeah, I think so,” you nodded.

“Good. Now what happened?” he asked, pulling back a little to observe all the blood.

“It’s not mine,” you clarified. By now all the others had joined you. “It was raining blood in the jungle.”

“Hot, thick blood. It was choking us. We were stumbling around gagging on it, blind,” Johanna practically screamed angrily. “That’s when Blight hit the forcefield.” She took a deep breath. “He wasn’t much but he was from home.”

Wiress then came over, muttering “Tik tok.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asked.

“She’s in shock. Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have any water?” Beetee asked.

“We can get some,” Katniss answered. She then looked at you. “Glad you’re still alive.”

“Same to you,” you replied to the emotionally stunted girl. “Hey Peeta,” you smiled, welcoming his incoming hug.

By now Wiress and Johanna were struggling as the woman from District 3 was frantically trying to communicate with her. “Hey, get off her!” Katniss yelled, defensive of Wiress already. She pushed Johanna into the water, forcing Finnick and Haymitch to separate them.

“Stop it!” Haymitch yelled. “You’re allies now.”

“I got them out for you!” Johanna shrieked as Finnick pulled her away.

“For me? What does that mean?” Katniss asked, confused.

“She knew that’s what it’d take to get you as an ally,” you tried to explain. “C’mon, Wiress and I need help cleaning up,” you changed the subject. “You all should clean up too,” you suggested, gesturing to the people you hugged who now had blood smeared across their clothing. You, Katniss, Peeta, Wiress, and Haymitch all waded into the ocean, trying to rid yourselves of the blood.

Haymitch tried to help you scrub the blood out of your hair but it never seemed to fully come out so you gave in, tying it back with blood still faintly trailing your neck and chest. “C’mon,” Haymitch suggested gently, bringing you back to the beach. You sat down on the sand with Finnick, Annie, and Beetee.

“Hey, Y/N,” Finnick caught your attention. “Thanks for looking out for Annie.” She smiled at you from her position by his side.

“I’d still be stranded on that platform if it weren’t for her,” you explained.

“I think this stuff is too friendly for the Capitol,” Haymitch remarked sarcastically.

You laughed, stroking his hair from his eyes. “How’s sobriety? Real, cold-turkey sobriety?” you clarified

“Awful,” he muttered.

Your nice peace circle was then suddenly interrupted by Katniss running up to you all. “Guys it’s a clock!”

Part VIII | Masterlist | Part X

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐄��𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄. 𝐌𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟓.𝟔𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

Just after two in the morning, Jake sneaks back into your dimly-lit cabin with a water stain over the crotch of his shorts. He’s grimacing, chewing on his bottom lip, while you sit beneath the covers with an embarrassed but fond smile.

“Any luck?” You ask, nodding to the shorts.

He’s in his skivvies, his palm flattened beneath the damp fabric in his hands.

“Kinda,” he answers. “Better luck than I’ve had in the past with all those tube-socks.”

Beaming at you, he sets the shorts on your desk to dry flat in time for tomorrow morning. You gasp at him, brows raised in surprise.

“You’re an ape,” you whisper to him. Except you’re smiling now, shaking your head. “Really warped that I let you--!”

Jake starts for the bed, his smile so wide that you’re worried his mustache is going to tickle his nose. There’s a glint in his eyes, too, one that is mischievous and giddy and juvenile. It’s the same look Susie gets before she says something oddly incriminating and slightly suspicious.

“--Dine at the Y? Give you a French lesson? Meet Connie Lingus? Kneel at the altar? Dip the brush? Go way down South to Dixie? Lay the lip? Pearl dive? Speak in tongues?”

You’re scrambling now, jumping to your knees to press your palm over his mouth as he crawls onto your bed. But he’s still grinning, giving little kitten licks to your hand and pushing you back onto the springy mattress until he’s on top of you.

The scent of jasmine tickles his nose like he’s just walked into a greenhouse--he could breathe you in all day. Even if he can smell the perspiration beneath your arms and gathering on your hairline--he might like that just as much as the jasmine, if not more.

Gazing up at him, hot from embarrassment but also giggly, you pour your eyes into his.

“If I move my hand, you gonna keep barfing me out with these euphemisms?”

Jake pretends to think on it--raising his eyebrows, tilting his head this way and that, squinting. And then he looks back down at you underneath him, your sweet face with your bitten lips and open throat and giddy grin.

“Uh-huh,” he says, muffled from your palm. He nods for effect.

“Then you leave me no choice,” you sigh. “Never moving my hand now.”

And at that, Jake begins to give your hand French lessons--moaning against your skin, licking between your fingers, nibbling on your palm. You can do nothing but watch with an impressed grimace puckering your face.

“You’re a dog,” you whisper, shaking your head. “There was blood on those hands a few hours ago.”

Jake chokes, immediately moving his face away from your hand and sputtering onto the sheets. You’re grinning now, wiping your hands on his t-shirt, very pleased with yourself.

“Oh, I was just yanking your chain,” you laugh when Jake scrambles for your water bottle and swigs it between his cheeks, gurgling loudly. “Relax, Hangman!”

With a heave, Jake slams the water back down, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then shakes his head at you.

“And I’m the warped one? You just tried to kill me!”

“Dramatic much?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

He doubles down, straddling your hips with his arms crossed. He nods down at you with a huff. He’s heavy--but it’s a good kind of heavy. The weight of him on top of you makes you feel secure. Come to think of it, that’s how you felt a little bit ago, when he was pearl diving. You felt held down by him, held close.

Now that he’s on top of you, he holds both your palms above your head, lacing your fingers together. Oh. This is nice. You’ve never really held hands with him before--but you can’t help but notice that it feels easy. Some people make a real mess of hand holding, trying different grips or not wiping the sweat off their palms before. But this is good. It’s easy.

“Am I on the Nice List now?” He asks softly.

“Did you hit your melon?” You ask, brows furrowed. “Limit your oxygen supply down there? It’s July.”

“Half-Christmas,” he points out. When he sees your unimpressed gaze, he presses again. “Well--am I?”

He squeezes your hands.

“Were you on the Naughty List before?” You ask, brows perched.

He thinks for a moment.

“Well, there was that guy I killed…” he says. He sucks his teeth and then shrugs.

“Oh, right, the guy you managed to murk without a single drop of blood.”

Beaming, he nods.

“I prefer more intimate methods,” he says. “I’m a savant like that.”

He turns his nose up and pretends to be very proper. You’re laughing as quietly as you can, shaking your head at him.

“An idiot savant,” you whisper.

“That feels a lot like a love declaration. Or the beginnings of a pet name,” he teases. He watches you get flustered below him, lashes fluttering. “C’mon. Don’t avoid the question!”

A beat passes--it’s your turn to pretend to think on his question, tilting your head either way and humming with your nose wrinkled.

“If I tell you that you can be on my Nice List, what do I get out of it?” You ask.

Heat is rising in your face now, blotting your chest. Having him on top of you, wearing your body down against the bed, is making you feel a bit worked up again already. Jake’s the first man who’s ever gone down on you and you know, without even really knowing, that he’s damn good at what he does.

Jake lips his lips. Fuck, you’re so hot. Lying there below him with glossy eyes and parted lips, your hands held above your head, your thighs flexing as you press them together not-so-covertly.

“Hoping for an encore?” He asks, voice low and gravelly.

Blinking a few times, you give a bit of a shrug. You don’t want to seem desperate for it and you also don’t want to seem obsessive. But you could stand to cum against his face another time tonight--really, you could stand just to cum again in any way.

“Maybe,” you whisper.

Jake watches your mouth as it bites around the word. Maybe. He could stand to see those lips wrapped around him, your mouth open and wet and wanting. He’s growing a bit stiff just thinking about it, his heart rate spiking.

“Gale,” he says quietly. The sound of your name falling off his lips makes your toes curl. “We haven't even kissed yet.”

“It’s 1987. You don’t have to kiss everyone before you make it with them,” you try. “Besides, I’m a modern woman.”

Make it with them. God, Jake’s finding it hard to breathe suddenly when all the blood in his lungs is rushing down again.

“Would you kiss me?” He asks you, voice thinner than before.

You swallow hard.

“With that thing on your lip?” You whisper, attempting to tease him. But you’re quivering with anticipation now, lips swollen. “Fat chance.”

He chuckles softly because he can feel how badly you want it--want him.

“Yeah?” He asks, leaning down until his forehead is resting against yours.

He pushes his nose against yours, the hairs of his mustache tickling your cheek and the top of your lip. His face is so warm, so soft. And yours is, too, even the tip of your nose as it presses against the side of his.

“What--are you gonna kiss me now?” You’re breathless as you say it, practically melting into the mattress.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he whispers back to you, lashes tickling the top of your cheek. His mouth is hovering yours now--you can taste the toothpaste on his tongue just from his warm breaths he’s breathing. “Shame, though. I really want to.”

You’re burning.

“It is a shame,” you mutter to him.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly now, his lips so very near yours that you can taste him there. Jesus Christ.

“Well,” Jake says suddenly, pulling away from you and rolling to fall into the bed beside you. “Goodnight, then--!”

You’re on top of him within a millisecond, throwing your bare leg over his body, pressing your hips into his and grinding down. You throw an arm around his neck and tug on the hair on the back of his head, closing the space between your mouths without another thought.

Jake’s shocked--but only for a moment. Then he’s wrapping you up in his arms, pulling you against him with everything he’s got, slotting his hands beneath your t-shirt and exploring all the bare skin there.

Kissing him is pretty much like kissing Bradley--except right now, you’re certain that Susie isn’t going to walk in and breakout in an impromptu campfire song. And you’re pretty sure that Jake is harder now than Bradley was in the nurse’s office. His cock is pressed against your hips, almost in the perfect spot for you to grind against, but you’re a bit too coy to do that right now.

“Fuck,” Jake whispers against your lips, “Jesus, Gale, jumping my bones again?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you breathe into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. His fingers dig into your ribs as he groans. “You jumped my bones!”

“Agree to disagree,” Jake whispers, even though he knows he’s pushing his luck with you.

And push it he has. With a huff, you pull away from him, move your leg from his hip, and lay on your back with all the heat in your body just on the surface of your skin.

“Way to ruin a moment,” you huff.

Jake says nothing, gaping at you for only a moment. He’s just about to speak again when you sigh and turn onto your side, your back facing him.

And then he has an idea.

Wordlessly, he wraps his arm around your waist and tugs until you’re flush against him. You squeak, but don’t scramble to move away. You stiffen slightly at the feeling of his cock so brazenly against your rear, heart racing.

“Alright, alright,” he whispers to you, kissing down your throat sloppily. “I’ll shut up and give the lady what she so desperately wants.”

“Jake--!”

“--Ah, c’mon,” he whispers, smiling against your neck. “I’m only messing.”

As if to prove how serious he is now, he splays his hand on your belly--you shift against him with a stiffness, throwing your head back against his pillow, slotting your leg between his. Now he’s the one who notices just how well the two of you fit together, how easily your bodies mold against each other.

“So sensitive,” he whispers to you, moving his hand lower and lower until the very tips of his fingers are toying with the elastic band of your panties. “How’d you get that way, huh? Who’s making you so sensitive, honey?”

“Those lines work with the other girls, panty-snatcher?” Your words are biting, but your tone is anything but. It’s soft and pliant, just like your body.

He can tell that you’re already submitting to this, that you’re down, you’re game.

“Sometimes,” he whispers. “But I save ‘em for you.”

And then he dips his fingers into your panties, very carefully wandering between your folds, relishing in those little gasps you release into the cabin around the both of you.

“Oh,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow. “Jake.”

That’s right, he thinks as his index finger nudges that swollen bud, say my fucking name.

♀

This time, you’re not in bed at all. You’re standing at the cabin window, so close to it that your toes are pressed against the worn wood and your nose is smushed against the screen. You can taste and smell all the dust that’s settled there--but you’re paralyzed again. Rendered completely motionless but nothing other than your own body, mind.

It’s pitch black outside--the kind of black that is usually only behind your eyelids. When you blink, your lashes scrape the screen, sprinkle dust in your eyes. But you can’t move to rub them, can’t move to do anything at all.

Your breaths are caught in your throat, chest so heavy with fear that it feels like a vat of cold water being trickled down your front.

It’s here again.

You can see it somehow through the dark--the figure. It’s standing a few paces away from your cabin, trembling and contorting. It looks bigger now--bigger than before. And it somehow looks like it’s losing its form--all humanness dissipating until it’s a mess of long limbs and rickety bones and flesh and mass.

For the first time since your first nightmare, you smell it. The scent of rot assaults your nostrils, singes the hairs in your nose, sits pretty on your tongue. It’s an unmistakable scent, one that you’ve smelled on cadavers and in dissections. Bile is already churning in your belly, ready to snake its way up your throat.

The figure moves closer to you. It’s not so much a step, but something of a crawl. It drops onto all fours like an animal and keeps its rear high in the air, galloping closer to you, bringing the rotten smell with it.

Still, you can’t move.

And once it starts moving, it doesn’t stop. It’s coming right at you, knows that you can see it, knows that you can smell it. God, it moves like it isn’t used to this form, like something is critically wrong with it.

But then it’s just on the other side of the cabin. The only thing that separates it from you is the dusty old screen--the one you’re pressed up against. It moves again, its hands pressing against the screen that flanks you, grotesque fingernails provoking the most pathetic and terrifying of sounds.

A chill runs up your spine as it crans its neck to look into your eyes.

It’s the first time you’ve seen its face.

It’s eyes are in the wrong place, naked and without lids, the veins thick and red. And there are teeth, too, so many teeth. They make up the bottom half of what you think is the face, covered in gruel and glistening in your fear.

You don’t know what it’s doing, don’t know what it wants, and you’re so overwhelmed with terror that you can hardly smell the rot anymore.

Then it moves closer to you, close enough for bits of its hot drool to leak through the screen and fall onto your bare feet.

You can’t move as it presses its face against the screen too, it’s teeth clashing against your skin. It is not a bite, no, it’s a kiss--the realization sends a shiver down your spine. It is kissing you, moving closer, its breath putrid like vomit simmering in the sun, like the inside of a corpse. You can’t move, it’s coming closer--

The scream is what wakes you up. It’s that of a young girl--one with precisely no inhibitions, one that curdles the blood coursing through your veins.

You’re soundless when you come to suddenly, eyes bloodshot as they peel open. But then you feel it--the screen against your lashes, the dust in your eyes.

Stepping backwards, a gasp dying in your mouth, you realize that you’re standing in the exact spot you were in your nightmare. Up against the window, your toes grazing the cabin, your nose smushed.

“Jake,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

It’s so dark in here--all the curtains are still drawn except for the window you were standing in front of. You stumble over his shoes, bumping into the bed, and Jake snaps awake immediately.

“Huh?”

“Someone just screamed,” you whimper. “Fuck, Jake--I just woke up against the window! Jake!”

Jake is wide awake at the sound of your voice--you’re panicked. He’s never heard you panic before, hasn’t even seen you come close to it. He’s blinking at the thick darkness in the room, this cabin still unfamiliar to him. He can only see little bits of you in the moonlight that cuts through the black--your heaving chest, your hands over your face.

“Hey,” he says, the springs crying as he moves out of the bed. “Get over here.”

You stumble on your way to him, tears wetting your face. That fear is still sitting in the pit of your belly, churning all the vital organs in your chest cavity.

“I heard a scream,” you whisper, blindly grabbing for his shoulders. He’s still sitting on the bed, reaching out and gripping your waist before he pulls you between his legs and wraps his arms around you. “I should go--I should go check on it. Someone could be hurt.”

You can’t think straight. Your heart is about ready to beat out of your chest and flop onto the floor in a bloody mess, convulsing with panic like a fish out of water. The stink of death is still staining your tongue, your nostrils. You’re panting, too, body flushed.

“Hey, hey,” Jake soothes, reaching up to cup your cheeks. He angles your face towards him and both of you blink, waiting to grow accustomed to the dark. “Can’t do jackshit when you’re freaked out, alright? Take a breath, honey.”

If this were any other time, you’d be mortified that Jake is helping you calm down. But you’re at his mercy right now, holding onto him like he’s a buoy in the middle of the ocean.

“Maybe I was dreaming,” you mutter to him, eyes screwed shut. “Maybe I didn’t hear a scream.”

Jake glances at the window. It’s still out there except for the flag billowing in the wind. He can distantly hear bullfrogs and cicadas, but otherwise--nothing at all. Camp Arcadia is serene and still.

“Want me to check it out?” He asks softly in earnest.

You scoff, inhaling deeply. He likes that noise--it usually precedes a snide remark, an insult. And that means that you’re calming down, coming back into yourself.

“‘Cause I’m not capable?” You ask. You’re still holding onto his shoulders, making precisely zero movies to get away from him. “Now, give it to me straight: is it ‘cause I’m a woman or a virgin?”

“There she is,” Jake mutters. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. You can’t help it. It’s an effortless thing that bubbles up out of your lips and into the space between the two of you. Jake drinks it all in selfishly, pressing his face against your breasts.

“God, that was really one Hell of a nightmare,” you mutter, falling forward so your chin is resting atop Jake’s head. “Thought for sure I was a goner.”

Jake sighs against your t-shirt.

“What happened?”

You don’t know where to begin, how to explain it. Should you begin with the very first one only a little while ago, the one where you were covered in blood? Or should you condense it, tell it to him like you saw it tonight.

“There’s this--this, like, thing. I don’t know what to call it other than, like, a thing. You know?” You begin, absentling combing his hair. “And a couple times I’ve seen it, right? But tonight I--!”

Payback pounds on your cabin door, blinking rapidly at the night around him, still trying to fully wake up.

“Gale!” He cries. “Gale, wake up!”

You detach yourself from Jake, sprinting to the cabin door and swinging it open. You don’t care that you don’t have pants on right now--the tone of Payback’s voice dissipates all semblances of embarrassment.

“What?” You ask, breathless again. “What’s wrong?”

Payback hardly even takes in your appearance, doesn’t even notice that Jake is scrambling to put his shorts back on and stuff his feet into his shoes.

“Mable,” Payback says. “She was attacked.”

“What?” Jake asks from behind you, unable to stop himself.

Payback looks at him, blinks in surprise, then looks back at you--eyes widening when he realizes that you’re just wearing an old t-shirt and nothing else.

“Jake,” you say, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. His pants are halfway up his thighs but he stops anyway. “Throw me my dress.”

He does at once, finding it crumpled on the floor. You slip into it without taking your t-shirt off, immediately stepping out of your cabin and into the brisk night.

“Where is she?” You ask.

Payback takes your hand and pulls you with him towards the latrine where Fanboy is sitting with Mable Brandt. Mable is shivering, sobbing, rocking herself as the gash on her arm drips blood onto the rocks. Fanboy is patting her back, honestly at a loss. She was gone for only a few minutes to use the restroom--when he went to check on her, he found her like this: inconsolable, rocking herself back and forth, her bible torn to shreds around her.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

The other cabins are starting the blink on, lanterns lighting and flashlights turning on. Most of the campers are still sleeping, most of them sleeping heavier than logs a majority of the time. Counselors are slipping shoes on, peeking their heads outside the doors.

You fall onto your knees beside Mable, petting her hair.

“Mable, honey,” you say softly, “it’s Nurse Nightingale. I’m gonna take a look at your arm, okay?”

“I just found her like this,” Fanboy tells you, setting his hands in his lap. “She was gone for, like, five minutes! Didn’t hear anything at all, I just found her bleeding!”

You take her arm between your hands, gingerly pressing into the ripped tissue. The slice is clean and pristine--not an animal attack. The lines aren’t jagged, but completely straight and narrow. A stone sinks in your belly.

“Mable, what happened?” Payback asks, hands on his hips.

“The Devil attacked me!” She screams out. “I told you! I told you!”

You turn with a perched brow and Payback shrugs.

“She said someone pushed her on the ground, held her head down. Cut up her bible, sliced her arm. I dunno.”

If you weren’t in the mindset of a caretaker right now, you’d be panicking. You’d be thinking about the scream you heard, the one that woke you up out of a nightmare.

Payback and Fnaboy aren’t sure what to think about Mable’s story. Surely, if there was someone else out here that was strong enough to hold a twelve-year-old girl against the dirt, they would’ve left some kind of evidence. They would’ve heard something at least.

Rooster wanders up behind Payback, rubbing sand out of his eyes, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees the scene before him: shreds of paper littering the gravel and the grass, wet from dew.

“The fuck?” Rooster mutters.

“We don’t know,” Payback whispers to Bradley, running his hands down his face. “Fuck, man.”

Rooster leans down and picks up one of the fragments of paper, straining to read it in the dark. His heart falls into his belly as his eyes skim the words.

Only you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood. Surely I will require your lifeblood; from every beast I will require it. And from every man, from every man’s brother I will require the life of man. “Whoever sheds man’s blood, By man his blood shall be shed, For in the image of God He made man.”

Mable is beside herself. She’s petrified, shaken to her very core.

You’re still trying to keep her calm, assessing her wound in the moonlight.

“Flashlight,” you call out, nodding to Fanboy.

He scrambles for a moment but then angles his flashlight at Mable’s arm. The cut is deep--deep enough to require stitches, probably. But it doesn’t look like it’s damaged any serious muscles or tendons. It’s only an inch or two long at a downward angle.

“What’s up?” Hangman asks, wandering towards the gathering, standing behind Rooster.

His gaze is immediately on you--barefoot in your dress, on your knees, studying Mable’s wound with a pinched and serious expression. But then he makes the mistake of looking down at your hands--which are covered in blood.

“Ah, shit,” Jake hisses, averting his eyes in utmost offense. “She’s bleeding!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Rooster hisses right back, elbowing Jake in the ribs. “If you’re gonna barf all over the place, do it in your own cabin.”

Rooster crumples up the page of the bible and slips it into his pocket.

“I didn’t know she was bleeding all over the place!” Mable cries harder. Jake frowns, scratching the back of his neck as Payback glares at him. “I mean, not like all over the place, Mable. Just like--like enough to make Mister Hangman queasy. You get me?”

Mable doesn’t respond.

“Let’s get her into the nurse’s cabin,” you tell Fanboy, standing up slowly. “Can you carry her?”

At the mention of a man carrying her, Mable suddenly snaps her head up. She looks at you, her freckled face pleading and shining with fear. She grabs onto your legs, smearing blood on your naked shin and ankle, and shakes her head wildly.

“No!” She cries. “No boys!”

Payback is just getting ready to retort when you interrupt him with a silent, solemn nod.

“Okay,” you tell her softly. “Can you walk?”

She shifts uncomfortably, the heat of humiliation burning her cheeks. Then you see it--the wet spot on her pajama pants. She’s wet herself. You understand then, understand it perfectly. Patting her hair, you turn to the men.

“Right,” you sigh, snapping into a leadership position seamlessly. “Fanboy, you and Payback and go back with the kids. I’ve got it.” They nod, their brows furrowed. You turn to Rooster and Hangman--Hangman has his back turned, his palms resting on his knees as he tried to breathe through his nausea. “Hangman, clean up all the paper. Rooster, you’re with me.”

Jake wants to argue, even turning around and opening his mouth--but then he catches a glimpse of your shin and ankle covered in Mable’s blood and his vision starts to darken.

“Catch me,” he mumbles to Rooster, holding his own forehead.

“You’re gonna catch a black eye if you touch me,” Rooster warns very seriously, taking one wide step away from Jake.

Jake steadies himself on the flagpole beside him, taking deep breaths.

And with that, Payback and Fanboy head back to their own cabin, stopping along the way to tell all the remaining counselors what happened.

Rooster falls in place beside you, pressing his shoulder against yours.

“Mable,” Rooster says very softly, leaning down to meet her eyes. “Do you wanna know a secret about me?” Sniffling, Mable nods. She doesn’t know what else to do. “When I was in high school, I laughed so hard I peed my pants during lunch. And then I lied and told everyone I spilled milk in my lap.”

Mable doesn’t laugh, but her stomach settles. It makes her feel better to know that she isn’t alone. Even if she peed herself out of sheer terror and Rooster peed himself after hearing a joke about Molly Ringwald.

“Like, all the way?” She asks.

He nods.

“Yup,” he confirms with a sigh. “All the way.”

“Like, your socks got wet?”

“Soaked.”

A smile is tugging on your lips as you watch Mable’s shoulders drop at the conversation. Rooster is also in the tiniest pair of pajama shorts you’ve ever seen--so short they nearly disappear beneath his tank top.

“Did they squish when you walked?”

Rooster nods, sucking his teeth.

“Like this--eee, err, eee, err,” he imitates crudely. Mable smiles. “Happens to the best of us, huh?”

Mable nods.

“Mable, can Mister Rooster carry you?” You ask.

Rooster stays with you and Mable for the entirety of her stay in the nurse’s cabin. He holds Mable’s hand and lets her squeeze it hard when you inject her with lidocaine and thumb-wrestles her when you begin to suture.

Every once in a while, he looks over at you as you work. You’re undeniably in the zone--eyes narrowed and laser-focused, lips pursed, brows furrowed. But just underneath all that, you have a wild look about you. Your hair is mussed and your lips are swollen and your skin is glowing. It’s what you looked like when the two of you wandered back to the fire after your short-lived escapade.

The realization makes Rooster’s tongue hurt. But he stays right beside you, distracting Mable.

Afterwards, when you conclude that Mable needs rest before she can relay what happened to her clearly, you and Rooster linger in the nurse’s cabin by yourselves. Everyone else in the world seems to fade away, lanterns turning off, counselors returning to their cabins. No one is exactly on high alert yet--mainly because no one knows what really happened.

You’re tired, having hardly gotten any sleep at all. You’re making careful work of throwing away all the bloody gauze, discarding the suture kits.

Rooster is cleaning the examination table quietly, watching as you sigh and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. He catches a glimpse of your thighs again and bites his bottom lip.

“So,” Rooster whispers, sighing. “The Devil finally took that vacation to Maine, huh?”

You snort, shaking your head.

“Yeah, what the Hell was that about?”

“Well, it’s a story and a half, I’ll give her that,” he sighs. “Gonna kill during spooky stories by the fire.”

Your eyes slip shut as you turn your face towards the buzzing light above you.

“The cut’s man-made.”

Rooster freezes.

“What?”

“Animals don’t slice like that,” you whisper. “Not that pristinely.”

Rooster chews on the inside of his cheek, glancing at your stilled form. Your brows are pinched in concern, like you’re racking your brain for an answer and coming up empty-handed.

“So, like…what are you saying?” Rooster asks, throwing the dirty rag in a bin before crossing his arms and giving you his full attention. “Someone cut her?”

You shrug.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You shift uncomfortably, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Maybe she…cut herself?”

Rooster chews on this for a moment.

“Why?” He asks--not demanding, just curious.

“To push her religious narrative? Attention? I don’t know,” you answer with a heave. Deciding that you’re too tired to keep standing, you sink to the floor and lean against the exam table, rubbing your eyes. “What’s the alternative?”

“Someone cut her,” Rooster answers softly.

“Right,” you mutter. “And what do we do if someone cut her?”

“Call the cops. Or, like, leave,” Rooster answers, sinking to the floor beside you. “Except that we can’t because the--!”

“--’Cause the tree.”

You don’t know if you should tell him about the scream you heard. You don’t know how much to tell anyone right now. What would people think if they knew you heard a scream and didn’t go running? What would they think if they knew Jake was in your cabin? What would they think about you sleep-walking and making it with a creature?

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Pretty much what I was thinking, too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes. You hadn’t noticed before when you were so in the zone with Mable, but the radio is still on. The song Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division is playing now.

“How’s your hand?” You ask, resting your cheek on your shoulder as you pick his hand up and trace the bandage over his palm softly.

“Could use a kiss,” he says shamelessly.

“I’m up to my ears in shitty lines tonight,” you groan. “And I’ve got someone else’s blood on me.”

“Hey, I’ve got piss on me!” Rooster returns. “So, looks like we’re even!”

Wordlessly, you begin a most awkward shimmy--pulling your arms inside your shirt and wriggling your way out of it without exposing your bare breasts to Rooster. He watches with his brows furrowed, cheeks turning red when you catch his gaze.

“Here,” you offer, handing him your t-shirt. “Change into this.”

The t-shirt is big enough for him--just barely. It strains over the swells of muscles on his shoulders, arms, and chest. And it’s a little bit too short, a strip of his midriff on display as he comes to put his arm around you.

“Feel like I’m getting pinned,” he says teasingly. “Say, are we going steady now?”

Immediately, you think of Jake’s tongue against your cunt. You think of the orgasms you had by his hands, his mouth, a few hours ago.

When you smile, it doesn't quite touch your eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper, changing the subject. “How’d you know Mable had an accident?”

Rooster shrugs, drawing lazy shapes on your bicep.

“We’ve all been there, right?”

You nod slowly.

Sure. You know what it’s like to be so petrified that you almost lose control of your body and its functions.

“Rooster?” You ask.

You lean against his shoulder, into his warmth. The shirt already smells more like him than it does you--oak and mint and aftershave. You fill your lungs with it.

“Yeah, birdie?”

You’re just about to say it--that you had a nightmare and woke up still in it, that you heard Mable scream, that you didn’t go running towards her, that you feel uneasy, that you’re scared.

But something stops you. You aren't sure what it is, really--but it holds you in waiting as Rooster watches your face carefully, still stroking your arm.

“Will you wash the blood off my leg?” You ask.

A toothy grin splits his face.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “The doctor is in.”

“Doctor?” You ask, exasperated.

He grins at you, stretching to his full height on his feet, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned midriff as your PAPA DON’T PREACH t-shirt rises.

“Doctor Love,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“I am at the perfect height to punch your balls.”“Birdie!” Rooster says in surprise, pulling you off the ground. “Please, we’re in a medical setting! Use the medical term! Nuts.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHO Y'ALL ROOTING FOR????

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

240 notes · View notes

heavenlyakin · 7 months

Text

starboy - atsumu miya x fem!reader

wc: ~5.8k

cw: fem reader, on-page drug use, alcohol consumption, the reader has red hair and hazel eyes (sorry, not sorry), reader blushes, and a little angst towards the end.

a/n: 18+ only please. I use “--” to switch POVs in this fic and “ – – –” is a time skip. I really hope you like this silly little AU! It’s giving Wattpad kid grows up and uses Tumblr and AO3 now. Sorry there’s no smut in this, but I might write a part 2 (please don’t ask for one because that’ll kill my vibes). If you’re interested in the playlist mentioned that they listen to, I’ll be happy to link it!

Part 2

—

Every crowd is the same, but somehow different in a multitude of ways. It’s a dichotomy that Atsumu hasn’t quite figured out yet. After years of touring and performing he thought he knew about everything about entertaining a crowd and getting them riled up. He’d sold out more than enough shows to back this idea up.

However, on night two of touring his third studio album, he notices you in the crowd. The glitter on your eyes falling to your cheeks reflects the stage lighting and draws him to your eyes. That’s when he notices your red hair, the burgundy red is a sight to see. He winks like he would to anyone else, but something in him yearns to walk back down the catwalk to you again. He resists, knowing he needs to keep doing his job.

But, he does look for you the next night.

He’s glad to see you’re back. He’s noticed fans going to multiple shows before and has invited them to the after-parties for being so loyal, so he thinks he wants to extend the offer. The other girls that seem to stick around are nice enough, and the band never seems to mind. When he’s changing between the third and fourth song of the night, he tells his manager to send someone out to see if you want to join them after the show.

He’s happy to hear back after the show that you accepted.

Outside the city limits, the rented house is big enough for hundreds of people to move around freely, but Atsumu got over massive parties after his first tour. The glamor of the drinking, drugs, and even the people he thought he loved being around seemed to lose their shine. With only about 30 people here now, he’s much more comfortable in this space.

From his seat on the velvet couch with his brother, he notices you come in; walking through the door in the same outfit you’d worn to his show tonight. The glittery lavender tube top is something to see, but his eyes linger on your legs, covered in iridescent shimmering tights under white shorts. Your smile and wave to another girl across the room makes him look away.

“How many more nights are we staying in LA?” Osamu asks his brother, taking a rip from the bong after. The smoke floats above the brothers, whirling in the colorful lavender lighting.

“Two more, then the tour really kicks off in the States.” He tells him, taking the bong from him and taking a hit.

He coughs after the smoke leaves his body and Osamu laughs at him. Atsumu has tried plenty, but he’s no longer used to the feeling. He takes a sip of water, leaning back on the couch and stretching his legs out on the table, careful to avoid Osamu’s stash.

“I think this will be better than even last time,” he tells him. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

Osamu shrugs, “I needed a break from the restaurant.”

He’s not staying the whole tour with Atsumu, just the first leg of the U.S. tour, and then flying back home during the busy season at the restaurant. Osamu has been at his brother’s side since his early days trying to get a studio just to listen to one of his tracks, and now he’s watched him grow into one of the biggest Jpop stars in the world. He’d never tell him, but he’s proud.

How Atsumu gained his fame is quite the story, hard to believe really. Who would have thought that a little karaoke fun would have led to all this? It still shocks Atsumu to this day. Every night he wonders when the crowds will lessen, when the tickets will stop selling out, and when this dream will all be over.

“Can we join you?” Your unfamiliar voice sounds like a song Atsumu wants to write, but he shakes it off.

He’s slept with fans, had his fill, and he’s too old for this now. Nothing is exciting about someone who would do anything for you just because they are obsessed with you, not because they know you… the real you.

It’s just the excitement for the new tour that’s getting to him.

“Of course,” Osamu answers before Atsumu can tell you and your friend to sit.

Atsumu ignores the irritation that washes over him as you sit beside Osamu, your thighs touching. He ignores the way Osamu smiles and drapes his arm over your shoulder. He ignores the sting in his chest that’s unlike anything he’s felt before.

He looks away as your friend sits on the couch beside him.

–

Your friend starts talking to him and you notice Atsumu engages her in a friendly manner, but he’s reserved. Something you hadn’t expected. His brother, on the other hand, isn’t shy. The way Osamu’s thumb rubs circles onto your soft skin is enough to drive you wild. However, you don’t want to be that girl.

“Do you always tour with your brother?” You ask, making conversation. You know he doesn’t, but that won’t stop you from playing the part.

“No, I’ve never joined him before,” Osamu tells you and you look past him to Atsumu, he’s engaged in conversation with the girl you met tonight.

Honestly, tonight feels like a fanfiction you read when you were younger, getting to meet the band after the show and potentially fucking the lead or another member. The lead singer’s brother isn’t exactly who you imagined this playing out with, but you’re old enough now to know life is rarely like it is in stories… even if you did get invited to your favorite artist’s after-party. Despite the girl flinging herself towards Atsumu, after telling you that you couldn’t, you’re not going to let this ruin a good time.

However, when you look over at her and Atsumu, it seems like he’s more interested in the bottle of water between his hands than the girl on his right. Serves her right for being a bitch about you wanting to talk to him.

“Have you always been a fan?” Osamu asks you, and you realize you were probably spacing out.

“Oh, yeah. For the last few years anyway after his debut album.” You answer and he nods. This conversation is going nowhere. “Do you want a drink?” You ask him, seeing that his cup is empty.

He smiles and nods. “Come with me to refill it.”

–

Atsumu watches as you leave with his brother, disappearing into another room obscured from his view. He couldn’t hear what you were talking about with Osamu, thanks to the girl beside him rambling on about a festival she saw him at a few years ago. He can’t find it in him to care whatever she's saying about it.

Where is Osamu taking you? His irritation is present on his face, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as if he can see through the walls.

“Are you listening to me?” The girl, whose name he’s sure she told him, asks him.

“Not really,” he smiles to soften the blow. “Excuse me,” he gets up off the couch, leaving her behind without glancing back for her reaction.

He finds Osamu at the bar with you, wrapped up in conversation and mixing a drink that you take a sip of as he approaches.

“Can I talk to you?” Atsumu asks his brother.

Osamu looks surprised but nods. “I’ll be back in a moment, doll.”

“Not her,” Atsumu tells him, his voice barely containing the blinding feelings he’s experiencing all at once. “Not tonight.”

“Calling dibs?” He smirks, a laugh falling from his lips. “Fine, fine,” he shrugs after seeing the look of irritation on his twin’s face. “I’ll go talk to the blonde you were ignoring then,” he says and leaves the room.

Atsumu watches as Osamu goes to the living room of the rented house. The girl’s face lights up when he speaks to her. She drops her phone on the couch beside her and gives him the attention she wasn’t receiving. He turns back and sees you, sipping from a red solo cup and looking defeated.

“Why so sad?” He asks, leaning on the bar and flashing his winning smile. Your eyes light up and he sees they’re hazel.

You shrug, “I’m not. Just bored.”

Bored… she’s bored?

–

Fuck, why did you say that to him? Atsumu Miya, the biggest star in Japan and maybe even the world right now… thinks you’re bored at his party.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you stutter your words, trying to change his confused look to one of more understanding. “I’m just, not used to this.”

He chuckles, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I get that.” He tells you. “I guess this is a lot for someone who hasn’t been to our tour before.”

“I’ve been to your other tours.” You fire back, brows furrowed.

“I’ve never seen you before tonight.” He grins, and you think he’s enjoying picking on you.

“I’ve never been able to afford front row before now. I’ve always been in the lower sections. I don’t think even your pretty eyes can see that far back.” You take a sip of the punch that has something in it, maybe vodka. You’re not well-versed in alcoholic beverages enough to differentiate between them.

“I see,” he says and looks up towards the ceiling, teetering back on his heels.

Something about this little movement takes you by surprise. It makes him… real? You knew he was a real person, of course, but something so casual never crossed your mind. That’s the thing with celebrity idolization, you lose their sense of humanity.

That’s weird, isn’t it? But… it’s true.

“You seem a little bored yourself,” you comment, setting your drink down on the bar, but keeping it in front of you. “Not enjoying your own party?”

He looks at you, something on his face you can’t quite read. “It’s just not the same as it used to be, ya know. It’s more of an obligation.”

“You shouldn’t live your life for others.” This time, he frowns at you.

–

Is she serious? The look on her face makes it seem so.

Atsumu laughs, running his hand through his hair, feeling the gel still in it from the show. “I don’t think that’s true with my profession.”

Everything about him is for others.

She shrugs, her red hair falling over her face. She brushes it away and tucks it behind her ear and he wishes he’d done it for her. “I don’t think that has to be true.”

He leans on the bar, his elbows against the wood and hands supporting his face. “If you say so.”

– – –

Osamu leaves after three weeks, but that’s a quarter of the tour. They visited 9 cities during this time, but the parties started to dwindle. Everything from the second night of his show in LA is still stuck in his head. Red hair and hazel eyes haunt his dreams, even now. Plus, he can’t get out of his head what she said.

You shouldn’t live your life for others.

Isn’t that what he’s always done? Each album, every show, every meet and greet, every television or radio appearance, it’s all been for them… the fans. He puts a piece of himself in it all.

How many more pieces does he have left?

“Astumu,” his manager's voice grabs his attention. “The bus is stopping for fuel. Do you want anything from the station?”

“I can go in. It’s late, there won’t be a crowd of people.” He likes to go do his own bidding when he can, even though many times it ends with security having to drag him through crowds.

His manager frowns. “We don’t have security ready to take you in.”

“Who the hell is going to be out this late? It’s 3 a.m. in the middle of nowhere outside Pittsburgh. No one will be there.” Atsumu says, probably more harshly than he intended.

He sighs, but his manager moves out of the way and lets him leave the tour bus. The chilly air hits his warm skin, making him shiver as he approaches the gas station. He recalls the last update from the driver. They’re only 60 or so miles south of Pittsburgh. Then they’ll spend three nights there for the two shows this weekend.

Atsumu was right, there’s almost no one here. The cashier looks half asleep at the register, and there are few cars in the lot. He turns towards the coolers full of drinks, looking for a Gatorade he likes. He locates the light blue color, opens the cooler, and grabs the cold drink.

As he turns, his eyes catch on red hair walking down the aisle next to his. He can’t help himself, he follows it.

“-----,” he says, shocked that you’re in this random gas station.

Looking at you, he takes in your appearance. So different from the night he met you. You’re in casual clothes, pink sweatpants hanging off your hips, with a matching sweatshirt. Your hair is still down, but something about it looks different, maybe it’s the waves in it. You’re without makeup too, but he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

“Atsumu?” You look as shocked as he is. “What are you doing here?” You wave your hand around, and he notices the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’re holding in it.

“Heading to Pittsburgh for our shows this weekend. What are YOU doing here?” Atsumu raises his brows, smiling at you.

“I, uh, I live here. Well, close to here.” You tell him, and he nods but is more confused than ever.

“Then why were you in LA for my show? Wouldn’t Pittsburgh be an easier show to go to for you?”

“Quite the interrogator, huh?” You laugh and Atsumu wants to record it and put it in a song. “If you must know, I won tickets and a hotel room by the venue on a radio contest. I was lucky caller number 7 and got two nights to see you.”

“Oh,” he never considered that. “Are you coming this weekend?”

“Oh no, I didn’t get tickets. They’re really expensive.”

Atsumu’s heart sinks. You won’t be there.

“Come with me. I think I can get you in.” He winks and you laugh. A few moments pass and he realizes you didn’t take it as seriously as he meant it. “I’m serious. Come with us.”

“Atsumu, you can’t be serious.” You laugh, cheeks blushing. He stares at you, again something on his face that you can’t quite read. “Oh, you are.”

He nods. “Pretty serious.”

“Look at me,” you gesture with your hands at your body. “I can’t just hop on the tour bus with you and head off to Pittsburgh. I don’t have anything on me.”

“I can get you whatever you need. I have assistants.” He feels desperate now like this moment is going to change the projection of his life. “Please, —--. I want you there.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine, but we have to go to my place and get my stuff.”

“We can do that!”

–

Atsumu is basically jumping with excitement and you wonder how in the absolute fuck this is happening right now. Of course, he’d find you on your 3 a.m. snack run when you look an absolute mess.

“Okay, let me just go pay for these,” you start to turn for the register, but Atsumu snatches the bag of chips and Dr. Pepper from your hands.

“I got these.” He smiles and the irritation leaves your body. Fuck it, he can afford it.

“Thank you,” you tell him, walking with him to the register. “Are you like… allowed to come with me to get my stuff or are you going to have to wait here for me?”

“Allowed?” He laughs, tapping his card on the card reader. The familiar ping rings in your ears as it accepts the charge. “Of course, I am. I do have autonomy, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr. Pop Star. Didn’t know if there were any rules you have to follow.” You tell him as he opens the door for you.

“Well, we do need to go tell my manager.” He sighs. “He’s kind of a hard ass. But he can’t stop me.”

“Can I wait in my car for that?” You laugh, not wanting to awkwardly be standing there when they have it out over him going home with a strange girl.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Which one is it?”

You unlock your car, the lights flashing. “That one. I’ll warm it up for us.”

The nights have begun to become chilly, fall setting in and all. You actually turned your heat on in your apartment tonight for the first time since late spring. You part ways, Atsumu heading towards the bus fueling area and you to your car. It’s a good fifteen minutes before you see him walking to your car, waving his hands with a big smile. You unlock the car and he slides in the passenger seat.

“Went well?” You ask.

“Oh, no. He’s absolutely pissed, but that’s not my problem.” He buckles himself in and you laugh.

“Well, he’s gonna be even more pissed when it takes an hour to get back. I live twenty minutes from here.”

“Oh well,” he shrugs as you put the car in drive.

The radio softly plays his second album and you feel your cheeks warm. “Sorry, I can change it,” you reach for the radio.

He stops you, his cold hand touching yours. You pull back, embarrassed and smiling.

“I like this one a lot. I wish we could still play it.” He tells you, turning it up.

“Why don’t you play it anymore?”

“It just didn’t do as well as others.” He shrugs and you feel bad. It’s not your favorite song, but it isn’t in your bottom tier either.

“You should play it tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it,” he looks over at you and smiles.

The rest of the car ride you spend humming along to his second album, smiling and giggling when he sings certain lines to mess with you, and having genuinely one of the best times in your life. Hearing Atsumu live, even at his shows, has never sounded like this.

This feels… intimate.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say pulling into the apartment parking lot. “Please be quiet though. My roommate is sleeping. Plus she might scream if she sees you.”

“A fan?”

“Yes,” you roll your eyes and get out of the car.

Then you remember… the poster in your room…

“Oh. Um.” You stop him at the door of your apartment. “No laughing at me, but I might have your Rolling Stone cover on my bedroom wall.”

Atsumu laughs, shaking his head. His hair falls over his forehead. “That’s okay. I won’t tease you…. For now.”

“Fine,” you huff and open the door, welcoming him to the apartment. It’s dark so you turn on your flashlight on your phone “Remember, be quiet until we get to my room.”

He nods and follows you. You take off your shoes, and he does the same, then you show him to your room. To your surprise, he is quiet the whole way to your bedroom. Once you turn the lights on and shut the door behind him you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes immediately go to the poster adjacent to you.

“Remember, don’t laugh at me.” You turn to him and he puts his hands up in defense, a goofy smile on his face. “Also, I’m sorry about the state of my room.” There are clothes strung about, makeup here and there, and who knows what else is all over your dresser.

“As long as you don’t judge the tour bus, I won’t judge you,” he shrugs and doesn’t look around at the mess.

You pick up a few shirts on your way to the closet, tossing them in a basket to wash later. Honestly, they could be clean and just left out while you were getting dressed and forgotten about, but you don’t want to take the risk.

Atsumu is still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You can sit on my bed if you want,” you laugh, patting the duvet. At least your bed was made tonight.

He sits, crossing his legs and watching you as you go through your stuff to decide what to bring. It takes a few minutes to decide what you want to wear to the shows, but longer to decide what makeup to throw into a bag to go with them. It’s all probably too much but you finally finish packing.

“All done!” You declare, turning with two bags to face Atsumu.

You go to take a step, but your foot catches on a pair of shorts on the floor and you fall on the bed, on top of Atsumu. He reacts, catching you and falling back onto the bed with you hovering over him. He smiles, his face so close to yours now.

“Are you alright?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

You part your lips to speak, but you can’t so you close them. Your heart pounds in your chest. Hyper-aware of Atsumu’s hands on your waist, the feeling of your lower bodies smooshed against each other, and his lips oh so close to yours.

“Yes,” you finally get out and you feel yourself moving towards his lips.

No, you’re not moving; he is.

Atsumu’s lips brush against yours, his right hand leaving your waist and cupping your cheek. His lips are warm and taste sweet like a sugary drink. You kiss him back, trying to will your heart to slow down, sure he can feel it pounding in your chest. His thumb rubs against your cheek, the feeling sending shivers down your spine.

You pull away slowly, catching your breath and looking at Atsumu’s smile.

–

The way you look at him takes his breath away. That kiss, that feeling, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He’s aware of how he’s reacting, wondering if you can feel him through his and your pants or if he’s lucky enough that you don’t think he’s a creep.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he brushes your hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“I’m not.” He’s regretted things in his life, and this will never be one of them.

You smile and he feels himself relax, “I’m not really sorry either. Well except for the falling on you. That was kinda embarrassing.”

He laughs, laying his head back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. All of this feels surreal, even with his life the way it is. He watches as you move off of him, picking up the bags you dropped and shoving a few last-minute items into the larger one.

“Ready to go?” You ask him and he rolls off the bed and stands.

“Are you?” He grabs your waist, pulls you into him again, and kisses your forehead.

You feel hot against his lips and he wonders if it’s because of him. When he looks at you again, your cheeks are flushed, so it definitely is because of him.

“Let me take those,” he grabs the straps of your bags as you relinquish them, allowing him to toss them over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you smile at him and he follows you out of the apartment and to your car.

“You should show me some other music you like on the drive back,” he tells you, placing your bags in the back seat.

“I’ll let you look at my Spotify and choose,” you smile, starting the car and handing your phone to him.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here.” He scrolls through your playlists, laughing at the one random country playlist with early 2000s music in it, and selects one of them.

“Are you serious?” You turn your head and stare at him, waiting for the light to turn green. “Not this one.”

“Too late,” he laughs. “You said I could choose.”

The car ride is filled with silly country songs he chooses, each one making you yell at him for picking it. He even forced you to explain why you selected each one for the playlist. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun with someone.

You pull the car into the gas station parking lot, pulling up close to the tour bus. He looks at the clock and sees it at half past 4. He hopes that he’s able to sleep at least for a few hours on the bus. He watches as you get out, giving himself a second to gather his thoughts before getting out and grabbing your bags.

To his surprise, his manager doesn’t say anything when they get on the bus. He looks at you, but he can tell it’s not bothering you at least. He shows you to the back of the bus, his room for all intents and purposes.

“You can put your stuff anywhere you want. We’ll have a hotel room when we get to Pittsburgh soon.” He says then realizes you might want your own room. “Should we ask for your own room?”

“Do you want me to be in my own room?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

“I’d hate that, honestly.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” You move to sit on the bed, looking around the room. “So, this is how Japan’s sweetheart lives on the road.”

“It’s as glamorous as it looks,” he laughs, laying on the bed on his side, his head propped up by his hand. “You get used to it pretty quickly, really.”

You lay down, on your back but turn your face towards him. “Don’t you miss being home, though?”

He shrugs, “Sometimes. I miss my family more than that really. I was glad Osamu stayed with us up until recently, but I won’t see my mom until the end of the tour.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” You tell him and he feels his chest warming. You yawn and he realizes how late, well early, it is.

“You should sleep until we get to Pittsburgh,” he tells you.

“You should too,” you tell him, eyes fluttering shut.

–

When you wake up, Atsumu is draped around you, his breath warm on your neck. You smile, taking it in and enjoying the quiet sounds of his breathing. His body is warm against yours and you’re surprised by how comforting this feels.

How is any of this real?

Yesterday you were working and then decided you needed a break from your dissertation and decided to go get snacks. Now, you’re sleeping on Atsumu’s tour bus in his bed going to his weekend shows.

A knock on the door grabs your attention and you nudge Atsumu.

“‘Tsumu,” you whisper, “someone is at the door.”

“Probably Jeff.” He whispers back. “My manager.” He tears himself off of you and goes to the door.

“We’re in Pittsburgh. Decided to let you sleep here for a few hours, but we need to check in to the hotel and then get to the venue for sound check.” Jeff sounds no-nonsense through the door. “Get your stuff and let's get moving.”

Atusmu shuts the door and you set up on the bed. “Please tell me your hotel room has a bathroom.”

Atusmu laughs, “Of course it does.”

You gather your bags, grateful you didn’t unpack anything and Atsumu helps you take it up to his hotel room. To your surprise it isn’t in the downtown area close to the venue, but instead closer to the suburbs. Perhaps it’s easier for him to have some privacy this way?

The hotel room is the largest you’ve ever been in. The room is as large as your apartment, truly. This is more like what you envisioned when you thought about what it would be like to be on tour with Atsumu, and what fanfictions described.

“I call dibs on the bathroom first,” you say, laughing but completely serious.

“All yours,” he throws himself on the king-sized bed, seeming to fall asleep instantly.

You brush your teeth first before hopping in the shower and taking an everything shower. You scrub, shave, wash your hair and face, and then moisturize your entire body after. As you’re drying your hair with the hotel dryer, you wonder if it's bothering Atsumu’s rest. You peek your head out of the door, still wrapped in the hotel robe.

Atsumu is standing in the middle of the room at the round dining table, eating a slice of orange. “Hey,” he raises his eyebrows, and you close the robe more across your chest.

“Did you order breakfast?” You ask walking in to sit at the table, clearly full of the food he ordered.

“Jeff probably did,” he tells you and sits next to you. “He sent more than enough, clearly.”

You load up a plate with eggs, bacon, and fruit. “Give him my thanks,” you laugh and begin eating.

As you eat together, Atsumu gives you a rundown of tonight's plans, the show isn’t until 7 and he doesn’t go on until about 8. So you have lots of time to kill, but there’s still soundcheck in the late afternoon. But, the plan is to just hang out here until then.

“Plenty of time for me to destroy this hotel room and get you in trouble,” you tease.

“Oh please,” he laughs. “They’d never believe it was me. I have a perfect record of leaving everywhere I stay in great condition.”

“Whoa, goody-two-shoes on our hands.” You tease and he throws a grape at you. “Oh, there goes your clean record.” You say as it hits the floor and he rolls his eyes.

– – –

Atsumu paces around the room and you notice he’s flexing his hands a lot. He’s dressed in a similar outfit he wore in LA, but a slightly different design. The gold sparkles compliment his skin, and you can’t ignore how nice his muscles look. The vest without a shirt is a good look on him.

“Nervous?” You ask, picking at the black skirt you chose for tonight.

“Excited,” he replies. “I love doing this. It makes it all worth it.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, he looks like he’s glowing and he’s not even under stage lighting yet. Maybe he was born for this.

“So, I get to sit in this cozy room and enjoy the show on this television while you perform?” You ask.

“Or, you can come backstage and stand near Jeff. He might not be the best conversationalist, though.” He suggests and you shake your head.

“If I’m here I’ll at least get to see you change throughout the show.”

“Pervert,” he teases and you shrug.

“I’m basically living every fan’s dream right now, let me enjoy it.” You stand up, walking towards him and he takes your hands in his.

“I hope I’m living up to your expectations,” he looks a little sad and you cock your head.

“This is more than I ever imagined.”

He smiles now, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “Wish me luck,” he says softly.

You break the space between you and kiss him softly. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips.

He hugs you tightly before pulling away and leaving the room to go get in position to take the stage for tonight’s show. You sit back on a chair in the green room, watching the screen as the cameras start to focus on the stage. The show’s set is just like the two nights you spent in LA until he plays the song you requested. He dedicates it to a special someone, and you want to cry.

He has to mean you, right?

There isn’t anyone else he’s doing this with, right?

You’d be naive to believe he isn’t doing this in every city, but some part of you is holding onto a nugget of hope that what he’s showing you is real. However, even if it isn’t you’ll remember this for the rest of your life.

He joins you for a few minutes a third of the way through the show, and you get to tell him he’s doing amazing. He kisses you before he goes, and then this repeats once more when he changes again. Once the show is over, the band joins him in the green room and you don’t get much time to talk to him. You socialize with everyone, but ultimately end up back at Atsumu’s hotel room. He’s still riding off his high, talking about different nights of the show and how tonight compares.

“I don’t think there’s been a better crowd, truly.” He tells you, tossing himself back onto the bed.

You smile and laugh. “Maybe the East Coast is just better than the West.”

“Maybe,” he laughs and sits up on the bed. “Would it be weird if I asked if you wanted to shower with me?”

You stop moving, “I- uh-” you stutter and shake your head.

He gets off the bed, crosses the room to you, and kisses you. “You can say no, it won’t break my heart.”

He disappears into the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief.

–

After Atsumu showers, he finds you on the couch, half asleep watching a rerun of a sitcom he’s not familiar with.

“Hey,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “The bathroom is free if you need it.”

You come to and nod. “Thank you,” you yawn before going to the bathroom.

When you emerge you're in black pajamas and your hair braided into two braids. Atsumu can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t deny your beauty when you’re all done up, but this is something else. He feels like he’s in the presence of a deity.

When you crawl into bed, he pulls you against him, kissing you deeply. You gasp against his lips and he chuckles. He rolls you onto your back, hovering over you and parting your legs with his knee. You whimper as he grazes your core, but he controls himself.

In his head, he hears the melody of the moans he’d bring out of you and feels himself getting hard.

“Atsumu, wait,” you put your hands on his chest and he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away from your lips and looking down at you.

Tears are threatening to spill out of those pretty hazel eyes.

“I can’t do this. I want to go home.”

#atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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amaramizuki666 · 1 year

Text

Shared sensation part.4

Where was he? Who was he? Why did everything hurt?. Those where the constant questions going through 27's head. He didn't know what was happening. He was in some sort of tube filled with green liquid.

Every once in a while someone in a white coat will walk over to the tube and press some buttons then insert some blue liquid into the tube, causing these weird dreams.

"Red Robin focuse we need to be careful about this" a gruff voice orders and tim nodded "yeah b I know" tim says his voice hollow. He felt so numb as if he was drowning in a sea of ice.

Why should he care if he gets hurt he isnt going to feel it. Tim tries to stay focused during the fight but his mind keeps wandering, wandering to the beautiful black haired boy, and how his face flashed with horror when tim rejected him.

By the time the fight ended tim was bruised and bloody. "Red robin I told you to stay focused" bruce criticized once they got back to the cave. "I'm sorry ok, I just cant think properly" tim sighs, he can feel a headache comeing on.

Bruce put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "I think it's best for you to take a break" bruce said "bruce I'm fine" tim growls. He wasnt fine he was numb, nothing mattered anymore.

He lost his other half. He shouldn't have let him go. he shouldn't have pushed away. HE FAILED, IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT, HE SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HIM!

27's eyes opened again he felt pressure behind his eyes almost as if something wanted to escape them. 27 felt so confined. He didnt like it in here. He felt like something was pulling him, that something was missing. He dosnt understand what was going on.

D.A.N.N.Y the name at the top of the file bright in red. It contained so much and so little. "Danny" tim says while running his fingers down the photo of the boy a year younger than himself. "My sweet danny" tim mumbles reading over the suspicious death records.

They say he died a few months ago but tim knows that he died 2 years ago. Things arnt adding up. He has to find out what happened, what happened to danny. HOW DID DANNY DIE!? WHO IS COVERING IT UP?!

27 studied his surroundings. He wanted out of here, he wanted to go where his chest wanted to lead him.

"AHHHHHH!" Danny's screams rang loud even through the muzzle that was shoved onto his face as people in white coats cut him open. even if it was only over video tim could clearly see how they looked at his soulmate. like he was less than human. How dare they, I will kill them the thought rolled into Tim's mind, the yeah the GIW will pay.

27 didn't want to be in here anymore he wanted out. 27 moved his arm placing his palm against the glass. None of the white coats paired him attention so he reeled his arm back and punched. And punched, and punched, until the glass cracked.

Part 3

Part 5

#writing prompt #writing #danny phantom #dialogue prompt #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc comics #batfam #my writing #dc #danny x tim #clone tim

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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year

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I humbly request more shenanigans from the photo-buddies, I looooove them 😂🤩

they're absolute children your honor. i love them endlessly.

He looks tired.

There’s a slight delay to everything he does. A barely there pause before he answers a question, laughs at a joke. Your heart reaches out through your ribs when you watch him yawn for the third time in a few minutes, desperate to offer something in the face of his exhaustion.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Jay. You can go home, I’m almost finished.” You drop an undignified amount of ramen noodles in your shopping cart before carrying on down the aisle. At your side, Jason yawns again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long.” Comes his reply. You think he keeps it vague on purpose. “I’m not leaving you here, it's the middle of the night and someone might steal all your ramen noodles.”

You slant your head towards him, grinning, “They could try. I’ve fought people for less.”

A soft smile lifts Jason’s mouth, only at the corner, but it’s enough to make you feel weightless, enough to let you breathe. You think that there’s nothing that you wouldn’t do to make him happy. Even if it did mean sacrificing your noodles.

“Yeah that’s true." Jason says. "Remember the time you shouted at that guy for twenty minutes when he took the last box of mac and cheese?”

Nudging him in the side with your shoulder you laugh, “That was not a good night for me. And between you and me, that guy was a massive penis.”

“You mean, that guy has a massive penis, right?”

Coming up at the end of the aisle is a display full of Christmas wrapping paper rolls. Clocking the colourful tubes of cardboard you reply, “Yes Jason, that’s exactly what I meant. The guy that stole the last box of mac and cheese had a big fucking dick.”

“Thanks! I knew you thought it was big.”

Grabbing the first roll of wrapping paper you can reach–one with glittering Christmas trees–you swing around and smack Jason on the top of the head. His eyes narrow immediately and there's a quick, sudden drop in your stomach.

“That wasn’t me.” You defend, abandoning the cart of food. “I was possessed by the spirit of Santa Claus and three hundred different coloured Christmas trees.”

Arming himself with dual tubes of wrapping paper, Jason bounces on the balls of his feet, “I’m about to give you an early Christmas gift.” He declares, approaching you with all the talent and skill of a vigilante.

“I will fuck you up, Todd.” You warn, unable to keep the delighted smile off your face. “It’ll be real embarrassing for you.”

Using one of the tubes to block your sudden advance, Jason uses the other tube to smack you straight across the backside. The tube of wrapping paper warps under the impact and when he holds it up, the whole thing flops to one side, Santa’s face bent in the middle.

“Well done, Jay. You’ve just killed Father Christmas.”

Jason laughs, full and loud, eyes crinkling at the corners, “No, your ass killed Santa, I’m totally innocent.”

“You know, if you wanted to spank me, you could have just asked.”

Shrugging his shoulders Jason launches the wrapping paper back into the stand without taking his eyes off you. His aim is perfect and the tubes slot smoothly alongside the others. Raising an impressed eyebrow you turn your head to place yours back and as soon as Jason is out of your direct line of sight he strikes.

His palm meets your ass in a deafening crack and you jolt, hand flying back to protect yourself from another potential hit.

“Motherfucker!” You yell across the store. “I bet that’s left a handprint.”

“Send me a photo when you get home.” Jason says, smirking. “I’d love to see my handprint on your ass.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd drabble #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #ella writes #asks #answered #anonymous

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spinchip · 1 month

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NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 15

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

warnings: Character death

I LOVE WHAT I DO NOT HAVE. YOU ARE SO FAR. // MY LOATHING WRESTLES WITH THE SLOW TWILIGHTS.

“She’s already seen you face, why does it matter if she knows your name?” Kai asis from where he’s still sprawled across the front of Miss Emma.

Birdy sits down heavily, his back to the group, “it does not matter." He says simply, but there’s a slump to his shoulders that telegraphs defeat. Hopelessness. Nya knows that this is bad. "All that matters is getting you to the Mountain of Madness.”

Miss Emma floats on. Jay has stopped shocking her, collapsed on top of her bell tiredly as Kai keeps them moving. No one says anything. Over time, Miss Emma begins to droop again. When Jay gives her another shock, she just seems to lower herself quicker to the ground.

“She wants us off.” Nya realizes as the jelly's tentacles pool along the ground under them.

“We are a heavy burden for her to carry.” Birdy agrees.

They are passing over a forest- this one is a menagerie of blues, reds, and purples. The grass is a dark teal and white flowers and tall tubes protrude from the earth. Miss Emma drops low enough in a clearing that they can jump off without getting hurt and stops completely, waiting.

“Thank you.” Birdy says quietly to the animal. Kai pets her bell as a gesture of appreciation, and they all slide off her and onto the forest floor. The moment there are no more hitch-hikers on her bell, Miss Emma slowly drifts away, flying high enough to disappear into the clouds.

There's a long, tense moment as no one knows what to do next.

“We should keep moving.” Birdy says softly.

“She was telling us the truth, wasn’t she?” Kai asks bluntly.

Lloyd steps forward, “Kai-” He starts but Birdy cuts him off.

“What did she tell you?”

Kai locks eyes with Birdy and the air grows thick with tension.

It’s Jay who speaks next, “Barath told me you murdered Farley. He said that you were a warlord in your past life, and that you had committed crimes among the worst of all the people banished here.”

“Genocide.” Kai clarifies, “Destruction of land, culture, food. Untold numbers of death and destruction. Samira told me about how you’ve kept trophies of those you killed. Your mask, your knife… all belonging to the dead.”

Nya can’t help her own need to know the truth and she speaks up next, “Wox told me you were dangerous. That the respect these people have for you is based in fear and hatred.”

Cole hesitates, “And Ila said you walked into Oasis the day after you killed Farley covered in his blood.”

“All true.” Birdy doesn’t hesitate to confirm it. “You were right in the throne room, Kai. I am a monster.”

“Birdy-!” Lloyd whips around to face him, appalled, “No!”

Birdy squares his shoulders, “No, Lloyd. I must take accountability. I cannot run from this.'' He doesn’t break eye contact with Kai, “This is who I am, yes, but I have no ill will towards you all. Samira was right that I know how important you are to Ninjago too, and I will not allow my home realm to go unprotected and vulnerable without you. I belong here, in this place, but you do not. I will get you home, I swear it.'' His voice takes on an edge of desperate honesty.

They were still so far from the Mountain of Madness. If they left Birdy here and tried to find it on their own, it could be ages before they got out of here.

Lloyd looks from Birdy to the others, waiting. It hits Nya that Lloyd is waiting on them to weigh in- he wants to hear what they all have to say. It’s not like Lloyd never asks what they think on large decisions of this nature, but ever since they lost Zane Lloyd had taken the full weight of leadership and had refused to share it with the rest of the team. He was the one who made decisions. He was the one who was always alone in that choice. Maybe he was tired of being alone.

Nya doesn’t know what to think.

Cole steps forward first and Nya knows his opinion well enough that she can tune him out, “I still trust him.” But when he speaks, she looks at Cole and really listens, taking in everything he says, “He wasn’t working with Samira. He wasn’t in cahoots with Maurice. Everything he’s done has been solely for us, at the detriment of himself.” He locks eyes with Birdy, “Maybe he did some bad things… some really bad things… but he’s trying to help us. It’s all he’s been trying to do. I don’t think he’s going to lead us astray. I still want him to guide us.”

There’s a pause after Cole finishes, “Cole is right.” Nya says aloud, finding the truth in her words. Everything Cole said made sense. Birdy had been on their side from day one- “He stopped Maurice before he even knew we were the elemental masters. He had no reason to do that, but he did.”

“You can’t be serious!” Jay gapes, “Didn’t you hear him? Confirmed murderer! Evil bad guy here!! How can you just take his side?”

“I’m not on anybody's side but ours,” Nya fires back immediately, “I may not be thrilled about putting my faith in a- former- dicator, but I want what’s best for us, and getting back to Ninjago as quickly as possible is exactly that.”

Jay looks down at that, thinking.

“I can’t follow him.” Kai says sourly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lloyd finally speaks up, “What Birdy did in the past-” He looks back at Birdy and pauses, face twisting as he hesitates on what to say next, “It wasn’t as black and white as it seems.” He settles on finally, “I trust him.”

There’s a heavy, tense silence. Lloyd meets Kai eyes, his expression imploring him to see sense.

“I don’t trust him.” Kai reiterates firmly. He closes his eyes with a grimace, “...But I do trust you. If you think this is the right call… then I do too.” he bites out begrudgingly.

“Fine.” Jay echoes, crossing his arms, “Let's go then.”

Birdy takes a moment to look around and get his bearings before he starts to walk, the others falling in line behind him. It's... awkward. He doesn’t speak much, only opening his mouth to warn them of obstacles, “Avoid the flowers,” He says, pointing to one of the numerous white flowers dotting the ground, “They tunnel into the ground. It is like stepping in a hole.”

Jay immediately steps in one and face plants, but he’s fine.

Nya start to notice that the plants they’re trekking through for this leg of the journey are strange, even for the Realm of Madness. Everything is coated in a thick waxy film and all of it is shaped like funnels or cups. Tall purple speckled plants with tube protrusions, green vase-like plants that grow as tall as her waist, huge pink and purple trees with tops like a sea anemone- and the plants she noticed that aren’t cup shaped have a sponge-like texture. Everything here is geared towards catching rain.

She looks inside one of the purple plant tubes and sees a small puddle at the very bottom, feeding into the stem. Raising her hand, she shoves at the liquid- but it doesn’t move.

“Birdy, what’s up with the water here?” She asks, pulling her hand away.

“It’s not water.” He answers stiffly, but she doesn’t think the discomfort is because of her. She’d noticed how still he’d seemed as they traveled deeper into the forest. There was something about this place that rattled him, “It’s acid.”

“ACID?” Jay squawks.

“It rains acid here,” Birdy says apologetically, “But we should be safe. It is the dry season.”

“I thought you said nothing was guaranteed in this place?”

“We need to move quickly.” He says bluntly.

As they hurry through the forest, Nya keeps an eye out for any potential dangers. That snake spider in the white forest had snuck up on them. She wasn’t keen on being surprised again. Because she’s looking towards the trees, she doesn’t notice everyone’s come to a stop until she runs into Cole.

“Oof-” She stumbles back, “Sorry- what happened? Why are we stopping?”

“I apologize.” Birdy says, emotionally flat where he’s standing in front of a large purple tree, “I was simply making sure we were on the right track.” When he starts moving again, he takes a wide step over something. As the others begin to move, Nya sees that the thing Birdy had stopped at and stepped over was a oblong dark spot on the grass. She’d seen a few of them before, scattered around the forest. She steps over it too but doesn’t ask about it. Birdy's voice had taken on that tone that comes when he’s not feeling like himself.

She blinks, surprised at herself for knowing that.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, then we should stop and take a break.” Kai says, pausing in the middle of that clearing underneath the tree's arching canopy, “We can keep going once you’ve got your head on straight.” he crosses his arms, planting himself firmly.

Birdy shakes his head, “I remember the way now. We should cover as much ground as possible today.” he says, voice toneless and disconnected. His body language is empty too, his shoulder slumped and his hands loose around his staff.

“I mean… we haven't had lunch.” Cole points out with a wry smile, “A quick snack break couldn’t hurt.”

“Do we have food? Or will we need to forage.” Nya asks.

“We have food. Cole hooked us up.” Jay says, slinging his backpack off and opening the top.

“I got Ila to make us some stuff for the road after… our talk.” He frowns, rubbing his chin, “I’m kinda surprised she did, actually… considering how they were plotting against us.”

“The food is safe. Ila is different from Samira.” He reassures them. There’s a thick pause. He hasn’t moved from the edge of the clearing, “We shouldn’t stop here.”

“Why? It’s the dry season, isn’t it?” Kai responds dryly, waving away a sandwich Jay offers him.

There’s a pause before Birdy stiffly sits down. “Alright.” He says blankly before he crosses his legs and gets into a classic meditation pose.

“You like to meditate?” Lloyd tilts his head.

“Sometimes.” Birdy doesn’t offer any additional information, and the group goes quiet as they eat and rest.

��So what’s the game plan when we get home? I mean, we don’t know anything about... Anything.” Nya turns to Lloyd.

He pauses mid-bite and frowns, “Well… we need to meet with Pix first and foremost. There’s no way she hasn’t been gathering intel in the time we’ve been gone. Mom might know something about that gauntlet and who might have gone after it, so we could go to the dig she’s on and ask her.”

“If we do that we gotta stop at home so I can get my gameboy.” Jay says immediately, “Do you know how long it’s been since I haven't played video games? I’m going through serious withdrawal here!”

Kai shoots him a withering stare that Jay is completely oblivious to.

“Well, as long as you don’t go pretending a piece of wood is a gameboy, then I’m not too worried about you.” Cole comments wryly.

“Oh, don’t tempt me. I have a whimsical imagination.”

“You like to play video games?” Birdy asks quietly.

“Yeah! There’s this game called Prime Empire, that’s the one I’m really into right now.”

“We were all really into it when it first came out.” Lloyd snickers, alluding to an inside joke Birdy’s not a part of.

“We were sucked into the game.” Cole explains even though Birdy hadn’t mentioned his confusion, “Jay saved us. It was a whole thing.”

“...You have had a lot of adventures.” there’s a pause as Birdy tries to think of what to say, “I would like to hear more about them.”

Lloyd hums, “Well, other than a few small fight here and there, and the current situation we’re in, the last big ordeal we had to take care of was The Mechanic and Fugi-doves team up.”

“The Mechanic cyborg-ed him.”

“Badly.” Nya adds darkly, “I could have done so much better.”

"Don't get any ideas." Cole ribs, nudging her playfully with his elbow.

Jay nods, “Yeah, he botched it up pretty bad. Fugi used to be a nothing villain, like, petty things. Now that he’s all…” Jay waves his hands in the approximation of gears turning, “Scary looking, he’s got actual minions.”

“I turned into the ocean.” Nya informs him, “But I got better.”

“Before that was Shintaro. We were invited by the princess for her birthday.” Lloyd continues.

“Queen Vania now. She’s cool, I think you’d like her.” Cole smiles.

“Her dad, the king, ended up being this evil warlock. His best friend was a floating skull.”

“Interesting…”

“I think you’d like him more than Vania,” Kai mutters, “Birds of a feather flock together.”

Lloyd graciously doesn’t acknowledge Kai, “Prime empire was before that, and then there was…” He stops. The air grows thick. “Let’s not talk about that one.” He murmurs.

“...What kind of game is it?”

Jay perks up, “Let me just tell you the story!” He launches immediately into an animated recap. The others interject every now and again to add their perspective and to correct Jays embellishments. “-And that’s how I lost my eye!” He says, pointing at the patch. Cole takes over after that, talking about princess Vania and the caves beneath Shintaro. The conversation devolves into one long timeline of their most recent life-or-death situations that Birdy listens to intently. He stops them with the occasional question, but otherwise is quiet while they recount it all.

So it’s a surprise when he interrupts Nya’s explanation of the Mechanics plot by leaping to his feet and taking a confrontational step towards Kai, “What are you doing with that?” He demands.

Kai jumps, surprised. He’d been leaning against the tree mindlessly checking his pockets for something to fiddle with- he looks down and realizes he’d fished out the painkiller Samira had given him and was rolling it between his fingers absently. “I’m playing with it.” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“That is not a toy.” Birdy bites out. Maybe he wouldn’t be so aggressive in any other environment, but this place put him on edge in the worst kind of way.

“I know that.” Kai shoots back sharply, standing to his full height, “What’s your problem?”

“Give it to me.” Birdy orders, holding his hand out, “I am not going to watch anyone else die here.”

“It’s not poison!” He clenches the pill in his fist, “It’s a painkiller for FSM’s sake.”

“It is engineered to be horribly addictive.” Birdy stresses, stepping up to Kai, “The withdrawals for that could kill you-”

“I've been managing my alcohol withdrawal just fine, thanks, I'm sure this wouldn't be any worse.” He snaps, shoving the pill back in his pocket.

Birdy jerks as if struck, “You are so dependent on alcohol you would die from it?”

“Stop talking to me.” Kai turns his back on him bitterly.

The air is fraught with tension, the energy pulled so taut it was only a matter of time before something snapped.

Birdy opens his mouth, “Do you think your friend sacrificed his life so you could ruin yours?”

CRACK-!

It all happens so fast Nya can barely keep up. Kai’s fist connects with Birdy's mask so hard he goes sprawling in the dirt. He stumbles back, slamming into a tree and slumping down at the base of it. He’s got one hand holding his mask in place reflexively, looking up at Kai in shock.

“You-” He snarls, body a pillar of fire as he towers over Birdy, “You do not get to speak about him! You are not even a fraction of the man he was! He may have been a robot, but he was more human than you will ever be!”

Cole gets in front of Kai and pushes him back. He keeps his hands on Kai’s chest to stop him from advancing on Birdy again, “Kai, stop!”

From his place on the ground, Birdy reaches a hand under his mask to wipe at his face. His fingers come back stained dark with blood, nearly black in the strange lighting of the realm. He looks up at Kai and his hand tightens around his staff dangerously.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me?” Kai spits, leaning to glare at him over Cole's frame, “Just like you hurt Farley? Fine then, go ahead! I can take you!”

Birdy looks down at his hand like it’s not attached to him. He throws the staff on the ground as if it’s burned him and shakes his head hard to clear his vision. He hasn’t said a word, mute in shock. He stumbles to his feet but he has to use a tree to catch himself, leaning on it to keep his feet under himself.

“I’m the master of fire! You don’t scare me!”

Birdy is shaking all over, hand trembling where he has it pressed against the strange tree. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and he has all his focus on Kai.

He turns and vanishes into the woods.

“Birdy!” Lloyd takes a step after him but aborts the mission, whipping around to Kai, “You two stay here with Kai and maybe knock some sense into him.” He points at Cole and Jay before turning to Nya, “Nya, come with me.” She has to scramble to keep up as Lloyd darts after Birdy, but it’s not long before Lloyd stutters to a stop.

He lets out a low growl in frustration, “I don’t know where he went.” He scrubs at his face roughly.

She places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Just take a deep breath, Lloyd.”

“Everything fell apart so quickly.”

“I know.” She swallows roughly and looks away. She doesn’t have the words to make this okay. If they can’t find Birdy, if they can’t convince him to come back… they’ll be lost in the middle of nowhere in a realm that wants so so badly to kill them. Her eyes flick over the ground right to a footprint is half hidden by the leaves of a bright red shrub.

“Look!” She points to it, hoping a solid lead will cheer Lloyd up, “He went this way!”

They cautiously start to track Birdy, being extra careful not to miss any indicators where he ran off to. Finally, they come upon another small clearing. Another large, alien looking tree stretches up above them, the trunk of the tree is a deep blue and there are several bulbs along it where the wood splits to reveal huge chunks of a pale blue spongey growth. On the other side of the tree, Birdy’s foot sticks out from where he’s sitting in the dirt under the shade.

“Birdy!”

And right next to his foot is his mask.

Lloyd stops in his tracks the moment he sees it. “Are you okay?” He asks, staying out of sight of Birdy's face.

A gloves hand reaches out and takes the mask, slipping it on with his body still mostly hidden, “I am alright.” He stands up then and comes around the tree to face them, face once again firmly hidden. He’s holding a water bottle in one hand, using it to rinse the stain off his gloves. Well, he’s trying to.

“Here,” Nya says, stepping forward, “Let me.”

She swirls water around his hands and uses it to sweep the dark blood off the fabric. While she works, Birdy speaks, “I apologize if I worried you. I was always intending to return, I just needed a moment to… attend to my injuries.” He finishes awkwardly. “I was not going to leave you stranded.”

“Birdy, I didn’t come after you because you’re our guide.” Lloyd says, “I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Speak for yourself, Nya thinks. Well, that’s not entirely fair- she did think that Birdy wasn’t the villain he made himself out to be, and she trusted him to a degree. She wouldn't call them friends, but she didn't want to see him hurt either. Maybe her decision to follow Lloyd was almost entirely based on selfish reasons, but she had also been alarmed by Kai’s punch, worried about the brutality of how the hit had landed. Kai could knock out an opponent's teeth with a weak swing- there was a lot of damage to be done with a sucker punch like that.

“He isn’t like that, really.” She finds herself saying quietly as she draws out the last of the blood in Birdy's gloves, “He didn’t used to be, at least. He was more levelheaded than me before… Before we lost Zane.”

Birdy stays quiet.

Nya keeps going, “He took it the hardest out of us all, I think. He feels a lot of guilt. He lost his elemental abilities right before it happened, y’know? So I think he blames himself.” she moves water over his gloves absently. The blood is gone, but she can’t look up to meet his eyes, “And yeah, Zane was special to all of us, but he did something else for Kai. Kept him balanced, maybe. He got lost after Zane died. He trained until he collapsed, he spent hours patrolling the city, he kept busy because then he could dull the pain. And when he had to stop moving, he drank.”

“Grief does funny things to us all.” Lloyd says softly.

“You’re right. Zane wouldn’t have wanted this for him, and Kai knows that, but you were wrong to speak on his behalf. He’s gone, and none of us want to hear a stranger put words in his mouth.” She lets the water drop, splashing to the ground.

A long moment passes quietly, “I apologize. It was not my intention to disrespect your friend.” It’s his turn to drop his gaze to the ground.

“C’mon,” Lloyd says softly, “I think the others will want to hear that too.”

When they get back to the others, the air is tense. Kai is leaning against a tree attempting to wrap a bandage around his bloody knuckles. Jay is hovering at his elbow and Cole is standing off to the side, not looking at either of them.

Kai notices them first, but cuts his eyes away and pointedly ignores the trio rejoining their group.

“It was wrong of me to bring up your friend.” Birdy says before stepping any closer, “I reacted so strongly because I was afraid for you, Kai. Those pills are designed for control. Samira supplies the people of this realm and then twists their addiction against them.”

“I don’t need your worry.” Kai says, but it’s lost some of the bite it had before.

Hesitantly, Birdy approaches Kai. Slowly, with enough time for Kai to draw away, and with more than a bit of caution to stay out of easy access of another swing, Birdy cups Kai’s injured palm. He takes the bandages next, moving to wrap his hand, “There is not a switch I can flip to turn it off.” Birdy says wryly, carefully winding the gauze around Kai’s hand, “I am sorry for what I said.”

Kai just stares at him.

“...You may not trust me, but I trust you.” He continues, finishing up dressing his knuckles, “I believe you would have made the correct choice.”

Something shifts in Kai. his features soften and he pulls his hand away gently- his guard is still up, but there’s a change in his heart, “Y’know, you’ve got a hell of an iron jaw.” he tries for a joke, but it falls flat. Then, “Why are you doing all this? After everything you’ve done, why have a change of heart now?” He asks, search for an understanding. He didn't get Birdy. Maybe that was part of his aggression- he didn't understand how a warlord like him could just... suddenly decide to be a good person. There had to be a catch.

Birdy looks away, ruminating over his thoughts and looking for the best way to put it all into words, “I am trying to make up for the pain I have caused. I regret the things I have done. I wish I had never stepped foot in that throne room- I have been stuck in the dark ever since, plagued by the mistakes of my past... but I have a choice, now. Even in the darkness, I can choose to reflect the light.”

Kai freezes, looking at Birdy with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but there’s a crash through the underbrush that interrupts him.

A massive two-legged beast blasts into the clearing with a series of loud clicks, hissing at the group gathered there. On top of the animal, on a makeshift saddle with a pair of leather reins in her hand- is Morrigan.

“I found you~!” She sing-songs.

Her steed shakes its head hard, obviously agitated by the bit shoved in its beak. It’s a massive thing with a set of wings to match, and it’s body was a patchwork of soft brown feathers and iridescent scales. Large slits flutter around the base of its throat as it breathes in, scenting the air. It’s feet are distinctly bird-like, with claws like a raptor and rough textured skin. It isn't happy about its predicament as a faithful show pony, flicking it’s head and flapping its wings in rage.

“You disrespected me, lover! I told you- either you gave me those flowers or something very bad was going to happen.” She flips her brown hair over her shoulder with a flourish, grinning down at the group with shark teeth, “I’ve come to collect, darling.”

“We don’t have the flowers any more!” Lloyd argues.

“Oh, I know that, little boy.” She giggles, “I’m here to do something very bad!”

With that, she shoves her finger out towards them and commands the vulture-bat beneath her, “Sick ‘em, boy!”

With that, the beast roars- and its small beak splits in half, its face opening up in four pieces to reveal a garbage disposal of razor sharp, serrated teeth stained with old blood. Its dark purple tongue flicks out before it crashes forward with the intent to kill. Despite its massive size, the thing is fast. It is upon them before they can think, and it’s only the speed of a ninja that saves their bones from snapping in those jaws.

“What is that?” Jay squawks in unison with the bird, who charges at him.

“A vulture-bat!” Birdy says as he leaps for his staff, fear bleeding into his voice, “Keep your eyes on it! It is quicker than you think!”

“Ew.” Nya says with a nervous laugh, mostly to herself. The bird is horrifying in it’s awkwardness- it’s bones seem too big for it’s body, the tautness of it’s skin revealing the spaces between feathers and scales. Little peeks of pink flesh that’s stretched so thin the blood vessels underneath are clearly visible. It moves unnaturally too, it’s body too long for it’s legs. Every other step it’s chest slams to the ground and bounces back up like he’s compensating for a missing limb. When it roars, foul smelling spittle flies everywhere.

Then she sees it. A long, thin appendage coming out from it’s tail feathers.

It whips it’s body around and her only warning is the high pitched whistle that comes from a deadly strike. She ducks, and the tree behind her explodes.

It’s like razor-wire, thin enough to decapitate any animal that comes it’s way, yet sturdy enough to nearly halve the trunk without even the hint of structural weakness.

Morrigan pulls on its reins so she can look at her targets, “Y’know why I haven’t killed anyone, Birdy? Because everyone does as they are told and gives me what I want.” There’s a manic shine in her eye, “Now you’ll see what happens when you disobey.”

She pulls out a knife and stabs the vulture-bat in it’s haunches. It roars in rage and shakes itself hard, trying to dislodge her, and when that doesn’t work it dives forward with the intent on killing anything around it. It’s pain needed to go somewhere.

Cole brings up a wall of earth high enough to trip the beast and it crashes to the ground, it’s claws scrabble for a moment and it’s back on it’s feet in almost no time. Kai throws a ball of fire in an attempt to scare it, but the singed feathers only seem to enrage it further. It’s mostly a game of cat and mouse with the ninja just barely dodging teeth and claws and a razor tail.

Nya knows they can’t dodge forever.

Birdy dives under the razor-wire that nearly takes his head before he pops up at the beasts underbelly. He’s almost trampled before he managed to grab hold of a patch of feathers and haul himself up onto the animals back. He’d only done all of that to get out of harms way, but now that he was nearly face to face with Morrigan, he had no idea what to do. He brandishes his staff anyway, trying to find his footing on the rampaging beast.

Morrigan stands up, hands still wound up in the reins to keep her balance and she brandishes her sword, “You think you're the only one with a thirst for blood, don't you? You think you're the only one with the guts to slaughter someone!” She snarls with a sadistic smile, “You have no idea what I'm capable of when I don't get my way.” She yanks the reins to one side and the animal veers sharply, whole body tipping and turning. Birdy crashes sideways off his feet and is nearly flung from the beasts back before he can catch it’s tail feathers in one hand.

Nya flicks her wrist and calls a ball of water to her. She throws it as hard as she can, watching it soar through the air and slap into Morrigan. What’s most important is how the water drowns the leather and the scales on the monsters back.

The beast turns toward Nya sharply at the attack, and Morrigan can’t keep her footing on the slick saddle.

One foot slips from under her and she can't catch herself. She tumbles down the beasts shoulder, but before she can hit the ground her body yanks to a painful stop. The reins are still wrapped around her wrist, leaving her dangling at the monsters chest. The bird slams sideways into a tree because of how hard Morrigan yanks on the reins in her fall, narrowly avoiding bashing her to paste. There’s genuine panic on her face as she swings her sword up, trying to slice through the reins so she can survive this encounter.

Birdy crawls up the bird to it’s neck. He nearly throws himself off it when he lunges for Morrigan, holding his hand out for her to take, “Let me help you!” He shouts, voice nearly lost among the vulture-bats cries.

She would have to drop her sword. She looks at him for a long moment before her face twists in hatred. With a mighty heave, she swings the sword at Birdy, aiming for a killing blow. He yanks his hand back and she misses, the sword cutting into the vulture-bat’s shoulder.

It rears back in pain and Birdy goes flying off, rolling to a stop in the dirt.

Morrigan is thrown backward and shaken around as the vulture-bat reacts to the sharp sting. It spots her as she’s thrown to the side, it’s large black eye focusing on her. It understands immediately. With a sharp turn, It whips its head around so she goes flying in a wide arc- right in front of its mouth.

It’s face splits in four. It lunges forward.

The crunch of shattering bones makes Nya feel sick. Blood splatters across the clearing as the bird shakes its head like a dog with a toy, other… debris raining down from its jowls. She didn’t even have time to scream. That must have been a mercy.

The blood pooling on the ground seems to be eagerly absorbed by the ground, leaving swathes of darker spots on the grass.

Nya can see its throat spasm as it swallows what's left of her.

Everything is quiet. The beast’s gills flutter again.

Birdy grabs her arm, snapping out of her trance. “Go!” He orders urgently and quietly.

She turns and runs. She can see Jay ahead of her, and she focuses on not losing him and nothing else. She doesn’t flinch when the vulture-bat roars behind her, and she doesn’t stumble when the earth shakes as it chases after them.

“It’s gaming on us!” Lloyd shouts from somewhere behind her.

“We have to fight!” Cole confirms.

They break out of the forest into muddy earth, the thickness of it sucking at Nya's feet as she tries to run. There are no trees out here in the wastelands- well, no trees big enough to hide behind. The spindly little black plants will do nothing for them now.

She turns around right as the bird explodes from the forest, a looming monster taking up all her vision. Her heart leaps up to her throat. It doesn’t hesitate, covering the land in three long strides before it’s upon them again.

Cole tries to use earth, but the mud is too soft to even slow the beast down. Jay flings lightning but the bird is fast, dodging that and Kai’s fireballs alike. Lloyd hits it heavily on the side with a ball of green energy, and the beast roars in rage as it turns on him. There’s more fighting- fighting is too generous for what they’re doing. Surviving, maybe. Just barely. It’s so angry that any real damage to it just pisses it off even more, too much adrenaline in it’s system to feel any of it.

It bites dangerously close to Cole, whipping it’s long tail back with deadly intent-

SNAP

The tail slams into Birdy's side- hard. It’s enough force to throw him back until he’s tumbling in the mud, coming to a stop on his back.

Black blood streaks across the wet earth.

His whole left side is torn open.

Nya is moving before she can think, “Keep it distracted!” She orders, flying across the mud. She slams down on her knees at Birdy's side, trying to assess the damage- did they pack enough bandages? How bad is it that he most definitely got realm of madness mud all inside his wound?

He has a hand pressed against his side. His glove is soaked through with blood. He makes no attempt to move, “Nya.” he says quietly.

“You’re gonna be fine.” She reassures him immediately, “Just lay still.” She tries to pry his hand away from his side, but he won’t move it.

“Nya, it is too late.” His voice is resigned. She feels like his voice is always resigned, always ready to die, “I need you to listen to me. Please.”

She shakes her head, “Just move your hand. I have medical training, I can help you.”

He acts as if he didn’t even hear her, “You have to go north-east from here. Towards where the sun rises- if you see a tree split in half by a lightning strike, you are going in the right direction.”

“Birdy, move your hand! You’re going to bleed out if you don’t let me stop the flow!”

“Keep walking past that split tree. You’ll see four big mountains in front of you-”

“What are you talking about?” She snaps, stressed and desperate.

“I’m telling you how to get to the mountain of madness.” He says soberly.

She looks at him in disbelief, “Take us there yourself!” She snaps. She pulls on his hand and he lets her, too weak to fight her anymore.

Underneath his torn blue tunic, past the dingy white robes underneath, is glimmering silver skin and a tangled mess of torn wires and gutted tubing. Nya’s brain stalls.

“Nya.” She jerks as if she’s been struck. Everything else vanishes to background noise. That’s not Birdy's voice. It’s softer, higher-pitched. It’s the sound of snowfall and red tailed hawks and fresh baked cookies. It’s the sound of home.

She slowly looks up at him, at that stupid stupid mask. Her eyes are blurry with tears.

“Zane?”

“Watch out!” Jay screams, the sound of the fight behind them blaring reality back into her ears.

She turns around and the beast is upon them. She’s too rattled to think straight-

Zane bursts forward spilling oil and transmission fluid all over the mud. He shoves Nya back, behind himself as he pushes his hand forward in a desperate attempt to change the way this fight ends. A giant pillar of ice shoots out of the mud in front of him and brutally slams into the Vulture-bats chest. Ice spreads at the point of contact, frost swirling up its skin in painful cracks. The beast squawks in startled pain, jerking away from the two before it finally decides the fight isn’t worth it. It flaps it’s massive wings in a panic, scrambling away from the ice and taking flight. It flys like a bat out of hell, it’s ground speed nothing compared to how quickly it takes off towards the horizon.

Zane's knees buckle, and he crashes into the mud and doesn’t move again.

#ninjago #zane julien #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #jay walker #lloyd garmadon #ninjago never the dark #spinchip fic #ninjago au #someone dies brutally this chapter. sayonara...#blood #gore #broken bones

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jacksprostate · 2 months

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f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..

Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.

This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.

Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.

But today, he thought about it.

And he noticed a bruise.

So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.

I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.

He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.

He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.

I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.

We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."

I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.

Sure.

Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.

Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.

Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.

He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.

I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.

He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.

When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?

Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.

There is so much pretense in the world.

Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.

And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.

Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.

It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.

For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.

The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.

Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.

I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.

When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.

For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.

It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.

For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.

Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.

I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.

I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.

Don't feel guilty, Marlon.

I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.

Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.

I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.

I look.

I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.

I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.

Don't worry too much about it.

And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.

#asks #fight club #female fight club au #my writing #obv directly in parallel to the book chapter #this has been sort of floating in my head #in the book its probably the most caring moment the narrator has for marla #and i think that is the same here actually #its just female narrator off the charts detestes marlon more in the first place. puts all her sense of sympathy and shared solidarity into #Tyler. but. yeah #anyway made marlon's life absolutely miserable #and the narrators #i actually went back and forth on that #i dont want to... necessarily... give her Solid Reasons in a way male narrator doesnt have #but its sort of inescapable that fucked up misogynistic shit would happen #and i was thinking how to resolves the food contamination question in my head #hard to explain #inherently more horrible shit will happen to her than male narrator #but not excessively and i want it to feed into the same issues. in this case her complete subjugation in the office and inability to freely #reject the horrific shit shes forced to play along with #resulting in her doing the same to the fat cats rolling by #anyway #she does care about marlon #its complicated

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