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ellieslaces · 1 month

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KISSING LESSONS.

featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader

synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)

notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.

word count: 3.13k

chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)

now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus

Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.

It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.

It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.

PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.

It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.

Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.

You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.

You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel’s boyfriend and a complete moron.

Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.

You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.

As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.

“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.

Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.

You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.

“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.

Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.

“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.

Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.

“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.

“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.

“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.

Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.

Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.

You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?

Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.

A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.

She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”

Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.

“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.

“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.

“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.

“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.

Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.

The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.

So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.

It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.

To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.

“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”

Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.

Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.

It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.

“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.

“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.

It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”

Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”

“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?

“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.

“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.

You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.

Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.

“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.

“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.

A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.

“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.

The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.

So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.

This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.

“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.

It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.

“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.

“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.

You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.

Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”

You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”

“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.

You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.

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beingsuneone · 5 months

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Part Two!!

Memories & Delusions PART TWO!!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

SYNOPSIS: You know Jason is alive know, you aren’t sure how just yet and you aren’t how exactly you’re going to keep his cover and also still see him regularly. There’s still too many complications to deal with.

FANDOM: DC

PAIRING(S): Jason Todd x fem!reader

RATING: G

MENTIONED: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Joker, Ra’s Al Ghul

GENRE/AU: Uhhh a little bit of fluff I guess. It’s pretty subtle on the romance, mostly plot following I guess. Nothing overly angsty. Mentions of being committed to Arkham (just a joking conversation) and Jason is trying it get over the Lazarus pit.

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

WARNINGS: swearing, slightly graphic descriptions of Jason’s murder from him. Not proof read

A/N: jjjajsjakkskskshdhshjsjsis brain

DEDICATIONS: my dumb hyperfixating brain for coming up with this concept at least three years ago. And putting it into words only recently.

CREDITS:

“Why are you being so dodgy lately?” Dick asks skeptically, eyeing you up.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. Jason doesn’t want them to know yet so they won’t. “What do you mean?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Last week you were losing your mind and now you’re just… fine.”

You take a deep breath in and sigh. “I guess I realized that I was being delusional. I was just missing Jason.” Dick is about to say something else but you wave him off. “I have to go to meet my friend, so I’m heading out.”

Your ‘friend’ was Jason.

You stop to look at yourself in the mirror by the door, toying with your hair and smoothing out wrinkles on your clothes.

Somewhere behind you, Dick mutters: “See, Bruce, she’s being Dodgy.” And Bruce hums in agreement.

You’re apparently not as convincing as you’d like to be.

…..

“How do you plan on breaking the new to Bruce?” You ask, fidgeting with your fingers while he goes through some stuff on his computer. He shrugs in response. You continue. “Or is it that you don’t want to tell him at all?”

Jason's eye twitches subtly, something that you’re surprised you catch. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Y/n.” He pauses, chuckling dryly. “It’s not like he’d care much to know.”

You recoil. Is that really how Jason thinks Bruce feels about him?

All you can recall is Bruce kneeling in front of his grave, sobbing like you’d never seen an adult sob; or the way he would walk into Jason’s room and stand in the doorway with a forlorn look mocking his features.

You remember the way he’d stare for several minutes before sighing deeply and walking away; he’d usually proceed to lock himself in the batcave and would snap when anyone disturbed him.

“Jason…” you say reluctantly. “You don’t think that Bruce would care if you were alive?” Jason remains silent, so you continue, missing the way his fists clench. “Bruce was… heartbroken for months after your death— we all were.”

Jason stands abruptly. “And yet, none of you were willing to kill the man who brutally murdered me!” He snaps, his voice raised. You flinch a little but try to retain composure; bite your tongue when you have the urge to remind him about your goals when he first died. He continues with a strange expression on his face. “Do you know what it was like to feel a crowbar splitting my skull open while I was still alive?”

The thought makes you sick. Makes you so utterly devastated for what he’s been through. “No, Jason, I—”

He cuts you off by holding his hand up. “If Bruce was ever going to kill someone, it should’ve been Joker; and if he’d really loved me so much it should have been for me.” His tone is much calmer but there is still a chilling effect in his voice that makes your spine straighten.

The look behind his eyes is flurried with an internal battle you can almost see. “Jason, I shouldn’t have—”

“Just go.” He says, finally sitting back. He doesn’t bother looking up at you.

“What?” You stammer, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Just get out, Y/n.” He snaps once more and that’s all it takes for you to turn on your heels and walk out the door.

…..

You’d been moody and upset for the past three days— you knew you were. You were upset at Jason, upset that he had so much sway or your emotion, and even upset at yourself for bringing something up that obviously triggered him in some way.

Jason was complexities locked inside other complexities, and you were beginning to learn that; what was once simple and easy with him, was now difficult and anxiety-inducing:

You weren’t sure where you laid in his eyes now.

Were you still the same teenage girl in his mind, or, were you the grown version of the girl he liked that had betrayed him.

Did he see you the same way he saw Bruce and Dick? Or even Tim? Was he just holding on the bond you used to have despite his bitter feelings for you now?

And, what made him this way? You know he must have gone through a devastating trauma, but, how far did that really go?

What were the details that Bruce never told you, and just how gruesome were they for him to lock the knowledge away and not let anyone else know the details.

He told everyone that Jason had died, and he had died by the Joker’s hands; when you or Dick had pressed for more information, Bruce had simply told you it was ‘Brutal’ and ‘Something you should never have to know’

But Jason's little outburst must’ve only told the smallest of details about his horrible, horrible death. If that was just the beginning, you couldn’t even imagine the depths of Joker’s cruelty.

You’re brain won’t stop trying though, even as you sit at the kitchen’s bar with a soggy bowl of cereal. You’ve been sitting there for an hour, pushing the stuff around in the bowl but you haven’t actually taken a bite.

“I think we need to send you to Arkham.” Tim says from the other side of the island, breaking you from your Jason-induced trance. You know he’s joking, but you’re pretty Bruce is genuinely considering committing you for your behavior these past few weeks.

You’re more hot and cold than faulty thermostat. Hysterical, and then Happy, and then violently depressed and introspective.

“I do not need to be locked up with a bunch of criminals, Tim. Rehabilitation is clearly not actually happening at Arkham.” You say back, appreciating his giving you something to banter about.

He’s the only one that didn’t know Jason, and that makes him refreshing to be around.

“They aren’t stupid, Y/n.” Tim says, completely unrelated to your response. “Bruce knows you’re still losing it over Jason, you can act fine all you want but Red Hood clearly got into your head.”

You shrug. “If anyone knew him as intimately as I do— uh, did, they’d lose their mind too.” Your eyes drop to the bowl in front of you and scrunch your nose in disgust. You push it away from yourself.

Gross.

Tim shrugs back, because, what else can he really respond with? “I didn’t know him at all.” He pauses, looking out the kitchen's open door. “Wouldn't Bruce have known him as well as you did?”

You shake your head. “No, Tim, me and Jason were… different, I guess. I had a crush on him when we were teens.” You shift in your seat and instinctively reach for the pendant around your neck. “And Dick was doing his whole Titans thing at the time, so they weren’t as close.”

Your sadness subsides and that familiar warmth runs through you as you imagine yourself and Jason laying on the roof, reading your favorite scenes from the book and enjoying the cool summer air.

In the winter, you would go out with a few blankets and huddle extra close; eventually, when your hands would get to cold to read, it would end in the two of you huddling close for warmth (something that Jason had always produced a lot of) and staying there until Bruce would start calling for you.

Your lips twist into a soft smile.

Tim stares at you. “You need help.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Force Batman To Have Another Robin.”

….

A tapping at your bedroom window stirs you from the near-sleep state you had been in; your heart pounds as you shoot up and look towards the window. Your heart slows only a few beats per minute when you see a familiar red helmet through the window.

You stand up and unlock your window, letting Jason climb through one side of the double doors.

He sighs through his helmet as he goes to remove it; you hear the familiar series of click and whirs and then he places the helmet on a chair in your room.

“Nice Pajamas.” He says, in a playful sort of way. There’s a healthy dose of something else though, that you can’t quite place.

You look down at yourself. You’re wearing a very thin tank top and some comfy PJ shorts. Not exactly appropriate in front of other people.

“Uh, thanks?” You say as you grab a hoodie from beside your bed and throw it on.

Once you’ve covered up a bit more, you turn back to Jason. “Why are you here?”

He stares at you, his eyes traveling your body for a few moments before they meet yours. “I just wanted to apologize. For the other day.” He takes a step closer.

You cross your arms. “I want to know why.”

Jason cringes. “I snapped yesterday because I’m just not right in the head yet. I still lose control and say things I shouldn’t. My perception of things is so fucked up sometimes I can’t tell what’s real.”

You nod slowly. “But why, Jason? How are you alive, why is your brain messed up?”

He sighs deeply. “I did die.” He says simply, like that really explains anything. You wait for him continue. “I died, and Ra’s Al Ghul threw me in the Lazarus Pit because he owed a favour to Bruce.” The words are spoken so plainly but you understand the pain behind them. “I’m only alive because of a favour.” His tone is so downtrodden, devastated.

You’ve heard about the Lazarus Pit, how it could drive someone to madness— you guess that must’ve happened with Jason.

It was the theorized reason for Gotham’s problem, after all; or rather, theorized by Barbara Gorden.

You supposed that made sense. “My God, Jason, you’ve been through so much.”

Your heart aches for him, for all the things you should have prevented.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“It’s okay.”

…..

The morning light shines brightly through your window, usually your curtains are drawn but there are quite a few unusual things about this morning.

First and most importantly, you have a suited up Jason, sleeping at your side; his arm is wrapped protectively around you.

He looks so beautiful when he’s sleeping; you’re not sure if he ever has restless sleep, but he seems so peaceful and at ease— relaxed, even. It’s nice to see his face unplagued by any of his troubles.

However, according to your clock, it’s almost the time when Alfred would come to wake you for breakfast, meaning Jason had to leave— and fast.

“Jason.” You say his name softly, nudging him awake. He stirs, and his eyes shoot open.

He looks panicked for a moment before your face processes in his mind, then he visibly calms down.

“I fell asleep.” He states, disentangling from you and laying into his back.

You hum, still looking at him. “Yes, you did.” The air is thick with some sort of easy tension, a fading smile, a far-off laugh— a general sense of mundanity that you want to keep forever. “But you have to leave now, if you don’t want anyone else to know your identity.”

“Right.” Jason gets up from the bed and stretches slowly, causing you to do the same.

He turns to grab his helmet— or rather, you see him stop, stare at it for a moment, and then spin back around.

Before you can process it, he’s caging you on your bed. Your eyes close as he closes the gap between the two of you, a swift movement that leaves you barely anytime to think.

When he pulls back, off the bed, and flashes you an easy smile, you think you very well might swoon like you were right out of a 60s television show.

Jason slips his helmet back on and closes it before unlatching the window and stepping out. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye.” You stare at the spot where he was standing for a while longer before laying back down in your bed.

…..

“Hey.” You say nonchalantly, coming up behind Bruce.

He’s working on the Batcomputer right now. “Hello.”

“What’cha Doing?” You scan the contents of the screen, and it just looks like feed from the Manor’s many cameras. You aren’t too worried about Jason being seen on them, because he always hacks the cameras and scrubs himself from the data.

“I’m just doing the weekly camera check, Y/n.” Bruce looks back at you momentarily, and then returns to the feeds.

You screw around behind him for a while before you hear a small hum. You look up at the camera, trying to see what has caught Bruce’s attention. The timestamp says it’s from a few nights ago.

You watch as he replays a specific moment.

He replays it a few more times before you finally see it. A familiar flash of red, and then a motorcycle driving away from the manor.

Worse, the flash of red comes from right outside your window.

Bruce enhances the footage and zooms in on what you’re sure is Jason.

“Red Hood was at the Manor three days ago.” He states, looking back at you. “He appears to be leaving your bedroom, did you know about this?”

You pause for a second but shake your head. “No, of course not, I was sleeping.” You pretend to shudder. “That’s creepy to think that he was in there while I was sleeping.”

Bruce eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t protest or question any further. “We’ll have to heighten security in your room. Red Hood obviously chose it for a reason.”

You freeze. “That’s not necessary, Bruce, he didn’t screw with anything, obviously.”

“Even if he isn’t intending to hurt any of us, Y/n, there are several very bad things that could happen as a result of his being able to get into our house. Not to mention, I’ve noticed several discrepancies in our camera feeds over the past month or so.” He gestures to another frame, showing what looks like normal footage, but it’s the same five minutes replaying, according to the timestamps. “If you watch carefully, every minute, on the dot, a bug flies in front of the camera. It’s the same bug and the same flight pattern. If that’s Red Hood’s patch job, he’s not very good at this.”

Your lips purse, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. “That is weird.” You can’t really say anything else without making yourself look suspicious. You’ll have to let Jason know before he thinks about coming around here again.

He goes back to the previous footage, of Jason at your door, and enhances it even more— your window is clear now, and the floor behind it. Bruce rewinds it to the moment that Jason reaches the window. He presses play again, and lets the video play slowly, analyzing Jason’s every movement.

You cringe when you see Jason knock on the window a few times, and you’re terrified for Bruce to see what you know is coming next.

“Bruce!” You blurt, just before you’re about to come into view. “Tim just texted me and said he needed you to come upstairs right now.”

Bruce turns to you, confused. “Did he say what about?”

You shake your head. “No, he just said it was urgent.”

Bruce nods and leaves you alone in the batcave. You have maybe ten minutes until he comes back, knowing that you lied.

You try to fiddle with footage and delete that part that incriminates you, but without Bruce’s password you can’t do that.

Fuck. You don’t know it.

You panic for a minute and then abandon your mission to delete the footage, instead you race upstairs and into your bedroom, throwing together a bag of clothes and other essentials, as well as some sentimental items.

You’re about to sneak out the window when you see the old worn book. You snatch it quickly, along with your phone and car keys.

Bruce’s voice comes from down the hallway, calling your name; it doesn’t matter, you don’t stop until you’re outside and in your car.

You know he’s watching as you speed off, tears welling as you disable the tracking devices in your phones and car. When Bruce finally watches that footage, he’s going to think you betrayed him and you’re going to lose the one place that you’d ever felt at home in.

You’ve never felt so low before.

…..

Tears fall pitifully from your cheeks; you really shouldn’t be this upset.

Jason watches uncomfortably from his chair in his office; you knew he never liked you crying, and he was never great at dealing with it.

All he ever needed to do was be there, though.

“Please stop crying.” He says gently, as he walks over to you. “What happened?”

You shrug, which makes no sense because you know exactly what happened. “I can’t go back to the manor.”

Jason scrunches in confusion and a hint of anger at the conclusions you know he’s jumping to. “What did he do?”

“Bruce didn’t do anything.” Wiping the tears from your eyes, you pull back from him. “He was going over security camera footage and found a camera you forgot to wipe… he hadn’t watched the full thing when I ran out of there but he’s watched it by now, I’m sure.”

“And that matters…why?” Jason obviously doesn’t understand what you’re implying.

You absentmindedly drum your fingers against your wrist. “I very clearly let you in the window in the footage. You didn’t break in, I let you in. Bruce knows that now too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jason looks around the office, like there’s something that would help on the walls. There isn’t. His eyes settle back into you, but you’re not looking at his face. “You can stay with me.”

He says it so easily, like it’s only natural— you suppose it is. Nothing had ever been more natural than being with him.

You also think you’d probably like that. “Do you live in this building or…?”

He laughs and then shakes his head. “No, I hijacked one of Bruce’s warehouses a long time ago and have been living there. We can go now, I’m done for today anyway.”

You step out into the hallway and he takes your hand in his; you think that he feels protective around his lackeys, because he doesn’t really like them. He would rather they all fell off the face of the earth, but he knows that won’t happen so he’d rather control where their product is being pushed.

Or that’s what he told you, anyways,

You go down a different set of corridors than you’re used to, and it leads to a garage.

The unsettlingly beautiful woman is standing at the door, she says nothing when Jason pushes the door open and leads you through.

It’s not her job to ask questions, you suppose.

“Do you want to take your car? You can follow me in mine so you know where we’re going?” He suggests, raising his eyebrows at you. “Or I can drive it over for you later and we can just use my car for now.”

“I don’t really feel like driving right now.”

He nods. “Okay.”

…..

“When you said warehouse, I was not expecting this.” You gape, looking around at his ‘apartment.’ “It looks more like a pent-house.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, well, that's kind of what it is.” Jason runs his finger along the surface of his counter. “I believe it was catalogued as a safe house and a warehouse.”

You shrug. “You wiped it from the system, so I wouldn’t know.”

There’s a sort of awkward reluctance dancing around the two of you, like you aren’t sure what to do with yourselves now that it’s just the two of you alone. You haven’t been truly alone with him in such a long time.

“I guess there’s not a whole lot to do here.” He starts again, looking around. “I’m not here much. I usually just end up passing out on the couch in my office.”

You laugh dryly and look around; the whole apartment looks clean and modernist— you personally can’t stand this type of decorating but you don’t think Jason cared much to change how the place had looked when he found it.

There’s a TV, which you’re pretty sure works but it’s gone unused. There is a short hallway with three doors down it right off the living area. It’s mostly open concept besides that small hallway. You lift your gaze upwards, following the tall in-wall bookshelves; you find that there’s a small loft above the two of you and a ladder that leads there.

“What’s up there?” You ask, walking over to the ladder.

Jason gestures up the ladder. “I’ll show you.”

The two do you climb the ladder and you pull yourself onto the loft, feeling a little unsteady.

You notice immediately that the roof looks a little strange just above the platform.

Jason clears his throat and walks over to one of the walls. He hovers in front of a small silver panel. “You know, there’s a reason I chose this one.” He presses a button on the panel while he looks over at you.

A few creaks sound and then some loud mechanical noises sound before the roof panels recede to reveal the setting sun. The sunset is so beautifully visible from the sunroof.

“Jason.” You breath, dumbfounded.

He picks a book off of the floor of the loft. “I used to try to recreate our moments on the roof, but it just wasn’t the same without you.” He flips the book a few times in hands. “And this wasn’t quite right either.”

“I couldn’t handle the rooftop without you.” You whisper, not sure if he even hears you; you try to speak a little louder. “The first time you showed up at the house was the first time I had done it in years.”

“Huh.” Jason responds, sounding nonchalant but you know it means something to him.

“Wait here.” You rush back down the ladder and grab your book, and then head back up. Jason stares at it for a while. You hold it up, and pass it to him. “For Old Times Sake?”

…..

You had sat there with him for hours that day, you watched as the day melted into night and felt as you slowly fell asleep. You and Jason were tangled together, cuddled so close it was like you had never really been apart in the first place.

At some point, you’re drifting in and out of consciousness. Your hands twitch gently and you adjust yourself a bit but you don’t open your eyes.

You’re pretty sureJason still thinks you're asleep because he presses a kiss to the top of your head and then quietly speaks. “I want to do this with you for the rest of our lives.” He pauses and sighs a loaded sigh. “Not just for Old Times Sake.”

You decide it’s probably better to just try to fall back asleep, despite the way your stomach churns. You wanted to respond, and tell him that you wanted to fall asleep like this every night.

Tell him that you wanted to spend every day with him too.

…..

“I just want to know where she is, Red Hood.” Bruce’s voice comes through a little speaker in Jason’s office— it’s a line that Jason had hacked into and clearly Bruce knew that.

Jason scowls and you can’t help but think about Bruce when he does.

When nobody responds to him, Bruce continues. “I want to talk to her.”

You gnaw your lips, wanting to pick it up and say you’ll talk to him but dreading confirming his suspicions.

Jason slips his helmet on and picks up the microphone. He presses the button and says, cooly, “Where would you want me to bring her, Batman?”

You can hear Bruce’s sigh of relief. “The abandoned warehouse near Arkham. You know which one I mean.”

Jason hums. “The one that Joker blew up last month.”

Bruce confirms and then Jason looks at me. “Anything you want to say?”

You shake your head, and Jason picks up the mic again. “Give us a time and we’ll be there.”

And just like that, you were going to see Bruce again.

Great.

…..

“I just don’t understand, Y/n.” Bruce says immediately when he lays eyes on you, despite the fact that he wraps you in a tight hug. “Why would you work with him?”

You pull back and look back to Jason, who’s all suited up, of course. “I—” you have no idea what to say in your defense. “I wasn’t working with him, Bruce.”

Bruce gives you a sort of ‘disappointed dad’ look. “I saw the footage, I know that you let him into the manor.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So you were working with him.”

“No! It’s not like that!”

You’re starting to get irritated because you know Bruce has absolutely no reason to believe you.

“First, you lied about Tim needing me, and then you tried to delete the footage and then I saw you wildly speeding away from the manor. Do you understand how suspicious that looks? Obviously, you are working with him, Y/n. You don’t have to lie.” Bruce sounds sure of himself. It makes you want to tear your hair out.

“Fine. I was working with him, since you’re so sure.”

Bruce looks between you and Jason, and you can see realization dawn on his face. “Unless… don’t tell me you fell for him just because he reminds you of— Y/n, please tell me I'm wrong.”

Jason steps in this time. “Don’t worry, you’re wrong. Just not in the way you think you are.” Your head snaps back to look at him as clicks his helmet open and pulls it off.

This was the moment. He was finally showing Bruce.

You look frantically between the two of them, trying to decipher the moment.

Bruce stands frozen for a good long while, just staring at Jason’s face before he suddenly locks his arms around Jason's shoulder/neck and hugs him tighter than you’d ever seen Bruce hug anybody.

Jason looks thoroughly disturbed and taken aback. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, and honestly, it wasn’t what you were expecting either.

“I didn’t fall for him because he reminds me of Jason.” You say quietly. “I fell for him because he is Jason.”

Bruce pulls back and nods slowly before turning back to Jason. “I’m so sorry, Jason.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

#dc #dc x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #red hood #redhood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #redhood x reader

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seikoru · 4 months

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!Nerd Armin h'cs

Since I found out that the dudes here love !Nerd Armin, I felt it was my duty to share my head-canons on him. I have no idea how to use tumblr at all but here it is. All of this is a pieces of my au for a huge storyline armin fanfic with original female character, so…. just enjoy

You met completely by accident. You only went to Wall High School this year when you moved. And you didn't really like the local way of doing things. The whole caste thing, the whole cool dudes/loser thing. it was weird.

You wanted to hang out with everyone, no matter how different they were. Even though you were considered a cool and pretty girl by their metrics.

You first asked Armin for help after another biology class with a hell of a teacher, and he gladly agreed to help.

Armin was immediately very sweet to you. The way he would sometimes adjust his glasses or tuck a strand of hair behind his ear while he was explaining a topic to you…

To be honest, he was a bit frustrated by your lack of results after his help. You were barely getting better grades. He just didn't notice that half the time you weren't looking at the textbook, but at him.

But the more you became friends, the better his character revealed to you. He was known around school as the creepy anime otaku. Was that true? Absolutely. When you first went to his place, you were literally in a pink kingdom where all the walls were covered with anime girls.

Yeah, Armin had never felt the touch of a woman before. He'd had friends like Mikasa, but you… you were something else.

You'd been friends for almost six months until the winter ball was announced. And you literally didn't know who to go with. There were tons of guys chasing you, but they were all like Rainer: idiotic jocks.

The prom was coming up, and you still hadn't found a date. Armin rejected the prom: he didn't like the idea of jostling with sweaty, drunken teenagers to idiotic music in a stuffy room when he could be at home playing video games.

You managed to talk him into going out with you as a friend.

Did you kiss him ballroom night? Yes, you did.

When you, already drunk, said "I want to kiss you", Armin was quite taken aback. At first he just pulled you away and said something like "You need to sober up," but his heart was jumping out of his chest.

When you started convincing him of your sincere affection for him, he became hesitant. Quietly he muttered "I don't want you playing with my feelings".

You asked "Feelings?". He realized he had said something unnecessary, but there was no turning back. So you moved closer, took his glasses off his nose and gently touched his lips with yours.

In a relationship, Armin is the ultimate golden retriever. He smiles widely when he accidentally meets you in the school hallway at recess and is adorably embarrassed when you fleetingly touch him in public.

You're not allowed to spend much time together, lest you bring a wave of bullying on Armin. You had to keep yourselves within the school castes. But you guys didn't like the PDA anyway, so it wasn't a big problem.

Armin is proud of his collection of anime girls on his wall, but he's even more proud of his girlfriend. He always thought you were out of his league, and he couldn't hope for anything more than friendship.

But how happy he was when you would come to his house and sit on his lap while he was on Discord with his friends playing some games.

Armin often caught hyperfixated on his studies and wouldn't get out from under mountains of textbooks. It's not like you like studying much. But Armin is fine with it: he's willing to do ABSOLUTELY ALL of your homework for you.

Socially, he doesn't show how soft he is on the inside. While you were friends, you were sure he only knew how to be sassy. But hell, it turns out he's also good at kneeling in front of you, slowly kissing your ankles, calves and knees, working his way up to your thighs-

And you loved owning that side of him. Supple, belonging only to you. When he stared at you with admiring eyes, and you gently brushed away the strands of hair that fell across his face. He could have fucked anyone else without a second thought, but not you.

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ghostofskywalker · 2 months

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The Galaxy Can Grant A Second Chance

Hunter/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,083

Summary: You didn't think you would ever see them again, but here they were, and you are forced to face the truth behind why you left all that time ago.

Prompt: "I'm not leaving. Not this time"

Note: this is part of the bad batch xreader exchange, which i ran! my prompt came from @knightprincess, and i had a lot of fun writing it! To the see the other fics in the exchange, check out @cloneficgiftexchange :)

i have not seen any of the bad batch season 3 at this point (my brain is hyperfixated on dimension 20 atm), so this is obviously set prior to that, but of course i like to imagine that crosshair eventually finds his way back to his family <3

Clone Troopers Masterlist

The first time you caught a glimpse of the Bad Batch through the window of the mechanic shop you worked in, you were fully convinced it was a hallucination. There was no way they were here now, it had to be a trick of the mind, a manifestation of some guilt you hadn’t yet processed.

You had left no trace when you disappeared, there was no way they would be able to find you.

If you had only seen them once, you might have truly chalked it up to some kind of exhaustion (this job certainly had hours different than you were used to working, along with the added stress of the Empire’s rule over the galaxy), but it happened again. This time hours later, you could see what looked like the back of Tech’s head and Wrecker’s hulking frame pass through the crowds on the street.

As your stomach dropped, you rushed to the shop’s tiny windows, staring out as people walked along the street, trying to catch a glimpse while also keeping to the shadows. And after a few desperate moments, you felt comfortable confirming it: that the Bad Batch was indeed here, on the surface of Tatooine, and you didn’t know why.

The note you left was more hurtful than you wished it had to be, but you didn’t want anyone trying to follow you. Did this mean they were actively tracking your movements, that they were risking their cover (and their lives) to find you? Or was this simply something of a coincidence, an unfortunate reality that neither they nor you had any part in? If you were too obvious about your presence, and their reason for being here wasn’t related to your disappearance from their ship, you were now risking everything you fought so hard to protect. The bounty on your head had been (and still was) growing exponentially by the day, and after a while you could no longer ignore it. The Empire had placed a hefty price on your head, and it was clear that they were willing to go to great lengths to get what they wanted, making your mere presence dangerous to anyone you cared about.

It was hard enough leaving in the middle of the night like you did, and you hoped that the forces at work in the galaxy would at least have the decency to allow you to grieve the loss of what could have been in peace, because Maker knows you already had enough guilt in your heart, you certainly didn’t need another reminder of the way in which you gave up the best life you’ve ever had.

And then you saw him, and your heart stopped for a moment.

Hunter had always been your favorite, and no, it wasn’t because you found his face tattoo incredibly attractive. The two of you had clicked instantly, and as much as you enjoyed hanging out with his brothers, you had a special connection with him. But the galaxy was nothing if not cruel, and it placed you both in a situation where things would never work out, because if you truly wanted more than just a platonic relationship with him, you would have to live with the fact that you were putting him and his entire family at risk with every second you stayed on that ship.

Leaving was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you knew it was the best option. If something had happened to any of the Bad Batch, you would never be able to forgive yourself, and you would rather see them alive and hating you than the alternative. You thought that peace had already been made, that you finally came to terms with the fact that you lost a gamble on love for the price of keeping them safe, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

Because here they were, and you were definitely not hallucinating.

It wasn’t a good idea to keep staring out the window, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, because this was something you never thought would happen, and therefore had no mental plan in place.

They were standing across the street, and Omega was scanning her surroundings, as if looking for something. You tried to duck away from the window when you saw her gaze passing by, and you believed that your efforts were mostly successful, but after a while it seemed like she was staring in your shop’s direction more and more. After a few more minutes, you simply ducked away, resigning yourself to begin working on the speeders you had in the back room, because their owners would be coming to pick them up in less than a day, and you hadn’t really done anything yet.

The day was otherwise eventless, and as the hours passed the feelings of worry, doubt, and anxiety in your stomach started to dissipate. By the time you finished up your repair job on some landspeeders, you thought you might have forgotten what happened this morning.

The bell in your front room jingled, signaling to you that there was someone who needed your help. “I’ll be there in a moment!” you called, quickly finishing up the piece of engine you were installing and grabbing a cloth to mop up the oil stains on your hands (with this line of work dirty hands were expected, but you also didn’t really want to accidentally get some grime on a potential client).

When you stepped out in the front room, that cloth fell from your hands, and that rock returned to your stomach.

The entire Bad Batch was standing there, with a full spectrum of expressions on their faces, ones that ranged from calculating (Tech), to smiling (Omega), to nonchalance (Crosshair, who you hadn’t actually met but had seen enough holopictures of to recognize on sight). Hunter stood in the middle of the group, and the look on his face could only be described as a mixture of anger and melancholy.

You didn’t know what to say. How could you know what to say? How would any combination of words strung together in this moment effectively communicate what you were feeling?

But it didn’t seem like anyone else was going to say anything, so you had to be the one to break the silence. “Can I help you with something?” You tried to sound professional, but some of your feelings broke through the script.

Out of everyone standing there, you were shocked to see Crosshair speak up. “We need to have someone look at the central wiring on our droid. Is that something you do here?”

A little surprised at the way he simply inquired about your services, you wondered if the rest of the Batch had not told him about their prior time with you. You thought for a moment before answering. “I specialize more in land vehicles, but I know something about droids, depending on what kind you have. If nothing else, I should be able to take a look at it, and if I don’t have the parts to fix it I probably know someone who does.”

You had suspicions about what the droid in question would be, because you of course remembered the temperamental gonk droid that also called the Havoc Marauder home. But time has passed since you had last seen them, so you didn’t know for sure if that was what Crosshair was talking about.

“It’s a GNK-series power droid,” Crosshair said, and you were suddenly aware of all the others’ gazes on you. It was the same droid, but since everyone was acting like they didn’t know who you were, you weren’t going to cause any kind of trouble now.

“I can definitely take a look at that,” you said, and the rest of the interaction went by in a blur. What felt like moments later you were left alone (after Gonky was brought into your work area), and the room fell silent. A whirlwind of questions spun around in your brain as you searched the rooms of the shop for the parts and tools you would need.

Did they know you were here before they stepped in the door, or was this all some kind of terrible coincidence?

If they did know you we here before they walked in, why didn’t anyone say anything?

And finally, why did the galaxy have to torture you this way?

Gonky made a noise from the other room, and you just sighed. Of course it wasn’t enough for you to sacrifice your future with Hunter for his (and the rest of his family’s safety), now you had to be reminded of your treachery in what felt like the worst way.

***

Thankfully you had all the parts necessary to refit Gonky for some new wires, and you communicated that in a message to the Batch, who promised to return in a few hours to pick up the droid. By the time the bells on your door jingled, you thought you were ready to face the people you abandoned once more.

Until only Hunter stepped through the doorway, a solemn look on his face.

This time, it was clear he wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t know you. “Why did you leave?”

You stopped what you were doing, thankfully managing to hold onto the wrench in your hands so it didn’t go clattering to the floor. “I told you,” you said softly, not wanting to show any sign of regret, of weakness. You were still being hunted, and until the galaxy was free of the Empire’s hold, you had to be aware of that. Lying to him hurt, but you still believed it to be the only option.

“Two lines of scribble on a piece of flimsi isn’t enough,” he said. “And look, I’ve made my peace with things if you truly didn’t want to be around me anymore, but I need to hear it from you.”

You opened your mouth, all set to force the lie loose from your throat, but you couldn’t do it. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you said. “The Empire has put a price on my head, and I couldn’t stomach being the reason that you, any of your brothers, or Omega got caught.”

“Why didn’t you say that?” he asked.

At this point, it was taking a lot for you not to break. “Because I thought it would be easier, for all of us. Things between you and me were getting more serious, and I knew I wasn’t strong enough to resist if you asked me to stay.”

You expected him to respond, to say something about how they would protect you, how you would be safer all together, or for him to even to nod, take Gonky, and leave. You didn’t expect him to start laughing.

“What?” Now you were confused.

When he finally stopped, your eyebrows were raised. “You know we have a price on our head that’s almost double the one on yours, right?”

“No, I-”

But he cut you off. “Maybe it wasn’t when you ran away, but now? We’ve caused a lot of chaos that the Empire isn’t happy about. We’re actually looking for a way to lay low for a while, and since it was an accident running into you here, maybe you could give us some pointers?”

Well, that was one of your questions answered. There was a hopeful edge to his voice that you found yourself falling for, and you thought that even though you had bolted in the middle of the night, you found yourself foolishly hoping that maybe there would still be a future for you, with him.

“I’ve got a pretty big place here,” you said softly, and the implication was clear. “I wouldn’t mind if you crashed for a while.”

Things between you wouldn’t fixed in a day, a week, or a month. There was still work to be done if you ever wanted to get back to the way things used to be, and maybe that was impossible. But you were willing to put that work in, to help mend where you had broken when you slipped out of the ship in the dead of night all that time ago.

“I’d like that,” he said, and the two of you stepped closer to one another, close enough for him to take your hand. “As long as I don’t have to worry about you running away again.”

You laughed. "I'm not leaving. Not this time"

- the end -

#TBBE24 #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone trooper x reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 11 months

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Pride, Prejudice, and Pennywise

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, tiny bit of Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: Sam’s movie night pick leads to some discomfort for you, but it doesn’t last long.

Author’s note: hey guys! Hyperfixation is still going strong, I promise I haven’t forgotten about my Sherlock fic! I’m just having so much inspiration for Supernatural right now, but I’ll be back eventually with another chapter, promise! For now, enjoy the fruits of my hyperfixation.

You and your oldest brother Dean had very little in common. For starters, he was the oldest Winchester, you were the youngest. He always agreed with your father, you rarely ever did–although unlike Sam, you didn’t voice your opinions often. Dean was stern, serious, and protective; you were always ready for a laugh. He was a flirt, you could barely hold basic conversations with people you didn’t know very well.

However, there was one thing you had in common with Dean; your hatred of horror movies. Although Dean hated them because he thought they were stupid and incredibly unrealistic; you hated them for a very different reason.

They terrified you.

Not that you would ever reveal that to Sam or Dean. After all, with the monsters, demons, and general malevolence that they faced during their occupation, you could hardly expect them to understand your fear.

But the brothers had kept you as far as possible from the hunting world, and watching horror movies just felt like a small snapshot of what your brothers must be facing on a daily basis. It was horrifying to think about. The horror movies just served as a reminder for all that you knew to be out there. Most people could watch those movies and brush them off as fiction; you couldn’t.

Unfortunately for Dean, and more so for you, Sam liked horror movies. The scarier the better for him. He claimed it gave him another angle to look at, a way to see the “fun” in their monster-hunting job. Well, that was all well and good for him, but you had lost many nights worth of sleep thanks to this little hobby of his.

Not that you could possibly tell your brothers–who had to be the bravest people in the world–that the unrealistic, stupid tv monsters scared you.

So instead, here you were, curled up in the small chair in the dingy motel room, Dean snoring in his bed and Sam enraptured in another horror flick. It had been his turn to pick the movie tonight, so horror it was.

You had tried to sleep through it, but you found that only hearing the screams, growls, and general fearful melee was much worse than hearing and seeing it, so you’d given up and gone to the couch to watch.

You tried desperately to look like the movie was gripping you with interest instead of terror, but you weren’t sure you were succeeding. Sam kept glancing your way, and you were afraid that it was because you were clutching your blanket just a little too tightly. Nevertheless, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, even if it meant Sam figured out your secret.

You had become so focused on trying to look like you were enjoying the movie, that you hadn’t even noticed that it had gone to a commercial, and that Sam had gotten up out of bed to stand next to you. That is, you didn’t notice until Sam spoke.

“Hey bub, you ok?”

You snapped your head up to see Sam frowning down at you.

“Yeah-” you cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice came out a little too high. “Yeah, just great, why?”

Sam glanced at the tv and then back to you.

“Well uh, it's just…” he let out a sound that was half laugh, half sigh, “You look a little freaked.”

You tried to scoff, but even you could tell it wasn’t very convincing.

“Freaked? Why, because of the movie?” you peaked a look at Sam, and weren’t at all surprised that he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“We don’t have to watch it if it scares you.”

You shook your head quickly.

“It doesn’t.” You knew you’d spoken too fast.

Even though Sam wasn’t buying it, he shrugged and returned to his bed.

“Ok then.”

The commercials ended and the movie began again. It was reaching the climax, only getting scarier and scarier. This had to be one of the worst ones Sam had ever played.

You couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper at one of the more gruesome jumpscares; you were lucky that it wasn’t a full-on scream.

You were surprised when the tv suddenly clicked off, and Sam’s voice broke the short silence.

“Ok, come over here.”

You looked up in confusion, before hesitantly rising out of your chair and going to stand by Sam’s bed, still holding your blanket around you.

Sam lifted his covers, gesturing for you to join him under them. You instantly obeyed, darting under the covers and curling into Sam’s side. You had wanted to do that since the stupid movie had started.

It was silent for a minute or two before Sam decided to speak.

“You could’ve just told me that these scared you.”

“They don’t.”

Sam scoffed, “N/N. I know you’re lying. You know you’re lying. So how about, you don’t lie, and I’ll let you pick a movie to watch tonight.”

You looked up in surprise.

“Really? But it’s your night!”

Sam laughed softly.

“Really. Apparently I've been scaring the crap out of you every time it’s my night to pick a movie, so I think I owe it to you to get an extra pick, ok?”

You giggled, “Ok Sammy.”

Sam’s smile dropped after a moment and he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You moved your head so that you could lean against his chest, comforted by his heartbeat.

“Because it's stupid.”

“It’s not-”

“Yes it is. You and Dean go out-out there and fight monsters, real monsters, and I can’t even watch it on tv! You guys are fighters, you’re brave, you save people, and I can’t do any of that! I’m a-” You swallowed hard. You hadn’t meant to let all of that slip.

“You’re a what?” Sam had sat up, dislodging you from your spot, and was now staring hard at you. “Y/N, what were you gonna say?”

You dropped your eyes to your fidgeting hands, avoiding Sam’s penetrating gaze as you mumbled,

“I’m a coward.”

You winced when you saw the tear drip onto your hand. Great, now you couldn’t even make it through a conversation without crying. Gosh, you were pathetic.

“Hey,” Sam ducked into your field of vision so that you had little choice but to look at him. You couldn’t help but think that his eyes looked sad.

He feels sorry for me. It was the only explanation you could think of.

“Don’t you ever say that, ok? Never again,” His voice was sterner than usual, an authoritativeness usually reserved for Dean in his voice.

You felt a sob bubble up in your throat, and you couldn’t hold it back.

“It’s true,” you managed to get out between breaths and tears as you leaned forward against Sam’s shoulder. You felt his hands come up to wrap around you, and he placed his head on top of yours.

“No, no it isn’t,” he said firmly. “Kid, me and Dean aren’t some great heroes, ok? We’re scared too, all the time. We just do what we have to do, even when we’re scared.”

You sniffle, “Exactly! And that’s why you’re so brave. But I can’t do that.”

Sam pulled you back, an incredulous look on his face.

“Are you kidding me? You do that all the time!”

At your confused look, Sam just scoffed and continued.

“Who summoned that demon in Phoenix last September? Who drove Baby–for the first time ever–at twelve years old to come and save mine and Dean’s butts when we were fighting that group of vampires? Who snuck past seven spirits to get to the grocery store to buy some dang salt when Dean forgot to pack more? That wasn’t us, baby. That was you.”

“You’re the one who forgot to pack the salt.”

Sam’s serious expression gave way to one of indignation.

“Hey now smarty-pants, I’m trying to help you here!” you giggled as Sam dug his fingers into your sides. When he relented, you looked up at him with a much more sober expression.

“But I didn’t fight anything.”

Sam shook his head.

“You don’t always have to fight something to be brave. Were you scared all those times?”

“Of course.” You felt a little ashamed to admit it, and you were surprised when Sam grinned.

“See? But you did it anyway. That’s what makes you brave, N/N. And do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re the bravest of us all.”

You blushed, “Sam, don’t.”

Sam laughed, “I’m serious!”

You giggled, “Ok ok, I get your point. Can we watch a movie now?”

…

“So wait, we’re rooting for Lizzie and Wickham, right?”

Dean awoke to the sound of your loudly dramatic groan as you responded to the middle Winchester brother.

“No Sam, he’s a douche. We’re rooting for Lizzie and Darcy.”

“But I thought Darcy was a jerk.”

“Would you just watch the movie!”

“I thought it was Sam’s night to pick the movie,” Dean grumbled as he sat up in bed. There was no way Sammy had picked Pride and Prejudice on his night. No. Way.

Sam just shrugged, “I let Y/N pick this time.”

“You let her pick Pride and Prejudice?”

Your voice was annoyed, “This movie is great, ok! Just give it a chance!”

Dean retorted sarcastically, “Yeah ok, sure.”

…

“I can’t believe she turned him down!”

“Are you kidding? After the way he proposed, no one would say yes.”

“I’m sorry Sam, did you even hear him? Most ardently? I don’t even know what that means, and it almost made me swoon!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Enough!” Both brothers jumped in surprise at your outburst. “You guys can debate this over the commercial, but the good part is coming up!”

“You’ve said that at least twelve times already,” Sam said skeptically.

“Yeah, and I’ve been right every time! They’re all good parts, trust me.”

Sam and Dean both grumbled, but sure enough they quieted down to watch the movie. You smirked. You wouldn’t have thought it possible to get Sam and Dean Winchester invested in Pride and Prejudice, but here you were. And it was great.

Best. Movie night. Ever.

#dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #spn #spn sam winchester

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clip-the-simp · 24 days

Text

Not Much Else [Pt.1]

Ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,956

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, mention of drugs and surgery, (I’m bad at warning tags so just let me know if I need/should to add some)

Tags: Mild Proofreading, Slow Burn(?), reader had bat wings, Bounty Hunting, slight deviation from TV show, pre!show events(?), (Again I'm bad at tags so let me know)

Summary: You're a vault experiment that makes it to the surface. Quickly you learn the lay of the land and a few years later end up working the same bounty as The Ghoul. You convince him to let you take a long after having a feeling that you just had to follow him. Where will this story lead? Only time (and my motivation) will tell.

A/N: this is cringy as shit so please forgive me. I’m trying to get back into writing and my current hyperfixation is Fallout. I've been a fan for years but a new found love was sparked with the show's release.

Be forewarned that this is going to be incredibly inaccurate to cannon events and really unrealistic honestly. But listen. If Lucy can have her finger zapped back on and working properly anything can happen.

The scientists of your vault had placed nearly 200 hundred people into cryo pods before the bombs had fallen. A few had been scientists, but most were test subjects. Those chosen to be experimented on were chosen from a vast array of different medical histories, genetic makeups, ages, and ethnicities which always resulted in different mutations. Only about one third of the subjects had volunteered, while the majority had been simply manipulated, kidnapped, and or drugged before being shoved into a cryopod.

You had been one of the majority that had been kidnapped. Before the bombs, you had been a star in HollyWood and went on to be in several films which included a western or two. You were still fairly young however, so when the threat of bombs falling had started to rise you had been cornered. A white cloth with chloroform was shoved into your face once you had gotten back to your film trailer after wrapping up the final scene for a movie you were co-starring in. You had only woken up for a brief moment after being kidnapped, which was right before they had shoved you into a pod and began the process to preserve your body for the next century or so.

When the scientist decided it was time to start experimenting, some wouldn’t survive the first round of injections but that never did stop the test. Even after death the bodies would continue to be used to determine different severities of treatments on human tissue.

However, those that didn’t have the fortune of passing within the first few rounds of chems being forced into their veins, they had far worse ahead of them. Which just so happened to be the group of unfortunate folks you wound up being.

It had been about 175 years after the bombs dropped before they dethawed you from your cryosleep and started on their process of testing and modifying your body. They had hoped, just like with all of their other experiments they had running, that you would be one of their best.

After the first initial round of chems they had started to cut into you and spliced your DNA with multiple different creatures. First it started with the removal and rewiring of your eyes. They had been replaced with those of a feline which had taken you months to recover from, but that didn’t stop the minor test they continued to perform.

The rewiring in your brain caused excruciating headaches for the first few months but soon you were able to view things from a new lens. Being able to see more than most at night was a great perk to have when the vaults tended to stay poorly lit. However this also caused you to have some sensitivities to bright lights, so in response to that the scientist designed specialized goggles to combat it but made them so they wouldn’t impair your ability to see at night with them still being on.

The next body modification came when a scorchbeast, a large mutated bat creature, had been killed and dragged into the vault. After careful consideration and candidate evaluation you had been chosen to be subjugated to the experiment. No one knew if your body would reject the new muscle and bones that had to be implanted, but your genes had the most likely success rate when looking at the data provided.

After a full year of recovery you had full mobility of the limbs, and with it having been a young scorchbeast, the wings hadn’t been to terribly large in comparison to your body. You had been due for more body installments but before the scientist had the opportunity to stick another knife in you all hell had broken loose.

One of the more aggressive test subjects had escaped from their enclosure and started wreaking havoc upon the vault. They had managed to set other people free while in a blind rage when they had broken into the control room. In doing so not only where you set free but so where all the others, including those in cryosleep.

However you hadn’t stuck around for long once everyone, mutated or not, had started attacking one another in a panic. Having seen map layouts of the vault in the halls on the way to your surgeries, you had been one of the first to make it to the surface and begin your trick through the waste land.

After a week you had managed to find your way to a town which was both a blessing and a curse. Outside the walls of the town there had been a dead man who still had his clothes on. Having realized you were still in your medical gown, you had stripped him of the garments, minus the underwear, and cut a large hole in the back of the shirt to accommodate for your wings. With pants and a shirt on you were now a little more confident when entering the settlement.

Even after getting more than a hospital gown on, people still had given you strange looks as you walked the streets. They snarled and ogled at the wings sprouting from your back, and even after tucking them under your arms while pulling them close to your sides, it didn’t stop the stairs. Your goggles had remained pulled over your eyes during the majority of your time on the surface, but you could tell people could still see the slits that were your pupils.

You had quickly learned the ways of the waste land. Caps controlled everything, violence was always the answer, and it was kill or be killed. So when a man suddenly cornered you in the alley way of that first town you were in, you quickly became a killer. Whether it was the animal genetics fused with your own or your will to survive, you had proceeded to rip that man's neck out with your teeth when he had gotten close enough.

In doing so you had gained a handful of caps, a slightly rusted knife, and a pistol that had enough ammo to mow down a small horde of ghouls. The only item of clothing you peeled from his body was a weathered trench coat made of leather. That had managed to cover your wings if you kept them tucked close enough, although a bet awkwardly.

With the handful of caps you had gathered you had managed to get some accentals and learned about bounty hunting. If you were going to survive in the world you had to adapt, and so you did.

Two years had passed since you first began living on the surface when you had encountered The Ghoul, face to face, for the first time. Both of you had been working the same job when the target in question got smart and hired a few armed guards. The two of you were knocked unconscious and tied up in a rotting building while the target and his goons ran off. You had come to when the splitting pain from being knocked out finally became too much for your body to suppress.

As you peeled your eyes open, you started to realize someone was tied to your back as you and the other person sat on the sand covered floor of the decaying house. Shuffling a bet you tried to grab the knife at your side but soon heard a groan from the person you were tied to. You hadn’t bothered before to try and see who it was, hoping to have gotten untied from one another before they had the chance to wake up and possibly kill you.

“Fucking hell.” You heard the man mumble as he tried to get his bearings as you had. Your heart made its way to your throat as you realized who it was. Although you had never met the man you recognized his voice from the rare occasion you had been in the same town together at the same time.

Fuck fuck fuck! You thought as you continued, more hastily this time, to try and get the knife at your side. You had never paid The Ghoul much attention, however you know of his reputation and that he was a gifted gun slinger. However, while you hadn't paid him much attention, he had been studying you. He had started to recognize you any time you just happened to be in the same town. It wasn't anything more than the fact you were exceedingly odd and always looked out of place from those shuffling around you. Although he was a ghoul and the farthest thing from normal looking, your wings would always take any and all attention from those around you. No matter how well hidden you tried to keep them.

“Stop fidgeting damn it.” Your body immediately froze as he spoke directly to you. A few shuffles of his own and he quickly had his hands on his own knife which sliced through the rope with relative ease. You fell forward slightly as the tension from the rope was released and you quickly stood to dust yourself off.

Turning around you saw The Ghoul doing the same thing as he stood. His duster was ripped to shreds but still served its purpose of covering him from the sun. The cowboy hat he held in his hands was quickly placed back on his head before he turned to glare at you. His spurs jingled a little as he faced you.

Everything in your body screamed at you to run before he could pull out his weapon, but his gaze had you pinned to your spot in the room. You swallowed hard before trying to move and look more relaxed then you really were. Crossing your arms you moved your eyes to meet his which started an immediate feeling of regret.

There was something about his eyes that held a feeling of familiarity but it was buried under the many years of being forced to live amongst the harsh conditions of the wasteland. The Ghoul’s eyes remained on your face for the longest time before traveling to the tips of your wings that peeked out from under your coat. You quickly tried to tuck them closer to hide them but that just led to him looking back to your face.

“Now how the hell you get those on your back?” The Ghoul pointed to where the wings had been showing just moments before. His question had brought you out of your frozen state as you tried justifying to yourself answering him truthfully. You didn’t figure it would hurt to be truthful, especially since it was only the two of you at that moment. Not to mention the odd feeling that you could rely on him to keep any information you needed to get off your chest.

“Vault experiments.” You answered plainly as you moved the extra appendages from under your coat and spread them a little farther out from your body as you stretched them. As you did this something shifted in his expression, almost a kin to pity. He looked back into your eyes as if trying to recognize you as you had done the same to him moments before. You had forgotten the fact your eyes were no longer human so whatever search he was on would be nearly impossible if he intended to find answers within them. Not to mention the fact that your goggles were currently tented from the light coming in from the setting sun.

“That’s unfortunate. Seems like those wings would be in the way of everything.” He stated while picking up some of his belongings that hadn’t been taken. You crossed your arms and leaned on one leg. Sure, the wings were annoying at first, but they had become useful as time went on. You always managed to travel farther than anyone else in the wasteland could in two days on foot.

“They’re actually quite helpful.” You stated as you began to check yourself for any belongings that might be missing. “People don’t expect an aerial assault nowadays. So ambushing people is quite the luxury when being a bounty hunter.” The Ghoul gave a low hum as he slung his bag back over his shoulder. Surprisingly enough they hadn’t stolen anything, but you assumed it was because they were more focused on getting out of there before the two of you woke up.

“Well sweetheart I must be on my way. That bounty is still out there and I don't need someone else getting my caps.” As he said this The Ghoul slung his leg over the wall of the decrepit house and began his trek to the target. Something in the back of your mind pricked at your thoughts as he walked away. The feeling that you needed to follow him into the wasteland grew stronger the farther he walked.

What was it about this guy that had you wanted to do nothing more than follow him like a lost puppy? You hadn’t meant to be working the same bounty but somehow it felt like it was meant to be. Kicking yourself mentally, you sprinted after him. He had only managed to get a few yards away before you abruptly sprinted up behind him.

Out of instinct The Ghoul pulled his gun on you and had it aimed directly at your head. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath from the short unexpected run you just had. The adrenaline pumping through your veins prevented you from freezing or seeing the gun held to your face as much of a threat at that moment. All your mind was trained on was convincing The Ghoul to take you with him on this job.

“Take me with you.” Was all you could blurt out. Your voice had been shaky which you hoped wouldn’t be too noticeable but The Ghoul definitely caught it. He lowered his gun to keep it aimed at your chest instead.

“Now why should I do that?” He asked as he raised a nonexistent eyebrow. The sun was getting low which caused a shadow to shroud most of The Ghoul’s face. A knot began to form in your stomach. You hadn’t thought this through at all but had to come up with an excuse fast.

“I can be of help. Like I stated before, aerial assault isn’t something most folks are prepared to fight against.” That was practically the only key advantage you had on most other people. You had other talents, sure, but that was back up information in case the main appeal didn’t go through.

The Ghoul lifted his gun to tip his hat out of his face to get direct eye contact with you. His gaze fell and rose as he examined your form. It made you partly embarrassed as you pulled your wings in closer. He stood there and contemplated for a while until you broke the silence.

You grabbed the goggles from your face and sat them on top of your head. Your vision quickly adjusted to the new light exposed to your eyes. As The Ghoul looked back to your face you saw a bet of shock appear on his face before it was quickly masked again.

“Listen,” You started as your hands quickly began to fidget with one another. “I don't know why but I feel as if I’m supposed to go with you. If I had an explanation of why I would tell you but I don’t except for saying it’s a gut feeling.” The Ghoul’s expression stayed the same which quickly diminished your hope of joining him. Your eyes fell to the ground as you continued to speak.

“I don’t require caps or any sort of compensation for joining since I’m doing this out of complete and utter selflessness.” You were about to continue rambling before The Ghoul let out an exasperated sigh. Your attention brought back to his form. The Ghoul was pinching between his eyebrows as he holstered his gun. A few mumbles left his lips before his gaze finally settled back upon you.

“If you slow me down-” He started to say. You quickly cut him off as the realization that he was actually taking you along settled in.

“I won’t! I promise.” You said cheerfully as your wings slightly lifted from your sides. Your demeanor was probably a bit too cheerful though with how his expression changed.

“We’ll see if you keep that promise.” The Ghoul grumbled as he looked at the setting sun. It had nearly disappeared over the horizon which had put the world in a deep shade of purplish pink. It wouldn't be long before the sun was completely gone to leave the two of you in complete darkness.

However, that didn’t stop the two of you from traveling a bet that night. Your night vision was impeccable and The Ghoul had a lamp to guide his way. You stayed silent as did The Ghoul which hadn’t surprised you much. It had been about four hours of traveling before he finally spoke to inform you that it was time to siddle for the night.

#the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #x female reader #f!reader #fanfic #x reader #x reader fanfiction #fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout franchise #writers on tumblr #female writers

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prismaticpichu · 11 days

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FF7 Crisis Core Characters & Their Pokémon Partners!~ 💛 🗡️

Why howdy!! Welcome back to another glorious edition of “Pichu combines her hyperfixations like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!” <3 Yeeeehaw!

I tried to be as creative as I could with the move references 😂 Kudos if you can spot ‘em all!

Warning for Angst <3 :,3c

~~~

Angeal

Samurott ~ A bladed warrior Pokémon known for its strict and formidable discipline, as well as drawing obvious inspirations from Samurai/their honorable Bushido code! The fella was an Oshawott for most of Angeal’s life—belonging to the entire family as a whole, considering that they unfortunately didn’t have enough money to buy many Pokeballs/food to take care of more than one. It was only when Angeal decided he wanted to join SOLDIER that his father officially gave him Oshawott’s Pokéball, leading Angeal to spend officially numerous hours training with his buddy. By the time he joined SOLDIER, he had a worthy Samurott by his side—the strongest Pokémon out of all the three elite Firsts. When he eventually took Zack under his proverbial wing some handful of years later, the boy quickly bonded with Samurott: training, playing, and often feeding his aquatic friend when Angeal was unable to. When Angeal deserted ShinRa’s forces, however, Samurott still clung to those memories and tried to convince his trainer to do the right thing, ultimately becoming wishy-washy with its own morales as result. And, in the end, nothing hurt its rended soul more than being forced to battle Zack under Angeal’s command. It was also the last battle it ever fought.

Moves:

Aqua Cutter

X-Scissor

Double Team

Take Down

Genesis

Flapple ~ An apple—obviously!—and a red, winged apple that housed a little (book)worm-dragonsnake thing on top of it! With Crisis Core taking some inspiration from the Garden of Eden story, it seemed like the most appropriate choice. Let’s also not forget that apples rot. Anywho—able to afford Pokeballs at a young age, Genesis caught the little guy when it was just an Applin, which subsequently catalyzed his affinity for the fruit + prompted him to start a small Banora White juice stand as a kid. Growing up, Genesis loved to battle—always pushing to be the best he could be, to emulate the heroes in his stories and the silver-haired superstar he saw in the papers. But he was also a kind boy, with a kind heart—good ambitions—and spent many days helping training with Angeal’s Dewott. He was able to get his hands on a Tart Apple rather young, and ultimately went on to serve as viable asset to ShinRa’s military with the aid of his aerial Pokémon. But it was the times after the war that were sweetest to Genesis—where he and his best friends hung out together, where they used Flapple’s attacks as props and projectiles, with one of their favorite games including knocking apples of off each other’s heads. They were childish games, yes—but harmless games. Harmless competition. Harmless rivalry. Simple rivalry. Fiery rivalry. Intense rivalry. Jealous rivalry. Burning rivalry. Dangerous rivalry. And, one day, it was just too much—it was taken too far. One training incident, one battle between friends. A pepper of metal; a spur of blood; a cry of pain; and a trip to the infirmary. And it was after this day that Genesis was never really the same. When the man felt himself growing ill, Flapple was the only one he confided it—was the only one he told his plans of desertion to. And when the day came for him to abandon his past, Flapple was hesitant. Hesitant—but loyal. He remained by Genesis’s side and watched his trainer degrade, watched him rot like the fruit of his own etymology. And he wanted to cure. And he would help his trainer find that cure—that “gift”—no matter the cost. He would do anything. He would do anything, even if it meant helping destroy the reality of his old friends.

Moves:

Wing Attack

Grav Apple

Trailblaze

Outrage

Zack

Arcanine ~ Yes—pupper for life! <3 But just like the game Zack hails from, NEVER underestimate the power of a fiery pup!! One of the most loyal Pokémon to exist, Zack took in an injured Growlithe from the wild when he was just a little kid, immediately sparking a friendship that would last him for years upon years to come. Zack loves his partner more than anything in the world—training to become the best SOLDIER he can possibly be since the day their dreams were together. Together, from vigorous and unwavering training, they climb through the ranks of ShinRa. It’s only at Fort Tamblin where, alongside receiving a Fire Armlet from Lazard, he receives a Fire Stone—and it’s all Arcanine adventures from there! Unfortunately, however, this is also when Angeal deserts, and Zack relies more than ever on the comfort of his best friend. Arcanine helps him stay positive, but even the dog itself begins to grow jaded, losing some of the blazing spirit that used to surge through its veins. Modeoheim is one of the worst tolls on the two of them—one of the most spiritually-shattering incidents of their ShinRa career. One that is only trumped by Nibelheim, where its life comes to end upon being crushed by fiery debris. It was trying to save Claudia.

Moves:

Close Combat

Play Rough

Protect

Flame Charge

Cloud

Riolu: A little baby-waby Pokémon that grows into something truly incredible and iconic. Riolu was a gift from Cloud’s mother when he was turning 14 years old—a little something to keep him safe as he went away to ShinRa. Cloud was always a little hesitant about raising Pokémon, but bonded rather well with Riolu once he opened up—albeit after an admittedly awkward start. Riolu was always there to comfort Cloud after SOLDIER-exams, always there to cheer him up and keep him going until the next one. When it’s time to go on a mission with the Great Sephiroth, Riolu is there to keep him chill—sitting in his lap in the truck, affectionally nuzzling his chin to keep him level-headed. Cloud wanted to keep Riolu in his Pokeball as to keep his identity hidden—a decision that would go on to save the small Pokémon’s life when the town was horrifically set ablaze, sheltered from Sephiroth’s wrath and madness while other Pokémon made the fatal mistake of trying to stop him. Following the incident, he doesn’t remember much—unaware of when Zack broke him out of the lab and carried him and his poisoned Riolu to the edge of Midgar. There’s flashes of something in his memory—serrated shards of a bloody face and bloody body that slash into his psyche beyond his own understanding. He doesn’t remember the moment his Riolu evolved—evolving into a Lucario under the pouring rain and the pearls of crimson that had stained its paws. In fact, he doesn’t even remember ever having a Riolu. All he could seem to remember is having an Arcanine—an Arcanine who perished before his eyes—and taking custody of a Lucario who originally belonged to his friend.

Moves:

Endure

Bullet Punch

Reversal

Copycat

Sephiroth

Pichu ~ Yep! That’s it, you heard it right: no legendary Pokémon, no mythical—just a small little lab rat that Sephiroth cherished more than anything on the planet. He first met Pichu when he was just a little boy, finding it trapped in a too-tight cage among Hojo’s numerous experiments. Bruises and scratches marred its yellow fur, coiled into itself as it quivered and shook amid the pulsing darkness. And Sephiroth, at his tender age, could hardly stand the sight. He couldn’t stand it—not when he could feel every scratch laddering its body, every injection that must have pierced its fragile form. He knew it was a risk, he knew he could be punished—but at that moment, meeting those pained and teary eyes, none of that seemed to matter. When Hojo found Sephiroth with Pichu the next day, he of course tried to take it away—only to be met by a tempest of threats and snarls, kicks and hisses. In the end, Hojo conceded, but forcefully fed it an Everstone when Sephiroth was asleep. In the following years, the duo were inseparable—every surgery, every training session, every trial… they were together. And when Sephiroth went on to Wutai, you bet Pichu was there with him. It wasn’t much of a battler—often hurting itself with its own electricity—but what the Pokémon lacked in strength it more than made up for in loyalty and spirit. As Sephiroth’s fame and influence burgeoned, he did everything in his power to keep his treasured friend out of the limelight—often keeping him sheltered in his Pokeball until the man was able to return to his quarters in peace. This lead to several people fantasizing about what Pokémon the Great Silver Warrior could possibly have—what kind of mythical beast he kept stashed away. Only very few people have ever seen Pichu at all: Glenn, Matt, Lucia, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack—all of whom were shocked at first, but developed a newfound respect for Sephiroth after learning of its origins. Angeal and Genesis, in particular, even had the honor of babysitting for the little guy during press meetings. When the latter two deserted, Sephiroth was crushed, but Pichu did wonders to keep his spirit afloat: curling into his lap at night, falling asleep on his shoulder… Anything it can possibly do to assure Sephiroth that he wasn’t alone, it did. When it came time to leave for Nibelheim, however, when the inevitable tragedies spiraled, that’s where things started to splinter. Zack awoke one night to Pichu pawing at his face—a small and desperate gesture to get someone to help it. Agreeing to help his friend’s partner out, Zack followed Pichu to the basement of ShinRa manor, where he found Sephiroth in the heart of an eerie, candlelit library. He told them to leave—both of them. Zack tried to gently talk things out; Sephiroth told him to leave even louder. Disheartened, but thinking his friend needs space, Zack took Pichu and leaves. In the following days, he tried to comfort the anxious Pichu, telling it that Seph just needs some time to breathe and digest everything he learned. He told it that Seph will snap out of it soon—that he will return for his best friend. He promises it. Assures it. And yet, when that seventh day arrives, the town went up in flames. Villagers were killed, slaughtered, as well as every Pokémon in his wake. All the man could think about was her. Mother. His birthright. His planet. Revenge. Humans. The urge to destroy—the need to kill… The bleary shapes that he cuts down are nothing—meaningless little insects in the greater design of his world. His blade slashed through them all, cut them open and left them to burn in the hellish flames engulfing the village. They were all irrelevant—every single one of them. Meaningless. Worthless. Just kill time. Just kill them, She whispers. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

“SEPHIROTH, DON’T—“

It’s too late.

Masamune had already struck, deaf to the young SOLDIER’s horrified plea.

And blind to the sight of Pichu staked through it.

Moves:

Nuzzle

Nasty Plot

Facade

Wish

#sephiroth #ffvii #pokemon #ff7 #crisis core #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #zack fair #mega angst #sorry LOL! was in a mood xD #<33 #it’s like comical angst tho #it’s hard to take Pokémon seriously in a flipping ff7 setting lmao

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pjsk-writin · 1 year

Note

OMG AMIA HEAR ME OUT

WHA ABOUT PJSEKAI BOYS WITH A GN NEURODIVERGENT READER WHO HAS HIPERFIXATION WITH DISTURBING VOCALOID SONGS AND SEARCHES FOR VOCALOID ICEBERGS AND VIDEOS SO THEY CAN STUDY AND LISTEN TO THE SONGS

and has asked them to make a cover from any song of them

(i totally didn't describe myself with this LMAO-)

TBH JUST LIKE ME FR.. hope u like this !! <3

♡ DISTURBING VOCALOID SONGS - Akito Shinonome, Toya Aoyagi, Tsukasa Tenma and Rui Kamishiro x Reader

Akito:

The first time Akito overhears the song that you were listening to, he was very...concerned, to say the least-

"What the hell are you listening to?" He asks, and you simply give him a smile, "It's one of my favorites!"

He's still concerned, but after finding out that you're hyperfixated on those types of songs, he just lets it be

He might watch a vocaloid iceberg video with you every now and then, but you won't miss the look of confusion of his face at every word

It would definitley take him a lot, and I mean a lot of convincing to get him to make a cover of one of these disturbing songs, but he does it to see you smile <3

Toya:

Toya is a mix between concerned and curious when he first stumbles across you listening to one of these disturbing songs.

"Wow, this song has an...interesting meaning." You laugh and nod, "Yeah, but it's really amazing to me!"

He definitely gives more into the curiosity than the concern, asking you all about the different songs you're hyperfixated on-

It's very easy to drag him into watching disturbing vocaloid icebergs and videos, he'll watch them with wide eyes and ask you a ton of questions

He might be hesitant to make a cover of a disturbing song, but that's because he doesn't know if he could pull it off- He has a surprising amount of fun with it though! <3

Tsukasa:

Tsukasa is definitely more inclined to listen to loud songs, so he's probably drawn to your disturbing music if it is in that genre-

"This music is certainly wonderful!...Oh-" You laugh at the look on his face, grinning, "Sorry, this is my favorite part-"

He's more bewildered than anything at the meanings and context in songs you're hyperfixated on. Loud and disturbing songs will quickly join his playlist!

He'll also watch iceberg vocaloid videos and listen to you study, occasionally giving you his own thoughts and theories with a wide grin

He likes the challenge that covering one of these disturbing songs will bring, so he'll definitely try it! It comes out a lot better than he thought it would! <3

Rui:

If I'm being honest, Rui probably listens to disturbing music in general, so it's not too much of a surprise to him-

"Hm, interesting...I haven't heard this one before." You smile at him, holding your speaker up a bit higher, "You wanna listen to more?"

He enjoys finding new disturbing music through you, but he enjoys studying it with you even more. You add to each other's hyperfixations-

Both of you easily get lost into icebergs and videos, to the point where you stay up until three in the morning discussing songs-

He immediately accepts when you ask him to make a cover of a song, he's already made covers in the past anyway- His voice works really well in disturbing songs! <3

#project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome x reader #shinonome akito x reader #toya aoyagi x reader #aoyagi toya x reader #tsukasa tenma x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader

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moreausturtles · 17 days

Text

"the orange sun in the blue sky"

a/n: hi guys this is a rly rly old weirdly made draft that I made during my rly bad hyperfixation on the rise movie; i thought i might share it with y'all bc im somewhat proud of it? pls dont mind any mistakes i wrote it in a rush i think...? gl to everyone reading hahaha lmk what u think pls dont be mean

summary: leo and mikey are the only ones alive. they finally defeat the last of the kraang, but at a cost.

warnings: unchecked + unedited weird bullet point format; slight mentions of death/blood; one swear word?; very angsty and sad sorry :((

word count: ~1k

(imagine FINALLY defeating Krang 1 as a mission success)

- the baja blast duo fight the krang, lots of hard hits and close calls and they have the LUCKIEST breakthrough.

- krang 1 is on the ground and no longer able to move, all its tentacles are severed. its hanging on by a thread, one that leo is more than happy to cut.

- “this is for my family.” leo whispers, looking down at the krang in disdain.

- he jabs his sword into the krang's body under his foot, killing it in one motion.

- and just like that, it was over.

- leo takes a moment to breathe, like his body wasn’t letting him before.

- he allows himself to think, to process, to take in the fact that they had just won the war.

they won.

- a small smile grows on his face and a quick rush of excitement takes over his body

- “we did it…” he whispers, “mikey, we did it!” he repeats it, a part of him still in denial and acting like saying it again was going to convince him that the worst was over.

- but the worst was far from it.

- he turns around to mikey excitedly, who he thought was just quiet because he was just as shocked as he was

- but boy was he stupidly wrong

- mikey stood there, a hand on the side of his plastron with blood dripping from it then to the ground

“mikey…?”

- he tries to give leo a smile, but fails as his body drops to the ground

- leo’s heart drops along with him, he calls out his name and runs to him quickly and takes him in his arms

- mikey, even before his mystic powers, always had this signature orange glow radiating off of him. but this time, leo was afraid it was going to become very dim very soon.

- leo took his baby brother’s head in his hand—he didn’t care if mikey was fucking older than him (hc no thanks to his excessive use of mystic power), he was still his baby brother

- mikey needed medical attention fast. but they were in the middle of nowhere. no medical team. no backup. no hamato.

- “we did it, leo…?” mike manages to whisper out and smiled up at his older brother.

- “yeah buddy, we did…” the sniffling soon came as leo tried to fight back tears. he had known this would happen; could you really blame a guy whose family got picked off one by one during the apocalypse to think that way?

“i’m sorry, leo...”

- god, mikey’s voice shattered leo’s heart into pieces. so weak and trying.

- “hey,” leo uttered, trying to change the topic, “remember the time when you thought the gumbus was real?”

- this earned a very weak, wheezed chuckle from the mystic turtle, who had his eyes closed to visualize the fond memory

- “you did too…” leo laughed bitterly at that, feeling his little brother’s breathing pattern slow.

- “i did, yeah. it’s one of my favorite memories.” said leo.

- “mine too…” mikey opened his eyes, the memory ending, and looked up to see leo’s face drenched in tears. a pang hit mikey’s chest as he realized he was going to leave his brother soon.

- “hey, leo?”

- “yeah, miguel?” a playful nickname he hadn’t heard in years.

“you were always my favorite brother.”

leo laughed, genuinely laughed even though it felt like he was being stabbed in the chest tenfold.

- “don’t tell donnie or raph.”

- “i think they know.”

- both of them pause for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say or do. there wasn’t really anything else to do but wait. Each second leo spent trying to figure out what words he wanted to tell mikey. “I’m sorry.” “Say hi to them for me.” “Please don’t leave me alone.”

- mikey was his partner in crime and now he was just… fading. His little brother was dying.

- leo knew their time was running short from the way he was listening to mikey’s labored breaths. slow and trying. mikey thought about using his mystic power for one last push, to stay with leo, to make do with what was left of the world.

- they could rebuild it. it was easy for him to make things out of thin air. leo knows how to build and farm and haul and everything you could think of.

- but the mystic warrior was tired. they had been fighting for decades. he couldn’t lift a single finger even if he tried, and that was fine with him. he honestlyhadn’t felt relaxed like that in years.

- maybe they were better off not saying a word, mikey needed to save any air he could take in. leo kept his mouth shut just so he could spent just a little bit more time together in this bittersweet silence.

- suddenly he sees mikey’s lips open a little bit, and the next words that come out would forever leave leo wounded.

“I love you, big brother.”

- it took everything in leo to not break out in full sobs right then and there. he wanted to scream, beg, plead to the God that did this to mikey— if one even existed.

- leo swallowed the lump in his throat, forming the best—and last— smile he could muster for mikey, mimicking him the way he used to do it for him and his older brothers so they wouldn’t have to worry.

“I love you too, little bro.”

- leo’s little ray of hope slowly went limp in his arms. and he was all alone.

- leo kept mikey in his arms, still and unmoving. maybe it was his punishment for putting mikey in this whole mess. for destroying the world and his entire family. maybe a God did exist, it was just never in his favor no matter how hard he fought to appease it.

leonardo, the last one standing of the hamatos, defeated the Krang and lived, while mikey took his place in the sky as leo’s ray of sunshine.

#rottmnt leo #leo #leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #michelangelo #donatello #raphael #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #donnie #mikey #raph #tmnt #rottmnt #leo and mikey #baja blast duo

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 3 months

Text

When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 1: Rings)

Well, it’s finally happened: I wrote a story for a movie rather than YouTube Egos. (Not that this is gonna become a regular thing, mind you. Lisa Frankenstein just so happened to check all the right boxes for my hyperfixation and brainrot.)

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him— just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his "true," pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belongs to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of electrocution and fire, scars, body horror, dismemberment. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The soil was loose and soft. It yielded to the shovel’s rusty spade quite easily.

Though many emotions were thrumming through Callum’s skull at the moment, surprise wasn’t one of them.

While dark clouds had clogged up the night sky, hiding the stars and moon and bloating with rain that would fall sooner or later, the current season was warm, and so the ground wasn’t too firm.

This plot had only been filled hours ago. This grave was fresh; infinitely fresher than his had been.

By now, Callum estimated that it’d taken at least half a day for him to crawl up through the ground and breach the surface like one of the several worms slithering around inside him.

He hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to consider it at first; back then, all he’d been able to know was light and electricity and shuddering and pain and. . .Lisa’s words.

Lisa’s words.

The same thing that fueled Callum to escape his tomb was now guiding him to free Lisa from hers, all with the same amount of violent tremors and desperation.

It was poetic, honestly.

Perhaps it would’ve been a bit more poetic if he didn’t have to get so filthy in the process.

Oh, well. He could take care of that later. (Besides, the stains on his clothes were nothing compared to the layers of grime and mold and fungus that had been caked all over him on that first, fateful night.)

Right now, unearthing his beloved without getting caught seemed like a much more important thing to focus on.

His grip was vicelike around the wooden handle as he threw one shovelful after another to the side.

Almost there, Callum thought. (If he could speak, he’d be repeating that mantra in a whisper like his life depended on it. Which. . .well, it logically didn’t, but it technically did. The same went for Lisa.) Almost there.

He’d wanted to take her away sooner. He would’ve been perfectly fine with forcing her family to waste money on a casket. Really, what good was a casket if you buried it empty?

But the distinct lack of a corpse would have just caused more problems. As dense as her family seemed to be, they’d still know that the shiny, glowing box (Lisa had called it a. . .tanning bed? If memory served?) wouldn’t have been capable of reducing a person to ashes no matter how dangerous it was.

He knew she wasn’t dead. Not completely; not truly. Yes, the combination of electrical currents and fire may have worked its horrific magic on her body. . .but that magic just hadn’t followed through altogether as it probably should have.

The way the bed had convinced foreign limbs to function as intended mere minutes after Lisa sewed them onto him. . .the way it had rejuvenated his centuries-dead flesh bit by bit. . .

It had some kind of similar effect on Lisa. The vast majority of her had died, but there was still a strong, stubborn ember of something in her that was very much determined to live.

Callum knew that very well. He’d seen proof of it before being forced to flee from the fire.

But Lisa’s family didn’t. As far as they knew, she was gone and never coming back. So, if she just disappeared before they could bury her, then they’d have an excuse to try and track her down. And if that happened, neither she nor her husband would get another chance. . .

Callum ground his jaw, putting even more force behind the shovel.

The hole grew deeper.

The pile of disturbed earth beside it grew bigger.

The dull, scraping tempo of grave-robbery began to sound like hitching gasps and sobs.

Just as the clouds started ominously humming about their plans for the night, the shovel reverberated after finally, finally, finally striking something much more solid than dirt.

Callum tossed the tool aside in favor of getting down on his knees, now using his hands to clear away a blanket of finer, thinner soil.

He hoped Lisa could hear him digging. (Though if that was the case, then the state of her brain could potentially make her think that the sounds were echoing from somewhere farther beneath her. Which would be. . .less than ideal, as Callum didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring her again. )

Even in his anxiety, he subconsciously shook his head. Lisa had taken him in and repaired him even after being initially terrified. Lisa trusted him, loved him; if she didn’t, then he never would have woken up in the first place.

More time passed, and a soft, cold gleam suddenly manifested in the darkness.

Glossy wood.

The coffin’s upper door.

Callum groped at the edge of it, tugging with all his strength.

An odd, warm feeling skittered up his spine and shook through his ribcage.

A low creeeeaaak rattled through the air as the lid was pried open.

. . .And there she was.

___

Callum had always been a fast learner, and yet he still had no idea what to make of his pulse.

It’d been extremely jarring when he’d first awoken. The days that followed, it was irregular. Sometimes he could feel it, sometimes he couldn’t. It was always soft—following more of a murmur than a steady beat—always irregular, barely there at all.

Right now, however, it both sounded and felt very far away. More present than it had been when he’d performed a highly unorthodox beheading on that stain of a man who’d upset Lisa.

Hell, it almost seemed louder and stronger than it had been on the most recent evening he’d spent with Lisa; the one that saw the two of them embracing and reeling and dreaming together. . .

Everything else was a blur as he brought her to her new bed, carrying her like the bride she was. He had to move slowly, carefully, feeling more anxious and unwieldy than ever.

Well, at least until he laid her down, making sure the pillow offered enough support for her neck.

After that, he was much, much more erratic.

He sprinted about the house, tearing almost every other room apart as he searched. It felt like several hours had passed by the time he finally found what he—what his beloved—needed: a white, sterile-looking container. He opened it, just to be certain, then tucked it under one arm and hurried back over to the bedroom.

Every square inch of Lisa’s body was blistered to hell and back, adorned by a network of puffy, angry-looking veins that, had her heart still been beating, would have more or less threatened to burst at any given moment. Red and raw, several sections on her arms, legs, and chest having peeled off to reveal glistening tissue.

Her mane of thick, curly auburn hair had been reduced to a few small, fried patches that clung to the charred flesh of her scalp with a strength similar to bubblegum and well-intentioned vibes. There was a possibility that she’d died with her eyes open, but the awful swelling of the skin around their sockets had sealed them shut.

None of that mattered, of course.

Lisa was still just as beautiful as when Callum had first met her. She always, always would be.

. . .Even so, those injuries had to be dealt with. Despite what Lisa had said before about accepting a person’s flaws, Callum’s instincts told him she wouldn’t appreciate being left to resemble a puppet made of half-raw-half-cooked steaks.

Callum set the medical kit down on the nightstand, ferreting out generous rolls of gauze as he loomed over the side of the bed.

The world finally seemed to slow back down as he got to work.

It didn’t take long for him to find a gentle, precise cadence as he wrapped bandage after bandage after bandage around his beloved’s form. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was what spiders felt like when they spun strands of silk together to make their webs.

Although Lisa’s skin hadn’t been rendered translucent, the burns in some places went deep enough for Callum to catch a glimpse of her organs. Both of her lungs were blackened, seared, sunken. Her heart was equally misshapen, now boasting a similar appearance to a blob of melted wax, looking like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself.

But even as all the carnage was swallowed up by more strips of gauze, Callum could still see the heart twitch. The movement only lasted for half a second or so, but there was no doubting that it’d happened. . .

Lisa still had a chance. She would never be truly alive again, but she could still come back.

She couldn’t wake up by herself. . .but she wouldn’t have to.

He’d find a way to help, just as she’d done for him.

Callum blinked for the first time all night, and his hands were suddenly free; he was suddenly sitting at the foot of the new bed.

Lisa was cloaked quite literally from head to toe in clean, snow-white bandages. It was like he'd made the perfect combination of shroud and wedding dress for her to wear.

The thought made a small smile tug at his lips.

Then he shook his head.

He couldn’t relax just yet. There were other things to be taken care of right now. Two other things, to be specific.

Callum got to his feet and crossed the new bedroom to quietly close the door. He ventured down a narrow hallway, peering at an assortment of unfamiliar pictures hanging on the walls around him. Disposing of them would probably be another chore for him later.

His footsteps sounded hollow and heavy as he descended the staircase. (Unlike Lisa’s former home, the floors of this house were all hardwood rather than carpet. True, they wouldn’t muffle noise very well, but it was still quite a lucky coincidence.)

He’d found this house completely by accident, when he’d still been trying to follow Lisa’s path.

Even with the remnants of that lightning bolt sparking in his stagnant blood, even with Lisa’s voice echoing through his resurrected mind, it’d still taken so much time for him to truly wake up. He grimaced at the thought of how long he’d had to crawl around the cemetery before he could stand upright.

(And that wasn’t even mentioning the state his vision had been in. The layers of rancid slime and dirt clinging to his face had made everything around him blurry and distorted. The fact that his eyes were also full of maggots at the time certainly hadn’t helped.)

He’d had to wander the surrounding woods for hours and hours before he could finally walk. The rot in his bones had kept his movement slow and uneven, but a bad limp was still better than collapsing every other moment.

Callum wasn’t sure how the house’s previous owners hadn’t seen or heard him that night. They certainly had a few hours ago, but that wasn’t a factor anymore.

He crept into the living room, where he paced a few slow circles around the fresh corpse lying in the center of all the controlled chaos. The crimson splatters now adorning the floor, the walls, the sofa’s floral print almost seemed to glitter.

Another carcass could be found just a few feet away, sprawled across the wide threshold that led into the dining room. The face was obscured, as blood was still leaking out to add to a large puddle that continued to slowly spread, inch-by-inch.

Callum folded his arms across his chest, drumming the nails of his replacement hand against his cheek. He remembered what Lisa had said when he’d silently begged her to help him find new parts; a contemplative murmur about there being bad people in the world. . .

Her relief and gratitude when he’d bludgeoned that horrible excuse for a mother to death.

Her cathartic happiness when he’d dismembered the scum who’d tried to put his filthy hands on her.

Her tearful joy when she eventually realized why he’d risked so much to take a particularly crucial piece from the ignoramus who’d dared to play with her emotions. . .

It had all been so wonderful to see.

Those victims had all hurt Lisa, and they likely would've hurt others as well. Their deaths wouldn’t be an actual loss to the community.

But this. . .

Lisa definitely wouldn’t have approved of this. Yes, she’d understand why Callum had done what he’d done; after everything they’d been through, of course the two of them needed a quiet place to stay, if only for a while until they found somewhere better. A place that was a fair distance from both the town and the cemetery. A place just like this.

But. . .

A raspy sigh escaped Callum’s lips.

He'd work with more tact in the future.

Once Lisa was awake, things would be better. He’d listen to her input. They would make important decisions together.

Callum’s eyes wandered about, eventually settling on the axe—the same one Lisa had taken from her father’s garage—he’d left propped up against the adjacent wall. It was slathered in gore, to the point that its wooden handle was just as red as the paint on its blade.

He approached to pick it up, letting the weapon’s belly rest on his shoulder. Then he stooped down, using his free hand to take hold of the first corpse’s wrists. More of the floor was painted red as he dragged it into the kitchen. He retraced his steps to collect the second body, coming dangerously close to slipping on the blood as he hefted his victim onto the countertop.

The next hour or so was filled with dull thuds, with splintery pops and cra-A-a-cks, with the drip-drip-drip of thick fluid oozing down the lower cabinets and plopping onto the floor.

The axe was too heavy to be the most precise tool, but it was still efficient. It only took a few good swings to sever limbs from torsos and heads from necks.

Callum couldn’t bury either of these bodies. Not right away, at least. Fortunately, he soon discovered that there were more than enough black trash bags under the sink to work with.

Lisa’s body obviously needed repair, but he wasn’t sure which repairs should come first. (He knew she’d require a new pair of eyes, but he didn’t want to risk forcing her current ones open just yet.) Would it be better to take off her old limbs and put new ones in their place, or to simply slice off layers of skin and attach a new barrier to her burnt flesh?

Wait and see, a voice in his head suggested. Callum nodded to himself; when Lisa was able to communicate again, he’d organize these plans with her. It was only right, after all.

Callum set the axe down by the sink, now focusing on wrapping up the detached pieces of human in tight, layered cocoons that crinkled with every second. Packing all the bundles into the freezer and refrigerator in a way that kept them from sliding right back out was far more aggravating than he would’ve cared to admit, but he managed.

He gave pause, however, when it came to the two remaining pieces.

A pair of forearms, to be specific, with their hands still attached.

One from each corpse.

Something small and metallic glinted around the fourth finger on each of them.

The first ring had a very simple design: just a smooth, golden band.

The second ring, meanwhile, was silver, mounted with a shiny stone.

It wasn’t a diamond by any means. Callum couldn’t tell what kind of gem it was, honestly. But it was gorgeous—it’d been carved into a smooth, perfect orb. It reminded him of an ember at the heart of a firepit, boasting a graceful mix of orange and red with a few soft hints of yellow.

The colors reminded him of that one night.

Callum shoved the forearms into hiding with all the other parts, the two rings now nestled in his palm. With that, he exited the kitchen, an unfamiliar spring in his step as he ventured back up the staircase. Yes, he still had an enormous bloody mess to clean up, but this took priority.

His odd, partial heartbeat echoed in his ears as he re-entered the new bedroom and knelt down beside the bed.

Slowly, delicately, Callum took one of Lisa’s hands in his. He pressed a small kiss to her bandaged knuckles before sliding the new ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly. Just like the gold ring did for him.

As for the odd-yet-sweet candy loop he’d made do with for the original proposal. . .well, he decided to leave it on the nightstand.

Just in case Lisa wanted to keep it when she woke up.

@mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @radisyn @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

#my writing #my stories #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein spoilers #the creature #lisa frankenstein creature #lisa swallows #lisa x creature #(my headcanon name for creature is callum)#(I just think it would fit him well)#tw implied murder/death #tw implied violence #tw gore/blood #tw mentions of electrocution and fire #tw scars #tw body horror #tw dismemberment

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octoling-wearing-gauges · 8 months

Note

Favorite fictional ship, and reasons?

LMAOO I'm sure you already know but I'll answer anyway.

Lars and Sadie, these two have literally shaved years off my lifespan, I'm convinced. The funny part is I wasn't even all that interested in them on my first watch of SU. Some time later on they spontaneously became a hyperfixation and I still have no clue why they infected my brain out of nowhere, but here we are. I've essentially been Steven every watch since during all 20 minutes of their screentime.

As for my reasons for liking them, it's complicated. They're SUPER messy and I'm not gonna pretend they aren't. Even as a ride or die larsadie fan I don't necessarily hate the fact that they didn't end up together from a writing/realistic standpoint. They were too toxic in the beginning to be anything beyond FWBs at best despite their mutual feelings for each other.

Post-arcs I feel like they did have a lot of potential to still work out and be much healthier. But at that point I think Sadie had already moved on while Lars was in space, ironically on his way back to her, which may not have happened if Lars had just been honest about what he wanted with her. I of course love Shep as nonbinary representation and for the fact that they make Sadie happy, but I also think that ultimately Sugar's idea with Lars and Sadie was to contribute to the theme of the series as a whole. With life comes change, and learning to accept it whether we like it or not. Steven was sorta supposed to represent the viewers in a way with the introduction of Sadie's new love interest in Future, and his little meltdown over Lars and Sadie having drifted apart, his two friends that he was sure would get married someday. The silver lining being Lars' true love for Sadie in that, even though he's sad it wasn't him, he's glad that Sadie could be happy, showing his growth as a person too. He himself even found happiness in space with the Off Colors.

One could argue they were doomed since the end of Island Adventure though. If not for Sadie's TOTALLY NOT COOL actions, they might've been able to come out of that as a couple. Alternatively, maybe they weren't endgame the second Lars died on Homeworld. Sometimes immortal/mortal couples are a little too sad, which could've been the reason they "couldn't reconnect" as they told Steven. Or maybe Lars would've never kept Sadie for himself, as he genuinely thinks he doesn't deserve her.

Either way, I'll stop rambling and just say, gosh they're cute and check all the boxes for my favorite ships! I love them both so much and them being best friends secretly in love AND coworkers is just ugggghh. Even the angst/tragedy of them makes me love them even more. I'll always wish they worked out but I can get my kicks in fanon. What little we did get in a few episodes is more than a lot of people get with their favorite fictional couples, lmfao (my favorite one is Horror Club :))

BONUS!! to stay on topic w my blog rn I loooooove Greg/Rose. They are TOO precious just look at em!!!!!

#steven universe #larsadie #gregrose #thanks for the ask!#sorry it took so long to get to it #lars barriga #sadie miller #i dont need to say rupphire do i???#OBVIOUSLY #also i'll die mad that lars and sadie werent endgame i LIED #ask box

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glassgulls · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home

Fandom: Lord Of The Rings

Pairing: Haldir x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW do not interact if under 18. Sexual themes. Community label compliant.

Summary: Haldir returns from a patrol to readers open arms. Blatant smut with no plot whatsoever. Sorry Haldir fans.

Comments: Another product of my hyperfixation on Haldir. I've teased this a lot and I'm glad it's finally finished and out my brain now. @creativity-of-death I've finished mine now I'm looking forward to your own. 😉 If anyone would like to be added to my general tag list let me know. ♥️

Word count: 5, 106

NSFW UNDER 18'S DO NOT INTERACT

Haldir ran his fingers over your bare skin tracing the delicate skin over your ribs. Your whimpers of his name driving him on as the blood thundered in his ears. Pressing close to you he growled as you bared your neck to him so he could trail his lips over the sensitive flesh.

“Haldir.” You whined in need, making him chuckle against you.

“So impatient meleth nin.” His voice a low warm rumble as he continued to suck on your pulse. Moaning loudly you arch into his body that’s pinning you to the bed.

“I need you.” You breath out, raising your hands to grab at him, he’s still wearing the grey grab he wore as Marchwarden. He was not long back from his patrol, upon seeing you waiting with open arms and loving smiles the broad chested elf had been unable to resist you.

It was a common occurrence now with you, that careful and painful calm and collectiveness he had cultivated over decades in his position would snap in a moment with just a glance from you. It was a terrifying experience for him as Marchwarden to Lothlórien when he had first met you, he thought everything he was was wrapped up in that role. He was a protector of this land and older brother, almost to the point that it was difficult to see anything else outside of that.

Until you came along.

Under his bulkier frame you looped your arms around his neck to pull him against you. Your love and desire for him was insatiable. Though he was still uncomfortable with public displays of affection, alone your handsome elven lover couldn't keep his hands off you. Indeed when he had arrived at your flet after returning back from his patrol he had not hesitated to stride into your ecstatic embrace. Welcoming him home and gripping him close to you he was the one to initiate the heated kiss. Citing that he had missed you so while starting to walk you backwards towards your bedroom while stripping you bare.

His blood burned for you, in all these years alone, self isolation due to his responsibilities, Haldir had become convinced that he was incapable of feelings like this after all this time. But now, looking down at you spread before him and so accepting of him and all that entailed the ellon couldn’t imagine life without you, couldn’t comprehend being alone and not sharing his heart and soul with you.

“I love you.” You whispered to him, making his usual stoic expression slip into a stunning smile that shatters your world every time. Nothing is more beautiful to you. Those blue eyes boring into you, through you and setting your blood on fire.

“Meleth nin,” he says and cups your face seeing how your eyes are blown out with desire. Desire for him.

Leaning close he trails his lips across your own, then drifts along your cheekbones to your ear, nuzzling against you. “There will be no one but you for me." He promises and starts to nip at your ear savouring the way your breath hitches. Your hands are tugging at his clothes wanting his skin against your own now.

"I need you," you repeat, making him chuckle again. You were so needy for him that Haldir feels relieved that he wasn't the only one to feel this way. You were just more vocal about it. He sits up and watches you try to rip off his grey robe. When you scoot closer and start to straddle his thighs his laughter dies in his throat as you brush against his blatant erection. A shudder runs through him and seeing the reaction you lean up and suck on his lower lip. His own hands start to help you and the way you tremble against him makes the ellon feel dizzy.

"Haldir I swear I'll start screaming soon." You mutter against his lips. He only hums and kisses you ravenously, his fingers making quick work of the laces and straps of his clothing. Your hands slip under the clothing and both break apart to tug the cloak and tunic off.

Feeling your bare skin against his chest he groans softly.

"I ache for you meleth nin." He confesses and he swears he can feel the flutter of your heart against your ribs, you're pressed so close to him. Haldir watches you as you bite your lip, look down and with a hurried and impatient breath start on the lacing of his trousers. Glancing up at him you see Haldir watch you, he grins again as you lunge at him to kiss him hungrily. It's not an elegant kiss but it's beautiful to him in how it is utter demanding.

Again his own hands help with the untying as you busy yourself cupping his jaw and kissing and biting his lips. As soon as his hard on hits the cool afternoon air the Marchwarden hisses. You pull back and Haldir can't help but marvel at how breathtaking you look with kiss swollen lips and near feral gaze. Whispering your name Haldir watches as you lick your palm before reaching for his erection. The Marchwarden barely recognises the strangled groan that comes from him as you run your slick hand over his dick carefully. Gathering the leaking beads of precum at the tip you gaze reverently and start to give testing strokes.

The blond ellon reaches up and palms your breasts with the same devotion. Marvelling at how perfectly they fit in his grasp, like you were created to complement each other. Leaning towards you Haldir nuzzles your neck again while pinching your nipples savouring the way you gasp.

With your free hand that's not around his hard dick you push him onto his back. Trailing your hand down his chest to trace his defined abs. You help him pull his trousers down and toe off his boots. Lying there finally naked Haldir regards you under his blond eyelashes, that cool, control mask back on his face. Leaning over him, you place a lingering kiss above where his heart beats frantically despite his expression.

Your gaze flick up to meet his, eyes nearly black with how wide your pupils are with lust and he’s surprised he’s still physically able to blush considering all his blood has rushed to his groin. Slowly you drag yourself up his torso kissing and sucking on his skin, chasing along battle scars that have been hard won.

As you reach the hollow of his throat he lifts his head back for you to have access and stares at the ceiling trying to gain back some self composure otherwise this will end all too quickly. It’s entirely his own fault, being away from you on patrol has frayed his nerves. His desire and lust dissolving the Marchwardens famous composure. You make him feel young and entirely vulnerable which is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Your face looms into his field of vision and you nuzzle at his jaw.

“Marchwarden,” You purr indecently and Haldir groans, breathing harshly through his nose. “Take pity on me and let me love you sir,” Your voice is like honey, the words making his resolve disappear at the title “You will won’t you?” You continue kissing his lips softly and nipping at them. Haldir grunts an affirmative as he grasps at your jaw kissing you back and flicking his tongue out against your own. You pull back and grasp his chin so he looks at you before gazing at him.

“Let me show you how I worship you, how my thoughts are always filled with you.” Your voice is barely unrecognisable with the raw desire that torments you.

“Show me.” Haldir commands, watching how your eyes burn and a wicked smile on your pouting lips. In a blink you crawl down his body nipping and biting at him leaving little marks on his perfect skin. As you go lower your fingers trail along his knees, then thighs in a maddening whisper, you trace words of love below his navel and suck a little bruising mark on his hip. Your hand starts to slowly pump his dick again, savouring the burning heat of his flesh. Pausing, you look at your lover.

“Watch me my Marchwarden.” You whisper then keeping full eye contact swallow the head of his cock. Haldir hisses out a soft curse as you try and suck more of his large dick into your eager mouth. He’s large, not only in length but girth also which always makes your lips pinch with the stretch. The ellon’s fingers are already in your hair sweeping it out of your face so he can watch you clearly. The urge to snap his hips up into your drooling mouth is taking the last of his self control. Grunting your name he watches awe struck as you slowly start to bob your head down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a blissful suction. Humming wantonly around him makes him groan loudly and he grabs at the bed covers below him to ground himself. His hips roll gently in time with your ministrations and you sink lower onto him. Tears springing at your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat. You try to relax your throat and swallow around him.

“Meleth nin,” He gasps out, his blue eyes burning into yours and he’s watching in rapture. You continue to please him, keeping your gaze on him as much as possible through the watery mist. When pulling back to gasp for air you continue with your hands to keep up the pace. Haldir nearly chokes on his own tongue when you lick at his balls, carefully sucking and playing with them. His fingers tangle in your hair as he moans out praises to you.

“You are so perfect,” He utters and his hips are thrusting at a lazy pace with your fist. “Not even in my dreams are you this beautiful.” He murmurs. When you shiver at his praise you lick a long stripe up the underside of his cock and suck on the head, humming happily around him.

The sounds of your gagging and excited moans makes Haldir grunt loudly, spurring him on to run his fingers through your hair tugging gently.

"Come to me meleth nin." He orders you. Releasing his cock from your mouth you give the tip a chaste kiss. The sheer contrast of such an innocent gesture in a lewd way sends delicious shivers through the ellon. He pushes himself up and pulls you up to him kissing you as he repositions you both of your bed. He can taste himself on your tongue as he licks into your mouth chasing the whimpers that escape you. Lying down on the pillow the Marchwarden holds you close, kissing your neck making you keen in delight.

"Now it's my turn," He purrs against your ear letting his fingers trace your spine. Shivering in bliss you can't help the mewl of his name. Haldir tugs you further up ordering you to kneel on the pillows hands on the wall. With the gorgeous ellon between your thighs and you can't help but blush even now as you fully expose yourself to his eager eyes.

"So wet for me my darling", he breathes, the puff of air ticking your sopping cunt, his hands circling your thighs. "Look at me."

You look down to see his impossibly blue eyes connect with your own making you tremble. Haldir lets his nose nuzzle against your mound inhaling your scent and a low groan rumbles through him.

"Haldir," You stutter out shyly, he was so close to where you needed him.

"Let me quench my thirst." He mutters seductively as his hands tug on your thighs pulling you to him. As you gaze at him Haldir makes a show of opening his mouth and takes one long swipe of his tongue from cunt to clit, causing your whole body to convulse as you cry out.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh enough to leave bruises and you know you'll wear them in private with pride. Haldir's strength ensures you can't move as you are now seated on his face as he devours you. Sharp cries and whimpers roll out of you as Haldir flicks his tongue through your soaked folds tasting and sucking at you. Your hips start to roll softly in time with his mouth and the room fills with the lewd wet sounds.

Keeping your eyes on your lover below you don't bother hiding your moans and cries of his name. You know that Haldir thrills at that, hearing his name uttered in such a ravaged way by your lips. He rewards you with a wet suck on your clit that makes your eyes roll in your head.

Your hands fly out to steady yourself on the wall above the bed as you look down to see the look in Haldir's piercing gaze. Oceans of blue eclipsed by pupils blown wide in wanton lust. Lifetimes of desire rolling out to consume you and drag you under in that forever blue. You welcome it, breath ragged and frantic to dive in and drown in those eyes.

A whiny whimper crawls through your teeth as Haldir adds one finger into your tight heat. You buck your hips against the intrusion desperate for friction. The sounds of your body's desire are loud and lewd in the still air.

Haldir keeps up a steady slow pace to whip you up into a feral mess. His name spilling from your lips in a torturous plea as he introduces another finger and then another which has you clawing at the wall as you writhe in ecstasy. When you gasp out how close you are, Haldir doubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers in a pounding pace while he alternates whispering praises and sucking on your clit that has tears springing to your eyes.

Looking up at you Haldir takes in the sight of you completely unravelled, sweat glistened skin that he aches to taste. His long fingers revel in the feel of your thigh muscles frantically twitching and roil as you use him to hunt your release. Those long nights away from you had been filled with thoughts and dreams of you like this. One who was always giving everything they had to him to make him happy. Now it was his turn to do so, he curled his tongue around the fingers fucking you at steady pace to ravenously chase the arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Haldir," you cry, your voice wavering in the afternoon air. The tight cord within is stung taught at his heavy pace. The crest of your climax licks up your spine as your whole body freezes as the wave hits you. His name is choked out as you claw at the wall you try to find purchase as the hot bliss hits you over and over again. Haldir keeps tempo with you as you ride out your release, his clever mouth alternating between sweet praise and lapping up your juices. Resting your forehead on the wall in front of you you gasp ragged breaths twitching as Haldir's mouth continues to lick and suck on your cunt and thighs that borders on over stimulation.

Whining softly you open your eyes to see the smirk in his gaze which you try to throw back but your whole body feels like water. His hands run up and down your thighs soothingly and with the grace of a newborn deer you swing your leg over so you can lie down next to him.

You feel his gaze on you and turning to the side you see the evidence of your climax glistening over his mouth and chin and you’ve never seen Haldir look so smug. His hair is dishevelled and falls loose over his shoulders as the ellon leans over you and you can’t think of anything that could compare to his glory.

Despite the hot flush of your body the touch of your fingers are cool to his burning skin as the Marchwarden chases the sensation and leans into your caress to his face. With your free hand you slide it up his arm to then drag your nails back down, throwing him a smug grin when Haldir shivers.

Biting on your bottom lips you can’t help but glance down and let out a breathy gasp at the sight of Haldir's cock sitting heavy and proud against his stomach. His skin is sticky with prespend and it’s all thanks to you. Your mouth waters at the thought and all you want is to taste him again. Swallow him down as much as he will let you and you’ll be thankful to Eru that you are blessed to do so.

Blond lashes flutter as Haldir's gaze follows your own and seems to be able to read your thoughts. Moving over you you let your hand on his arm skim up to rest on his shoulder so you can feel the bunched coil of his built body slowly drape over you and settle between your waiting parted thighs.

The heavy weight of his muscular body presses you in the bed as he leans on his arms to stare down at you.

“Bain.” He breathes reverently. Despite the situation you can’t help the heat settle in your cheeks.

“I’m not beautiful Haldir, I look a mess.” You laugh softly wiping your sweat slicked hair from your forehead. The blond elf blinks slowly and leans down to nuzzle his nose against your temple before pulling back to kiss you softly.

He knows you’ll never believe him when he tells you how beautiful you are like this. Naked and wrecked under him, letting him ruin you completely and be allowed to witness how utterly transcendent you are while open and vulnerable. It’s a gift he still doesn’t quite understand how he’s earned but he will fight to the death to protect it. To protect you and give you anything that you ask for.

Wrapping your legs around his waist you let your feet caress his thighs for a moment.

“Haldir,” You whisper against his mouth as you nip at his bottom lip. “I’ve been empty without you please.” The hushed confession seems to bring him out of his thoughts and you both shudder as his slick erection slides against your stomach.

“Le melin.” He rasps out, desperate for you.

"I love you too." You whisper while letting your hands wrap around his neck. As you let one hand freely tangle in his golden hair. His braids holding his hair back, now loose thanks to your actions, let his hair tumble down around you both. Letting your gaze flick over him he looks wild and untamed, the control of his duties forgotten in the pleasure of your connection. Haldir’s gaze is intense and pinpointed on you, the whole world outside forgotten as the two of you are the only ones in your contained universe.

There’s an empty ache inside of you that is desperate for Haldir to fill. Reaching up you cup his face and kiss him with a sizzling hunger that he returns eagerly.

“Take me Marchwarden,” You order him before there is a clash of teeth and tongue between you, a low growl from him answers you. Holding his jaw you see the feral look in his eye as you softly suck on his bottom lip a moment before whispering. “Make me yours Haldir.” Your voice now takes a keening plea to it. The blue of his eyes go dark at your words as he quickly notches his hard cock at your slick entrance. His eyes find yours again as he slowly enters you, making you arch your back and scramble at his shoulders.

There’s always a stretch that accompanies Haldir's ample sized hard dick entering you despite the careful foreplay, the time apart always exasperates it.

Haldir can never look away as he takes you like this, the glassy look that enters your eye as you mouth opens in a silent “o” to take in air. The Marchwardens breath is haggard and harsh through his nose as your tight heat envelopes him, drawing him deeper. He can only grunt your name as he rests his forehead against your own.

You gasp Haldir's name in a way that borders animalistic as your nails claw desperately at his back. Gazing up at your lover you find him watching you still in that unblinking way that should border on unsettling but it only fills you with ease as you know your possessive look matches his own.

As he continues to ease his way into you you can feel the bunched mass of muscle of his shoulders as he holds himself in check. Knowing that he’s having to stop himself from losing complete control with you. Every inch that pushes into you makes you whine at the stretch, the delicious throb as Haldir’s cock nudges into you. You know you’ll feel him for days after this but can’t help yourself.

The groan that rattles out of him as he finally bottoms out in you vibrates through you both as you gasp for breath and bury your face into his neck. There’s a sheen of sweat across his skin, a taste of salt and dirt from his patrol as you flick your tongue out and take a long swipe along his neck and collar bone. His breath catches and Haldir mutters something particularly filthy in his own tongue that makes you giggle.

Pulling him close you nuzzle at his ear and nip at the lobe.

“Welcome home.” You purr in his ear and can't help the wicked grin as Haldir shivers when you punctuate the word by clenching around his hard cock in you.

Haldir rolls his hips once to test your adjustment to him, he knows he’s more than a little well endowed and the fear that he may hurt you is always in the back of his mind. Even now as you cling to him Haldir is conscious of you, your body a safe harbour for him to return to and become whole again. Your words in his ear stir up the fire in his veins. He knows the double meaning of your welcome home. As being one with you like this, connecting as one, is his home.

Haldir can feel the grin against his ear and repays you with a shallow thrust that makes you fall back on the bed and moan loudly.

Blunt nails drag along his shoulder blades and knowing he’ll have your marks on him fills Haldir with a carnal possessory. He gives another thrust and watches in awe as you arch your back again and let out a ragged call of his name. Over and over he draws in and out of you making you squirm and mewl under him. His breath comes quick as he sets a hard pace making sure to hit deep inside you.

Arching your back Haldir hits the spot inside you that makes your eyes roll white at the bolt of pleasure. He leans down and kisses your neck, sucking and worrying the delicate skin at his pulse point. At your whine Haldir runs his tongue over the blooming mark to soothe it. He can feel each shuddering breath that leaves you as Haldir continues a plunging beat, the wet sounds of your bodies coming together sits in the air.

Leaning back Haldir disentangles your leg from his waist so he can lift them higher and hook them over his shoulders. At this angle Haldir is able to slide deeper than you thought possible. Clutching at the bed cover beneath you all you can do is shriek Haldir's name.

“Eru don’t stop!” You plead savouring the fact that he’s finally let go of that control he’s always under.

“Look at me.” Haldir commands and your eyes snap open. “Bain,” He repeats and gives a particular heavy thrust that punches the air from your lungs as your whole body jolts.

“Bain!” He growls loudly watching as your breasts jiggle with each powerful thrust.

“Haldir.” You call and feel your eyes prick with tears, you feel full, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Le melin,” He calls out as he grinds his hips into you. “You take me so well meleth nin.” Haldir praises you in a low throaty tone.

He marvels at the way the sheen of sweat makes you glow in the late afternoon sun, draped in gold hues as you lie under him at his mercy. Your eyes always so bright and full of unbridled adoration for him were distant and lost in a haze of rapturous lust. Gripping your thighs closer to him he picks up the pace as he feels the oncoming wave of his own release but first he needs to feel you, see you come again.

“Touch yourself meleth nin, I need to feel you come around me,” He sees your eyes focus and with a heavy hand release the bed cover to snake a hand down your body. Haldir blinks with his blond lashes, the sweat dripping down his forehead away. Nothing can get in the way of this view. The hiss you release as you start to circle your clit in time with his thrusts is mesmerising.

“Haldir, I’m so close.” You wail and Haldir moves your legs up straight tilting your hips back as your wail tails off into a howl at the steep angle. You didn’t think he could get deeper but Eru you don’t think you’ll ever not feel complete again without him inside you like this.

“That’s it meleth nin, let go.” He calls softly and watches in rapture as your whole body freezes up under him, your free hand in the covers twists the material beneath your grip as you gasp for air and only struggle out a strangled groan.

Haldir drops your legs and lies flat against you as your walls convulse and flutter around his dick. Your legs wrap instinctively around his hips and lock at the ankles to keep him there as he grinds in deep to chase his own climax, crashing his mouth against your own Haldir licks the inside of your mouth as you whimper softly. The punishing tempo of his thrusts boarders on over stimulation and you squirm in his grasp as another wave of an orgasim hit you.

Swearing loudly you cling to your lover as he ground out your name between slams of his hips. The headboard rattled against the wall loudly but you couldn’t comprehend trying to have the mind to wonder if anyone could hear you both.

Haldir buries his face in your neck as his body loses rhythm, his thrusts become erratic as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fill me meleth nin,” You coo with a hoarse voice. Haldir grunts softly and wraps his arms under your back to pull you tight against him. With a shuddering final thrust you feel Haldir’s hot release flood you. The heady groan that erupted from you both shattering the air around you. Clinging to Haldir you savoured the slowing grinding thrusts of his body as he fills you deep with his cum.

His pants echoed your own as Haldir’s breath whispered against your sweat soaked skin. Letting out soft groans Haldir swivelled his hips to grind them against you and you can feel the mixture of both your releases trickle down your thighs. Haldir nuzzles against your neck humming soft words of adoration into your skin as you run your fingers through his long hair.

After a while of basking in each other's embrace Haldir pulls carefully out of you and rolls on to his back beside you. Throwing an arm over your eyes you can’t help the tired smile tugging at your lips. Exhaustion is creeping into your bones and you should really get up to clean yourself down but you’re enjoying the feeling of being thoroughly fucked by the love of your life. Haldir leans over you to kiss your lips softly before pulling back and you feel the bed shift as he gets up. Peeking open an eye you marvel at his naked retreating back and the light swagger as he stalks into the adjoining bathroom.

Letting your eyes flutter close again you hear the soft sound of water and then the tread of Haldir return to the room.

There is a heavy pause in his movements that make you peek from under your arm to see him leaning in the doorway to the bedroom watching you. Standing completely naked, hair tousled and sweat now cooling on his skin you’ve never seen him look more handsome. You throw him a tired smile with which he gives you a cocky smirk knowing how much he’s wrecked you.

“You don’t have to look so smug Marchwarden.” You throw at him and let your arm flop over your eyes again. You can hear his light laugh as he returns to the bed again, the dip below you alerts you to his position.

Opening your eyes you see him prowl up towards you and if you weren't so severely blissed out and exhausted you’d feel inclined to another round but the heavy sleep tugging at your eyes is too powerful. The cold brush of cloth against your inner thighs makes you jump and hiss at the touch though and you lean up slightly to see Haldir wiping down your inner thighs.

He carefully lifts your legs with a loving caress and cleans you up before placing a chaste kiss to your stomach. Looking up at you he takes your breath away with the adoring look in those gorgeous blue eyes. Opening up your arms you call to him to which he readily submits to after dropping the cloth on the ground by the bed.

After settling down together you curl up next to Haldir as he flings an arm around you to hold you close to his chest. Letting your head rest on his shoulder you can feel the ellons soft breathing, kissing the skin there you can see his lips twitch into a smile.

“Welcome home again, Haldir.” You whisper. After a heart beat you feel Haldir roll you both onto your side, your own body starting to protest after the strenuous acts of before. He tucks you into his side as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“It’s good to be home meleth nin.” He answers softly.

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard, @knittastically, @heilith, @sotwk, @middleearthpixie, @asgardianhobbit98, @evenstaredits

#haldir x you #haldir of lorien #haldir fanfiction #haldir x reader #haldir x fem!reader #haldir smut #this elf is in my brain and won't leave

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evis-gossip · 2 years

Text

Thoughts right now: Bucky being in love with a nerd/smart reader.

My mind is all over the place so here are some scenarios for different alternate universes:

Lumberjack!Bucky in awe while you pace from side to side of his cabin’s living room while you explain every Greek myth ever

Biker!Bucky lovesick while you rant faster than his bike about the true meaning behind The Secret History and how it is a masterpiece

Librarian!Bucky (i also imagine chubby!Bucky for librarian) saw you spend hours researching the Minoan civilization because lineal A hasn`t been translated yet and you needed to know why and when you told him how sad it made you it broke his heart

Avenger!Bucky amazed by the energy you radiate while trying to explain the concept of The Black Parade by MCR because it was never a phase, it’s a lifestyle

Mob!Bucky taking you to every bookshop ever just to see the smile on you face when you talk about literature (i have a whole concept for this, but haven’t gathered the courage to work it out)

Chubby!baker!Bucky oh so worried about you when you spent almost five hours straight sitting at his bakery teaching yourself latin to read the Aeneid in original, far too high on caffeine, far too low on real nutrients

Roommate!Bucky cuddling with you on the couch while you read and trying to get you attention for funny businesses but nothing can tear you away from hyperfixating, still he finds you adorable

CEO!Bucky taking you on a romantic trip to Paris and absolutely dazed when instead of giving you a tour of the city you stop and explain the history, art and architecture of every building. Yes, you dragged him for hours on end through Norte Dame

Neighbor!Bucky going feral when he found out you were fluid in any language other than English (he did try to convince you to se it for certain endeavors)

Had to get that out of my chest. I might work on some of them, maybe a drabble or headcanon, idk. If you guys would like me to elaborate on some, my asks are open and I’d live to hear what you guys think.

a Bucky gif as a gift for you

Masterlist

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ticklishfiend · 2 months

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FEEL FREE TO USE THIS PROMPT WITH WHOEVER YOU WANT. WHATEVER YOU WANT. IF YOU WANT TO USE IT. it's horribly evil and i trust you with it:

character a wanting tickles in some way, and character b (who knows about their deal and is totally being evil) picking up on it and character b somehow "forgets" what tickling is and how to do it and needs a little memory boost, convincing character A to explain it to them and tell them exactly what to do in order to get what they want 😌

"where do i put my hands?" / "now what?" / "where else should i try?"

- 🍓

i never finished this and im soooo sorry dude, i fell out of my hyperfixation and the motivation just floated out of my body bruh. anyways, here's the unfinished drabble, i hope u like it anyways!!

Aziraphale shifted in his seat. Crossed his legs, then uncrossed them immediately because it felt wrong. He rubbed his forearms against the couch arms uncomfortably, nails picking at the fabric.

Aziraphale knew why he felt so off. But admitting it feels so improper.

Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on Crowley lounging about on his designated couch spot. Aziraphale waited anxiously for him to notice how off he was acting.

Crowley continued picking at his nails, not even bothering to look up at him. The one time Aziraphale wouldn’t mind a little teasing behavior from Crowley and he’s looking at his hand.

Fine. Fine. He’ll say something, something small to get Crowley jump started. It never takes much to get him going anyways, so Aziraphale will have him in no time.

“Ahem,” Aziraphale fake-coughed, a little obvious but if it works it works. Crowley looked up, brows furrowing at Aziraphale’s tense form, noticing his finger tapping impatiently at the arm.

“You alright?”

Aziraphale gave a small shy smile, not looking Crowley in the eyes. His own nails seemed of more interest all of a sudden. “Just feeling…a bit antsy, is all, dear.”

“Oh,” Crowley squinted his eyes, suspicious and curious. “Any particular reason you’re so jittery? Got ants in your pants, angel?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

They were both quiet for a moment. A staring contest. Well, Crowley stared him down at least. Azirphale actually did everything but stare.

Crowley hummed, going back to his hand.

Are you actually joking.

Aziraphale huffed. Okay fine. Again. Maybe Crowley’s just a bit slow today. Yeah, that’s it. He needs a more obvious push. It’s more embarrassing, sure, but the metaphorical ants in his pants feel like they're crawling around faster now and he’s gonna need some relief soon.

So Aziraphale took a big, long stretch. His arms raised above him, a satisfying groan just to call Crowley’s attention to his very exposed and vulnerable torso. And, of course, this did catch Crowley’s eye.

He chuckled. Bingo.

“Can’t keep still today, can ya?” Crowley sat on the edge of his seat, elbow propped on his knee to rest his chin in his hand. He watched Aziraphale settle back into his chair with a grin. “Anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Aziraphale felt himself will back a blush. “Oh, well, I…I’m not sure. Anything you’d like, I’m sure I’d appreciate.”

“Mm…” Crowley hummed with a smile, eyes trailing Aziraphale up and down. Aziraphale was having a really hard time looking at him right now, it was very cute. “Seriously, angel, I’m not sure how to help you here. I cooould…make you some tea? Maybe grab some cakes by the coffee shop?” Crowley really couldn’t keep that cheeky grin off his face for a second, could he? “But maybe you can throw some suggestions out since my mind is drawing quite the blank.”

Aziraphale truly couldn’t tell if he was being serious. Was that smile devious or just him offering a nice gesture? Crowley had his sweet moments, if anyone would know it’d be Aziraphale, but was this that?? It didn’t really feel like it, but he didn’t want to flub.

“Maybe we could figure something out easier if I…sat next to you?”

“Brilliant idea,” Crowley sat back against the cushion, patting the spot next to him. “Make yourself comfy.”

Aziraphale threw a tight smile his way as he got up, feeling very peculiar about this whole thing. Usually Crowley jumped right into this, eager to get his hands on him and make Aziraphale cackle. Now Crowley’s acting like he’s never tickled him a day in his life.

Aziraphale hopes his brain is just working slower today than usual. The alternative is something he’s becoming very wary over.

Finally seated, Aziraphale sat up straight as a board. He knew exactly what he was doing, too. If he looks too tense or stiff, Crowley always finds the excuse to tickle him into relaxing. Really, Aziraphale can be quite the schemer when he wants to be.

Crowley just watched him for a moment, taking notice each time Aziraphale nervously glanced his way. Crowley reached and gave Aziraphale a soothing rub up and down his back, not stopping when Aziraphale tried flinching away.

“Wow, you’re tense. Really, I’d love to help, but you are funny about your massages,” Crowley purred, giving Aziraphale a pat on the back before leaning back.

Aziraphale ringed his hands. “Ah, yes well, that’s only sometimes,” he bluffed, trying to find any excuse to get Crowley’s dexterous fingers on him right this second. “I don’t think a massage sounds so bad right now, actually.”

Crowley chuckled, “Really? Usually you get all huffy when I offer you one of my famous massages,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder, which would’ve felt affirming if not for the teasy tone lacing Crowley’s voice right now. What a devil.

Aziraphale did get huffy at that. “Well that’s because you always…” he waved his hand about in the air as if it would jog Crowley’s memory of all the very tickly massages he’s given Aziraphale in the past. Innocent rubs and firm presses to start, but eventually Crowley always trailed a little too close to Aziraphale’s sides, a little too gently, everything was always a little too much. Admittedly, Aziraphale thought that sounded perfect for his current mood.

But Crowley just quirked his head, like a confused puppy. “What are you on about?” he pressed, before physically adjusting Aziraphale to lay down on the couch, back up. Crowley straddled his waist, “I always what?”

Aziraphale’s face felt like it could burn through the pillow he hid himself in. “You do know. Stop messing about.”

“Angel, if I knew what you were talking about…” Crowley leaned his face close into Aziraphale’s exposed ear, giving a hard press into his shoulder blades. His breath tickled as he whispered, “…don’t you think I’d be doing it right now?”

Oh for heaven's sake. Aziraphale felt he could bust through the seams with how on edge he was at the moment. He felt squirmier, hands pressing into spots in an extremely un-ticklish manner that made him want to whine. This is so unfair. Crowley knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s figured out a way to make Aziraphale squirm more than usual and he is not taking it for granted.

Aziraphale’s not sure whether to be excited and thankful, or hit him over the head with his pillow.

“You’re being cruel,” Aziraphale muttered into his pillow, fingers squeezing the cushion in anticipation. Maybe he’d start when Aziraphale least expected? Maybe Crowley’s getting impatient too? But he couldn’t know any of this for sure, so he had to wait, and isn’t that just the most internally ticklish feeling there was?

“Cruel? I’m giving you a massage, for Satan’s sake. I think if anyone is being cruel it’s you. I know you’ve got something you won’t tell me. I can hear those cogs turning in that pretty little head of yours,” Crowley gave his scalp a quick scratch, chuckling at the flinch that came with it. “Jumpy, are we?”

“Yes, okay? Just get on with it, please. I don’t think I can take much more of this. I’ve gone red, Crowley,” he whined like Crowley had made his body malfunction. He was getting a little desperate now. If his very obvious advances won’t work, asking must do this trick. It had to.

But Crowley hummed again. And Aziraphale knew he wasn’t finished with his little tricks.

“Gonna need you to be a little more specific. I’m a bit lost, you see,” Crowley’s hands trailed to hold Aziraphale’s sides firmly. Bastard.

Aziraphale exhaled deeply into the pillow, close to pulling his hair out. “I would like you to…tickle me. Please.”

There was a hesitant silence, like Crowley was pondering his next move and Aziraphale was waiting with bated breath for it.

Then Crowley spoke. And Azirphale almost wished he hadn’t of.

“What’s tickling, dear?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“Nooo,” Aziraphale groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes, beyond flustered and frustrated.

“What? I’m not allowed to ask questions now?”

“It seems like asking questions is all you’re doing, actually…”

“I can’t do what you want if I don’t even know the definition,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could hear the grin in his voice. Sometimes Aziraphale forgets he chooses to room with an actual, real-life demon. “You gettin’ the picture?”

“Cruel. Cruel, wily serpent. Hell spawn, you are.”

“Yeah, don’t wear it out, angel,” Crowley’s hands squeezed a very non-ticklish squeeze against Aziraphale’s sides, as if just to remind him of where he was above him. “Let's get you flipped over. Can't rightly tell me about this whole tickling thing if your face is smushed into the cushion.”

“Hhhnn,” Aziraphale groaned through a whiny giggle, adjusting under Crowley to lay on his back. Having his flushed face now on display is not helping whatsoever.

Crowley smiled down at him, and Aziraphale swore he saw a forked tongue peek through his sharp teeth. Evil thing. “Why hello there.”

“Hush.”

“I don’t get a hello back?”

“Not after all this teasing you don’t,” Aziraphale would cross his arms if he could, but a certain someone was blocking him with his knees.

“Teasing? Me? I think you really have lost your marbles, dear. I would do no such thing,” Crowley lied through his teeth, settling on Aziraphale’s waist. His hands drifted back to Aziraphale’s sides, firm all the same. “Now…about this tickling thing?”

“You know what tickling is, Crowley. Stop messing with me,” Aziraphale stood his ground, though he found it hard to look Crowley in the eyes right now. Something about those pointed irises and the yellow surrounding them felt truly piercing at the moment. Sharp enough to cut through Aziraphale’s wavering boldness.

“Really, darling, I haven’t a clue. But I'd love to find out if you’d be so inclined?” Crowley caressed Aziraphale’s sides, seemingly to comfort, but the angel nearly shivered. “Especially since you’re so eager for me to figure it out, hm?”

Aziraphale huffed. He’s been huffy since this whole thing started, but now that he can sense what he really wants is just over the horizon, breathing is becoming something of a manual task. “Is this really what it’s going to take?”

Crowley smiled a wicked smile. “I think you’ll find I’m a very fast learner.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, if only to distract himself from that fluttery feeling in his belly at those words.

Closing his eyes and taking a sigh, Aziraphale was ready to get this over with. “T-tickling is…it’s, well…we created it together many, many years ago. If you touch certain parts of the body, my body, I’ll laugh. Involuntarily. So…” Aziraphale coughed awkwardly. “So there. That’s tickling.”

Crowley snickered. Azirphale shoved at his face playfully, his own face feeling warmed by the second. “You’re terrible, Crowley.”

“Aren’t I just?” Crowley said, taking Aziraphale’s hand and pushing it down against the cushion. “So…parts of your body, huh? Wanna be more specific about that?”

“Goodness gracious, you are insufferable,” Aziraphale chuckled through a whine, twisting the wrist in Crowley’s hand. “My…well, my sides are pretty sensitive.”

“Sensitive…you mean…?”

“Ticklish, yes, ticklish! Crowley I swear if you d—dohohoahaha-! C-Crohohowley!” Azirpahale giggled happily when he felt precise fingers finally digging into his sides.

“I think you deserve a little reward for your knowledge,” Crowley grinned, his pinching endless on Aziraphale’s sides. He basked in those silly giggles, happy his little game is over so he can finally hear his angel sing

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens tickling #good omens #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #ask #prompt

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