#the way it cuts to the twins n bee and the twins are scared and angry and terrified for their family and want to help but CANT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsanerdlife · 4 years

Text

Come Back to Me 6/20

Pairing: Clint Barton x Coulson’s Daughter!Reader

Warning: Angst. Drama. Struggles. Violence? Lying. Anger. Soul shattering ache in your chest. Self hate. Doubts. Plot twist!

Everything slips right through his hands in the blink of an eye. Clint Barton can fix anything. World Ending? Save it. Bad Guys? Take ‘em out. The love of his life, his soul mate, forgetting their whole relationship? Fight even harder. She might not remember what they have. She might be confused, lost, scared, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if she thinks he’ll give up that easy. He’ll do anything he has too. Help her remember, or make her fall in love with him, all over again. But what if it’s not him that she’s getting close to this time? What if it’s a losing fight? Is he supposed to watch the woman he loves, fall for someone else? Like hell, is he letting that happen.

Tag List Is Open!!

“How’s my girl?” Phil stops in front of them.

“We don’t know.” Clint, wipes at his eyes.

“Seeing it from a distance?” Phil nods, looking around.

“Couldn’t breathe.” He admits.

“Well the reports I’ve read on her, she’s a fighter. Taking out a dictator with a headband, I was right. She belongs here.” Phil puts out his hand. Clint takes it, letting himself be pulled up. Nat stands with him.

“I knew I loved her that day.” Clint nods, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“I knew you’d take good care of her Barton. That’s why I never told anyone else about her.” Phil pats him on the shoulder.

“I didn’t take very good care of her, Sir. She’s in the hospital currently.” He struggles to swallow.

“Tell me what happened.” Phil nods, the three of them heading for the elevator.

Nat quickly explains what happened to Phil’s daughter. That has her lying in a hospital bed with multiple doctors trying to fix her. When they arrive, Wanda jumps up, hugging Phil. Sam shakes his head, the two of them exchange a nod.

“We were just going to page you. Strange is coming.” Sam’s eyes cut to the opening.

“Barton.” Strange moves towards them, Palmer at his side.

“Strange, Agent Coulson. Her father.” Barton explains.

“This is,” Strange looks at Palmer.

“Christina Palmer. I know. I did my own checking. No offense.” Phil nods.

“Of course.” Strange nods.

“Y/N has some serious swelling where her head made contact with the Vibranium. If it gets worse, we’re going to have to go in a relieve the pressure. So far it’s not so bad we need too.” Palmer explains.

“So what do you do?” Barton asks.

“We put her in a medical coma. Till the swelling comes down, she’ll stay that way. Then we’ll take her out of the medical coma and let her wake up naturally.” Palmer nods.

“What are the chances.” Nat grabs his hand tightly.

“She could wake up perfectly fine.” Strange offers.

“Or.” Phil watches them.

“Or she could wake up with some form of amnesia.” Palmer admits. “We won’t know the extent of it, till she wakes up.” Her body language gave off how sympathetic she is, but she kept her face professional.

“Holy fuck.” Clint drags his hand over his face. “She might, what, not remember anything?” His voice cracks.

“She might not remember the fight. Or a few weeks.” Palmer explains.

“What’s the worse?” Nat wonders.

“She might not remember years. She might not remember herself.” Strange presses his lips together.

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. Praying that this was just a bad nightmare he could wake up from. But when his eyes open again, it’s all the same.

“How long till she wakes up?” Wanda sniffs.

“Can be anywhere from days to weeks.” Sam answers.

“He’s right, it’s up to her.” Palmer agrees.

“Can we sit with her?” Phil asks, his own will wavering. They all looked the same, blood shot eyes, tear stained cheeks. Praying, willing, begging for her to just wake up.

“Of course. I’ll stay here, monitoring her.” Strange assures them. “I’ll bring Christina here if anything changes.” They nod, letting Strange lead them towards the room they placed her in.

-------

“Anything?” Tony stands in the open sliding door of Y/N’s hospital room.

“No.” He shakes his head. Sitting in the chair next to her bed. Phil was attempting to catch some sleep on the little couch off to the side of the room.

“We’re running tests, looking for any way we can fix her. Just in case.” Tony nods.

“Thank you.” Clint nods, leaning forward. Forearms braced on the edge of her bed, holding her hand in his.

“Barton.” Tony shifts, looking unsure. “There’s a solution. We could use, if she doesn’t wake up.” He speaks for more to Y/N than him.

“What?” He looks up.

“The serum.” Tony breathes. Goosebumps ripples across his skin. “Between the bicep twins, there’s enough there. We could replicate it. But only if you and Coulson give us the go ahead.”

“Run the tests.” Phil speaks from behind him. “If she’s there, save her Stark.” Clint looks back. Phil is sitting up, staring at them.

“If it’ll save her. Do what you have too.” Clint nods, looking back at Tony. He nods, pushing off the open door. He strolls into the room, leaning down he presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“We’re going to bring someone in. To take a look.” Tony looks at them.

“What do you mean?”

“His name is Charles. He’s a mutant. He can read minds. We need to know what’s going on inside there before we decide to inject her.” Tony nods.

“I’ve heard of him.” Phil is standing next to him now.

“Runs the Mutant school, outside of New York. Peter contacted him. He offered to help us.”

“He’ll be able to tell us, what state she’s in. Inside?” Clint wonders.

“Yes.” Tony nods.

“When will he be here?”

“In the morning.”

“The serum.” Clint looks up at Phil. “Can it, would it really bring her back?”

“It saved Barnes. It can do the same for her.” Phil nods.

“I can, I can help.” Wanda steps into the room. Pink eyed and cheeks.

“Help?” Phil looks at her.

“I can help keep her comfortable.” Wanda offers. “I have the ability to replay her best dreams.”

“I didn’t know.” Clint’s brow pulls in.

“Y/N’s been helping me. I wanted to learn to do good with it.” She looks down at her hands.

“Please.” Phil nods. Tony steps back, letting Wanda move in next to Y/N. Her fingers dance softly over Y/N’s wrapped forehead, red sparks trail, disappearing.

“Dream sweet girl, you’ve earned it.” Wanda whispers.

“Do you know what she’s dreaming?” Clint wonders. Wanda’s eyes sink closed.

“It’s New York, city view at night.” She smiles softly. There’s so much sadness in it.

“Wanda?” Clint looks up. She glances over. “Like from the tower? Like the landing pad at night?” He wonders.

“Yeah. Why?” Wanda’s head tips.

“I took her there after our second date.” He squeezes Y/N’s hand.

“She remembers you.” Wanda’s eyes well up again.

“It’s a start.” He nods, a small blossom of hope in his chest.

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

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @irepeldirt @jordan-ia @jcc04220 @dumblani @nishanki1 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @rogvewitch @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sexyvixen7 @doctoranon @queentoffee @abschaffer2 @tony-stank3 @tomhardy41 @bookluver01 @drayshadow @teller258316 @wandressfox @cutekittybast @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @thelostallycat @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @queenkrissy11 @shield-agent78 @elite4cekalyma @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @scooby-doodoo @chanelmadrid13 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @itzmegaaaaaaan @optimistic-babes @elizabethaellison @rainbowkisses31 @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @thatpeachybandgirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @eggingamazinglove @deathofmissjackson @awkwardfangirl2014 @muffininahandbasket @queenoftheunderdark @laneygthememequeen @writingaworldofmyown @death-unbecomes-you @shann-the-artist-moon @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mcuwillbethedeathofme @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @sfreeborn @tanelle83 @coley0823 @xxloki81xx @boltsgirl919 @carissime72 @katpatrova17 @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @badassbeckettswan @fallinginlovewithqueue @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

CBTM: @lakamaa12 @alina-barnes @one-of-castiels @notyourtypicalrose @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks @jamesbarnesappreciationclub

#Marvel #Clint Barton x Reader #Avengers #Clint x Reader #Come Back to Me #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Hawkeye Series

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selfwriting-sugarquills · 4 years

Text

Heat in the rain pt. 1

Description: Y/N lost a lot of things in the war, and when she’s forced to leave her childhood home she heads to the first place she can think of: The flat of Fred and George Weasley, so what if she hasn’t spoken to her best friends in months, if they can’t help her now, then what are friends for?

Pairings: Eventual George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Brief mentionings of death, injuries, eventual angst.

Word count: 2104

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 final |

(This is my first imagine for the Weasley twins, I hope you enjoy it, be sure to keep an eye out for the next chapter! xxx)

George Weasley finished up closing the shop at about six o’clock pm on a Friday night. He ascended the stairs leading up to his and Fred’s apartment slowly, already loosening his tie, exhausted from another week of sales. He loved his business (which wasn’t hard to do, considering how well it was going) but he had to admit that it had been hard coming out on the other side of war only to waltz into a joke shop and sell people laughs for a living. This he’d never say out loud, not wanting to sound ungrateful, his job was, after all, a pretty easy one; he was literally living his dream.

Opening the door to the apartment he stepped inside, stepped out of his shoes and shrug off his suit jacket. Walking into the kitchen he was met by his twin, who had gone upstairs ten minutes earlier, standing in the kitchen, and opened beer beside him as he was reading a letter, which he held in his right hand, whilst his left swung his wand lazily, making pots and pans fly around behind him, with a small flick of the wand, a knife floated towards a cutting board with vegetables on it, where it started chopping away.

“Hey,” George said simply, as he went past the kitchen and into his bedroom on the right side of the apartment, hanging up his jacket in his closet and beginning to change into some more comfortable clothes as Fred yelled a ‘hi’ back at him from the kitchen, from where the unmistakable sound of fried garlic and onion was seeping into George’s bedroom. After pulling a sweater over his head, he stretched his neck, noticing how his muscles in his shoulders tensed in protest. He went into the kitchen and found himself a beer, feeling he deserved it as it was Friday and since he was exhausted. As he opened the bottle, Fred put down the parchment and picked his own bottle up and took a swig of it, still eyeing the letter.

“Who’s that from?” George asked, sitting himself down on one of the barstools they’d put at the other side of the kitchen counter,

“Mum,” Said Fred, “She’s asking us if we’re coming to spend Christmas at the Burrow,” He smiled, “As if we have any choice,” He added, chuckling a little, “Charlie apparently said he’d be there, so did Bill, Fleur and Percy, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ron and co. showed up as well either.” He said, George glanced at the parchment noting how much was written on it, there was a second page below it, “And she decided to ask us in every language or what?” He asked, nodding at the letter, Fred glanced down at it as well then broke out into a snicker, “No, the rest is her being way too worried about my leg, honestly, she’s acting as if it will just fall right off any second!” He said, George finished taking a sip from his bottle then asked: “How is your leg?”

Fred spread out his arms a little and stepped away from the counter, “Well right now it’s going pretty great if I’m being honest,” He said, “Reckon I’ll be ready to get rid of the old walking stick by new year’s.” He picked up the walking stick, which had been leaning on the counter beside him,

“You know, maybe mum’s right to be worried about you,” George began a little hesitantly, “You did go back to work really soon, and you’re not exactly one to take breaks once you’re working,”

Fred’s smile broadened a little, “I appreciate the nurturing advice, mate, but you’re honestly beginning to sound like Hermione,”

“All I’m saying is that it’s better that you take extra care now, so you won’t have to continue caring for the rest of your life, Fred,” George said, putting down his beer on the counter, “If you’d gotten out of that explosion with a twisted ankle then yeah, there would be no need to be cautious but if it hadn’t been for Percy pushing you out the way you would be lucky if you’d even had a leg by now-”

Fred looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted when a rapid knocking could be heard on the door, looking back at his twin, the two men stared at each other, as if trying to figure out if the other had invited guests without telling the other, when neither of them explained they looked back to the door, where another set of hard knocks could be heard.

***

You’d gone to the first place that came to mind, walking hastily through the thick downpour, you’d headed down Diagon Alley, bee-lining towards the unmistakable facade of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

You had had the longest week imaginable, no, the longest five months. You’d lost your parents in the war, strike one, then you’d nearly gotten yourself recklessly killed in the battle of Hogwarts, spent two weeks recovering in st. Mungo’s where you’d done nothing more than mourn the loss of the classmates and friends you’d lost, strike two, then your best friends had slowly but surely drifted away from you, the twins who used to be inseparable from you had first gone days, then weeks, then months without even writing to you, and you, being buried in paperwork after the death of your parents had been to busy to try and contact them, strike three. And so it had continued, another horrible thing after another came raining down upon you, and now, what seemed like strike one thousand had hit you, you’d been booted from your childhood home, not that you’d expected to be able to keep it, as you had no job and little to no inheritance from your parents, but when you’d been given the two week notice you’d panicked, you’d taken all your most important belongings, contacted the ministry and told them they were free to sell the rest and bolted.

Was it a rational thing to do? No, but it had been a very long time since you’d been rational. Perhaps it was just because you were already swimming in a pool of self-loathing but the extreme rain that had hit you as you’d excited your, now former, home had felt like a teeny tiny strike one-thousand-and-one. So naturally, you were about as exhausted as a human could be when you reached the shop belonging to the two redheaded twins. You stopped outside the door leading up to the apartment. A small pang of uncertainty hit you; what exactly were you doing? You hadn’t spoken to either of them in what seemed like forever, maybe there was a reason for that? maybe they didn’t want to see you? Your hand, which had been outstretched towards the green door handle, fell to your side as a feeling of foolishness washed over you, rain trickled down your cheeks and nose as you stood in the darkness, unsure if you ever wanted to go inside, then a lightning struck down only twenty or so metres down the street from you, followed by a deafening bang. You shrieked in shock and quickly entered the hallway, bolting up the stairs in a cascade of murmured ‘nope’s. Screw if you hadn’t seen the twins in months, they had been your best friends since your fourth year and you needed their help, whether they knew it or not.

“besides,” You murmured to yourself as you reached the top of the stairs and stood outside the front door, “What kind of best friends don’t even write to ask how you are after your parents die?”

***

Fred and George approached the door with a sliver of uncertainty in their step,

“Who on earth comes knocking uninvited?” Fred asked in a low voice, beer still in his hand,

“Maybe it’s someone trying to break in?”

“Nonsense, why would a thief try to knock on the door before breaking in?”

“I read it in one of those articles mum send us, y’know, the one with the ten handy things to know about home security when you’re a first time owner?”

“Seriously, George, I’m starting to worry that you and Hermione may have switched bodies accidentally.”

And with that, Fred unlocked the door and swung it open, revealing an absolutely drenched Y/n. Blinking, the twins stared at their old friend without saying anything for a while. Y/n, too scared of how the twins might react, refrained from saying anything either,

“Y/n,” George started, his mouth slightly ajar in shock, “You look absolutely,”

“Frozen!” Fred finished his brother’s sentence and opened the door a bit more,

“Come in before you flood the stairway,” he said.

“Thanks,” Y/n said, stepping inside, dripping, “sorry,” she added, when she looked at the drops hitting the floor. Arms crossed, she stood there in the entrance, shivering and looking on the verge of tears, George felt a surge of empathy fill his insides, and as he caught his twin’s eyes he knew Fred felt the same,

“You just wait here a moment,” Fred said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’ll get you a towel.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before he disappeared further into the flat. There was a small moment of silence between you and George,

“It’s uh- really good to see you,” George uttered finally, shifting his weight, “It’s been,” He haltered as he counted in his mind, embarrassed when he couldn’t place the last time he’d seen you face to face,

“Five months?” You said, teeth clappering, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile when his eyes widened but he didn’t get to say anymore because Fred returned, handing you a small towel, he stepped behind you and wrapped a larger towel around your shoulders,

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Fred asked, rubbing your arms to warm you up, the comforting touch from your best friend and thinking about your past few months you started to well up, and before you knew it you were bawling, explaining in between sobs about everything that had happened to you, the twins had shared a worried look as you broke into tears and had quickly moved to sit you down on their couch,

“Ah-and n-now I have no home, no jo-ob and no parents!” You sobbed, hiding your face with one hand, using the other hand to hold onto the towel,

“And my best-f-friends won’t even write to me anymo-mo-more!” You added, letting out another sob, Fred and George shared a rather guilty look,

“We’re really sorry Y/n,” George said, as you continued to cry, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear before placing his hand on your shoulder, Fred copied him: “Yeah, we’ve been a pair of right foul gits,” He said, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably as you didn’t answer, just made a small sound as you nodded, still hiding your face in your hand,

“But I promise that we didn’t think about it, we would’ve written to you, but it’s been so busy since we re-opened,” Fred tried,

“That’s n-not an excuse,” You said, wiping your face and meeting his chocolate coloured eyes, he took your hand, “I know that,” he said, you looked down, there was no point being angry,

“I know.”

Silence filled the flat, only the sound of rain hitting the windows and your sniffles could be heard.

“Listen, I’m really sorry to be bursting like this,” You started,

“Don’t worry about it,” George cut you off, “We’d much rather you burst in here, than stay out in the pouring rain, right Fred?” He said, looking at his twin, who nodded, “Absolutely, besides, letting you crash here is the least we can do, seeing as we’ve accidentally abandoned you,” He chuckled a little, and his laugh was contagious as always, you smiled a little,

“You don’t have any clothes I could borrow, do you?” you asked, “My clothes are still sort of,” You paused, “Wet.” You chuckled, Fred and George both grinned, “Say no more,” Fred said, standing up, George following suit, “Wait here!” George said before they both scattered into their rooms to find you some clothes to wear, picking out their warmest sweaters and softest sweatpants, whilst you sat there in their warm flat, the smell of food enrobing you, you noticed. Smiling to yourself, you thought to yourself how easy it was to talk to the twins even after months of silence.

#weasley twins #Fred Weasley #George Weasley #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins x reader #weasleys' wizard wheezes #fred lives #fight me #fred weasley lives #fluff

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Note

I loved the bee reacting to hurt reader. Please do one with prowl but like criminal Reader is “ oh she’s HURT hurt” I wanna see a desperate and terrified Prowl 👀

summary: barricade kidnaps charlie & otis. you get involved in a chase. it doesn’t end well.pairing: idw!prowl x criminal!reader, 80′s!movieverserating: t for some car accident themes! a/n: enjoy some pain!

It’s hard to scare Prowl.

He’s had a high bounty on his helm for as long as he can remember – as a high-ranking member of Autobot High Command, they’ve wanted him dead as long as they’ve wanted Optimus.

He’s had his run-ins with death – he’s come inches from being off-lined more times than he can count. But, somehow, through millions of years of war, the Autobot Second-in-Command has survived. And, after it all? Stead-fast and unwavering.

You’re no different, in a lot of ways – you’re hard to scare. You’ve lived a life full of the dangers of high risk; you’ve lost plenty of friends, lost plenty of parts of yourself in your rise to adulthood on the streets. You’ve fended for yourself. You’ve lived a hard life.

The Junkyard is frantic the night you get a panicked call from Prowl.

He’s screaming over the line – vocal processor cracking. The bad cop facade is broken in exchange for fear. You clutch the landline so tight, you nearly snap it in half.

“They have Charlie – they have the fragging kids!”

They know it’s Barricade – they know the Decepticon had snagged Charlie and Otis from their home. They know he’s on the move. They know they’re trying to barter – but you don’t know that.

You don’t even know there’s a Decepticon pulling up behind you until you see the frantic face of Otis in the back cage. A breath leaves your chest; you can see them screaming, waving their hands.

Telling you to run.

Your bike roars alive under you, boots kicking it into drive and wrists cranking the handles back. You peel out, leaving the Decepticon in a hail of smoke, dirt and rocks. You fly into a scream of 66 mph in less than a blink, bike tearing down the stretch as the wail of sirens follows you.

Barricade knows who you are – he can smell Prowl all over you from your spot ahead of him on the road. There’s a moment of disgust that fleets through the Decepticon’s processor. He wonders if you’re some sort of pet.

“Pull over.”

His speakers announce it – his voice is cutting. A low garbled threat.

You raise one arm, middle finger to the sky as you lean forward on your bike and begin to duck onto the off-ramp. You’re leading him away, away from the scarcity of the highway and into the middle of Brighton Falls – a transformation here will draw a crowd, will draw Sector 7. You trust he knows that.

Barricade does.

“Son of a bitch.”

He floors it, cutting you off in the emergency lane. Your bike bumps his hood, hand planting fast to balance yourself. Charlie connects gaze with you in the back seat – and in anger, you land a hard punch on the hood. Your boot hits the front bumper, pulling the delicate frame back with vengeance.

That hurts.

Barricade roars.

You duck hard and fast into the traffic of the rush hour, bike wheels peeling underneath you as you nearly clip a mirror. In your rear-view, you see the cars begin to part for the Decepticon police cruiser – eyes following the pursuit with wonder and amazement.

That’s when you see them on the bridge. The glint of yellow and red.

The twins.

The next exit is to the ironwork’s yard, discarded after a fire ten years ago – so you weave through the traffic and leap onto that on-ramp, head swiveling to catch Sides and Sunny on the bridge. Their engines roar, both of them peeling in the direction of you and Barricade.

And, then, you feel it.

A jarring hit – your heart stops before you can brace for it.

You’re flying over the hood of the jet-black SUV, bike going from 60 to 0 – and the impact? It’s so hard you don’t remember it. You don’t remember the burn of the road under your sides. You don’t remember the impact that shatters your helmet’s visor. You don’t remember not being able to breath – you don’t… remember it happening.

You look horrible, crumpled on the pavement with deep gashes covering your legs and knees and elbows and wrists. Your helmet’s visor is shattered, jeans and t-shirt torn to shreds. A few feet away, your motorbike lay twisted and totaled.

When you peel your eyes open, when your lungs kick awake, you’re in the back of an ambulance.

You groan, moving to press yourself up onto your elbows. But, a gentle hand presses you back down to the stretcher. You blink, hand moving to push away the oxygen mask strapped to your face.

Charlie and Otis.

The twins.

Barricade.

You make a sound, something panicked and worried, and the paramedic – an older man with gentle eyes – says something. You don’t know what. Your chest is on fire and you can’t breathe and you need Prowl.

When you wake up, the roof of the ambulance isn’t there. It’s a different roof.

There are voices.

You pulls your eyes open, again and again, trying to wake yourself up – gradually the hike of the heart rate monitor silences the voices in the room.

Sally Watson is by your side in a flash.

You’ve never been so happy to see her.

“Mrs. Watson –”

“Shh,” she coos, “You’re alright, you’re fine, you’re in Mercy Bay.”

Mercy Bay. You’re still in Brighton? You blink again, swallowing and speaking slowly. Everything feels groggy. You exhale, blinking down. There’s a cast on your leg. You can see bandages on your arms.

It rushes back to you.

Panic rises. “Prowl.”

It’s the first thing you say. “Where’s Prowl? He’s – Where…? I’m… Does he know I’m –”

The thought that he’s scared, that he’s alone – it breaks your heart.

You can’t help the tears that begin to rush over your cheeks. You can’t help the fear in your chest and the hiccup of worry that fills your lungs. Sally coos, running a hand through your hair. She quiets you, telling you he’s coming – and a minute later he’s throwing himself through the doors of the hospital room like his life depends on it.

“Primus –”

“Prowl –”

He’s so gentle, so slow, you nearly think it’s not him. The hands of his holoform clutch at your cheeks, lips dipping to the slope of your nose and the crease in your brow and he’s wiping away the tears that won’t stop. He replaces Sally at your bedside, voice low and quiet.

“I’m here,” he breathes, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

You hiccup, fingers looping with his as he settles into the seat by the bed. He looks tired, and you figure that his holoform is reflecting his own state of mind – he’s got dark circles under his eyes and a jaw scratchy with stubble.

“Charlie – is… and Otis –”

“They’re fine,” Prowl says, “You – you were plowed down by Crankcase. Another Decepticon. But, we cornered them both. You slowed them down.”

You exhale. Relief floods your chest. Prowl’s still placing kisses along your knuckles, hand knotting itself in the mess of hair strewn about the pillows in the bed.

“Never do that again.”

#prowl imagine #idw!prowl x reader #prowl x reader #transformers imagine #Anonymous

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gotatext · 5 years

Text

yo, im not gonna lie guys, im super drunk, so this bio is like.... completely ocpy and pasted but;.... pls plot with me..... im so excited to bring this baby here.... i feel it is the perfect place to write her and i hven’t had the chance to in so long ..... love me..... and greta........ please im so excited this is back, last time i played jack..... n willow??? i think....... maybe archie too...... dont even remember...... who i fuckin played..... but i was here...... and queer..... loud..... and proud..... god this dumb bitch needs to sleep.....

GRETA O'DRISCOLL

20. born in marfa, texas. luvs wearing gingham print dresses and cowboy boots. vert into art and pornography, and particularly the combination of the two. wants to do a PHD on gender studies and female autonomy in porn.

( kristine froseth | she / her | cisfemale ) hey, you hear ( young lady, you’re scaring me by ron gallo ) playing over on the ( rv lot ) ? that’s where ( greta o'driscoll ) lives! i heard they moved in from ( marfa, texas ) exactly ( four months ) ago. they’re very ( zealous ) but also pretty ( erratic ). maybe that’s why davie keeps calling them the ( libertine ). starlit is full of people, but this ( 20 ) year old is really going to liven things up around here! ( nora | 23 | she / her | gmt )

personality: easy-going, deceptive, manipulative, self-reliant, profound, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent unmotivated, self-corrupting, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring.

likes: art, music, philosophy, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, fish and chips on the beach, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, DJ sets, magnolias.

dislikes: bananas, coffee, mental mathematics, children, misogyny, the imaginary future, literature, Wes Anderson films

muse tag

aesthetics: a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

cliffsnotes on biography

- she’s called greta (under witness protection), and she’s a serial dater. she’s incredibly restless and doesn’t settle. before she came to seattle, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. born into a single-parent house with two older sisters so always surrounded by women and as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention - every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result everyone from her past views her as a completely different person depending on when she met them. - she’s been involved in a series of destructive relationships because when people discover she’s not who she pretends to be she often gets explosive and defensive. - (tw gun) she’s now under witness protection and moved to connecticut because she shot a previous boyfriend in self-defence and his family are trying to have her done for murder, but she got tired of being moitored so is now even on the run from the police / her faked identity. - easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be entralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her - big into sports. big into gender politics. big into art. does a lot of art installation pieces to do with female and queer bodies. massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune. big fan of the honey bee.

full biography

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your bosom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and daredevils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six-pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three-hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty-five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wildfire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you make your name as a downtown singer while he foots the bill with pills. they have a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you live like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self-defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to vegas where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#starlit:intro #starlit:ooc #pls plot w me im going 2 sleep but.... will reply tomorrow #spam me with ideas i LIVE for that shit x #⥂ greta o'driscoll. ╱ musings.

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a-pitifulchild · 5 years

Text

Thirty years ago

A/n: so it's just a little. Thing explaining how did professor Hidgens got to the conclusion that the world will become a musical. I made him have a twin because i wanted too. Enjoy.

~1988~

Professor Hidgens sat in his office. As he sat there, he stared at the wall, thinking of this new theory he had. That the world would become a musical. He wanted to share this with someone, but he knew no one would believe him. He kept trying to think of a way this would happen - crazy actor inventing the technology such a think would take? dead musical starts rising from their graves? Demons? Aliens invading minds? So many ways, yet so little sense. After a week of debating on the subject, he came to the conclusion this would happen in 30 years from that exact day. He wrote in his journal the reminder. According to his calculations, he'll need 27 years to stock up on all the bear assencials - food, water, music records, booz.

A knock on the door cut off his train of thoughts. “Henry!” A 25 year old girl smiled at him. She had the same blue eyes he had, and same black hair as well. “Hope” he noded at her. He loved his twin, he really did, but sometimes she showed up at the worst moments. “I got you something!” She smiled at him, ignoring his cold tone. “And that'll be…” he asked, getting up. “These!” She said, exited, waving with two pices of paper in her hands. “it's two tickets to “Into The Woods”! The touring production is coming to the Starlight theater! I would love to come with you, but if want to give the second ticket to someone else--” the excitement in her voice seemed to annoyed her twin brother, as he cut her off. “Hope, please. My musical theater days are over. You should go with, uh, what’s-her-face, that friend of yours? Carrie? Marry?-” “Henry!” she called, and he stopped talking. “What?” he asked. “I want to go with you. The fact you are a professor doesn't mean you can't like musicals. It's your true passion, Henry, and i'm not going to sit and watch you force yourself out of this. So you're coming with me, okay?” She said, annoyed. Her twin was a stubborn, but he had common sense, he knew that she is not going to give up until he said yes, and he wanted her out of hia office so he can keep theorising the world becoming a musical. “Fine, i'll go with you” he sighed, and she smiled, satisfied. “Now can you please leave?” He asked.

She looked at him, kind of hurt and mostly shocked. “Henry Hidgens! I don't understand you. I'm your twin, who just got you tickets to what used to be your favorite musical, up until last week! You haven't touched your piano, you haven't sang-” she said, stopping herself once she realised she just raised her voice on him over what seemed to bother no one else but her. He looked at her, clearly upset. “I'm fine, Hope. Ok? Just trying to be series and get my shit together instead of chasing an unreachable goal-” “is that even a word, Henry?” “It is” he replied, “i'm not you, and you're not me, so stop pretending being my twin means you can understand me”. His words stung her worse then a bee. “Look, Henry, i’m not forcing you to do anything. It's just that… recently you've been… distant. I’m just wondering if everything’s okay” she said. He gave her a small smile. “It's ok-” “no it's not, Henry. I can tell. Please tell me what's going on” she begged him, and he sighed. He knew she might believe him, she is the only person who will.

“Ok, fine, if you insist” he said, and grabbed the pages from his desk. He flipped through them as he spoke, trying to find a blank one. “Well, last week i had a thought. What if the world will become a musical?” He said. She looked at him strangely. “I know, I sound crazy but let me explain. You see, everyone thinks the apocalypse will be scary, but it makes so much more sense for it to be something we won't find scary, that way it can infect us all much quicker and no one will suspect it! You see, the universe is smarter than killing us all using what we already saw in movies”. He finally noticed a blank page and grabbed a pen. “See, this is our world” he said, drawing a circle. “Ok..” she said, confused. “Now, the end of the world is going to come, eventually” he said, “i think it's not going to explode. A zombie apocalypse is more likely! The universe needs planet earth, it's a part of it's balance” he added as he drew more and more circles Hope assumed were the other planets. He poked a hole on the middle, where the “earth” was, and ripped the paper easily. “You understand?” He asked, looking at Hope as he made the ripped paper into a ball and threw it behind his shoulder. She nodded slowly, even more concerned for her brother. “Well, we won't be surprised by a Zombie apocalypse. People are more prepared to that, which means it won't destroy the human race. If the end will come with something unpleasant, we will fight it. So it has to be something who no one sees as evil, as a threat to the human kind! No one will suspect something innocent. So i say - a musical. No one hates musicals, therefore no one will be scared by the sudden singing and dancing, in fact they will want to join in! Heck, i would want to join in!” he said. “I don't understand what is so bad about it? Don't you remember that song you wrote, 'if my life was a musical’? It sounds like a dreamy situation!” Hope said, confused, trying to go along with the craziness of her beloved twin. “Think about the implications, Hope! Think!” He screamed, grabbing her shoulders.she stared at him, kind of scared. “Henry, love, are you sure you are okay?” She asked. “Yes, yes. Sorry, i got carried away” he mumbled, giving her a tap on the shoulder and went back to his chair. “Well, Henry, i'll see you tonight at the Starlight theater. Eight o'clock, be there!” She smiled. “Eight o'clock can't come soon enough” she added on her way out. His eyes wandered to his computer. “Working boys: a new musical”. Well, he had a musical to write, tests to check and an apocalypse to prepare to, so he better get going.

Masterlist

#tgwdlm #the guy who didn't like musicals #professor Hidgens #henry hidgens #robert manion

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yuki7900archive · 6 years

Text

Movie!Nya x Female Reader

This entire thing is like, almost 25,000 words long so I gotta separate this into so many parts just to post it all on this site smh. I think it’ll be 6 or 7 parts? We’ll find out as I post em I guess haha

You were not overly fond of the idea of having to leave everything behind. No child usually is now that I really think about it. Who wants to leave all they've ever known and go to an entirely new place that they'd never even heard of? No one. I speak from personal experience here readers. Moving house? Totally sucks. At least in the first few weeks. In the grand scheme of things, it's not the end of the world. Sometimes it's even for the better. I know that can be hard to believe, but trust me on this one.

You had moved to Ninjago because your mom had some important work-related stuff to do here. She said they were low on staff or whatever, and needed her over there. You didn't want to leave your home but you didn't really have a choice, still being in high school and not having a job. So with much reluctance, you left and came here. It hadn't been awful so far. You supposed you couldn't really complain after less than 24 hours. But the moment you headed to school you were filled with dread. Your previous school was filled with enough bullies as it was, what would this school be like? You hoped not that bad. But after seeing how silent the front yard went when a blonde haired teen in a green hoodie got off the bus, you had your doubts. It was just total silence as he walked up the path to the front door, apart from the occasional whisper. He was smiling and pretending everything was okay, but it wasn't. You knew it wasn't. You could tell by the look in his eyes.

Suddenly this kid on a skateboard came zooming past, pushing the blonde to the floor and causing him to scrape his knee. Everyone erupted into laughter as the boy pushed himself off the ground, obviously in pain but trying to mask it with a smile. You had scowled and ran over to the blonde, holding out your hand to him. He saw your hand and looked up at you, looking a little confused.

"Are you oka-" Before you could finish your sentence you heard a male voice call from behind you.

"I wouldn't do that." You had turned around to see a boy with chocolate brown hair that flopped over one side of his face strolling slowly down the steps, his arms crossed as he stared you dead in the eye. He was wearing a blue jacket with the schools initials sewn on in white, a golden outline surrounding the letters "N" and "H" to make them stand out better on the clothing. He was followed by two girls just behind him, both cheerleaders. One was a blonde, her hair tied in twin ponytails, whilst the other was a brunette with long wavy hair that went past her shoulders. They both wore the same cheerleader outfit, blue vest and white skirt to match the guy's jacket. You had to assume he was a cheerleader too (I mean, he was carrying Pom Pom's). His thin lips were smirking as he stopped before you, and it was then, in that very moment, that you'd decided this guy was an asshole.

"You're new here, so we'll all excuse your ignorance." The boy acted like he was doing you a favour, like he was being the kindest person on the earth. Wow. Truly an asshole, you were right. He seemed kind of like the Queen Bee, and yes he most certainly was a Queen. He had his hands on his hips as he looked down upon you with that high and mighty smirk of his. "But, you can't help him."

You had said nothing, giving him a blank stare before taking the blonde kid's hand and helping him up off the ground. After all, why say anything to him at all? He was a bully, and a total waste of your time. Why would you wanna make chit-chat with someone so rude and mean when you could be be-friending this seemingly harmful and sweet person stood next to you?

The brunette had laughed a little and sighed, running a hand through his flowing locks. The girls behind him giggled as they stared at you with furrowed brows and grins. You wanted to roll your eyes. Really? They were gonna be acting like this at their age? How long had they been going to high school for? Were they really still acting like children?

"Okay...allow to me to explain things for you." He spoke to you in a patronising tone, making you frown. Was he being serious? You really did roll your eyes this time. "He's Lloyd Garmadon. Son of Lord Garmadon." He finished speaking and looked at you smugly, as did the other two girls. Everyone else surrounding you both seemed to be pulling the same face too. Was that it? Was that all he had to say? He told you his name. Ooh, how spooky. You were shaking. Truly. You blinked and raised a brow at him, shrugging.

"Who?" Not a single student didn't gasp and lean back in surprise upon hearing you say that word. Even the blonde beside you was shocked. He looked at you, mouth agape and wide eyed. You were even more confused. Why were they all looking at you like you'd murdered someone? Was it that big of a deal you didn't know who they were talking about?

"You don't...know about Lord Garmadon?" The boy in front of you placed a hand on his chest dramatically. He waited for your answer as you glanced around at everybody. They were all staring at you in horror. You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked again.

"Should I know who Lord Garmadon is?" You continued to glace around at everyone before your eyes landed back on the teenage cheerleader. A smile spread across his face as he chuckled. His friends did the same, whispering something to each other and giggling. What was so funny?

"Oh, don't worry." He put his hands on his hips and grinned, glancing at Lloyd as he stood beside you. "You'll find out soon enough." His eyes narrowed at the boy as the blonde averted his gaze to the floor, clenching his fists. The brunette clicked his fingers and began walking away, his friends following after him like trained puppies. You never thought you could hate someone so much in the space of a minute. You were sure you were going to loathe him for your whole life.

"See you later, Garmadork!" He paused to turn around and look at you again. Ugh, what did he want now? "And new girl, when you finally find out who we are talking about, come and look for me. I'll be here for you when you realise the mistake you've made." With that he walked back inside the school, the entire front yard still staring at you and the blonde. Quiet resumed for about three seconds after that, you just standing and staring at the doors as they closed. What was his deal? So obnoxious.

"Wow." You sighed. What a weird start to the day. You turned to the boy beside you with a worried expression. "Are you okay? Your knee is bleeding. Do you wanna go to the nurse and get it checked out?"

"A-Ah," Lloyd looked down at his knee, the blood seeping through the cut in the fabric of his jeans. "It's okay, I know someone who can patch it up. The school nurse won't see me anyway, heh..."

You had crossed your arms in curiosity. "What? But that's her job!"

"Yeah well...son of Lord Garmadon." He gave you an awkward smile as he shrugged and gripped the straps of his bag, beginning to walk inside to school. You jogged up to him and walked alongside him, totally intrigued by this "Lord" everyone was speaking of. And why did they call him a Lord? You thought your mom had said this city had a mayor.

"I don't understand, why is that such a big deal?" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze averted to the ground momentarily as he bit his lip. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets as you two walked up the stone slab stairs.

"Well, thing is—" Suddenly, Lloyd was cut off when another boy appeared out of nowhere, causing both you and the blonde to jump out of shock.

"Hello Lloyd, and fellow teenager." The boy nodded to you. You stared at the stranger who began strolling along with you two. He had the palest skin you'd ever seen, crystal blue eyes, hair as white as snow. He wore a light blue button-up shirt with a dark blue sleeveless sweater over the top of it. It looked kind of like a Christmas sweater, but the pattern on the front was so obscure you couldn't for the life of you make out what it was even supposed to be. But, why was he even wearing a sweater? A Christmas one too? For one thing, it wasn't Christmas, and it wasn't it kind of warm? His actions were very precise and calculated, not to mention the way he spoke was very odd. Maybe he's a robot, you chuckled to yourself. I know, crazy. Why would a robot even be at this school anyway?

"Hey Zane," Lloyd greeted him with that awkward smile of his. "(Y/N), this is Zane. Zane, this is (Y/N)." He introduced you to one another. Zane had looked at you with a poker face briefly as if analysing your features, before a smile spread on his face and he held his hand out to you. "It is very nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

You gave him a small laugh, finding him charming and rather adorable. You didn't know any teenager to shake hands upon meeting someone new. It was quite cute in some ways. So, you took a hold of his hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you too, Zane. I like your hair. It's very cool."

"Thank you!" He seemed happy with your compliment. You did like his hair a lot though, your (H/L), (H/C) seemed bland in comparison.

Lloyd pushed the front doors to the school open and immediately you were all met with a loud, echoing "bro" coming from down the corridor. You had looked to see where it came from and saw a brunette running towards you all so quick you didn't have time to be scared. Now his hair really was something, he looked like an anime protagonist with that hairstyle. It suited him well though. His attire was mostly red. Red jacket, red jeans, red shoes, but his shirt was white. Red must be his favourite colour, you thought with a hum as he got closer.

"Yo!" He skidded in front of you all, staring at you with a grin. He seemed rather energetic, raring to go. He seemed quite friendly too. He just had this certain aura about him that didn't make you feel awkward around him, even though you'd never met him in your life. It sort of felt like you'd always known him. "Who's this bro? Ya' didn't tell me ya got a girlfriend!"

"Kai- no!" Lloyd blushed and sighed as Kai laughed, seeing his best friend hide his face in embarrassment.

"I'm only messing! Don't worry," He nudged you playfully on the arm. "Seriously bro, nice to meet ya'! I'm Kai, Lloyd's best bro. And if you two are bro's, then you're my bro too, so bring it in bud, let's hug." Without hesitation he brought you in for a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off the ground. You giggled a little and hugged him back, unable to resist (you loved hugs) as you flailed your legs slightly. He was obviously a hugging kind of person.

"I-I'm (Y/N)!" You told him as he put you back down on the ground. "Nice to meet you, Kai." He nodded his head.

You all carried on your way down the corridor before stopping at a set of lockers, two other boys greeting you upon arrival. The first boy was leaning against the orange lockers, and you were sure if he stood up straight he would tower over you. He wore a navy blue vest, the letters "AC/DC" on the front. He was clearly an AC/DC fan. He was carrying a black boom box in one arm, the music was quietly coming from the speakers. He had slightly messy raven locks along with a smirk on his face that told you he had an attitude. An attitude of "I don't care," which you honestly wished you had. He was also rather muscular, which is probably why he opted to wear something without sleeves. Whether it was to show them off or because shirt's with sleeves didn't fit him you weren't entirely sure. The boy next to him contrasted his height as he was really small, easily the smallest out of all of you. He wore a vibrant orange scarf that almost hurt to look at and clashed with his bold blue jumper (one that was a little too big for him). He was fiddling with his fingers as you all approached, picking at his slightly dirty nails. With his brown locks that curled everywhere and that shy and tiny smile on his freckled face, you couldn't help but internally coo.

"Hey guys!" The small boy gave a timid wave to all of you. He had an accent too. You thought you were gonna die, he was adorable.

"Hey Jay, Cole. This is (Y/N)." Cole nodded his head and saluted, not saying a word. Dang, he was so cool. Jay had also nodded his head, smiling wider for you.

"Nice to meet you guys." You had grinned at them both.

"Hey, Lloyd," Cole spoke up, looking toward the blonde with a raised brow. "What happened to your leg?" It was then everyone stopped to look at the scrape on his knee. He gritted his teeth and scratched behind his ear, not looking any of his friends in the eye.

"A-Ah, I fell over outside. I'm fine."

"You only fell because someone pushed you over." You inputted, causing the others to furrow their brows.

"What? Who pushed him over?" Kai asked you but you could only shrug.

"Some kid on a skateboard. I went over to help Lloyd up and then this cheerleader dude came up to us and started acting like a total jerk." You explained the short story to them as all the boys looked at each other. The black haired teen had sighed and switched his boom box off with a small huff.

"Chen." All five of them said in unison. You took it that that meant it was a frequent occurrence for him to appear and act like that. Wow, you looked forward to seeing him again. And yes, that was sarcasm.

"I swear I'm gonna kill him one day-" The boy in red growled and balled his fists up in anger.

"Kai, please calm down." Lloyd pleaded and grabbed his wrist before he took off in search of the brunette. "He didn't do anything to me."

"That's true. He just stood there and talked down to me instead. He didn't even touch Lloyd." All of the boys continued to look at you. Zane was frowning, Jay was hiding in his scarf a little (so cute, god damn), Cole had crossed his arms after putting his boom box down on the floor, Kai had scowled and put his hands on his hips, whilst Lloyd just looked to the floor and bit his lip. Chen must have been giving Lloyd trouble for a long time. Poor kid.

"What did he say to you?" The spikey-haired boy opposite where you stood raised a brow. You crossed your arms and clicked your tongue.

"Nothing intelligent." You heard a snort come from Cole, him slightly amused by your response. "He just told me not to help Lloyd because he's the son of some Lord? Or whatever. Which, by the way, people still haven't explained to me why that's even significant?"

It went silent again and this time they all glanced at Lloyd. You couldn't believe it was happening again.

"Dude...she doesn't know?" His best friend had folded him arms across his chest and leaned toward Lloyd a little. You had scowled.

"Please, one of you explain to me why his dad is such a big deal." You pleaded and waited for an answer. None of them responded at first, not sure who should tell you. They all averted their gazes from each other briefly before Kai had spoken up again, deciding he'd be the one to explain.

"Alright..." He exhaled. "Well, thing is, Lloyd's dad is—"

Once again you were stopped from getting the answer you so desperately wanted, as you heard a motorbike rev it's engine from the end of the corridor. But...that couldn't be, right? Motorbikes weren't allowed in school—

"Watch out! Comin' through!" You heard a female voice call as she turned the corner, sure enough, on a motorbike. You were in awe as she drove down the hall and came to halt in front of all of you. Everyone walking past glared at her, but you just stared as you were unable to tear your gaze away. She grinned at your group as she shut off her motorbike engine. "Hey, 'sup bros." She rested her head in the palm of her hand.

"Hey, sis." The brunette had said with a grin. He looked at you again and blinked. "Ah, Nya, come and meet (Y/N). She just started today." The girl looked at you momentarily and waved, climbing off her bike and coming over to greet you properly.

"Nice to meet 'ya. I'm Nya, Kai's twin sis. It's nice to have another girl in the group." She joked. "Don't get me wrong, I love these guys but, ya' know what I mean, right?" You nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got ya. It's a girl thing." You couldn't seem to stop smiling as you spoke to her. She had such a contagious smile, much like her brother's. She had her pitch black locks tied back in a high ponytail with a silver band, some strands framing her face and a fringe covering her forehead. She had a beauty mark just diagonal from her right eye, you saw, and it really did add to her appearance. The girl wore a leather jacket atop her striped, black and white shirt, along with some ripped denim jeans a pair of black converse. She looked cool. Even cooler than Cole.

"Yeah, you get it." She crossed her arms and nodded her head with a grin.

"Yeah," The other ravenette had interjected. "And she's also already been face to face with Chen today. Literally the first thirty seconds after arriving on school grounds." The teenager had frowned and pursed her lips. She gave a small "ooh" sound.

"Damn. Did you piss him off that quickly?" She smirked and you shrugged.

"I helped Lloyd off the floor and he just got up in my face." The girl had hummed, gently punching your arm.

"Well good for you for standing your ground. That takes guts. Not many people would do that for Lloyd." She crossed her arms. "Don't worry about him though, we got each other's back. He gives our whole group trouble." Everyone nodded in agreement with her statement.

"Yup! We are known as the Dork Squad. So welcome to the Dork Squad." You heard Jay say from behind you.

"Glad to be a part of the Dork Squad." You had laughed a little as they all smiled at you. It was then you suddenly remembered what you had been wanting to know before you had been interrupted (for a second time). "So...Kai, you were telling me about Lloyd's dad?"

"Woah, hold up." Nya blinked. "You don't know?" You sighed and shook your head.

"I've been tryna find out for the past five minutes, but something always-" The bell for first class rang and you let your head flop down. "Interrupts."

Nya had patted your back. "It's alright bro, I can explain on the way to class."

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lovewhatyoudodolan · 6 years

Text

Daddy Gray || Grayson

Request: Can you do an imagine with Grayson as a dad spending the day at the beach Thank youuu

Word Count: 1074

A/N: I bet your dirty minds went to the gutter when it came to the title. ;) I added a twist to the request so I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

REQUEST

I smile at the sight of Grayson chasing our kids around pretending to be a monster. Things got rough when I told him I was pregnant three years ago, but he never turned his back. Many young fathers would’ve ran but here he is, smiling like an idiot as the two toddlers grabbed his legs.

When Grayson and I lock eyes we share a smile before the younger of our kids began to pull him off towards the ocean. “Be careful!” I should as anxiety courses through my body.

“We will just relax!” Grays boyish grin allowed for some of my anxiety to disappear. Being that there are two of then, I always worry that something will happen. Especially since I know how much trouble Ethan and Grayson used to get into.

I sigh and fall back in my chair to relax. Absentmindedly my hand fell on my stomach, “God I’m not ready...”

“Are they yours?” My body jolts at the sudden voice, “Sorry I didn’t meant to scare you!” A woman stood next to me with a giddy smile on her face as she watch Grayson playing with the kids, “Twins?”

I was hesitant to talk to the woman about my family until I noticed the small baby bump protruding from her bathing suit cover-up. She probably just wants reassurance, “Yeah I guess my boyfriend is at fault for that one, he has a twin brother.”

“At least it was a girl and a boy,” The woman’s smile was sincere as she glanced down at her stomach, “Which one was the easier baby?”

“As a baby, my daughter.” I smile at the now distant memory, “She’s getting more like her uncle now though.”

“What are you having?” I quickly as after my explanation.

The woman was definitely older, by the knowing wisdom radiation off of her. “I find out this week, but I think it’s going to be a boy.” I nod and am shocked by her next question, “Does he know there’s another on the way?”

“How-”

“This is my fourth,” She cuts me off, “I know the signs when I see them.”

I nod and sigh, “No, he doesn’t know yet.” Both of us glance out to see Grayson eagerly walking towards us with the twins hanging from his neck.

“He’s bee excited,” She whispered before turning away, “Good luck.”

“Hey babe,” The twins jumped off their father and run over to give me soggy hugs, “Who was that?”

“Just someone,” I giggle and pull the kids closer to me, “Who wants ice cream?” As the kids yell in excitement, Gray and I exchange content happy smiles.

---

“Ethan it’s okay,” I try to tell my good friend, “You don’t have to take them again.”

My boyfriend brother glared down at me, “You guys need time to yourselves. You’re twenty-one, take advantage of a night without the kids.”

“As much as I hate agreeing with Ethan, he’s right.” Cameron stated, “Plus I want to spend time with my niece and nephew while I’m here.”

I sigh in defeat, “Okay just be careful.”

“You know you have nothing to worry about.” With that, Grayson lead the freshly showered kids out in their pajamas.

“Remember to give them warm milk before bed,” Gray said with a worried expression covering his features, “Their book is in their overnight bag. They won’t sleep without it.” He hands the bag over to Cameron and I smile at how he was just as hesitant as me, “Also-”

“Bro we’ll be fine,” Ethan said while grabbing Grayson by the shoulders, “Just enjoy your night with y/n.”

Once his siblings were gone, Grayson turned to me. “What do we do now?”

“We’re like an old married couple whose kids just moved out,” I chuckle and grab his hand, “We can just watch a movie or something?”

Grayson turned and began dragging me towards our shared bedroom. A cheeky smile appeared on his face as we got closer causing me to chuckle, “Or something...” He winks before lightly pushing me against the white wall, “It really has been awhile since we were alone.”

My mind wandered back to the conversation I had this morning, “Grayson wait.” He pulled back instantly, worry etching his way on his features as we stared at one another. “I’ve been keeping something from you...”

“You aren’t leaving me are you? Cause that would make this so awkward,” he nervously chuckled but didn’t completely pull away from me.

I sigh and tug at the hem of his tank top, not knowing where to start. “We haven’t talked about this and I was worried because I didn’t know if you wanted this. I do though; I’m really excited for what’s happening and I just hope you will be too.”

“Babe just tell me-”

“I’m pregnant again,” I spit out the words that almost tore our relationship apart almost four years ago. His eyes widen and I bite my lip, fearful he was upset or angry.

“We’re getting another one?” His hands move from around my shoulders to my lower stomach. I nod and shock rolls through me as Grayson lists my off the ground, spinning me around once before placing me down gently. He was smiling ear to ear, showing off his straight white teeth, “I can’t believe we’re going to have another one! Why were you worried?”

“I just didn’t know if the twins were enough for you. I was scared you’d be angry.” I sigh and lean into the tall boy. His sent surrounding me, causing my body to completely relax. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You could never lose me. Y/n you’ve given me both of my kids and now another one is coming. I’m literally so in love with you, it would kill me if you weren’t around.” His grip around me tightened as he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re as much my world as they are. I’ve wanted another one since we had the twins. I just knew you wanted to wait so I didn’t say anything.”

“Well,” I chuckle and glance into his beautiful hazel eyes, “The wait is over I guess.” He smiles down at me and a relaxed but eager vibe fills the room. “I love you too Grayson. Thank you for being the father to my children; you’re great at it.”

“Thank you for allowing me the chance to be great at it.”

#Dolan Twins #The Dolan Twins #DolanTwins #Dolan Twins Imagine #Dolan Twins x Reader #Grayson Dolan #Grayson Dolan x Reader #Grayson Dolan Imagine #GraysonDolan #Ethan Dolan #EthanDolan #Ethan Dolan x Reader #Ethan Dolan Imagine #Grethan #Imagine #Dolans #Youtubers #Grayson and Ethan #Ethan and Grayson

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imaginesofeverykind · 7 years

Text

Family Portrait ||Teen Sam Drake x Reader ||

Characters: Teen!Sam Drake x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Uncharted

Request: Nope (But please request! <3)

Prompt: You live in the high-end district of Boston and have been dating Sam for quite some time. He’s never met your family and is nervous that you asked him to join you for dinner at home. He’s scared your family won’t approve of the two of you, but things pan out a little different than expected.

Tags: @rafeadderall @missdictatorme @dragonjedihobbit (message me if you want to be tagged to get notifications of updates!)

Word Count: 1,538

A/N: Hello lovelies back at it again with more Sam Drake! hahah This idea popped into my head today, super cute I love it. Requests are open and always are so send through some guys! Also Teen Sam makes me feel things i love him bless. ALSO sorry if it bugs anyone that I write in third person, It’s just easier on me to write like that but yeah ENJOY <3

“-So let me get this straight, your family wants to meet me?” Sam repeated, he was in immense shock after Y/N, his girlfriend of four months asked him to join her and her family for dinner. His immediate reaction was to say ‘no, definitely not’ as he knew given that she lived in such a wealthy part of town he would be scorned. But he knew that she wanted him to come, and far be it for him to piss her off.

They sat perched on a tree branch over looking one of the parks, the nerves started to make his hands feel clammy with sweat. “You don’t have too, I just thought i’d ask-.” Sam cut Y/N off, shaking his head vigorously, “no, no I want to come, it’s all right.” She scoffed and eyed him, “No you don’t want to come, your only doing it for me.”

That part was true, he’d only do it for her and that was fact. “How do you do that?” He stared adoringly in her eyes, she had an incredible talent for reading people, most particularly Sam of all people. She giggled and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, “do what?”

“Read me, so well for that fact.” His eyes flicked down to her lips and back up at her eyes, even though it had been four months he still took it easy with her, being polite and gentlemanly which Y/N knew was incredibly hard for him to do. “You quite literally are the most visually emotional person on the planet.” She poked fun at him, he was, he wasn’t shy when it came to emoting his feelings with body language or facial expressions.

He sat back, feigning offense, “ouch. That hurt Y/N.” She laughed and shrugged unbothered, “Oh sorry darling did I hurt your feelings?” she jabbed at his sides making him laugh and wrestle with her arms. The two started to wobble on the tree branch, if they didn’t stop soon they were going to fall off.

“Okay, okay, can we move closer to the ground where it won’t hurt as less if we fall over.” Y/N laughed before dropping down, swinging on the branch and landing on her two feet. Sam dropped down beside her, his hands immediately gripped her waist and he dipped his head down, pressing his lips onto hers softly.

Even after months of affection there was always that spark between them every time they touched and kissed. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands stroking the back of his head as they both melted into the kiss. Pulling away, Sam rested his forehead on hers and smiled. She grinned up at him and brought her hands to his cheeks, her thumbs lightly grazing over cheeks.

“You can go home tonight, I don’t mind if you don’t want to have dinner.” She whispered lightly, she knew all to well how Sam felt about wealthy people, he found them particularly snobby. One night some months ago he voiced his disdain for the wealthy to Y/N, at that time he didn’t actually know she was a part of that ‘wealthy’ category.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “I’m coming. Aren’t you the least bit worried that your parents aren’t going to like me?” She shook her head confidently, “I know for a fact they’re going to love you... c’mon.” Stepping away she gripped his hand and started to pull him away from the park and in the direction of her house.

“So you haven’t even considered the possibility that it could be likely that they hate-.” Y/N cut Sam’s rambling off and laughed, reassuring him, “I’m positive, a hundred percent that they’ll love you alright. They aren’t the rich assholes you think they are all right.” Boy was she right, Sam didn’t know what was going to hit him.

In fact nothing could prepare him for the absolute mad house, Y/N’s house was. He knew very little about her family life and that was because she never really felt the need to tell him about it, she mentioned the odd brother or sister occasionally but never bothered to tell him in detail the happenings in her household.

A large mansion loomed over them, solid iron gates separated them from the monstrous house. “Woah..” Sam breathed out, he had never actually seen her house, not during the day at least. The sun setting behind it, casted a shadow that made the house appear bigger than it was. Y/N strode over to the speaker box, punching the buzzer button several more times than necessary for the sake of being a pain.

The gates opened and they walked in, passing the well kept garden with copious amounts of flowers, exotic foliage and buzzing bees. “You don’t need to be nervous, it’s fine.” Y/N assured, squeezing his incredibly clammy hand, he stammered and decided to shut his mouth to prevent him from making a fool of himself.

She opened the front door and everything Sam had imagine about Y/N’s life instantly shattered by the deafening screams of children running wild, teenagers yelling at one another only for young adults to start yelling at them to be quiet. It was like their own little orphanage with the amount of children running amuck. He wasn’t sure what to think, he simply just looked at Y/N with his eyebrow raised.

“Come on..” She pulled him through the house, dodging toddlers, dogs and children toys. In the large study sat both her parents, reading over each others written work, editing it as they read. “Hey mom, hey dad.” She waved from the doorway with her free hand, the other one was still connected to Sam’s, she knew he had questions and all would be answered.

Her mother stood up with a gleeful grin and walked over to her, hugging her, “Hello sweetheart - this must be Sam?” She pulled away from the hug and admired Sam, taking in his appearance before pulling him into a hug. He was stunned at first, he didn’t even have to utter a word to Y/N’s mother before she hugged him. Her father too stood up and walked over to the three of them at the door way, once Y/N’s mother stepped away he outstretched his hand for Sam to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you, son.” Whilst his voice was gruff, his words were kind and sincere. “Uh, you too sir..” He shook his hand nervously. “Finally we get to meet the boy Y/N talks so fondly about. You’re staying for dinner I assume?” Y/N’s mother cheerfully grinned, it growing wider once he nodded in response. “Perfect, I’ll have Diana set a place at the table for you, - if you’ll excuse me.” She darted past the teenage couple and off to the kitchen she went.

Pulling him away from the study Y/N waved to her father and shut the door behind her, now in the hallway. “What is this place?” Sam finally asked, the question burning in the back of his mind. She laughed, “home. It’s home.” He raised an eyebrow opening his mouth to press the question further when she cut him off by gesturing to a photograph hung proudly on the wall behind him.

It was a large group of people all assorted ages from just infants to elderly. “This is my family, Mom and Dad, who you just met, had five children another they adopted, i’m the youngest. The oldest, my older sister, has four children with her husband who lives here with us. My oldest brother and his boyfriend adopted two kids and they also live here with us. My second oldest sister had twins a year ago with her boyfriend and they live here too, and of course theres my third oldest sister who lives here with her boyfriend too and my twin brother. Oh! And Grandad and Grandma.” It was a mouthful to say, let alone to process.

Sam stood with his mouth agape, he had no clue Y/N’s family was so big, comedically big. “Jesus christ.” He breathed out, looking at the family portrait and then down at Y/N. “You see, I told you they’d love you.. and you wanna know something?” she wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning up at him. He started to calm down, his nerve slowly dying down but he still had to get approval from the siblings so he wasn’t quite safe just yet.

“What?” he carefully placed his hands on her waist and smiled at her. “We’re due for another family portrait soon, don’t suppose you’d like to be apart of that?” He looked at her, stunned at the question, my how the evening was turning out not at all like he expected it to. He was flattered to say the least and eyed her with a slight smirk on his lips, “what kind of question is that, I think you know the answer to that.” he leant down and pressed his lips onto hers thinking about how in just a short few weeks he’d be up on that family portrait.

#U4 #uncharted 4 #sam drake #imagines #fluff #this was so much fun #troy baker #one shots #request #teen sam drake #literally look at him #his lil freckles #10/10 would date

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jugheadeaton-blog · 7 years

Text

Love Is Such A Strong Word...

Summary: Outcast. Different. Weird. Bullied. That's what Alex Rider and Ashlynn Rainer are. But why? Maybe it's the fact that Alex has been training to become the "king" of the most deadly gang in Alper Town? It can’t be. Nobody knows that Or perhaps the real reason is Ashlynn's secret job as sex slave. That can't be it either. Only Ashlynn and her father know that. So what is it? Find out what the real reason for Alex and Ashlynn's banishment is as the pair experience the ups and downs of being in love in high school.

A/N: This is my first story so bear with me xD This story is also posted on my Wattpad account, AlexTheTrashyWriter. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Outcasts

"Dad, we have to get him back!" I screamed as my twin brother sprinted away and into the forest. My dad gave me a disappointed shake of his head.

"No, Alex. He chose what he wanted to do," My dad spat through gritted teeth. "First your mom is taken from us and now your brother decides to leave us."

I stay on my knees, shaking. The tears roll down my face the second my dad utters those words. "But we..."

"No Alex! Not we! Only you! You're the one that wants that bastard of a kid back. But I won't let you go after that piece of shit!" My dad yelled and yanked the collar of my shirt.

"But why?!" I screamed, the tears rolling faster.

My dad gave me a look I've never seen before. His eyes were full of a deep, deep anger. "Because now that your brother is out of the picture, I don't have to choose. I'm training you to become the next Viper leader," he hissed.

I gave him such a horrified look it kind of scared my dad to a point where he might've pitied me. Might've. But he just shook his head and gripped my shirt collar tighter. Then he dragged me away, half choking me. And during this who fiasco, I held the grey ash covered beanie my brother had given me before he set off. And that was that. My whole life was set up for me in minutes. And it was beyond my control. But I had to change it. Somehow. Sigh. What was a five year old to do?

I snapped awake as I tumbled onto the rough, blackened wood of my room. I winced and groaned as I propped myself up with my bandaged elbow. I hoped he wouldn't enter the scene but of course, he did.

"Rise and shine, Alex!" My father, Will Rider, hollered into a dented megaphone. "It's 4:01 AM! Get the hell up and take your lap!"

"Yes Dad," I murmured as I pushed myself off the slight dent I recently made with my body.

"Did you call me Dad?" My father yelled into the megaphone once more.

I clapped my hand over my reddened ear, which was now ringing. "No sir."

My father scowled and marched out the chipped door. I slowly got up and fixed my mess of a bed, which was soaked with the blood from last night's injuries. I then changed into the clothes my father gave me months ago and hurried out the door, into the early morning. To my dismay, he was already in his beat up navy blue pickup and started driving next to me, all the while screaming "Faster, faster!" into that damn megaphone. I wanted to cuss him out and tell him I started my last year of high school (aka hell) in about an hour but I knew to hold my tongue. My father was not a man to talk back to. I learned that the hard way. I coughed my thoughts away and silently ran my regular ten miles while my father continued scolding my ass off. But he must've been in a good mood since he only made me run ten miles in all. Weird.

An hour later, I was ready. I wore a blood red t-shirt, black jeans, simple black and white converse, the bandage-like eye patch I've been wearing for the past few years and the ash covered dark grey beanie I always wore, no matter how hot it was outside. With one glance at the shattered mirror on my floor, I examined the cuts and crap that were visible and raked some fingers through my messy oak colored hair. I sighed then slipped on my dirty denim jacket hanging by a loose piece of wood from my wall, slung my bag over my sort of broken shoulder and trudged out of the room, my stomach growling uncomfortably. My father had not said I could eat, so I guess breakfast wasn't an option. Oh well, I'll just eat the crappy school lunches. Again. I muttered a goodbye to my father and swiftly stepped out the door and towards Archer High. To my delight, a girl with dirty blonde hair stepped out of a house a block away. I smiled.

"Ashlynn," I called and waved at her.

Ashlynn looked up from her phone, making eye contact with me. She excitedly shoved her phone in her pocket and sprinted towards me, engulfing me in one of her classic bear hugs. "Hi Al!" she peeped. Her classic bear hug always hurt at first but since I've gotten used to the pain over the years, it didn't feel as bad as compared to the past. Ashlynn planted a kiss on my surprisingly-not-bruised cheek then (attempted to) ruffle my milk chocolate hair.

I hugged her back and pecked her on the lips. "Nice to see you again. Where the hell were you for summer?"

Ashlynn let go of me then gave me an annoyed look. "You dumbo. I told you I was at my aunt's place in Florida." She started walking.

I followed right after her. "You did? Oh. I'm sorry I guess I forgot."

"You always do, dumbo."

I probably forgot because of my multiple head injuries during summer training. But Ashlynn didn't need to know that. And neither did anyone else. "Yup," I agreed.

Ashlynn looked up at me, a glimmer of worry in her jade eyes. "Al. Why are you wearing pants and a jacket? It's 99 fucking degrees." She's always so protective.

But I won't lie, I was sweating like a pig. Then again, I had so many cuts, bruises and bandages scattered on my tall legs, it was kind of scary. "Well I get cold easily."

Ashlynn narrowed her eyes at me then began to nod slowly. "Okay."

I sighed of relief when she wasn't looking. Dodged another bullet. Thank God. She still can't ever tell when I'm making something up.

We became friends in second grade. She said hi, I said hi, you know that's pretty casual. Then she blurted out "Your hat's dirty. Are you poor?" It took her a second to realize what she said then she slapped her hand over her mouth and apologized a billion times. I stared at her for a couple of seconds then laughed. I liked her. I told her it was okay and from then on, we became inseparable.

As I got swallowed by my buzzing thoughts, Ashlynn tugged on my arm, which snapped me out of my daze.

"We're...here," She squeaked uneasily.

I took her hand in mine then squeezed. "We'll be fine, Ash." But I knew we weren't going to be, even if we were seniors. At the last second, I bent down and whispered, "Just stick with me, alright?"

Ashlynn looked up at me, her jade eyes staring into my dark browns. "I wasn't planning on it."

And with that, we plodded into the madness. Let's just say Archer High School wasn't exactly the safest place to be taught a bunch of useless crap. Jocks were sitting on the banged up, rusty lockers and smoking. Queen bees were glued to their phones and standing near their smoldering jock boyfriends. Nerds gripped calculators and held binders like babies. Rebels stormed the halls, drinks in one hand, cigarettes in the other. The "emo" kids hid in corners with their ear buds shoved in their ears. I know, I know. This all sounds so cliché but it was all true. Thankfully, not many people noticed Ash and I trudging through the halls. Although, the ones that did notice only just realized that I got held back. And those people included Martha Summers and Johnny Dixon. Great. They're what I like to call "Dick and a Bitch" since Johnny is a dick and Martha is a bitch. I squeezed Ash's hand and picked up my pace, dragging her with me.

"Hey where ya going Writer McGee?" Johnny called out.

I just bit the inside of my cheek and kept walking away. But of course, that wouldn't save me or Ashlynn. As Johnny trotted towards me, Martha held his beefed up arm and followed him. Perfect.

"Leaving so soon, Queen Slut?" Martha hissed in her annoying little voice.

I'm known to have a temper, but when it comes to school I'm fairly good at hiding my anger. But sometimes I just want to punch the blush off that girl's make up infested face. I continued to walk off but to my surprise, Ashlynn tugged on my arm and stopped. Just dead on stopped. In the middle of the hallway. Uh oh.

Ashlynn turned around ever so slowly on her heel and faced the queen of bitches herself. "Listen you Barbie look alike. I'm not in the fucking mood to deal with your crap. Especially not on the first day of school."

Everyone in the hallway oohed and ahhed as Ashlynn turned back to me. She giggled when she saw the shocked look on my face. She barely talked back to Queen Bitch. Like seriously. But since she talked back, I'm bound to get into some trouble with Queen Bitch's boyfriend.

"Ooh Queen Slut's scared," Johnny taunted. Some people in the hallway agreed and soon started chanting "Queen Slut's scared."

A bewildered look spread across Ashlynn's face as her cheeks became bright red with embarrassment. Oh boy, was I mad. No wait I wasn't just mad. I was way beyond mad. And I let my anger get the best of me.

#wattpad #first story #highschool

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followriverdalefanfics · 7 years

Text

Arm Candy ~ Cheronica

Word Count: 3,500

Summary: Cheryl and Veronica strike a deal that leads to a little more than what they had expected.

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff

A/N: My first fanfiction on Tumblr!! I was going to post this on AO3, but apparently you have to wait 5 years (10 days) in order to register a new account. Anyways, I hope you like it. EDIT: Our ao3 account is now up and running! Our handle is (@)rivervixens ~~~ Peaches ~~~

“There’s no way in hell we’re doing that again, Betty.”

“Well why not?”

“You know perfectly well why,” Veronica says, looking back at Betty, who shrugs and giggles a little, pressing her books toward her chest a bit more.

Veronica continues, “You should go with Archie. Besides, I’d much rather go alone; I’ve never liked being… well…”

“–arm candy?” Kevin cuts in, fighting through the crowd to walk next to Veronica as she looks at him in delight.

“Exactly,” she beams, glancing first at Betty and then at Kevin, “You’ll go with Archie, and you’ll go with Joaquin, and I’ll be free as a bird,” putting her hands on her shoulders and cocking her head to the side, a small smirk on her face and eyelashes batting.

“Of course, you’ll need a new dress and shoes. I’m thinking… Chanel with some pearls? It’s a real classic; should suit you perfectly…” Kevin continues to ramble as Veronica begins to wonder how she’ll even find the money to buy a dress, let alone a Chanel one.

As the three of them continue striding down the halls of Riverdale High, Veronica notices Cheryl Blossom observing her every step, red lips pressing together and hair twirled around her fingers.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘

Betty steals another fry off of Veronica’s tray and Veronica looks up from her phone and glares accusingly back at Betty. Archie starts laughing, but immediately stops once he sees that Kevin is gazing at something behind Betty and Veronica.

“Incoming ‘Ginger Bombshell’ on your six,” Kevin remarks as he nods his head toward Cheryl Blossom, the reigning queen of Riverdale High. Betty and Veronica turn their heads to see the Blossom twin hover over Veronica, placing her hand lightly on Veronica’s shoulder and comments, “You three don’t mind if I steal Veronica for a moment, would you?” looking at Betty, Kevin, and Archie for permission as if she were actually offering them a choice. When none of them responds, Cheryl exclaims, “Lovely! Oh, and remember to vote for me for Prom Queen!”

As Cheryl pulls Veronica, unsure of what’s happening, away from her spot at the lunch table, she pretends not to hear Kevin Keller murmur, “Aren’t you supposed to have a date to be eligible for Prom Queen?”

When Cheryl finds the two of them a spot out of sight and earshot from the rest of the group, Veronica finally asks, “So what could the great Cheryl Blossom possibly need from someone as lowly as myself?”

Cheryl takes a moment to think, and then responds with, “Look, I know you don’t like me, and I certainly don’t like you at all either, but I have an idea that might just be useful for the both of us.” Veronica looks at Cheryl suspiciously, yet suddenly her interest is peaked. She looks around at the other students at the lunch tables and gives in.

“Alright, alright fine. What master plan have you concocted this time?”

“In order to be eligible for Prom Queen, one must have a GPA of a 4.0 or higher, practice in one or more extracurricular activities, and be escorted to the dance,” Cheryl starts in a matter-of-factly tone. However, Veronica already knew all of this because the principal had announced it over the loudspeaker during her homeroom class that day.

“Okay, so what? Where are you going with this?”

“I have achieved two of the three requirements with flying colors. However, I cannot for the life of me find a suitable escort. You, on the other hand, are currently without a date and–”

“–Wait, wait, wait. How did you know that?”

“I have my sources,” she mentions, and continues with, “Anyways, you are currently without a date and in desperate need of money for the tickets and an outfit.” Veronica ignores the fact that Cheryl for some reason knows about her situation and looks at Cheryl suspiciously, half-knowing where this is headed and half-scared that she’s right about it. Cheryl looked back at Veronica and noticed that she knows where this was going. She shuffled her feet a bit awkwardly, and then changed back to her confident self.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Veronica looks around at anywhere except for Cheryl, and plays dumb, “What do you mean? What deal?” to which Cheryl rolls her eyes and sighs, saying, “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” and Veronica nods, simply because she didn’t want to suggest something that wasn’t actually what Cheryl was intending. However, she would soon come to realize that she was, in fact, right; and this was the only time she would almost regret being right about something.

“Be my date to the dance so that I can win Prom Queen, and in return, I’ll pay for everything and anything you could possibly need for the dance.”

And with that, Veronica’s theories were finally confirmed; Cheryl Blossom had just asked her to the dance. It’s not like Veronica is against dating a girl, it’s just… Cheryl? Really?

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m obviously only asking because I need to be elected as Prom Queen,” she explains. She pulls out a plastic tube and opens one of the sides, shaking a small, white cube into her palm, and offers her some, “Gum?”

“No thanks,” Veronica says as Cheryl shrugs and closes the bottle, popping the piece into her mouth. “Don’t you have anyone else to invite? I mean, it’s not like you’re a lesbian or anything; no one will believe I’m your real prom date.”

Cheryl hesitates for a moment, “Mhm, yeah whatever. Listen, none of the guys here in Riverdale are really… my type. Besides, it doesn’t matter whether or not people actually believe us, because the school is legally obligated to take us seriously and enter me in as eligible. So, do we have a deal or not?” Cheryl waits for Veronica’s reply as she pops a giant bubble of her now bright pink bubblegum.

“Umm, I’m not really sure–”

Cheryl’s eyes sparkle as she interrupts, “Great! I’ll pick you up after school,” adjusts the purse strap on her shoulder, puts the bubblegum package in her purse, and starts to walk away.Veronica becomes confused and suddenly realizes whats happening.

“Wait, what? What do you mean? Don’t we have cheer practice today after school?”

“Not anymore!” Cheryl exclaims over her shoulder as she leaves Veronica utterly speechless. She hadn’t even said yes. Then again, she wouldn’t mind someone taking the stress about the expenses of prom off of her shoulders. She starts walking back to the lunch table when the bell suddenly rings. She had already brought her books with her, so she decides just to walk straight to class.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘

When the final school bell rings and Veronica finishes packing all of her stuff back into her purse, she says goodbye to her history teacher and headed to the sunny parking lot. Just like every day after school, it’s filled with people walking to their cars. Of course, parked closest to the school entrance is Cheryl Blossom in her bright red Chevrolet, applying more red lipstick while looking into the rear view mirror. Veronica approached the car with caution, still wary about any devious plans the redhead had in store. Once she gets closer and the sound of her heels start to become loud enough for Cheryl to hear them, Cheryl looks up and quotes, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

Veronica shrugs as if she were to say might as well, and gets in the car as Cheryl puts on her heart shaped glasses. The drive there is like a movie; with the fancy car, the bright sun, the blasting pop music, and their hair blowing in the wind the whole time. Of course, back in New York her life had been just like this, so she felt more at home, especially with Cheryl. Of course, even though she isn’t planning on being The New York Veronica ever again, it’s nice to get a taste of that life again.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘

After all of her determination and struggle, she was defeated. And of all the things in the world she could have been defeated by, it had to be as miniscule as a zipper. After losing all hope of getting out of this situation on her own, Veronica texts Cheryl, who’s currently looking for more dresses in Veronica’s size. And of course, Cheryl comes to the rescue.

“Veronica?” Cheryl asks, trying to determine which fitting room Veronica went into, to

which Veronica responds, “In here!”

“Whats up?” calls a familiar voice from outside the fitting room door.

“I need help unzipping this,” Veronica says, clearly ashamed of herself for not even

being able to unzip a freaking zipper. Of course, from the other side of the door she hears a burst of laughter, which turns her face beet red.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cheryl says, clearly still trying to suppress her laughter, “Do you want me to come in?”

“Uh, yeah, one sec,” Veronica murmurs as she unlocks the door and carefully lets Cheryl into the fitting room and closing the door behind her. Cheryl starts to hang up all of the dresses she brought in for Veronica, and then turns to look at her. Veronica sucks her breath in and holds the caught zipper of her dress, saying, “Here,” and Cheryl says, “Yeah, I can see that,” with focused, calm eyes; Veronica notices them to be much different than her Queen Bee fiery ones. As Cheryl kneels down to fix Veronica’s dress, Veronica’s breath hitches when she feels Cheryls fingers make contact with her spine, and move downward slowly as she unzips the back of her dress, making her warm skin feel the cold breeze and Cheryl’s breaths as tingles go up and down her spine, making her bite her lip a little, but not enough for Cheryl to notice.

“All done,” Cheryl says, interrupting Veronicas train of thought and causing her to release the breath she didn’t realize that she had held in in the first place. Then, Cheryl stands up and picks out one of the dresses she had brought into the changing room and holds it out to Veronica.

“Here, try this one first; it’s my favorite one,” she says as Veronica takes it from her. Without another word, Cheryl leaves the changing room and walks away, leaving Veronica confused and still in denial about what had just happened. She tries on the dress that Cheryl deemed to be her favorite, and discovers that it actually does look really nice on her. After posing in the mirror and staring at herself in the dress for a few more minutes, she decides that it’s the one she wants to wear to the dance. She takes it off, changes into her original outfit, and leaves the dressing room smiling. She’s oddly chipper, and she’s convinced herself that it was simply because she was going to prom; and for free!

She finds Cheryl who buys the dress for her, and then drives her back to her house just in time for dinner. Cheryl keeps the dress though, so that they can get ready at her house before the dance. When her mom asks about what she had been doing today, she explains about the whole situation, and of course her mother says something along the lines of “Honey, if you want to date girls that’s totally fine by me; just know that I’m here if you want to talk about anything,” to which Veronica giggles and says, “Mom, really, we’re just… friends. Sort of.” To that of course, her mother gives her a questioning look, not entirely believing her. Although, Veronica isn’t sure if she believes herself either anymore.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘

Over the next few days, Veronica doesn’t see much of Cheryl at all, with the exception of cheer practice and the occasional glances in the hallway, one time of which Cheryl winks at her and she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself except continue talking to Betty. The day of the dance though, Cheryl comes up and meets her in the hallway, saying, “See you after school?” as Veronica nods in agreement. And just like last time, at the end of school Veronica rushes outside to meet Cheryl in her car, but instead of driving to the mall, Cheryl took her to her house, which was by far one of the nicest houses in Riverdale that Veronica had seen. The porch is decorated with some chairs and several lights along the front of the house, and the ivy had grown upwards, spiraling up the columns of the front of the house. And of course, the gardens on the sides of the house had been naturally planted with red roses. Veronica can see that through the windows there are a few lights on, but most of them are off.

Cheryl takes Veronica inside and calls out to her parents telling them she’s home. They rush down to talk to her when they realize that Veronica had arrived with her.

“This must be that Veronica girl you’ve talked about,” her father, Clifford Blossom, notices. This makes her mother come to the same realization, and she exclaims, “Oh, isn’t she such a cutie!” Veronica looks at Cheryl in confusion when suddenly she feels her take her slightly sweaty hand into her own, and to top it all off, Cheryl looks back at her and kisses her on the cheek, leaving a red imprint there.. Veronica clearly looks shocked and in a terrible nervous wreck because Cheryl’s mom says, “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. We’re totally accepting, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Mom, we’re going to go upstairs and get ready,” Cheryl explains, to which her mother nods and grabs her husband’s arm and leads him into another room, continuing what Veronica assumes to be the conversation they were having before Cheryl and Veronica arrived at the house. Then, Cheryl takes Veronica’s arm and pulls her upstairs, down the hallway to the right, and making a left into what Veronica expects to be Cheryl’s room. She owned a bed that was much larger than necessary, with dark red pillows and a cream headboard, and a nightstand on either side of the bed. Next to her closet was a Hollywood vanity desk, with bright light bulbs all around the large mirror and a bench to sit at. All of her make-up was neatly tucked away, except a few brushes and lipsticks.

“You told them we were actually going to the dance together?” Veronica says, clearly freaking out that Cheryl had told them they were… whatever they were. Weren’t. Whatever.

“Uhh, yeah duh. Aren’t we technically going to the dance together? Besides, what else would I have told them?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Cheryl rolls her eyes and brings her over to the makeup table and turns on the vanity lights. Then, she reaches over, bending over the desk and takes one of the drawers, filled with makeup, out of the desk and puts it on top of the desk so that she can rummage around to find everything easily. As she does this, Veronica sits on the bench next to her. Cheryl sits down, close enough so their legs are touching and Veronica can smell her perfume.

Cheryl picks up a bottle of creme makeup and asks, “Ready?”

“Ready whenever you are,” Veronica replies, and closes her eyes so that Cheryl can start. She jumped a little when Cheryl’s fingers and the sponge made contact with her face.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Veronica can tell that Cheryl’s face is getting closer to hers, and she feels her breath on her own lips. Cheryl must have taken a breath mint earlier, because Veronica can smell the remnants of the mint scent. Veronica can feel her stop for a moment, and she feels Cheryl’s hand rest on her knee as she shuffles through the drawer, looking for a different kind of makeup. Veronica opens her eyes, and when Cheryl looks back at her she noticed her staring.

“Are you,” she pauses, looking for the words to say, “uncomfortable?”

“No,” Veronica says breathily.

“Good,” Cheryl nods and says bossily, “now close your eyes again!”

Veronica closes her eyes and feels the brush make contact with her eyelids and flinches, but goes back to a more relaxed pose after she realizes that Cheryl’s putting on eyeshadow. What Veronica doesn’t know though, is that under all the dim lights and right in front of her closed eyes is the Queen Bee Cheryl Blossom’s blushing cheeks and her sad attempt at trying not to show her giddy smile, which of course is only happening because she can feel Veronica’s short, hot breaths on her wrist.

After Cheryl finishes the rest of the makeup she proudly says, “There. All done! You’re welcome,” stands up, and leaves Veronica to walk over to her closet.She opens the sliding doors and pulls out two dresses, Veronica’s, the dark velvet one with a lace back, and Cheryl’s, a surprisingly bright blue one with long, sheer sleeves. Cheryl offers to let Veronica change in her room while che changes in the bathroom, which she did. And, after the seemingly endless day of preparation, the two of them left for the dance.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘ ⌘

Cheryl and Veronica together walking into a dance, arm in arm, is definitely an odd sight to see for the students of Riverdale High, and that’s quite something because they’ve seen some pretty odd things recently. Of course, with just a single dark look from Cheryl the students who had been previously been staring return their gazes back to their groups of friends and their small whispers about what they had just seen. The exception, though, was the redhead, the blonde ponytail, and the GBF. Immediately after seeing Cheryl and Veronica, the three of them have a bright mix between shock and awe on their faces. Even from 20 feet away they can hear Kevin shout, “See? I told you something was up with her!” and see Betty mouth, what the hell? at Veronica, who shrugs and gives a small smile.

Cheryl turns to Veronica and asks, “Shall we dance before they announce me as queen?” cocking her head to the side with a smirk and offering to take Veronica’s hand.

“You know you haven’t won yet, right?” Veronica spectates as she takes Cheryl up on her offer. Cheryl ignores her question and leads her through the crowd, pressing through people all around them as the music blares loud in their ears and the lights of all colors twinkle and flash. When they stop to dance, Veronica asks, “Why are you so nice to me? You’re not this nice to other people.”

“I guess I like you more than other people,” Cheryl says with a wink.

Just then, the music fades and the crowd turned toward the DJ to hear the tapping of a microphone and one of the staff members saying, “Thank you all for coming. I would like to announce the Prom Queen of this year,” and then murmuring, “Even though it’s pretty obvious.”

Everyone in the crowd laughs and chatters amongst themselves; they knew who would win.

“Cheryl Blossom, please come to the stage!”

The crowd claps and cheers and continues talking as Cheryl makes her way through the crowd to go up on stage and accept her crown. Her dress shines and shimmers in the light, entrancing Veronica. Of course, it wasn’t the dress she was admiring.

“I would like to thank my family and my friends for supporting me, and also every one of you who voted for me as Prom Queen,” she continues, “And… I would also like to thank my date, Veronica… for everything.”

The crowd cheers and claps, and Cheryl gets off the stage ash she flips her hair behind her shoulder and puts one perfectly manicured hand on her hip. They clear a path for her, and Veronica can see her coming toward her with the biggest grin on her ruby lips that Veronica had ever seen. When Cheryl finally gets close to Veronica, their faces are inches apart, and Veronica puts her arms up on her shoulders and around the back of her neck. Veronica can feel Cheryl’s hands lightly placed on her hips and she’s looking into her eyes when suddenly, the space between them closes, their lips intertwine, and Veronica can feel the butterflies in her stomach going crazy at what’s happening.

Veronica can feel Cheryl’s lipstick rubbing off on her own lips, but it doesn’t matter. Everything has been leading up to this moment and Veronica doesn’t want it to ever end. Cheryl breaks away for a moment, and looks deeply into Veronica’s eyes and says, “You have something on your face, babe.”

“I know.”

#Cheryl Blossom #Veronica Lodge #Riverdale #camila mendes #madelaine petsch #archie comics #fanfiction #fluff #cheronica #riverdale 1x05 #1x05 #peaches #fanfictionfrompeaches #post

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