#I gotta say its been so so nice to go back to something I was passionate about as a teen

[triglycercule]

aaaaaah i love this so much,,,, granted i don't focus on the trio being w nightmare a lot (since the gang bad sanses thing IS NOT FOR ME!!! give me trio only or give me death) but QSAAAAAHHHH i love it so much when people play around with them in the bad sanses!!! i must say that the dynamic you described here where theyre like noooot that intimately close but also just like stick together because they gotta stick together with anyone that they can is PEAAAK (it's my favorite mtt in the bad sanses dynamic :3)

the trio truther in me says NOOOO to them breaking up afterwards but,,, the realist in me knows that they don't help each other They CANT help eachother (i always think about how even if they weren't in a bad situation they'd just stagnate each other or do worse,,, sadly these guys just cannot get better with each other. FIRST they have to love themselves (and deal with all their OTHER issues) before they can,,,, even mildly care for THEMSELVES???) (but maybe it'd kinda be like a service animal thing where by taking care of the pet you take care of yourself??? THIS IS A SEPERATE THING I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IN A DIFFERENT POST ACTUALLY NVM)

its so silly and funny that their way of "showing affection" is literally just them having eachothers backs,,,, ITS SO FUNNY TO ME,,,, AND SO CUTE TOO :333 for me personally i dont think they'd ever like. care enough,,,, about eachother to do stuff like taking the blame or just plain ol nights of comfort (they'd SLAUGHTER EACHOTHER before they ever decide to get cozy and fluffy in my head 💔💔) like with bad sanses esque killer i can get why killer would try to like,,, just BARELY keep dust and horror alive bc then nightmare gets what he wants or whatever but i just cant see either of the other 2 reviprocating the bare minimum of "affection" back (dust's grudge against killer would last until the earth's water evaporated and horror simply. would not have enough appreciation in his soul for that. probably wouldnt even get why killer's helping them smh.) PLUS they wouldn't be in a good enough mental space to even CONSIDER any sort of "affection" back with the whole ohhh shiiiit i got kidnapped and now have to do things I dont like!! + nightmare's aura preventing ANY sort of character development. horror n dust permanently keep waking up on the wrong side of the bed in the castle. killer is only immune because bro is just THAT numb (AND EITHER WAY EVEN IF THE TRIO WERE TAKEN OUT OF THE CASTLE DUST AND HORROR WOULDN'T JUST RANDOMLY BE 10X NICER,,, their capacity for niceness wouldn't go up just that the mood swings and pissiness would go down. and when the 2 arent like going through a manic burst or a furious moment theyre preeeetty damn apathetic and non caring. TO ME)

in a non bad sanses context for me i think it would be more interesting if they just like,,,, made comments to each other that are seemingly insignificant but are actually pretty insightful for the one being told so. because they might not have self reflection (because ohhh nooo pain hurty hurty being confronted with my wrongdoings SUCKS) but they have like. INVERSE self reflection on others. it could be the most barebones thing like horror saying that dust smells like shit after not showering due to lethargy and then that's a reminder to shower for him (sometimes that small reminder is all it takes want to do something youve been putting off) or like killer making an observation about how it's weird that horror doesn't eat that bunch and that he knows that people need to EAT to survive (it doesnt do much for horror since he's got that starvation mentality ENGRAINED in him but build that up and you've got a pretty nasty argument between horrorkiller. resulting in probably a nasty remark from killer about horror's ED that makes him want to start taking progress to recovery JUUUST to spite killer). and of course they probably have to take care of each other when one gets injured or nearly DIES because esuaghhh as much as they HATE to admit it theyve kinda gotten ever so slightly attached to the other 2,,, in killer's case it's intrigue but dont be fooled by s2's LIES (ok STAGE ONE gtfo of my brain dude. stage 2 is COOL)

and i DID in fact see that post you made about the "dust and horror trying to help killer with emotions or whatever and then killer feels emotions and goddamn it they HURT so now he's upset and angry at the 2 which alienates them even more" (but i forgot to uhhh like and reblog. my bad,,,,, i do that a lot with posts i like) and i do really Like That Headcanon A Normal Amount. totally normal amount and definitely not fawning over it ADHAGAHGHHHH i love it so much when they keep on pushing each other away and starting more and more conflicts between them. but they cant DO anything about it. in the gang where else would they go with nightmare crawling on their backs all the damn time??? and outside the gang theyre still too attatched to each other despite all of the intricacies of toxicity in their relationship (like a toxic relationship you can't help but keep on coming back to because it's comforting and you miss it and youre too attached even though it was bad because there were SOME good moments right? and in a life filled with sadness and anguish the small moments might be enough to keep them together)

anyways this is a lot. thank you for answering my ask :3333 i love hearing other people's ideas and interpretations on the mtt!!!! this entire reblog was just me being in denial of the trio splitting up with eachother though. erm

dear buubonita,

i'll keep it short and classy: opinions on the murder time trio??? i need to know EVERYTHING

that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow, triglycercule

Murder Time Trio is my favorite little trio, I used to throw Nightmare into the mix but I don't anymore because I still can't figure out how to integrate him in a way that I like.

Anyway, let's leave Nightmare aside.

I know that many love to think outside the box and put Killer in other groups, and I don't think that's bad at all, they're interesting to watch for a moment. But MTT is my favorite and I wouldn't change it for the world! I love the idea of ​​broken people trying to hold each other up, they need to hold on to something when all three of them are suffering constant stress and pain under Nightmare's tyranny. I love that they can connect through the pain. And their relationship is far from healthy, I'd say that breaking up afterwards is the best thing they can do if they manage to run away together.

Their form of affection is subtle gestures I think. Like Dust decides to redirect Nightmare's rage away from Killer himself when he thinks the man needs a little respite, or like when Horror drags the two of them into a safe space and they stay close to each other on the roughest of nights, or when Killer, who knows Nightmare best, gives the other two advice and warnings to handle themselves carefully around Nightmare. It's little things that try to make the situation a little less shitty, you know?But their relationship isn't perfect and there are moments of high tension that inevitably explode between them.

A friend and I thought about the idea of ​​Killer trying to understand his feelings a long time ago and how Dust and Horror try to help him figure it out only to trigger a stage jump that ends with Nightmare forcing Killer to regress to his stage 2 and with a little resentment towards the two of them for believing they did it on purpose. Or maybe Horror pushes the mental edge too much on Dust on a particularly bad day. Or Dust in a small psychotic outbreak ends up hurting Killer or Horror. These are things that can happen, their relationship is turbulent but they still try to find comfort between them within their possibilities.

I hope this satisfies your fever for them :3 i defo will talk more of them in the future.

[kori-senpai]

New Leokumi content in the lords year of 2024?? It's more likely than you think! (x)

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[carcarrot]

i did tell you people i met a they might be giant right.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[bratphilia]

overtime (m. schmidt x reader)

request: "Hey ! Just discovered your account and I love your writtings ! I was wondered if you could write a smut and romantic thing with mike ? I dont have any specific context and all its up to you ! <3"

note: ty sm for showing love to my work and for requesting!! i finally was able to write something actually sweet with mike for the first time lmao.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

tags: small age gap, fingering, missionary

after putting abby to sleep, you fell asleep yourself in front of the tv. you couldn't help it! it was a long night of cooking spaghetti for abby (and ordering pizza, per her request), helping her build a fort, and coloring with her inside it. abby's a sweet kid, but babysitting has always tired you out in general. plus her older brother, your boss, started working the graveyard shift at his new job, so it would be unfeasible for you to not go to sleep during your time spent over there.

you woke up to the chair next to you being shifted in, and open your eyes to see mike sitting there, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. you feel embarrassed that you fell asleep on the job and quickly explain yourself. "i'm so sorry for falling asleep, i was just—"

he looks at you. "no need to apologize. i don't expect you to wait all night long for me."

awkward silence fills the air. well, that settles that. god, he's so cute, you think, even all stressed out and with bags under his eyes. he's also been nothing but kind to you since the two of you met. always concerned with how you're doing, how school is holding up, and just generally about your wellbeing. you try to do reciprocate as it's obvious mike doesn't have a lot of people in his life doing the same for him.

you're the first to break the silence. "uhm, there's leftover pizza in the fridge... you know, in case you want any..." you comment, not quite sure what else to say to him.

"oh! thank you," he says. "did abby ask you to..."

"make her spaghetti and order pizza? yes, she absolutely did."

both you and mike laugh. "i'll make sure i can pay you back for that. you really didn't have to—"

"mike," you interrupt, "seriously, don't worry about it. i understand your situation and i want to help you."

mike looks at you gratefully, almost lovingly.

"y'know—"

"so, i should really—"

the both of you talk at the same time. "oh, sorry, you go."

you smile gently. "no, you go. i was just going to say i should hit the road."

he runs a hand through his hair again, eyes darting across the room bashfully. "well i — uh, i just wanted to say thank you for all you do for abby... and for me. it means a lot. you're very... kind."

your smile widens at his awkward choice of words, but it deeply touches you that he appreciates you. you place a hand on top of his. "of course, mike. i'm always here for you."

mike looks at your hand and inhales deeply through his nose. "will you — will you stay for just a little while longer?"

before you know it he's on top of you on the couch, slamming his middle and ring finger inside you while you bite back moans. "gotta be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart. can't wake abby up, okay? or else i gotta stop and neither of us want that," he whispers to you sweetly.

instead of letting you respond, mike presses his lips against yours in a deep kiss while he continues to finger you. you break apart to quietly call his name, letting him know that you're close.

much to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out before you can come. "mike, please," you whisper.

"please, what, honey?" he teases.

you squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension in your core. "please fuck me already."

mike presses his forehead against yours, breathing sharply as he slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out as your pussy swallows his hard length.

as he begins to move, he also clearly struggles to keep his noises to a minimum. as a solution, he envelopes you in a kiss as he moves inside you. his pace gradually increases from gentle to faster. the feeling is absolutely delicious.

he can feel your pussy spasming around him and his own dick pulsing too. he uses the hand caging you in on the couch to hold yours as he continues to fuck you.

"feel so good around me, baby," he whispers hotly. "you have no idea what you — ngh — do to me. every time i see you i always think about fucking you like this."

"mike," you moan quietly. his words only encouraged you.

his name becomes a whispered chant falling from your lips as he fucks you through your own orgasm. he's sure to pull out and come on your stomach while he pumps himself.

mike wipes the sweat off of his forehead and sits up so your legs lay over his lap. "sorry for pushing you into overtime," he jokes.

you give a small laugh. "no worries. it was my pleasure."

mike shakes his head at your dumb joke. then his smile fades and he looks at you seriously. "is it... too early to say that i love you?"

you lean up and meet his lips in a kiss as your answer.

[a-ikuoliver]

w/c: 1.1k tw: needles, at home piercing (DO NOT PIERCE UR TONGUE AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD), pet names (baby doll, gorgeous) notes: inspired by this thirst hereeeee + thank u my love @ghostbeam for always helping me ilysm

"hold still."

"schorry."

"that means don't speak, idiot."

you roll your eyes in response, pointedly staring at your best friend after you do. his own tongue bar clacking against his teeth when he bites his tongue, concentrating on yours, stuck out over your lips for him to inspect. dyed black hair was all you could see as he dipped, twisted, turned and tilted his head, latex all you could taste as he lifted your tongue with a gloved hand, adjusting the muscle as necessary.

"stick it out as far as you can." you follow touya's instructions, adjusting yourself in the bathroom sink, touya subconsciously stepping further between them when your thighs slip apart, his eyes still focused on your mouth as he stares, his eyebrows drawing further down his face.

you lick your lips as soon as he turns away, attempting to ease the discomfort of your dried lips and pooling saliva from holding your tongue out for so long. touya flashes you a playfully disapproving glance, reaching for the pile of tools sat beside you on the porcelain sink.

"think you can do it?" you study your face like he'd studied your tongue, mapping every freckle, mole, vein, scar and piercing marring the face of the little boy you'd met, you love him like this, you think. so perfectly touya. just as much your touya as he'd been as a hot-headed tween, dragging you by your hand into his room to show off action figures, just as much your touya as he was at sixteen, after his first piercing (well, technically first two, he'd gotten both nostrils at once), when he'd snuck into your room after his mother had seen the gems flash the moment he walked through the door, promising he'd go back home if you watched a new horror movie with him.

"'course i can, gorgeous," you begin to fidget, growing more and more nervous the more he toyed with the tools, gathering what he needed; preparing iodine, lubricant, the needle, the taper and of course the titanium bar. picking up a tissue and something else you can't see, he turns to face you again, inching closer once more, his hips nearly bumping your own on the sink, "that's the point of being a bad influence, isn't it?"

grinning, he pokes his tongue out, metal flashing under low lights, making you hyper aware once more of what you're tucked in your bathroom to do, "alright, out all the way again."

"is that the needle?" you think your voice shakes, staring at the tool he grasped in his left hand with wide eyes, a quiet, wobbly tone like a scared child.

"marker, baby doll, gotta make sure i pierce your pretty tongue nice and straight." touya's smile is crooked, a tiny flash of pearly teeth behind pierced, pink lips.

"oh, okay." still with a wobble in your speech when you begin to fiddle with your fingers, you try to focus instead on the multitude of misshapen chips in your nail polish, trying to decide what colour you might paint them next, wondering if touya will match you with a navy blue, or if the matching tongue bars will be enough.

"i can get you a towel to squeeze? if you're scared?" his voice is low, hushed as he pats your tongue dry, glancing up to your doe eyes as you shake your head, attempting to say you were okay with your tongue out. touya had countless piercings, certain there's more than you can see right now, countless times he'd gone through this process; sanitising, marking, piercing, and not once can you imagine him squeezing something soft in his hands for comfort, digging blunt, painted nails into a plush, imagining a curious face instead, sharp eyes following the needle as you avoided it, maybe crunching his eyes closed in a wince at the very last moment, when the sharp, unforgiving needle tip forced its way through squishy flesh.

"you sure?" he taps the pen on your thoroughly dried tongue, a tiny purple dot staining the centre of your tongue, the fine marker tip making you jump, overly sensitive with adrenaline pulsing through your body, waiting to nod until after he placed the pen aside.

"if you say so, baby doll." you feel the smooth latex of the glove on your tongue again, adjusting his hold on the tip of your tongue to hold the twitching muscle still, looking up to your eyes once more, noticing how you squeezed them shut the moment his muscles twitched to reach beside you for the sterile needle.

"ready?"

"uhuh."

"breathe in." your hands twitch in your lap as you suck in a deep breath, holding it in your chest even as he chastises you for it, muttering a quiet, gentle, "you have to breathe out, too, idiot."

your hands fly to his hips the second the needle touches your tongue, not even quite piercing it yet, gripping him like your life depended on it, a soft whimper echoing from the back of your throat as the needle came out through the underside, your exhale shaky as you clutch touya's hips tighter, your body tense as he whispers soft encouragements for you to keep breathing, "go nice and slow, gorgeous, like that."

you listen as best you can, focusing on the sensation of the denim underneath your fingertips, how it feels to drag your nails over the material, how your lungs inflate and deflate, how touya's voice sounds in the shell of your ear as he comforts you, praising your stillness as he places the bar at the end of the taper.

"i'm gonna put the bar in now, baby, you ready?" you don't nod, not risking moving, instead shifting your fingers to slide under the hem of his shirt, gently tapping thrice on his hot skin, y-e-s, before tucking your fingers securely into his hemline, holding him as tightly as you could when he instructs you to breathe again, "in, 1-2-3, out. did so perfect, baby."

touya doesn't move, doesn't step out of your gravity, out of your hold on him, back three steps into safety from whatever was blooming between you the longer you held him between your thighs with saliva gathering on your swollen tongue, a minuscule amount of tears gathering in your waterline with your wobbly exhale. you make no move either, keeping your hands tucked into the hem of his faded jeans, your tongue out and your eyes closed, cracking one open only when he rests his hands on your thighs, "you will not live it down if you drool on me."

closing your mouth, you giggle before wincing, resting your head on his chest as you whined out at him, "ow, touya, don't make me laugh."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[luveline]

smart, younger reader who’s like spencer and is awkward but so so lovely and then guard dog botch who’s always there and always ALWAYS so sweet to reader after absolutely biting a guys head of about getting condescending or rude !!

if u would be so kind

thank you for requesting! fem

“Exactly! High five, Dr. Reid.” 

Your hands smack as Spencer gives you a heartfelt high five. Spencer is younger than you, but besides that, Hotch might think you were twins separated at birth (very genetically different twins, but twins nonetheless). If he believed in kindred spirits, that's what you'd be. 

And it's good for him. Hotch knows there are moments where he could've been nicer to Spencer, just that being his boss makes that more difficult than it should, and with you around, you've got all the niceness solved. You're lovely. 

“I knew we'd get there,” you say. 

It's great, but there are better places for your and Spencer's diorama than the office kitchenette. 

“Guys, can we move this to a desk?” he asks. 

He should say, Can we not do this in work hours? But he doesn't. That likely says something about him… he'd rather not explore. Something he already knows. 

“It's a bit delicate for moving,” you hum, eyes on the paper attachment you've created. 

“Move it,” he says, imploring rather than stern. He hides a smile behind the lip of his mug and begins to turn away, stopped momentarily by Anderson just past the threshold. 

Anderson begins asking him about something, Hotch listens, and he pretends he isn't still listening to you and Spencer as you decide what to do with your diorama. You speak in sweet tones, encouraging to a fault, “He doesn't really mind,” you're saying, “he's just the boss. I'll hold this side and you hold that side, and– woah!” 

There's a scuffle, an explosion of paper crunching and ceramic, the sound of water spilled. 

Hotch shifts to the side to watch the aftermath. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“I–” you say, hand clenched around a scrap of torn paper, coffee staining your shoes, “I– I–” Hotch winces as you struggle for words. “I'm so sorry.” 

“You've gotta be joking.” The man you've seemingly whacked into is an older agent. He's been around much longer than you have, probably almost as long as Hotch, and he has that jaded chagrin about him. Time constitutes knowledge, sure, but not attitude. “Why are you two always messing around in here?” 

“Sorry, Agent Giles,” you say, your hands creeping together toward your stomach defensively, “we were just moving this, and I- I'll–” 

“You're gonna make me another cup of coffee?” he asks contemptuously. 

“That's quite enough,” Hotch interrupts. “Agent L/N had no intention of bumping into you.” He stands to your side. “I'd be more than happy to make a new cup of coffee if it's an imposition for you.” His tone suggests he may not be very happy after all. 

“It's fine.” Giles turns his gaze away. 

Spencer's sprung into action, having fished the bits of your diorama and broken mug from your feet, now on his knees wiping up the puddle of coffee you've displaced. “Spence,” you say, “I'm sorry, I ruined it–” 

Hotch speaks up before Spencer can. “It was an accident.” 

You have this gutted, soft eyed look about you, embarrassed he's sure. You're a sensitive girl. You're probably more upset for Spencer than yourself, and aflame with the heat of the gaze of an entire office. He casts his head back to narrow his eyes at any nosing that's still happening before he touches your shoulder. 

“Sorry, Hotch,” you say, lifting your shoe a centimetre off of the ground. Coffee drips down the canvas of them. It squelches as you put it down. 

“It's okay.” The favouritism he works so hard to hide rears its head, unable to stand the sad quirk of your mouth. “Hey, it's okay. It was an accident. You have spare shoes and socks in your go bag, and it's,” —he lowers his voice to a fond, warm whisper— “not as though you and Spencer have anything to do that you'll actually hand in to me today. Don't let it upset you.” 

You raise your head too quickly at the sound of his teasing. Relief brightens your eyes. “You're not mad?” 

“Not at you.” 

You let that sink in. Hotch's hand drops to your elbow before leaving your sleeve altogether. 

“Reid,” he says. “Don't hurt yourself. I'll call the custodian.” 

“Please don't,” you say, turning your chest to his. So close he can smell the clean notes of your perfume. “We can do it.” 

“Alright. If you're sure,” Hotch says. He resists the urge to touch your face, though the way he looks at you isn't much better. The upset melts your face, replaced with a flustered freneticism that snaps him back into focus. He's your boss. 

He's your boss. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you smile. 

He turns away before he's tempted into touching you again. 

[sanguineterrain]

hey sanne! hope you're having a good day!

love your fics soo much and i always jump up a little when i get a notification for when you post on ao3!

i have a request if it interests you! what if jay and reader get stuck in a hostage situation together? like at a bank or a convenience store or something? just obsessed with the idea of jason being protective and badass in his civilian identity!

thank you for your lovely fics! 💕

thanks for the request!

jason todd x gn!reader. mild violence, robbery, jason being cute and sweet and a little awkward as per, reader is guilty of judging jason by his appearance.

****

The bell above the door chimes as you enter your favorite convenience store. You haven't been in a while, but the older clerk still nods and smiles at you, saying hello in an accent you don't know. You greet him back.

He's a nice man, sometimes sneaking in a free pack of gum into your bag. Proof that capitalism hasn't squashed everyone's spirit yet.

Actually, you used to regularly stop here to get a treat on your walk home. Lately, though, the prices have been too steep for your meager wages.

Three dollars for a bag of chips is actually ridiculous. Are they 24K gold chips? Will they cure fear gas syndrome?

Stupid inflation.

You take a step back, thinking maybe the price will lower if you put some distance between you. Instead, you bump into someone's shoulder. You quickly back away, apologies on your lips.

Whoa.

The shoulder belongs to possibly one of the biggest guys you've ever seen. Even swallowed up in his red hoodie, he looks like he could bench press four of you. He towers over the packaged cookie display, which is what he'd been looking at before your misstep.

He's also wearing long sleeves and jeans in eighty degree weather, which is... a choice. Maybe he has an iron deficiency. You want to tell him but think better of it.

"Sorry," you say at the same time that he says, "Sorry, y'okay?"

His voice is soft and deep. You nod, and he barely glances at you before he tucks in closer to the shelf, as if anticipating for you to pass him.

Instead, you bump into the adjacent shelf and knock a couple Doritos bags to the floor.

"Dammit," you whisper.

Hoodie bends down before you do, startling you with his speed. He puts the chips back. He looks at you, and you look at him.

His face is young, nose crooked like it's been in a lot of fights. He has a scar traveling from his right eye across his face to his lip.

Never judging a book by its cover is great in theory, but this is Gotham. Judgment keeps you safe.

He's cute, though. His lips are pink and full. There's a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

But you're not about to interact with anyone more than you need to at a convenience store, so you turn around and hope he doesn't try to approach you.

And it's like Hoodie can hear your thoughts because a moment later, he goes to another aisle, leaving you alone. You relax and peruse the chips in peace.

Cheetos. Are Cheetos worth three dollars and tax, though?

Maybe just a drink.

You go to the fridges and stare, debating between a ginger ale and a Snapple when the bell above the door jingles.

"This is a robbery!"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

You turn and see a guy in a ski mask with a gun pointed at the cashier. The old clerk is shaking and has his hands up. Yeah, you're never coming back here again. Overpriced Cheetos aren't worth it.

But then to your right, you see Hoodie, crouched on the ground. He gestures for you to get low. You hesitate.

"Hey," he says, as quietly as he can. "I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm gonna get us outta here alive, okay? But you gotta trust me a little. C'mere."

Hearing him speak at length, it's clear that Hoodie is Gotham-born and bred. And he's certainly not from the Heights. His drawl is thick and, dare you say, comforting. It's old-school Jersey, like you could walk into a diner and find him chatting with the retirees. The thought startles you.

What was that about books and covers?

You get low like he wants and scurry over to him. He scoots back against the last fridge and gestures for you to do the same.

"This is the blind spot for the cashier," Hoodie whispers. "I don't think he saw us, so you'll be okay here."

You nod. You can't speak. Can't move. Can't breathe.

"Hey." Hoodie tilts his head to find your eyes. His eyes are a brilliant teal. What a pretty color. "Hey, y'alright? Can you make a fist for me?"

You make a loose fist. He nods.

"Good. Now..." He checks around the shelf. It sounds like the clerk is still emptying the register. "Squeeze your fist and inhale. Then release your fist and exhale. Can y'do that?"

You clumsily follow his directions. He makes the fist with you.

"Good, good. Okay. 'S okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, alright?"

You have no idea how he can promise something like that.

"When I push this shelf, run for the other side, okay? And when he's distracted, you'll leave out the front."

Your eyes fly to his in alarm.

"What?" you hiss. "Are you crazy? He'll shoot you!"

"I'm really fast," he says.

Oh, okay. He's insane too. Cool.

"Hurry the fuck up, old man!" the robber shouts. "I will shoot you."

Hoodie glares venomously in his direction. "Can't let 'im get away. Ready?"

No, not ready, definitely not ready!

He pushes a shelf with one leg. It crashes to the floor. Briefly, you wonder if he's ever crushed a watermelon between his thighs. From the size of them, he definitely could crush—

Okay, not the time.

He nudges your arm when you don't move. You book it to the other side of the store like he ordered. The robber clomps across the store, leaving the clerk.

"That was stupid, guy!" the robber shouts. "Really fucking stupid!"

Bang! You yelp and duck.

"What's stupid is your aim," Hoodie growls.

There's a few grunts and a landing punch. By the time you get up, the robber is out cold on the floor. Hoodie is disassembling the gun and unloading the chamber. Then he goes to the clerk.

"Thank you, good boy," the clerk says, still wobbly with fear. "Good Jason. So good."

Jason. A name for your savior.

"It's okay, Mr. Kourakis." Jason keeps talking, but it's not a language you understand. It's... Greek?

Just who is this guy, exactly?

Mr. Kourakis nods, shaky hands grasping Jason's forearms as he steadies himself. Jason comforts him for a moment, then gently extricates himself to retrieve the money from the unconscious robber and return it to the register.

On impulse, you take a Mrs. Fields double chocolate chip cookie from the shelf on your way to the register.

Mr. Kourakis keeps talking, obviously panicked. Jason soothes him in his rumbling voice, picking up the shelf he knocked over with one hand, like he's holding a basketball.

"Sorry, um, did you call the police?" you ask, interrupting their conversation.

Jason glances at you. "No cops. They're messy and inept. I told Mr. Kourakis that I'll take care of this."

Your brows rise. Inept? Looks like your savior has a great vocabulary too.

"And by 'take care of,' you mean...?"

He smiles a little, the scar on his lip stretching white. "Not like that. I meant that, uh, I got a buddy who knows a Bat."

Right, of course. You're four blocks from the Red Hood's territory.

Jason touches Mr. Kourakis' arm and tells him something else in Greek. Mr. Kourakis nods, then wearily flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He disappears into the back room after that.

"You can go," Jason says, not unkindly. He types something on his phone. Then he shuts it off and looks at you. "You hurt at all?"

You shake your head. You're still trying to puzzle him out. He's the weirdest Gothamite you've ever met.

"How do you know Greek?" you ask.

You don't know why you're asking questions. You should just take the blessing and leave.

"Study abroad," he says around a smile, like he's telling a joke that you're not privy to.

"...Right. And did you learn how to disarm a robber while you were abroad, too?"

"Nope," he says mildly. "I take jiu-jitsu classes at the Y."

You look at the crumpled robber on the floor. His mask is off and he has a black eye and a drying bloody nose. You doubt they teach that at the Y.

"Thank God for the Y, I guess," you say, turning back to Jason.

He shrugs. "Gotta defend yourself in Gotham."

No arguments there.

"Yeah. And thank you for, um. What you did back there. I got—I've never been held at gunpoint, and I guess I just... I dunno..."

Jason steps forward and makes an aborted gesture, like he was going to touch your arm. He doesn't, though, instead just nodding.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he says tenderly. "'S normal to be scared. You did great."

Jeez, is this guy a counselor? He looks too young to be doing that, though.

"You didn't seem scared," you say.

Jason shrugs, suddenly tense. "Ah, I just hide it well."

"Oh. Well, anyway." You put a few dollars on the counter and hold out the Mrs. Fields cookie. "'Least I can do is buy your cookie."

Jason's eyes widen. "I—y-you don't hafta—"

"It's really no trouble! It's all I can do to thank you. Because you really saved our butts today."

You shake the cookie a little. Jason hesitantly accepts it, then glances at your money on the counter.

"You shouldn't," he says. "This place price-gouges. Chips for three bucks is insane."

You grin. "It really is! But I don't mind. I've kinda lost my appetite, in any case. You deserve a cookie, Jason."

He blinks once-twice-three times at your use of his name. "Oh. It wasn't a big deal."

Is he serious? He can't be. "Of course it was! You risked your life for me. Thank you, seriously."

You start to back up towards the exit. Jason watches you, a mix of bewilderment and bemusement.

"Well, I gotta get home. Feed my cat." You make finger guns. God, you're lame. A good-looking guy saves your life, and you lose all sense. "Thanks again."

"Wait!"

Jason follows you outside, cookie in hand. His mouth is open like he's about to ask a question. You wait expectantly.

"Um." He swallows. "Prince Street."

"What?"

"The bodega on Prince Street. I know the owner. He's got better prices. You can tell him you're my friend. To, y'know, get a discount. Not... not that I think you're—I mean, I don't—"

You smile. Jason cuts himself off, looking a little frustrated.

"You're really sweet," you say. If you were crazier, you might kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the tip. And thanks for today. Take care, Jason."

"Yeah," he says as you walk down the block. "Yeah, you too."

[eyesxxyou]

My Hero

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. until you find your life in danger because you stole something you shouldn't have

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, a bit of sub!hobie, riding, reverse cowgirl, oral (m receiving) a bit of anal play not much though, hobie being kinda whiny and needy.

You always had a way of coming back into Hobie’s life when he needed you to the very least. Just when he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t head over heels obsessed with the Black Cat as he thought he was, that he’d be able to look at you one day and not have the irresistible urge to kiss you and take you wherever the two of you might be, whether you be allies or enemies that day. He’d think that smile of yours, filled with chaos and mischief, framed in the silver fangs of your piercings, was just like any other, and that he didn’t have every inch of your body committed to memory.

Then you’d pop back up from wherever you spent your down time and bring back with you all the emotions he thought he had discarded in the rubbish bin down the street as well as your usual additional bullshit that he always played his own part in. That’s how you ended up in his very own bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps in every night, in just a thong and a baby tee that says 'I love (the love is a heart) to make men cry' as your hair now black as the night sky.

He never told you where he lived. No one would have assumed that the vigilante Spider-Man would live on a canal boat. But you were smart, crafty. If anyone were to figure it out, it would have been you.

Hobie was just swinging back on to his docked boat when he felt the familiar tingle of his spidey-senses going off. The prickling of his hair standing as his body moved by its own fruition. He leapt out of the way just before one of your knives could catch him. It came from overhead, the top of his boat where you perched yourself. The knife lodged itself in the wooden deck between his booted feet and he looked up at you.

There it was. All those feelings. They disgusted him but he loved you. He loved your slightly violent ways of showing love that never leave him wounded for long. Your usually pure white hair now raven black in wild curls, bad luck and even worse intentions radiating off of you. The smallest twinkle of fondness in your eyes as you look at him with that grin of yours.

“You always gotta try ‘n kill me every time we meet?” Hobie asks you at you drop down from your perch in front of him with the agility of a cat and snatch up your knife from his deck. You’re in regular clothes with a duffle bag tossed over your shoulder and cat-ish makeup on your pretty face. “I never try to kill you, hon. Just testing your reflexes.” You tucked your knife away, Your hand coming to rest on his chest affectionately. “Miss me, Bee?”

Always. “‘Aven’ crossed ma min’, luv.” He spoke gruffly. You looked up at him with knowing eyes. “I missed you too.” You got up on your toes, your hand coming to the nape of his neck to pull him close and kiss him, a friendly hello to make up from your aggressive one. Hobie kissed you back immediately, didn’t even have to think about it, how body did all the work for him. He knew he should be asking questions. How the fuck did you figure out where he lived for one. But oh— it’s like you knew that kissing him would make him nice, malleable, agreeable, and dumb. Hobie’s not dumb. He’d wise up quick so you had to beat him to the punch.

“I need your help, Hobes.” You murmured against his lips before he kissed you once again in sloppy play fighting with your tongues. “I’m in trouble.”

“When are you no’?” He left out in a slight breathless chuckle, finally pulling away. Wised up. “Wha’cha do?”

You nipped softly at your bottom lip, containing a slight smile. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of fear behind those eyes. “I stole something I shouldn’t have.”

“Those are the only thin’ worth stealin’.”

“Bad people are after me, Hobie, and I need a place to lay low for a little bit.” Your lips twitched a little. Yes, definitely fear. “I need help and I heard Spider-Man is in the business of helping people.” It was definitely a shot at your pride. You hated admitting you needed help, spent years drowning because you denied everyone's attempts to throw you a life raft. Hobie knew you’d rather stab yourself in the foot. And that meant this was serious.

"Come on, le's ge' inside."

And that's why you're here in his bed, because the fear of being suffocated in your sleep in your own home left you paranoid. Hobie settled down beside you in his narrow bed with his arm tossed behind his head, the action pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal his naval and that beautiful happy trail leading down his low-hanging sweatpants. "Wha'cha take?"

"Nosey much?" Yet, you cozied up right beside him in his rather cushy bed. You liked the way he smelled, like musk and sweat and the faint hint of faded body wash. Some days, depending on the activities, he smelt metallic, like blood, and you loved that even more. You love his sharp, stoic beauty. Loved his hair and the unmarked flesh of his neck that was usually either bruised or cut in some way. Sometimes done by your own hand.

Hobie's hand was on your thigh, the pads of his fingers messaging your flesh as he looked at your face, dimly lit by the waning moonlight reflecting off the broad ocean and glittering into your face. Your lips were wet, full, pouty. Your eyes sharp and piercing. He could see the pretty peaks of your nipples beneath your shirt. He wanted to run his thumb across them, call you his pretty girl. Mumble into your mouth incoherent words of ignorant admiration. "You came t'me, lovie. I feel I gotta righ' to know wha' kinda trouble you're in."

You two couldn't keep your grubby paws off of each other, always stealing touches, slight caresses like you two were fooling anyone. Every fluid movement between you two, always playing off each other's last, was done like something of a ritualistic dance. You take something from him, he takes it back, whether by hand or by web, you get up close and with both of your quick instincts you're fighting over the objects of your desire, seeing who's wit will prevail in the end. Your banter often followed the same routine.

"Well, I feel I have the right to reserve that info. Jus' do your job, pretty boy. Keep me safe so people don't come and ruin this pretty face you like so much." You pull him close and place a soft kiss on his slender cheek before dropping the matter all together. "But— I am very grateful for your kindness. My hero." You press your lips against the shell of his ear, peppering kisses against his skin.

You shuffled about in his bed, maneuvering between his legs with your hands against his sweatpants to pull them down. "I want to thank you."

Hobie let out a breathy chuckle as you worked to pull his cock out from his pants. "I don't need thanks, par' of ma job, but I won' refuse one." Not with lips like yours and a sharp tongue that could turn so, so soft when put to good use.

Your hands held his half-hard cock, twitching with the pumping blood that made him grow harder by the second, and you stroked him softly, gathering saliva to spit on his tip and spread down his length. Hobie shuttered under your touch, looking down at you through hooded lids as his tongue poked out to wet his lip then nip at it. "Go easy." He murmured, knowing he mercilessly beat his cock earlier to the thought of you, not knowing when he might see that pretty body of yours again.

You always start so slow, feigning a sort of innocence about the way you kiss his leaking tip and suckle on it as you look up at him through your long lashes. You'd keep going on like this forever if you had the choice but Hobie was impatient and restless. Grunting with pleasure and disapproval, he'd tuck his fingers in the curls of your hair and get a nice, firm grasp before pushing your head down further.

You'd relent, let your jaw slack so he could sink his cock further into your mouth, the sensitive tip of his dick dragging across the plain of your tongue. He'd let out something of a strangled, choking whimper before biting his lip. "Fuckin'-" He'd let out in a breathy moan as his head would fall back and he'd guide you head up and down the length of his cock.

It happened every time and this was no different other than the slight way from the waves rocking the boat. His fingers were in your hair, guiding your movements as his dick slid along your tongue against your throat. "Goo', kitty." He stroked your head and pulled your head away to stroke the tip of his cock against your saliva-coated lips.

You took him all the way to the hilt, let him settle down your throat before swallowing. It drove him crazy, made him shiver as he pressed your face to his pelvis and coaxed you to do it again. You swallowed and swallowed before pulling your head back and swirling your tongue against the head of his cock. You bobbed your head at a nice, steady pace, reveling in every hiss that escaped his dark, pretty lips.

He was losing himself to you, to that mouth, to that dark gaze of yours. Head like this made him fall in love. Made him completely mad for you. And oh, you were bad, so bad and he needed you. He needed to be inside you, needed you in top of him.

Hobie moaned softly. "Come'ere." He pulled you off his cock and pulled you up the length of his body.

You kissed him, hand stroking his length in gentle strokes while you sat on his thighs. His tongue found yours, your teeth nipped at his full lip. "You like to pretend you don't miss me but you gotta miss head like that."

"You have no idea, luv."

You climbed further on top of him, kneeling above him with your hands caressing the sides of his pretty face. "Just lay back and let me thank you, hmm? I'm not always so grateful." You pushed him back against his few pillows. Hobie lied with a hand behind his head, watching as you got up and turned around to give him a nice view of your ass from behind.

You pulled your thong to the side, that pretty pussy of yours on display for him, nice and wet. You reached back and took him into you hand to drag the thick of his cock between your pussy lips, stroking your aching clit with his tip. You got him nice and wet with the creamy juices of your cunt before lining him up against your wanting entrance.

He slid in so nicely, the tip stretched your nether lips apart. Your back arched subtly as you pushed your ass back more and let him sink deeper within you. Hobie pulled a single hand from behind his head and grabbed a handful of your ass to get a better view,

That pussy of yours could make a grown man weep. So wet, so tight, so mind-numbingly soft. You knew how to move your hips in just the right fashion to make him want to cum inside every single time. Just the sight of your lips hugging his cock was enough to make him crumble in ways no other could make him. He’s whimpered for you for fucks sake and one rested in his throat right at this very moment.

You sat in his lap with his member sitting snugly in you. You rocked your hips nice and slow, circling in a way that left you shuddering. Hobie squeezed your ass then smacked it with a sharp swing of his palm. “Don’ start teasin’ now, kitty. Show me.” He pressed his hand against your lower back just enough to get a nice view of his cock inside of you. His thumb rubbed circles against your asshole and earned him something of a whimper.

You placed your hands on his thighs as leverage and raised your hips, moaning at the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You went until only the tip remained before sitting back down and taking him in once more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" The last one was long and drawn out as you felt him nuzzle against your cervix and press against that soft place in your walls that made you grip his thighs tight and need him a little more.

Hobie cupped your ass with his hand, this thumb still tentatively rubbing circles against your tight rim of muscles as you took him over against and again. That pretty pussy of yours so idyllic it looked more like a fleshlight than anything. It gripped him like a vice, like a sin, oh you were such a sin and you felt so good.

"Shit, luv– fuck. Treatin' me good f'once aren'cha?"

You rose until your pussy let him go with a nice, wet pop and swiftly turned around to straddle him as you were before. "I can treat you so much better, Hobes." You reached back, let him take your cunt again and watched his face as his brows furrowed and his mouth fell open with the beginnings of a moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, lids fluttering. You stroked his head and rutted your hips against his own, your clit stroking against his pelvis. You moaned softly, looking down at his pretty face looking equally as fucked out.

Hobie's hands grappled at your hips, thighs, and ass, unsure of where he wanted his hands the most. "Keep fuckin' me like tha'." His hands finally settled on your waist, forced you up and down on his cock like his personal sextoy. His hands were under that little baby tee you were wearing, squeezing handfuls and fondling your breasts.

Hobie's head rolled back, his eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it all. With a pussy like this, if you asked him to give up being Spider-Man, he would. With a pussy like this, you could ask him anything and he'd agree with you. So nice and tight and wet. He could feel that slick of yours dribbling down his length, rolling in clear pearls over his balls.

You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you. "Keep those eyes on me, Bee. Pretty eyes like those, I wanna see'em." Those eyes that look at you in a hooded daze, not a thought in that brain of his just you, you, you. His hands stroked the sides of your body, cupped your tits, grappled at your hips, forced you to fuck him harder.

He reached between your legs and stroked your swollen clit with his digits. He needed you to cum for him, before him, you had conditioned him like Pavlov. He can't cum unless he knows you've cum first. He needs to see that expression of absolute euphoria across your face to finally know relief himself.

"Please cum f'me, luv. Please, please, I need i'. Y'know I do. Please." Hobie panted and begged. And oh the way your pussy squeezed him in segments, pulsing and quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm.

You squeezed his jaw harder, looked him in the eyes with your forehead pressed against his. The tips of your noses touches, the heat of your breath met the others and you felt the desperation in his breath.

He pinched and rolled your clit between his fingers, watched you lose your breath and ride a little harder. "Come on, luv. 'm good fo' i'. Jus' cum f'me." He kept murmuring, watching your expression, playing with the clit he knew from top to bottom. Your pussy was beginning to make a nice, creamy squelch around his cock, your cunt quivering with your climax.

Your hips bucked as you sat in his lap and pulsed around his cock. "Fuck, Hobes. Shit, oh my- fuckin' God." He stroked your clit through your orgasm, your rocking hips milking his dick, a womb begging for his load. You were left shuddering uncontrollably with eyes barely able to stay open. Oh you were high on it, dick like this doesn't come by often and you were intent on enjoying it as you always do.

You fucked him hard, left a creamy ring around the base of his cock, fucked him because you needed him to cum because that was the whole point of this. You liked the face he made when he came. The slight smile, a daze in his gaze, the complete loss of control of every extremity.

He submitted himself entirely to you, let you spit in his mouth, slap his cheek, do whatever you wanted to him because he can feel nothing but the way your pussy milks him for all he's worth.

"My hero," you cooed. Stroking his cock as he came in nice, thick ropes inside you. His large hands squeezed your ass, your thighs, your waist, grappled at you as the very breath got knocked out of him. His lips sought out yours as they always eventually do with a wanton moan. He kissed you like he was in love, all tongue and teeth, all consuming. A kiss that says 'don't leave just yet, let's just sit here'.

You know for certain that he's in love with you and you find it adorable. You could say you reciprocated it, could say you wanted a nice, quiet life with him. But you both knew you weren't built for that, not when your allyship was so unstable and one moment you could be working together for a greater cause and the next you have a knife to his throat and intend on taking a little more than just a little blood. It's never hard feelings, a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to get ahead under the oppressive eye of fascist government.

Hobie half wondered if you were just here to get the drop on him, make him let his guard down to attack him. There could never be trust between the two of you, not complete trust anyway.

"You know we can't, Bee." You pulled away from him, pulled off of his softening cock and laid down beside him with your thong settling back into place. "As much as I'd love to, you know we're not compatible."

Hobie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I beg to diffa. We're compatible, we're fuckin' soulmates. I jus' can' figure out if we're sworn to be lovers or enemies." You look up at him, at his distant eyes that don't look back at you but instead out of a narrow window at the silver sea.

"What do you think's gonna happen while I'm here?"

Hobie finally looked down at you, his lips slowly pulling into something of a lopsided smile. "We're gonna fuck a lo', eventually hate each otha a lil' more, still fuck while we hate each otha. You'll probably try t'kill me at some poin' 'n 'm okay wit' i'. But at the end o' the day, I ain' gotta Scooby Doo, mate."

You sit up, lean in, and kiss him. In another universe, you could love him without hindrance. You've tried to love different versions of him but none compare to your Hobie, not even the Prowler Hobie you stumbled upon and made yours for a little while.

No one could compare to your hero.

[miikapie]

"Its not gonna fit!" with Geto, Choso, Toji and Gojo! (NSFW)

Just posting this because ive been thinking about writing it for weeks. Enjoy this tiny drabble while I stress over college!

Cw:.. fem!reader x various jjk men, they're mean :(( (toji, gojo too kinda..), choso being too sweet, cunilingus (choso), bad grammar ofcourse, SEX SMASHING INTERCOURSE BABY MAKING FUCKING MAKING LOVE i hope you get the point.

/MDNI//NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

Gojo is so mean to you. If you say absolutely anything related to his size, or not being able to accommodate to his girth, hes seizing the opportunity to brag and belittle you while doing so.

"Awh baby.. it can't fit? hmm? Is my cock too big? Its okay, cutie, I know I know.. Maybe we just need to pay attention to your little clit, and we'll stretch you out too yeah? Im gonna make sure your little cunt remembers every single one of my veins no matter how long it takes to get in aallllll the way."

Geto (sighs dreamily) I LOVE THIS MAN. Totally much nicer than Gojo, but unintentionally mind-breaks you. His voice btw is so sexy can you imagine how husky it is duirng the deed??? drooling rn.

"Oh, what was that? It wont fit, hm? Thats okay, love. We'll find our way around it. Just gotta stretch you out some more so i can hit that spot you love so much, mhm? Right there isnt it? Yeah, I can tell with the way you're tightening around me. Or what about this? Maybe I'll touch your clit a little more. God... I love seeing you like this. Thats a good girl.. lay down juuust like that. You dont need to think for yourself anymore when I've got you."

Toji is SO mean, and incredibly cocky. Despite knowing damn well he's way too big to bottom out immediately in you, he takes this opportunity be snarky fun of you while destroying your insides.

" 's too big? We'll make it fit, doll. Stop moving like that, you know its just gonna hurt more. Give it a few minutes and you'll be crying like a bitch in heat. Fine. I'll be nice i guess, but im still going all the way in. 's not my fault your pussy's too damn tight. Fuck.. so good.. Yeah, see? Told you you could take it, wipe those tears 'fa me and keep your legs up here on my shoulders, yeah?"

Nanami... ah. He tries so so hard to be nice to you, by slowly bullying his way in your walls, but no matter how many times you do the deed it seems like you can never keep up with his size

"Too much, honey? Its okay, sweetheart. Look, I'll put a pillow just under your back here.. and it'll make you feel much better. Whats that? Feels nicer now? Ill take it slow as always honey, just take your deep breaths... God.. you're always so tight... It feels nice when I touch you right here doesn't it?..Feels deeper? Yes, love, thats the pillow under your back helping you relax. We're gonna have to use that trick next time wont we? Thats it, sweet thing, see? Im almost bottomed out and you haven't even noticed at all."

Choso is too much of a sensitive lover to even think about ever possibly pushing your boundaries. If he ever heard you say anything along the lines of 'too big' he'd pull out immediately and instead eat you out as an apology. (even though you've told him its just something you said in the heat of the moment) (he still leaves you shaking tho.)

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hvnyrt]

Brat reader with Jason on a ferriswheel at night. Bonus points if they're not together yet

Up High, Down Low

JASON X AFAB! READER

Hey there! Thank you so much for submitting a request! I wasn't sure if you wanted NSFW or not, but I couldn't help myself soooo there's a little smut. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You and Jason go on a ferris wheel ride together, your riffng is something that's always been apart of your friendship, until it gets taken a little too far

WARNINGS: afab!reader, teasing, brattiness, public-ish sex, fingering, edging, 18+, minors do NOT INTERACT

WC: 2.5k

The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it started its ascent, each wheel turning with a rhythmic groan. You leaned back in the seat, arms crossed over your chest, and huffed dramatically, just to make sure Jason knew how bored you were.

“You know, I thought this was supposed to be fun,” you said, eyes lazily scanning the lit-up skyline. “But honestly? Kinda overrated.”

Jason, sitting across from you, glanced up at the dark sky, his arms casually draped over the edge of the seat. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. He was playing it cool, but you knew better.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who wanted to come up here,” Jason shot back, his tone dry. “I’m just along for the ride.”

You rolled your eyes, tapping your foot against the metal floor. The world below was full of lights and noise, but up here, everything felt distant, separated from the chaos you both usually navigated. It should’ve felt peaceful, but somehow, the stillness only made you more restless.

“Whatever,” you muttered, leaning over the side and staring down at the carnival below. The lights blurred into a mix of red, yellow, and blue, as if the whole world had been dipped in neon paint. “I bet you think this is romantic, huh? Sitting up here with the city all lit up, stars above...”

Jason snorted, his gaze flicking to you. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Nothing says romance like a Ferris wheel in the middle of Gotham.”

The Ferris wheel groaned as it reached its peak, the sound of the metal grinding against itself almost drowning out the noise of the carnival below. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat, feeling the wind tug at your jacket, and stared at the twinkling city lights spread out beneath you. It wasn’t exactly how you imagined Gotham to look when you’d heard it called “beautiful” — more like a maze of lights and shadows, a skyline of contradictions.

And yet, it was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered when Jason’s voice broke through the silence.

“You know, I’ve never really understood why people think this is romantic,” he said, his tone low, but still carrying that edge of sarcasm you were so used to. He was leaning back in the seat now, his arms resting casually on the bars, eyes half-lidded. There was something almost dangerous about how comfortable he looked, even up here.

“Yeah, ‘cause Gotham is known for being the city of love,” you shot back, unable to stop yourself from sounding like a smartass. “Maybe we should take a nice stroll through Crime Alley after this, too. You know, for that perfect date night vibe.”

Jason’s gaze flicked to you then—eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but not in anger. More like a challenge. His lips quirked, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You really are something else, you know that? Always gotta keep pushing, don’t you?”

You didn’t look away from him. “Someone’s got to keep you in check.”

His smirk deepened. “That so?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, and for a brief moment, it felt like the space between you closed by inches. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

The air around you felt heavier, charged. His gaze was intense—daring, almost predatory in the way it swept over you, taking in every subtle shift of your posture. You shifted in your seat, your breath hitching ever so slightly, but you didn’t let it show. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting inside your head.

“Maybe I just like seeing how easy it is to get under your skin,” you replied with a raised eyebrow, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. The words came out sharper than you meant them to, but you weren’t backing down.

Jason’s lips quirked at the corners, like he knew exactly what you were doing. “I think you’re just a brat who likes to act like she doesn’t care.”

Your stomach tightened at that, a flicker of something dangerous lighting up your insides. He gets under my skin too easily.

"I care," you said, a little more sharply than intended. “Just not about this.” You motioned vaguely to the carnival below, and to the cage you both were stuck in.

He didn’t miss a beat. His eyes locked onto you, a flicker of something darker, something almost predatory. “Oh, I know you care,” he said, voice lowering, the words like a promise. “But you’re too busy trying to hide it.”

You sucked in a breath, but didn’t let yourself react. You were used to Jason’s games. He liked to push, liked to get people riled up, and you were no different. But there was something in the air now that made it feel like this was different. Like this wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore.

You leaned forward, your gaze narrowing on him. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your tone half daring him to keep pushing, half inviting him to.

Jason shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between you. The way his eyes trailed down to your lips, then back to your eyes, sent a spark of heat straight through you, and for a second, you forgot to breathe.

“Don’t I?” he asked, voice like velvet and smoke, low and dangerous. “I think I know exactly how you work. You like the fight. You like being challenged.” He glanced at your crossed arms. “But deep down, you like when someone can actually push back. Don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. You were doing everything you could not to let him see the effect he was having on you. But he could see it, of course. Jason always saw through people, always felt the shift in the air, in the way you moved, the way you breathed.

“You talk a big game for someone so sure of himself,” you muttered, even as you tried to keep your voice steady.

He leaned a little closer, his presence filling the small space between you both. You could feel the heat of his body, the subtle tension in the air, like something was about to snap. His hand brushed against the side of the seat near yours, just enough that you could feel the press of his fingers against the metal.

Your eyes locked on his hand, then slowly dragged up to his face. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dark simmering behind his eyes. Something raw, something almost dangerous.

“You’re right,” Jason said quietly. “I’m not just sure of myself. I’m sure of you, too.”

Your pulse raced. “What the hell does that mean?” you asked, a breathless edge creeping into your voice, even though you tried to keep it steady.

Jason’s smirk was slow, deliberate, and damn near smug. “It means I know exactly how much you’re trying not to care. But you do. You care, and you want me to keep pushing.”

The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. A rush of heat flooded your chest and neck, but you kept your guard up, even as every part of you seemed to want to shatter. “Keep talking, Todd. You’re really good at this... but I’m not impressed.”

His gaze sharpened, and then his lips curved into something darker, something almost predatory. “No? You sure? I think you’re impressed. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

You felt the urge to say something, anything, to put him back in his place. But your words caught in your throat when Jason moved just a little closer, leaning in just enough that the scent of him—leather, something dark and masculine—flooded your senses. You could feel the heat radiating from him, could practically hear the beat of his heart.

Your breath hitched. You told yourself it was because of the height, because the ride had just crested and the wind was messing with you. But you knew that wasn’t it. The way Jason was looking at you, so sure, so intense—he made you feel like you were both caught in a storm.

“Don’t,” you warned, voice trembling just enough to give him an opening. “Don’t make this about—”

Jason’s eyes darkened, cutting you off with a single, sharp movement. He leaned even closer, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Make it about what, exactly? You?” He chuckled softly. “You can act like you don’t care all you want. But I can see it in your eyes. You like this.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when your heart was racing, not when your body was so aware of his every movement. The air between you felt suffocating now, heavy with tension, charged with something too tempting to ignore.

Jason cut you off with a quick grab to your chin, pulling your lips to crash into his. He claimed your mouth, using his tongue to claim all over you. You fought him back, fighting for dominance. Yet he was stronger, and well, you wanted to lose.

He was, of course, right too. You could deny the dynamic between your friendship was palpable with sexual tension. The two of you always bantered back and forth, but it never ended up like this.

 You whined and moaned into his mouth, as he took one of his large hands and quickly unbuttoned your jeans. You gasped when he did this, watching his large, calloused hands take control of you in the small cage, hundreds of feet in the air. Without warning, he picked you up on his lap, and began to abuse your cunt with his fingers. He pumped your hole as he used his other hand to pinch your nipples over your shirt.

You whined and moaned, the sounds of the carnival drowning you moans out, yet the knowledge of him taking you like this publicly had you drenched.

“Oh so this is what it was about. Sweet thing just needed something good to get her to act right?” Jason teased, continuing to scissor your insides with his fingers. He grabbed the side of your face making sure you could look at his smug smile, juxtaposed with your sweaty mess of a face, bliss your only expression.

You sneered a bit at his words, babbling over yourself as he hit your g-spot, legs starting to shake. “F-fuck..you,” you spat back. You doubled over, his arm going to wrap around your waist to hold you up as you began to shake. “Holy shit Im gonna–”

“Cum?” He remarked, cutting you off. He let out a low chuckle, quickly ripping his hands out of you. You gasped as the sudden loss of friction, clenching around the air as your pussy craved more, especially after being denied an orgasm. “Yeah after the way you talked to me, you don't get to do that right now.

He picked you back up off his lap and sat you down next to him, zipping and buttoning your jeans back up for you. He smiled at your shocked and angered expression, chuckling at you.

You groaned, pushing his hands off of you as you crossed your arms. How had he taken control of you like that? How did you let him? And why did you love it?

He smiled at your shocked and angered expression, chuckling at you. "You look like you're about to set the world on fire," he teased, his voice light, almost playful. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the heat rising in your chest. "Don't laugh," you snapped, your voice a little shaky despite your attempt to sound firm. "You don't get to do that and then just... laugh."

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. "Oh, I can do whatever I want," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something else, something that made you second-guess your own frustration. "You didn't exactly stop me. You especially seemed to be enjoying it." He teased at the end, throwing you a sultry look, a sly grin on his face.

You turned your face away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "That’s not the point, and you know it," you muttered, but there was an undeniable pull in his gaze as he watched you, like he was waiting for you to say more.

Jason’s chuckle was dark, low, and there was something about it that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His tone dipped into something more like amusement and challenge than anything else. “But it’s cute that you pretend like you’re the one in control.”

His words felt like a slow burn, and you didn’t like it. Not one bit.

You shifted uncomfortably again, not knowing if you should laugh or punch him for acting like he knew you so well, but all you could do was shoot him a glare that you hoped conveyed something.

Jason seemed to take pleasure in watching you try to regain your composure, his eyes never leaving your face. The tension was thick now, like the quiet before a storm. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the Ferris wheel creaking as it slowly started to descend.

But then Jason broke the silence, his voice softer this time, but still filled with that same undercurrent of challenge.

“You’re not as tough as you act,” he said, his gaze catching yours again, this time more intense, more pointed. “You know that, right?”

Your stomach flipped, and you hated how vulnerable that statement made you feel. But you weren't about to let him see it. Not now.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, your jaw tight. “Maybe you’re just too used to everyone rolling over for you.” He had just had you shaking on top of him, on the brink of an orgasm, and here you were acting as if nothing happened.

Jason laughed then, that deep, dangerous sound that seemed to vibrate in the air. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just amusement anymore—it was something darker, something that made the tension between you both almost tangible.

And you hated how much you wanted him to say more.

The Ferris wheel reached the bottom, and you both snapped back to reality, the ground rushing up beneath you. The moment was over, but the air between you still felt electric, the crackling tension thick enough that neither of you had the nerve to say anything as you got off the ride. You could still feel your panties sticking to you, your earlier wetness reminding you of how horny you were. And thinking of what he did to you, with all these people around, made you even hornier.

As you stepped off the platform, Jason’s voice followed you, low and just for you. “You’re lucky I like you, brat.”

You barely had time to turn and shoot him a look before he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, heart pounding in your chest and a smile playing on your lips.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Where's dumb and dumber?

here's pt. 4 of chaos fc, this is honestly so much fun to write and its' a nice break from the angsty stuff as well, cos' I really can't be dealing with any of it right now!

thanks to @alotofpockets as always for helping me out with ideas along the way and giving me the confidence to post!

pairings: kim little x reader, kyra cooney cross x reader, awfc x reader

summary: reader and kyra continue to try and cause trouble down under, however, some of the girls are quick to realise before its' too late.

also, reader is a protective guarddog when it comes to her best friend getting hurt.

"Come on Kimmy, it was harmless fun!" You exclaim, trailing through the hotel after the long bus ride back from the open traning session and it was safe to say that your Captain was still pretty miffed about what had happened in the changing rooms.

Well, if the looks from the Scots' women were anything to go by then, yeah, you were definitely still in trouble.

"Harlmess or not, I told you to not cause anymore trouble!" Kim states in a firm tone of voice, stopping in her step to turn and look at you, "I feel like I can't even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you gettin' into trouble!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," You can't help but huff and wonder if your Captain is being slightly dramatic.

That was definitely the wrong answer to say, if the look that the older Scots' was anything to go by.

"The big deal?" Kim scoffs and shakes her head, "The big deal is that I'm really gettin' fed up with the constant immature behaviour-- When are you going to grow up, Y/N!?" She snaps.

This is probably the point in which you should say something sensible...

"Where's the fun in that though?"

Or not then.

You watch as your Captains' eyes widen in disbelief before shes' shaking her head, "Thank God we're going back to London in a few days!" She mutters before she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Enough of the pranks, now! I mean it, Y/N. You so much as pull another prank and I'm phoning Leah again to let her know of the recent trouble you've gotten yourself into!"

Without so much as another word, Kim storms off in another direction and your left dumbfound, feeling more than guilty for causing your skipper a near nervous breakdown from the trouble you've been causing.

"Leprachauns' out for revenge," Your partner in crime leans in and whispers, careful to not get caught as shes' under the watchful eye of Steph still, so you can guess that she got a grilling about things as well.

Plus, Caitlin as well most likely, after all it was her girlfriend that got the brunt of the prank that backfired on the wrong victim.

"Yeah, I'd say we're toast whenever she catches up to us," You tell her in a hushed whisper as she wince when your eye catches the Irish defender, who your certain is definitely still holding a grudge about what happened.

"How much trouble did you get in with Kim this time?" Kyra wonders, curiously.

"Eh its' nothin' I can't handle, but she did threaten to call Leah again," Your face pales at the thought of the blonde hearing what else you had been up to. "What did Steph say to you?" You ask.

"Pretty much to not do it again, you know? Blah, blah, blah," Kyra relays what said back as she rolls her eyes. "Caitlin wasn't too happy either about things, considering its' her misses." She states, amusedly.

"Oops," You can't help but surpress the giggle that slips out of your mouth. "Guess we've gotta tone it down on the pranks for a bit." You murmer in realisation.

No way did you want to deal with an angry blonde yelling at you down the phone again, needless to say you were going to try and keep a low profile for now at least.

"Where's the fun in that though?" Kyra jokes as she slides her phone out of her pocket and starts to scroll through her Instagram feed, "Hey, Y/N-- Have you seen these?" With that being said, she not so politely shoves her phone in your face.

"Wha-- No way, seriously?" You can't help but crack up laughing as you watch the fan edit replay over fans' speculating that you and Kyra being together as more than just friends, "There's no way that people are believing this!" You exclaim.

Kyra can't stifle her laughter as she nods, "I know, right? We're just friends!" She finds humour in the situation; Your used to fans freaking out about things, but seeing the interaction between you both and immediately labelling it as a relationship was just hilarious to even see.

"We're nothing but chaotic, platonic little shit best friends," You grin as you playfully throw your arm around the older girl and lock her in a head lock. "Hey! I have an idea, let's just give the fans what they want!" You exclaim as an idea pops into your head.

Kyra manages to wrangle herself out of your grasp and scrunches her face up, "Ew. No offence, Y/N/N, but I don't see you that way. I'm not kissing you." She states.

"Wha-- No, not like that you idiot. Lets' just wind them up!" You roll your eyes as you pull your phone out of your pocket, tapping on your Instagram and hold it in front of you both as you playfully plant a kiss on the older girls' cheek, "Ere', smile!"

"Right, so when we get to the stadium we'll-- Oh hold on a second!" Kyra's quick to get distracted in the middle of her explanation, leaving the piece of paper with varies scribbles out in plain sight for anyone else to walk past and see it.

Definitely not careful enough to hide it.

A certain blonde is able to find them easy enough.

"What're they up to now?" Alessia furrows her eyebrow as she lifts up the piece of paper, skeptical of being caught victim to another one of your pranks after watching the latest mayhem unfold with the Irish being the one to pay the price, "Vic, have you seen this?" She motions to the Dutch player.

"Seen what?" Vic asks, confused.

"This," Alessia mumers, gesturing to the paper that she holds up in her hand. "I can't really understand it-- Butterfingers and pancake? Are they, like, yeah I'm confused." The blondes' at a loss, trying to wrap her head around the explanation of the writing on the paper.

Vic isn't able to understand it either by her puzzled facial expression, "What the-- Are they baking a cake?" She questions, confused.

"I... I don't know," Alessia is clearly stumped over what it means as she looks around for someone who might understand it clearly, "Katie! Come look at this a second, please?" She gestures in the direction for the Irish girl to join the conversation.

"What's up?" Katie wonders, walking over to the two girls. "What you got there?" She asks, confused as she glances at the paper in her hands that Vic hands to her.

"We don't know. We can't understand it," Vic admits, confused.

"Butterfingers and pancake," Katie repeats, bewildered. "What... Whos' is this?" She asks, at a loss of what to even make of this right now.

"Kyra left it on the bench," Alessia answers.

Katies' eyes widen in realisation, "It's another prank." She mutters, searching round the room for the two culprits, who are strangely quiet right now. "Caitlin! Have you seen dumb and dumber?" She questions.

"Who're we talkin' about, right now?" Caitlin questions, laughing in amusement.

"Y/N and Kyra," Katie states, motioning to the paper that she holds in her hand. "I think they're up to something again." She adds.

"Oh you mean the English and Aussie pest," Caitlin jokes, walking over to join the three of them as she eyes' the paper in her girlfriends hands, "Seriously? Not again." She grumbles, shaking her head.

"I say that we let Kim know what's going on," Katie declares, looking around for the older Scots' women. "Kim!" She got the attention of the captain.

"Ye', what's up?" Kim looks over in the Irish girls' direction.

Katie wordessly hands the paper over to the Scottish women with an amused expression plastered on her face, "Thought I'd give you the heads up, Cap." She jokes.

Taking in the notes on the paper, Kims' left looking bewildered and lost for words, "Just one day," She mutters to herself, at her wits' end the troublemaker duo.

"What'd they do?" Steph chimes in, being near to the Scots' women.

"Take a look yourself," Katie jokes, glancing to the paper.

"Oh boy," Steph exhales a sigh as she reads over it, "What the hell does butterfingers and pancake mean?" She asks, confused.

"I don't know, but I know it means they're up to no good," Kim mutters, exhaling a sigh.

"Steph and I will have a word with Kyra and we'll leave Y/N to you," Caitlin reassures the older Scots' woman as she pats her on the shoulder before trying to spot out the Australian girl, "Kyra, over here!" She speaks aloud to get her attention.

"Wha-- I didn't do out!" Kyra exclaims in protest, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Not yet you haven't, we're putting a stop to it before it happens," Steph chimes in, shaking her head as she slings her arm around the girl.

"Y/N, come here!" Kim shouts aloud to get your attention from across the room.

"Busted," You mutter to yourself and slump over to meet the stern look of your captain, suddenly having a sense of dejavu about this certain situation. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do." You state.

"What's this?" Kim holds up the paper note in her hand.

"Er, well its' a piece of paper. Was that supposed to be a trick question?" You question, sarcastically.

By the look on the older womens' face, you should know that she is not messing around and you should most definitely refrain from any further sarcastic comment.

However, you just can't help yourself sometimes.

"You know what I mean," Kim deadpans, pursing her lips. "Whatever this is, it stops right now!" Your captain is promptly wagging her finger in front of your face.

"I don't know what your on about," You mumble, trying to play innocent. "I don't even know what that is." You add, continuing to play dumb about it all.

"Yes you do, Y/N-- The girls found it, I know its' a prank and I'm telling you to pack it in right now!" Kim lectures; You have to admit that she really can be scary sometimes, and its' nothing to do with her height.

"Snitches," You murmer under your breath as you can't help but glare at the girls around the room.

"You should be gettin' ready for the match, not planning any of this dumb pranks-- Carry on and I'll have you benched!" Kim continues to scold you, mentioning about the upcoming match you're currently supposed to be getting ready for to play against the All Stars. "Stop muckin' around and get ready right now, do you understand?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and shuffle in your spot, "Yes Kim, I understand." You mumble, although you can't help but stare down at the floor.

Sure enough the lecture is enough to scare you to try and not cause any more chaos, besides that can wait for after the match at least for now.

"So, Tiny threatened to have me benched if I pull another prank," You murmer to your best friend after you finish getting ready for the match.

"I just got a right earful from Floof and Veggie," Kyra huffs in agreement as she finishes tying up the laces on the boots. "They found the papers." She adds in realisation.

"No shit, only cos' you left them aside for anyone to see!" You exclaim, glaring at the older Aussie girl.

"It weren't my fault I got distracted!" Kyras' quick to protest as she throws her hands up in mock surrender.

"Well either way, I have to keep on her good side now or shes' gonna call Malfoy!" You tell her, huffing and slumping your shoulders; You really didn't want to endure a certain blonde defender lecturing you down the phone at all.

"Malfoy?" Kyra questions, confused.

You nod in agreement, already reaching for your phone to explain the reason behind the newfound nickname for the centre back, "Yep, new nickname for the English skip, cos' I seen the comments about her new haircut and they're hilarious comparing her to a draco malfoy wannabee," You tap on the former picture that the girls had taken back in London and show the older girl. "See?" You smirk in amusement.

"That's brilliant!" Kyra can't help but burst out laughing, "Your right, suits' her well!" She adds in agreement with your name for the stern english captain.

"Come on, lets' go girls. We need to line up!" Kim motions the pair of them out of the changing rooms with the rest of the girls.

"Comin'!" You shout in response, the two of you both dwadling to join the rest of the girls.

Kim spins around and eyes you both skeptically, "Remember what I said? No trouble!" She warns.

"You got it, Cap. No trouble whatsoever!" You grin in agreement, eager to stay on the Scot womens' good side for the time being.

"I mean it," Kim states.

"I know, I know. I'll be on my best behaviour, don't yer' worry!" You agree, signalling a mock salute as you join the end of the line, ready to head on to the pitch to face the All Stars.

"Agh!" You know you should be focusing on the game, however, its' impossible with what is currently going on right now.

Seagulls, feral birds that you're terrified off.

"God damn this ball-- They keep deflating!" Katie exclaims, motioning to the ref for the need to change the ball again, meanwhile you're still trying to not have a complete meltdown about the severe amount of seagulls flying around the pitch.

"Kimmy, help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!" You dart around the pitch like a maniac, to try and avoid them.

"Y/N, calm down! You're fine!" Kim tries to reassure you, all while trying to keep her focus on the game that you're currently playing on the pitch.

You shake your head and your not afraid to admit you were deeply scared of this birds, "I'm not fine! There's... Theres' birds, everywhere!" You exclaim.

"Y/N, they're harlmess..." Steph chimes in, mostly amused with your freak out on the pitch.

"No, no, they're fuckin' not!" You shout aloud in fear, doing your best to try and duck down as one flies in your direction. "Why the heck are they flying so low?" You question in horror.

"Y/N, focus on the game!" Caitlin chuckles, shaking her head.

"I... I can't! There everywhere, Caitlin!" Your downright petrified of these birds, however, your team all seem to find the situation amusing.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Good lord," She mutters to herself as she moves to gain possession of the ball. "Ere' Y/N!" She shouts in your direction to pass you the ball seeing as your stood in a spot that's open.

Dodging the pesky seagulls, you swoop in towards the direction of the ball and kick it towards Mini Viv who then is able to knock it to Alessia, whos' remaining unmarked and shes' able to head it in the back of the net to give your team to advantage to take the lead and be 1 nil up.

"G'wan, Lessi!" You exclaim, running towards the blonde to dive on her in celebration for the wonderful goal she had scored. "Lessi Russo with the stunning header!"

"Shut up you idiot," Alessia chuckles and swats the back of your head.

Taking the opportunity to enjoy the moment, your focus is switched back to the game in hand, wanting to at least have the chance to score another goal before the end of the game.

However, your fear for the certain birds turned into anger at the very minute that you watched your counter partner be involved in a particulary nasty foul and land on the ground.

"What the-- Nah seriously, ref? What the actual fuck!" Your throwing your hands in air in protest, outraged how the player on the opposite team was able to get away with it. "Are you blind!? Your an absolute idiot to not see that!"

You can admit that you might have been a slight bit more angrier with your words than you should have been.

Thank God it is just a friendly and no yellow cards can be given out.

"Kyra!" You are quick to rush to her side, the fear for the older Aussie girl whos' now being seen by the medical team. "Are you okay?" You question, concerned.

"Ow," Kyra murmers, wincing in pain.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she seems to be fine, given the cheeky grin she gave to the camera when she was being seen by the medical team, you stood up and turned to look at the player in anger.

"What the actual fuck-- Are you that stupid to hurt her like that?" You just see red, getting up in their face and pushing them back roughly. "You'rea fuckin' idiot!" You seeth.

"Y/N, cool it!" Kims' quick to try and reign in your outburst on the pitch,  trying to grab a hold of your upper bicep and drag you away from the situation before you make it worse for yourself. "What the hell are you playing at? Are you purposely looking for a way to cause trouble-- Control your anger!" She states, firmly.

"They hurt Kyra," You murmer, looking over to check in on your best friend. "They didn't even care about it either!" You motion to the player, who seemed completely unphased about the foul.

"Relax, Y/N. Kyra's fine, you need to control your temper," Kim states, sternly as she shook her head. "Your lucky this is just a friendly, or you'd have been sent off already!"

"They... They hurt Kyra," You repeat, not entirely happy that the player got away with it like she did.

It seems like your outburst on the pitch was more of a reason for Jonas, or as you'd kindly labelled him, Thanos to sub you off in replacement from one of the young guns; Initially, you were annoyed about it, however, you were soon joined by Kyra, so at least the two of you could chat on the bench.

"Are you alright?" You try and see if Kyra's actually okay, depsite the fact the medical team had seen to her on the pitch and even went to so much trouble as bring a stretcher on.

"I'm fine, relax, guard dog," Kyra jokes, plonking herself down in a seat beside you. "You know, fans' seeing your outburst like that is just gonna give them more reason to speculate them rumours." She jokes.

"Let them speculate all they want. I'm just a protective best friend," You grumble in response, not liking the fact of seeing the Aussie girl go down on the pitch at all.

© scribblesofagoonerr