#like YEAH that’s my hearing aid you can shove it!!

[darlingofthorns]

Bullet Holes in a Guitar

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Stylist!Fem! Reader / Spider-punk x Assasin!Fem! Reader

Description: When given one last job to end your career as an assassin, during your work, you meet an unlikely punk and his band.

Warnings: Blood and violence, weaponry, cursing, implied abuse of power, no physical description of R other than clothes here and there

Chapter 1: Boxed In

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The man grunts as your foot shoves him further on the ground. His lackeys lay bruised and blue behind you, their clothes torn, soaked in rain, and smudged with dirt. Their unmoving bodies spilled crimson into the drains, the long hunt finally coming to an end. They needn't lose their lives. Just their beloved boss had to be put down, but you give credit to their loyalty.

"You bitch!" The man spits at your boot, his own blood dripping down his mouth before it mixes with the rain water. His eyes are crazed and filled with anger, hair that was previously slicked back now lay sticking to the sides of his face, his blunt now smushed under your foot. Your boss will be thrilled to hear that one of the many thorns on his side has been eliminated. You didn't care that much about that part of the mission. Just getting paid to take down corporate assholes like him were good enough.

You look down on him with an icy glare reserved for pathetic men like him. Mask snug around your face, hood hiding your eyes in its shadow, the neon lights of the street reflected on the bloodied bodies that surrounded the two of you. Thankfully, no one was out tonight to see this grueling sight. Windows and doors were shut closed, the stands empty, shops barren. The fog danced and slithered just a few inches off the ground, making the scene more dramatic.

Your mind shifts to the irony of it all, the oddly beautiful view with its inspiring neon colors were now stained with a crime scene. How many more times would you have to do this until you could get away from all of it? Every moment after your eyes are shut closed, the same dream would haunt you, the same memories. Blood forever stained your hands, unmoving and stubborn, gripping to your skin like it was its very color. Every object in your grasp turned a weapon, every assignment given to you is another person dead.

The wheezing of your current assignment brought you back to the wet streets covered in red. The man was close to his last breath. No help would be fast enough to aid him. Maybe it was fitting for a pig like him to suffer until his last cough anyway. He has done immeasurable crime. Human trafficking, dealing drugs, scams, and how many mistresses did this guy have again?

Before you could get lost in your thoughts further, a familiar beeping noise rang, one that alerted you to any further information. You tapped on the device next to the shell of your ear.

"How's my favorite assassin doing?" The voice spoke, an annoying screech of a voice that always brought some unexplainable anger to you. Never mind information when your 'guy in the chair' is some dude who you only know by voice and whatever drama he tells you about his coworkers.

"Gent. Hq talked to you about this. This is unprofessional." You replied, voice colder than usual, so no one would recognize your actual pitch.

"You and I both know professionalism can kiss my ass-- Listen! We got a new assignment for you!" Gent cheered. You could hear him twirl in his wheeled office chair.

"You're not allowed to call me that." You huffed, shaking your head. A short silence follows between the two of you, and you wondered if the line had somehow cut off. When you decide to open your mouth to say something, it closed promptly at the annoying start of Gent's voice.

"So, uhh.. you done with your assignment?" He completely ignores your previous statement. Your brows furrow before giving the bloodied man before you one last good kick to the nose, the crack of his bone echoing.

"Yeah." You answered truthfully as you walked away from all the scattered bodies. As an assassin, it wasn't your job to be clean up crew too. Either someone will come in and clean it up, or police will find them. Whoever comes first wouldn't know who left all that blood spilled on the street, no trace of anyone there.

"Alright! I'll pull up your next file. This one's- uh, unique!" Gent cleared his throat.

"Meaning?" Your voice going back to normal as you walked the hushed streets.

"Meaning you're not gonna particularly, specifically, exactly, generally..." He went on and on.

"Gent."

"Okay, you're not gonna like this one!" He finally admitted.

"And why is that?" You swerved into an alleyway swiftly after sighting a car light from a mile away, the fog fortunately covering you.

"You need to somehow go undercover in York."

"New York? That's not so far away...what's the deal?"

"No.. York as in England, York. As in England, Britain."

"..."

"Y/n?"

"Yeah, I'm here. But, England?" You whispered, confusion and frustration mixing in your tone.

"I know, I know.." Gent hushed you.

"But listen, if you complete this.. you'll be set." He let out a small chuckle.

Those few words almost lifted the weight off your chest. It almost seemed like the world was dangling a piece of meat in front of you as if you've been starved for days. It's offer tempting and successfully persuading. This could be it. No more blood, no more close calls, no constant instruction and destruction. You'd be free to live as you please. Wear clothes that don't restrict you, talk how you want, live how you want.

"I'm gonna guess you'll take the job?" Gent laid back in his seat with a smug smirk as he files his nails.

"When do I start?"

"In a week or two. We need you to lay low incase the press find out about your most recent...errand." He shrugged.

"But until then, get in the car." He twirled in his black office chair again. You turn your head and find a shiny black car pulling up in front of the alleyway, the same one you spotted.

"Talk to you next time, Y/n!" He sang. You let out a sigh, from the long day of hunting down that gang in the casino to just chatting with Gent can take the caffeine induced energy out of you. Amidst your thoughts, you slipped into the car, no words spoken to the assigned driver. Nor did you make a sound.

You did notice he seemed spooked at your sudden appearance, the hair on the back of his neck prickling up with his eyes widening for a split second before he started the engine.

...

"Word on the street says you're moving abroad!" Your neighbor stopped you in your tracks as you were about to reach your door. The cursed entrance stands only a few feet away, you wonder if you could just pretend you didn't hear her and quickly go in.

Dropping your shoulders with a twitch of an eye, "Uh..yeah." You sighed in defeat, slowly turning yourself to face your innocent neighbor. Who in reality, has been nothing but nosy to you. Which really doesn't help you as an assasin, you already have countless detectives all around the country trying to trace you based on blurry security camera pictures.

"Wow! I've always wanted to go to the big ol' tea country!" Her eyes sparkled as she locked her hands together and dreamed of Britain.

"I didn't tell you-" You scratch the back of your neck, trying to find place to speak before she inevitably cuts you off.

"Anyway.." She looked to the side, avoiding eye contact as she does.

"So you already got a job or a place to stay?" She fiddled a strand of her red hair as she chews the gum in her mouth with a smack of her lips. She always asked you curious questions. It started out as small talk, you put in what you could at first so she didn't grow suspicious, but as time went on, her questions seemed more like riddles about your personal life.

"Heading out for the day?"

"You have any pets?"

"You always look so tired.. what's up with that?"

"Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?...or a friend.?"

There weren't many risks in answering her inquiries. You tried to live your life as boring as possible so people don't show interest, answering questions with the most plain answers you could think of. But somehow, Holly has stayed ever so curious.

"Uhm..no. I guess not." You tell the truth, keep it short and simple but left out the part that Gent was already looking for apartments you could stay at.

"Ah, that's a shame." Holly shrugged. You looked at her with a blank stare, knowing and waiting for when she tells you an idea she conjured up, like she planned the conversation and she's pulling strings on whatever happens next.

"Oh I just remembered!" She clapped, smile gleaming up at you.

"My brother in law is in England. He's planning on selling his loft and moving back here! Didn't this line up perfectly?"

Ah, there it is.

"Wow, that's crazy." You attempt a typical response.

"Wait, brother in law? I didn't know you were married."

"Didn't you know? I own half of this building, I bagged the landlord.!" She whispers that last part to you, elbowing you discreetly as if you guys weren't the only two in the stairwell.

Suddenly everything clicked, from the way she knew what your name was immediately after you moved in to when your rent was due.

"Ah." You say dumbfounded.

"I'll see you around, gotta help with dinner. Email me if you're interested in that loft!" Before you knew it, she was already halfway down the stairs, waving theatrically.

You sighed, turning around to enter your humble abode that's been decorated for you. The apartment doesn't feel like home. But, to be fair, you were barely in there.

The walls of pictures are all edited, the framed certificates on the wall are fake, and even the two trophies "you got from high school" were custom-made to fit the space on your bookshelf. Despite the warm ambiance Gent and his team pushed into the space, so it looked like you weren't one of their best assassins. The air always seemed cold. Loneliness struck you every night or early morning, and you entered through the door. No one greeted you, no familiar smell danced through the air, no embrace warmed you up from the cold feeling of taking someone's life.

You were by yourself. Like you've always been.

...

"Hobie!" Gwen shook him harshly by his arm, ignoring the few spikes that poked her from his jacket. Said man wakes up with a snort, looking around the room half awake and his guitar sliding off his lap as he sits up from his bean bag made of various patches.

"Wha' happened.." He blinks away the sleep, slapping himself awake. One side of his hair has perfectly stood up instead of its usual out turned position, a product of him sleeping on his left side. He looked like the epitome of being disoriented.

"I've been trying to wake you up for like half an hour!" The blonde paces around the room, arms flung in the air in disbelief. Her sneakers slide on the hardwood floors, Hobie's eyes regaining focus by watching her shoes glide past him.

Shaking his head, "Alright, alright... why're you doin that?" He grabs his beloved guitar, placing it to the side.

"That stylist Nix hired a month ago quit! You guys need one before that show at the bar next week, duh!" She snatches her cardigan off the growing pile of clothes on the floor, her eyes lighting up when she spotted it.

"Tha's it? Gwendy, we can style ourselves." He waves her off, flopping back into his place on the bean bag. "Right, only wake me up if someone's dyin next time." He begins to doze off again, crossing one leg over the other and putting his hands behind his head before Gwen's cardigan hits him straight on the face, his spider senses failing him miserably.

"Style ourselves my ass! Yeah, maybe if the world gave the whole band like five years to decide on which leather jackets to wear before every show!" Gwen stood before him, her hands on her hips as her foot taps on the floor impatiently. Gwen eyes his disheveled state, wondering how this guy led a handful of successful missions.

"Alright, alright.." Hobie surrendered, hand gently grabbing her cardigan off himself. "We'll get another bloody stylist.." He folded it neatly, tucking it next to his guitar and adjusting himself to go back to sleep, muttering small grumbles as the cushy chair sinks to his liking.

Gwen walks out of the room with a loud bang of the door after making sure he's true to his word and giving many suspicious glares his way.

[slowmo-yo-yo]

Stupid loser loses hearing at loud concert and relates it back to comfort character

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

DEADPOOL loves squirting. He’s vocal about most things, but this gets him excited like no other. Fucking up into your cunt like his life depends on it, he knows his tip is brushing that sweet spot inside you that edges you closer to his goal. He can hear it in the pitch of your voice, see it in the curl of your toes suspended in the air, his baby’s gonna squirt—all over him. “Fuck, yeah. Fuck, yeah, baby. That’s what I want- you know what I want.” he’s encouraging you through it, watching it build as your nose scrunches up, your elegant brows furrow into a twisted knitted mess on your skewed features. That long lethal length of his plowing through your gooey pussy, shoving wet drooly sounds out of you. “C’mon- c’mon, baby. I see it in your eyes, don’t be shy. Give it to me—that’s right, give it to me.” Your hole clenches, fluttering as the tension breaks, pushing out a hot spray of squirt as you cry out. He moans with you, loud and relieved, a chorus of release as you squirt pours out of you and down the front of his pants. “Yeah, baby! Yeah, that’s my girl!” Spurts force out of your convulsing body, aided by his bolstering heartiness, dribbling down your inner thighs as he slows his plunge into your poor pussy and using his dick to massage your insides. “Oh, that’s my pretty baby… Gettin’ me all wet.”

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[1: spider-man’s more awkward than i thought..”]

spiderman!ellie x reader | tlou m.list

synopsis: ellie is in your biology class, she’s the quiet teachers assistant, who also happens to double as your agency’s part time photographer, but you notice that lately she’s been acting strange..

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You never really noticed her before, to you, she was just the nerdy TA and your agency’s assistant photographer but right now, you needed her to be your saviour. You were failing your biology class, a side effect of how many modelling gigs you’ve picked up to pay your tuition but what good was paying your tuition if you couldn’t even pass your classes? That’s how you ended up practically begging Ellie to tutor you.

“God, please, Williams,” you sighed, taking her hand in yours, “I’ll do anything! I’ll even pay you or I could speak to the agency—.”

“I-it’s fine, Y/l/n, I can do it,” she pried her hand out of yours and nodded, “Just put in a good word with your boss, yeah?”

You practically jump when she says that, “Oh thank you, thank you so much! Um, do you have my number?”

Ellie bashfully nods, “Uh, yeah, I have all the model’s numbers..”

You nod, “Okay, cool! Let’s meet at my place tonight, yeah? Maybe around 6? I’ll send you the location and the door code.”

Ellie straightens up, “Uhh.. can’t do six.. can we do it earlier? Maybe 4..?”

She looks a little nervous about asking, her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s staring into your eyes, anxiously waiting for your response, “Oh.. yeah that’s cool!”

With that, you go your separate ways.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

At your apartment, you prep it for your visitor, shoving your clothes into your laundry hamper, putting out some snacks, straightening up your ‘living room,’ it wasn’t really a living room, given that you lived in a small studio apartment, it was really just a corner of your apartment with a couch, rug, and coffee table. Come on, it was New York and you’re a college student! This is as good as it’ll get for now.

Just as you’re folding a blanket, you hear a thud against the glass door leading out to your balcony. Just as you’re about to take a step towards it to inspect it.. ding dong! You jump a bit, forgetting all about the peculiar sound and making your way towards your front door. Peaking through the peephole, you see Ellie, she’s awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, camera bag resting on her shoulder and her bangs messily in her face.

“Hey,” you smile and open the door to let her in, “Uh, make yourself at home.”

“T-thanks,” she nods, taking off her shoes and putting her bag down, “Nice place you got.. very, uh, homey. Oh, you a fan of Spider-man?” She nods at the Spider-Man poster on your wall and the Spider-Man t-shirt you’re wearing.

You giggle at her attempt at making small talk, “Thanks, can I get you anything? Water.. soda.. tea..? And, yeah, I know it’s kinda ‘fan girly’ of me but he’s just so fuckin’ cool, y’know? ”

“I’ll take a water,” she sits down on your couch, she looks really tired, not sleepy tired but she looks like she just fought Captain America.

“Shall we get started,” you place the glass in front of her and sit on the floor, the fluffy rug underneath aiding as a cushion, she nods and the two of you get to work.

The first few tutoring sessions went just like that, they were stiff and awkward but eventually, you realized that Ellis isn’t just a nerd that occasionally takes your pictures, she’s also really funny and is actually a really good teacher, she’s patient but doesn’t treat you like you’re dumb. She talks you through the formulas and makes sure you understand each chapter by quizzing you. She’s actually not awkward about this after all, she seems confident when she’s talking about cells. Watching her is nice, her eyes light up when she gets to a chapter that she is obviously interested in and a small smile falters on her lips. You never really realized it before but not only is she really smart, she’s also REALLY hot. Like, the way her veiny arms l flex when she reaches over for her glass of water, the veins flexing under her tattoo, the way she gazes at you through her eyelashes, and her smirk when she gently teases you for getting a problem wrong.

On one particular tutoring session, the rain pattered heavy against the thin glass on your balcony doors, creating a serene, almost cozy atmosphere. You and Ellie were sitting close together on the floor, a thick textbook resting on the coffee table in front of you, you could feel her breath against your neck and her voice was deep and raspy, almost like she’d been out in the rain earlier, and—

“Hey, you with me?” Ellie waves a hand in front of your face, “Hm, maybe we should stop here for now, yeah? It’s getting la— shit, it’s 7?!”

Your expression fell at the thought of her leaving, so you thought ‘fuck it’ as you decided to try and get her to ‘sleep over.’

Ellie scrambled to get on her feet, grabbing her bag and putting her battered converse on, “Oh, you’re leaving? But it’s pouring out there, wanna spend the night?” You graze her arm with your hand, you know it’s wrong to wanna sleep with your TA and your coworker but.. it had been so long since you got any.. and shit, how could you stop yourself now? You could feel her lean muscles underneath her baggy jacket.. you had no idea she even worked out.

Ellie’s eyes flicker to your hand, almost like she was considering it, “S-sorry.. I really gotta go, see ya Friday, yeah?”

And before you could say anything else to try and convince her to stay, she was out the door and you could hear her footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“The nerve that girl has!” You throw your hands up, “She didn’t even consider it.. I mean, look at me! An up and coming model offers you the night of her life, you say yes!”

Your friends nod in agreement, “I just don—.” Just as you’re about to make another comment, you see Ellie come into the lecture hall, a band-aid on her eyebrow, ouch. What in the world could have happened between 7 p.m. and this morning?

Your friends turn to see what’s got your tongue, then one of them speaks up, “Haven’t you heard? She is always getting weird scratches.. a guy in my last class said that she tends to get in a lot of fights, crazy, right?”

Ellie gets into fights? You scoff at the idea, no way, she’s the most gentle person you know, you can barely feel her touch when she adjusts your hair during shoots, besides she’s way too awkward, you can imagine her trying to talk herself out of a beating, no way. Right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

During that night’s tutoring session, you ask her about the bandaid, “Oh,” her hand darts to her forehead, “This? I, uh, got it when I fell off my skateboard..”

Convincing enough, right? But the tone in which she said it betrayed her statement, damn, she was a shitty liar.

“Hm,” you hum, still not completely convinced.

Ellie’s eyes rest on yours for a moment before going back to this week’s chapter. Usually, you could focus pretty well but right now all you wanted was to ask her more about the cut, right as you’re about to bug her again, she interrupts you with a question of her own. “Hey, uh, are you booked for that shoot on Sunday?”

You can tell she’s trying her best to act as nonchalant as possible but the way she’s nervously tapping her pencil against the textbook, the way her teeth gently bite her soft pink lips, and the way her eyes look like a deer caught in headlights betray her rather calm tone.

“Yeah, didn’t Regina tell you? She booked me a few weeks ago, something about how they want a ‘fresh young face’ or whatever,” you on the other hand, have mastered the art of being nonchalant, your voice calm and your eyes never leaving the paper of your textbook.

“R-really?” Ellie looks like a puppy who’s owner just shook a bag of treats before forgetting she’s supposed to be feign the whole ‘mysterious loner’ shtick, “I mean, uh, cool, cool. I’m gonna be there too, so, uh.. yeah.”

“Mhm,” the rest of the night carries on like nothing happened, Ellie continues teaching and you continue ‘listening,’ which was a little hard because your eyes kept drifting to her eyebrows again.

There’s something about her that you just don’t get.. if those rumours are true, which you highly doubt because look at her, she’s smiling while talking about RNA… be so for real right now, there’s no way BUT if it is true, why is she so gentle? Sure, she’s clumsy but her personality, she’s not hostile, hell, she blushes whenever you graze her hand. You know how the rumour mill works and it doesn’t just churn out baseless rumours, most have some kind of truth to them, so, how did someone make one about Ellie being so violent, you wonder.

“Uh, Y/n?” Ellie’s eyes move towards the balcony doors, “Can you, uh, please stop staring? You’re making me nervous..”

Your face erupts in a blush, the sweet red colour creeping up your neck, coating your ears, and finally, sweeping over your face, “S-sorry, just spaced out.. haven’t been getting much sleep, you know?”

Ellie nods, “Yeah.. I get it.. neighbours arguing a lot ‘nd stuff, right?”

You nod before realizing, “I never told you that.”

Ellie lets out a forced chuckle, “Uh, you did! Well, you didn’t tell me directly, just heard you say it… God, please believe me, I’m not stalking you, I just heard you say in passing, I swe—. Um. I should go, it’s getting late..”

“Huh, it’s only 6..?” You stand up with her, hoping she doesn’t leave so soon.

“Sorry, but I really should—?”

You grab onto her bulky jacket, tugging on the sleeve a bit, causing it to slip down her shoulder a bit and reveal her shirt underneath, huh, it looked like…

“Hey,” she blurts out and straightens out her jacket, “Wh—?”

“Oh my god, is that a spider-man tshirt?” You jump up, a smile creeping onto your face.

Ellie is washed with relief, “Uh, yeah! Gotta love the, uh, the guy, right?”

Nodding you say, “Totally! You should’ve said something sooner, I’m like his biggest fan, I even have an, allegedly, signed poster of him!”

Ellie’s ears burn bright, “R-really? Can I see it?”

You scramble to your room and pull out a small signed flyer, “See?”

Ellie gently holds it then she snorts and mutters, “Yeah, that’s not real.”

Your expression falters, “Wh-what? As if you’d know,” you pull it from her grip, your pride hurt and internally kicking yourself for spending so much on what could be a damn knock off.

“Oh, I think I’d know a thing or two about ‘Spider-Man’,” she chuckles.

“What does that mean,” you shoot her a glare.

“Oh, nothing.. I just, uh, met him” Ellie is scrambling for any way to cover up her loud mouth.

“No way, really?!” You jump up.

“Y-yeah, a few times actually.. back in my first year of college, he let me take some pictures of him a few times for the paper.”

You squeal and begin to bombard her with questions, “What was he like? Is he tall? How does he sound? Wh—?”

Ellie is patient with you and answers all of your questions, stretching she takes a look at the clock and jumps up, “Fuck, I really should get going, it’s rainy and the parade is tomorrow and that means more cr —.”

“More, what?”

“Uh, more cramped subways!” (Ellie is internally patting herself on the back for coming up with a word that begins with ‘cr’ instead of saying criminals.)

“Oh, alright.. see ya.”

Ellie is out the door quicker than you could say ‘your friendly neighborhood spider-man.’

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s the day of the parade and everyone’s spirits are high. Today, everyone is celebrating the election of the new city mayor. There will be a parade, drone show, and a market. Even you’re excited. You and your friends are making your way through the crowded streets when you bump into Abby, your ex. She must be here for her family, Abby’s family was widely renowned. Her dad isn’t just a highly esteemed surgeon, he’s also CEO of Oscorp and has very close ties to the city officials. You don’t really want any drama, so you pass by without giving as much as a nod.

“Hey, Y/n,” you hear through the crowds, a groan leaving your lips before looking up and meeting green eyes instead of blue ones.

“Ellie! What’re you doing here? I thought you would hate this kinda stuff.’

She holds up her camera, “Just takin’ photos, the Daily Bugle needs some front page stuff and they assigned it to me.”

“Oh, very cool,” you smile, “S—,” Just as you’re about to ask her if she wants to check out the stands with you, you feel a hand grip your shoulder, it’s Abby, fuck.

“Hey, Y/n, long time, huh? Wanna come see my dad, he’s been asking about you, oh, so has Manny.” Before you could reject her, Ellie is already walking away and Abby is steering you to the city hall building.

Abby drones on and on about her latest lacrosse victories and about her latest conquests, you just nod and try to space out. Normally, you wouldn’t go with her but you so desperately wanted to meet with her father. Being in premed meant you need as many connections as possible, so you were hoping Mr. Anderson could give you some pointers.

As the two of you round a corner you feel a rumble then hear a boom.

“What the fuck was that,” Abby stops and runs up the stairs, your feet are frozen in place but you quickly pull them from their cemented state and chase after her, “Abby, stop! It’s too dang—!”

Then came the second boom and suddenly, you felt the ground beneath you crumbling, fuck, this is it, isn’t it? Just as you’re about to accept your fate, you feel hands grip your waist and you’re flying..?

Through the dust, you can make out a red and blue silhouette. “I-it’s you!’

The masked figure looks at you, “Yeah.. i-it’s me.”

Uh, Spider-Man is a lot more awkward than you thought..

[totally-here]

Post Gotham war Jason and post GIW Danny scrap

Jason is laying on the ground. He can hear water running to his right and can see his parachute tangled in trees overhead. 

The explosion must have sent him farther away than he hoped. His back hurts from the landing after he disconnected from the parachute. His hands are still shaking from residual adrenaline that in turn makes his throat constrict in fear. 

Fucking Bruce. Of all the things he could’ve done to break their cycle. 

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A never ending cycle of them fighting over morality, making up, then fighting again without any real progress being made. The Joker’s still kicking in one way or another, and Jason still doesn’t talk with his family much outside of vigilante activities. 

And now he won’t even be able to go out as Red Hood, because his own fucking adrenaline will immobilise him with fear. 

Jason never should have tried to work with Selina. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. It was stupid, trying to mess up her operation from the inside after realizing just what she was setting up the goon workforce for, even if it wasn’t her intention. She was only letting him work with her to shove it into Bruce’s face, anyway. 

Because that’s all Jason will ever be to them. Batman’s biggest mistake. A Robin turned corpse turned mass murderer. Like he hasn’t been actively not killing people for at least a year now. Hasn’t shot a gun in months. 

And yet here Jason is, trying to tell if his ribs are broken without moving. His ears are ringing faintly from the collision with the meteor and then the explosion at the observatory. 

He ditched his comm to Oracle and the rest of the bats earlier, and the batwing is one with the wreckage now. But there are cameras everywhere in Gotham. They would see he got out, and probably send someone to pick him up. Maybe. 

Jason doesn’t know if he can stomach looking at his family right now. Not when he can still feel the effects of whatever Bruce stuck in him in the back of his throat, in the back of his mind. It’s like he’s been flayed out, all his scars and weaknesses on display. 

“Hey man, you okay?” A man steps into Jason’s vision. Around his age, if not younger. His eyes that verge on the edge of uncannily blue have deep eye bags, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. He looks at Jason like one would a particularly uninteresting bug. Jason shivers.

It takes a few tries for Jason not to swallow his words. As it is, he still slurs on the swear. “Just fucking peachy.” 

The guy raises an eyebrow, looking very doubtful. He looks Jason up and down, then sighs. He rights himself from leaning over and runs a hand through his long black hair with white streaks in it. It’s choppily cut, and not in a tasteful way. It’s like a five year old found scissors for the first time. It’s annoying how it actually works for the guy. 

“I have a first aid kit in my truck, wait here,” He orders, then walks off to the left. Jason turns his head to watch him. There is a small white truck parked to the side of a road that no cars are passing through. The guy opens the back door and digs around, then emerges with a white box. 

He kneels on the grass next to Jason and slowly reaches out to help him sit up, narrating as he does. “I’m gonna lean you against the tree so that I can get a better angle for your forehead.” He does that, and Jason realizes that yeah, his forehead is bleeding. Maybe he snagged it on a branch on the way down, or maybe it was debris. “I’m going to disinfect it, brace for the sting, I guess.” 

It does sting, but Jason doesn’t flinch away. It’s not the exhaustion from the back to back panic attacks that’s calming him. He knows what that exhaustion should feel like, this is not it. As the guy gently washes off the blood from Jason’s forehead with wipes and presses bandaids onto it, he feels like he’s being enveloped in a warm hug. 

“Why do I feel safe with you?” It stumbles out before he can stop it. The guy doesn’t stop inspecting Jason’s arms for cuts to answer. Only when he finds traces of burns to wrap against infection does he say anything. Jason’s too warm for a November night. 

“Well. There are two options. Either you’re concussed, or you’ve died before.” Jason takes in a sharp breath, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh, three, I guess. Since it could be both.”

“I don’t feel concussed," Jason says. And he doesn’t. Maybe slightly dehydrated, but his head doesn’t hurt and he’s not nauseous at all. The slight slurring is just because he’s tired, probably. 

The guy hums, leaning back to check his handiwork. There’s bandaids on Jason’s forehead and bandages along his arms. He closes the first-aid kit with a snap and stands to his full height. His face is haloed by the full moon behind him. His eyes reflect in the light. “Guess it’s option two, then. I was leaning towards that, anyway. Once Deads tend to have that effect on me, and you do give off Realms Touched vibes.”

The guy offers a hand, and Jason stares at it for a moment before taking it. It’s like touching an ice cube. “I don’t know what that means.”

The guy pulls him up easily, despite being built like a broad-shouldered twig and at least five inches shorter than Jason. Probably a meta, then. Or maybe magic. The guy lets go of Jason’s hand to run a hand through his hair again. The motion brings attention to the layer of scar tissue around his left eye. Likely scarred over in the past month or so. 

“Yeah, my bad. Should’ve assumed. Um, short version: I have what amounts to a biological need to help peop-” He stops, purses his lips, then starts again. “To help the undead. And that stretches over to you, I guess.”

“And the Realms Touched thing?”

He shrugs, not looking at Jason’s eyes, but up at his hair. At the white streak sticking out against the black. “Let me guess, you had an encounter with some green not-quite-liquid stuff sometime after you died?” Jason nods once, slowly. “Yeah, that’d do it. The green stuff’s from the Infinite Realms, and doing stuff with it kinda marks you for people with an eye for it.”

“People like you?” Jason narrows his eyes, but it really does seem like this guy is telling the truth. That this is just some weird coincidence that the spooky guy (who cannot be local. Jason might have ditched the mask, vest, and gloves, but he still has his padded shirt with his symbol on it. No true Gothamite would dare to approach the Red Hood with medical supplies) just happened to stumble upon Jason. The complete blasé attitude he has toward the pits helps. A League devotee would be more reverent. 

The guy tilts his head to the side, his face scrunching. “Technically, yeah. I meant more, like, formal magic users. I’m… different?”

“What are you, then?” 

“It’s complicated?” As Jason’s unimpressed look, he tries again. “I’m, I’m kinda like a protector spirit and a psychopomp rolled into one? But, a psychopomp that’s not good at their job.”

Jason gets the feeling that that’s the best explanation he’s going to get out of this guy. He’s already shifting away, looking past the trees and at what’s probably Gotham proper.

“So I have a sense for dead things. ‘S actually why I ended up coming through here. Something that felt like a meal was coming here, but now it’s faded.” He points past Jason, and he follows his finger, moving to face the green smoke rising from the observatory, glowing in the night sky. “You know what happened?”

“Big fuckin’ meteor,” Jason mutters. The smoke is dispersing slowly but surely. A news helicopter is already buzzing around the observatory site. 

“Sure, why not?” The guy mutters back. His eyes flick to Jason before jutting a thumb backwards. “Welp, I’m gonna get back on the road. You need me to call someone for you or something?”

Jason thinks about it. He could call someone to pick him up, or check in with Rose. But. That would mean eventually going back into Gotham. Back into the fire. Back into a city that’s being overrun with thieves he had helped support. It’s not shame that stops him, but fear. 

Fear that if he goes back, it will just start the cycle again. That it’ll just take another form, but he’s just going to be stuck fighting. He’s always fighting, has always been fighting. If he goes back and he starts fighting again, it will never stop. Fear lodges into the back of his throat once again and Jason realizes that he might not be able to fight like that anymore. 

And standing outside of Gotham, seeing the smoke coming out of it color the same as the Pits that still haunt him, Jason thinks that maybe fear and fighting are all he has left. 

He wonders what would happen if he let himself lose those, too. 

“Actually, which way are you going?” Jason asks the guy, who squints at him.

“North.” 

“Sounds good.” Jason spins around and walks determinedly towards the guy’s truck. The guy stutters and hurries to catch up to him.

“Wait, what? You’re just gonna… come with me? Are you sure you’re not concussed?” He says, but stops at the driver’s side door and just watches as Jason slides into the passenger seat. 

Jason smiles at him, all teeth. “Come on, Charon. Aren’t psychopomps supposed to lead the dead to their next destination?”

The guy just looks at him for a moment, then opens the driver’s side and slides in. He glares at Jason, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any real dissatisfaction behind it. “You’re not dead now, and I told you I’m bad at my job.”

Jason shrugs and swings his feet onto the dashboard, ignoring the guy’s disgruntled and insulted look. “Then you’ll get some on the job training.”

“I’m on the run from the government. This isn’t going to be a fun adventure, dude.” 

That does make Jason pause. But he also knows the government. “What’d you do?”

He scoffs. “Exist. Fuckers think they’re entitled to my organs. For science, they said.”

A victim, it sounds like. Hell, maybe even a clone. Not likely to be a criminal. Jason shrugs and shimmies more into the seat, making a show of getting more comfortable. The guy frowns, then closes his door. 

“You know what? Fine, guess I’m doing this now. But we gotta set some ground rules for this roadtrip, okay?” He points at Jason with his left hand, leaning over a little in what could have been intimidating if he didn’t look dead on his feet. Jason recognised the faint lichtenberg scarring on his finger. Recently electrocuted, and badly. “First, get your dirty ass boots off of the dash.” Jason obliges. “Thank you. Second, seatbelts stay on. I know how I drive, and it is not good.”

He emphasizes his point by buckling himself in and glaring at Jason until he does the same. 

“Third, um, I don’t have a third one.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, tell me a name I can call you. Yeah, that’s the third.”

“Jason. What’s yours?” He should have hesitated. All bat protocol for getting into unmasked situations with a stranger determines giving a fake name, and to not even think about anything close to real. But he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. This guy clearly doesn’t know who Red Hood is, if he doesn’t recognise the symbol, so Jason doubts he’d recognise the first name of Bruce Wayne’s dead son, and then connect the dots. 

“Danny.” Danny starts the truck and pulls back onto the empty road. It must be two or three in the morning at this point. Maybe later. “Hope you have an enhanced ID, ‘cause we’re going to Canada.”

Jason, in fact, does. Not one that has his name on it, and it’s for New York, but the picture looks similar enough.

~~

So the original idea for this was they head to a cabin aunt alicia has in canada, but I got like 2000 words into this then realized i didn't have the motivation to continue, plus i wasn't confident about the characterization (i'll admit i read the gotham war event in a vacuum) so i just scrapped it. But!! I figure i would post it here in case someone else wants to take the idea and run with it :P

[maxlarens]

lando + bandaging/stitching up an injury :)))) i love love love your writing!!!!!

i think about his nose scar a lot. i know he’s told some details about what happened but i’m throwing most of that out the window for fic purposes. also thank you🥰

tw blood, mild descriptions of a wound

You’re on the way back with drinks for you, Lando and another friend when there’s suddenly a commotion coming from the direction you’re headed. Glass shattering, someone that sounds a lot like Lando swearing loudly. The moment you hear it you’d really like to rush over there— but it’s a bit difficult with three full pint glasses held in your hands.

You charge through the crowd, elbowing and shoving as much as you can without spilling your drinks— you find Lando with his hand clutched over his nose, blood running through his fingers, down his wrist. There’s a loose gathering of people around him but you’re barely paying attention to them. You put the pint glasses down on the nearest table and shove through to Lando, indiscriminate of who you’re forcing out of your way.

“Lan,” you put a hand on his shoulder, a hand gently on his elbow, “Lan, what happened?”

He says something you can’t understand. There’s music, chatter, and a person you’re not particularly fond of is trying to take charge of the situation. Saying irrelevant things to people, directing them places and then trying to pull you away from Lando. Suddenly they’ve got a hand tugging on your elbow, saying,

“Dude, give him space, give him space.”

Then they’re shoving dirty bar napkins into Lando’s unoccupied hand and you’ve had fucking enough.

“Give me one sec, Lan,” you pat him gently on the shoulder and then whirl around to face the source of your ire, “First of all, do not touch me,”

Their hand slips from your elbow immediately as they reel back a few steps, something shocked passing across their face.

“Second,” you bite, “If you want to do something actually useful, go to the bar, ask for the first aid kit and bring it to me right now. Can you do that?”

They blink, half-stutter, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Done.”

You’re glad to see them turn tail and push through the crowd. You sigh, ask another friend to “please tell Martin about Lando. He’s over on the decks,” and then tell everyone else they need to back off unless you ask for help. You turn your attention back to Lando, grateful for your experience wrangling teenagers which is apparently a lot like wrangling drunk adults around an accident.

“Sorry,” you sigh, hands back on him, “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Er, my glass broke.”

“Your glass broke?”, you repeat, and then, “Lan, babe, can you move your hand please?”

“Mm. I dunno.”

“Sweetheart,” you say, the pet names you try not to use for him slipping out of your mouth with alarming frequency, “C’mon.”

Someone stuffs a wad of apparently clean napkins into your hand and then the first aid kit you’d asked for is on the table next to you. You unzip it, flipping it open and gathering supplies as Lando finally musters the courage to move his hand from the injury.

“It’s bad,” he says matter-of-factly, now fixated on the blood trailing down his arm, “It feels bad.”

“I’ll look,” you sigh, shuffling your high-stool closer to him so your thighs are touching, “Don’t freak out.”

You can hear him, breathing a little ragged with nerves. His unbloodied arm grabs at your jumper, clutches there. You lean into him, using a napkin to dab at the blood spilling down his nose. It’s not that bad— or it’s not bleeding profusely anymore. You don’t see any glass, just a two-centimetre wide gash on the bridge of his nose.

“Lan,” you say, reaching for a cotton ball to press there, guiding his hand to hold it, “Lando. It’s fine.”

He scrunches his nose, winces when it hurts, “Are you sure?”

You nod, grabbing napkins to wipe up his arm which you meant for him to attend to, “Promise. It’s not deep. Just need to wait for the bleeding to slow down a bit.”

You wipe blood off the tan skin of his forearm, but it’s dried a bit so you’re more just smearing it around. You manage what you can, leave the rest for later.

“Okay,” Lando says finally, sounding a little less shaky now, a little more reassured by you.

You cant help but smile to yourself as you move Lando’s other hand and the now red cotton ball. You pour a bit of saline on the cut and you’re pleased to spot no glass residue. And to find that it’s not too deep— it’s a sizeable gash but it hasn’t done anything scary like hit bone and it’s not bleeding much now. It seems to have just scraped a good layer of skin off.

You lean back and level Lando with a look. He returns the look with apparent apprehension, mouth curled into a frown, green eyes wide with worry.

“What?”, he asks.

“I’ve gotta put antiseptic on it, bub.”

He groans, grits his teeth and tips his head back instead of wincing.

“Okay,” still through gritted teeth, “Do it.”

You ready a cotton swab with a good glug of antiseptic on it. Moving again to loom over Lando. You steady his head with your fingers on his chin, not gripping hard but enough to remind him to stay still.

“Y’know,” you say, going for it right away with the cotton ball— he hisses through his teeth, a prolonged thing, “This’ll leave a scar.”

“Ugh,” he groans, less at what you’re saying, more at the way you’re covering his entire nose in antiseptic, “Girls like that don’t they?”

You shrug, letting the antiseptic dry, letting the sting subside. You ready a bandaid— they’re Disney Princess themed, thrown in there with the standard first aid kit bandaids. You’ve made an executive decision that he needs to have Princess Aurora plastered across his nose for the rest of the day.

“I guess,” you answer, imagining Lando’s nose with a permanent mark on it, “It’s cute. Quirky.”

“You think?”, he looks at you expectantly.

You snort, peeling the bandaid from its wrapping, “I have no idea, Lan. Maybe it’ll be horrific.”

He makes an offended noise, shaking his head as you tip forward to press the Aurora bandaid across his nose. You smooth it down on both sides just as Martin materialises from the crowd, carrying new drinks for the three of you. Condensation rolling down the sides of the beer glasses.

“Ah, mate,” Lando admonishes, reaching around you to take a beer, “You didn’t have to stop the set for me.”

Martin shrugs, “Eh,” he practically forces a beer into your hand, eyes shining with something that’s maybe a little mischievous, “It’s no worries. But, you clearly have someone taking care of you.”

He winks slyly at you— you feel the urge to punch him bubble up in your chest. You take a gulp of your drink to stymie the feeling, try to step away from Lando.

Lando grabs you. His arm going around your shoulder as he slips off his stool, pulling you to him. You knock your shoulder into his, bounce back and try not to press into his side.

“You don’t mean that,” Lando says later— once Martin has been filled in, you’ve been told the sequence of events leading up to the cut, and you’re another beer deep.

“Huh,” you raise an eyebrow, your mouth on the straw of your tequila apple juice, “Whaddya mean?”

“That it’ll look horrific?”

You sigh, giggle a bit, “No, Lan. Course not.”

“You think girls will like it?”, he’s smirking a little, pleased at the idea, then, hands on your shoulders, “Would you like it? You’re a girl.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thing in your gut, “Well, babe. It’s covered by a princess bandaid right now, but sure, yeah— it’ll be cute. Hot even.”

He smushes you to his chest without warning and if his smile stretches even wider for it then so what.

✨lets discuss: best friend!reader using so many pet names when lando needs reassurance because its her internal dialogue that she usually has the presence of mind to filter out— but when she’s taking care of him she’s not bothered to focus on cutting them because her only priority is lando😁😁😁 on that note best friend!reader would be a total wreck if lando got in an accident on track 😋

send me a prompt/request + a driver and i’ll write something. pls check if my requests are open 💖

[theemporium]

how about a number 8 you're mai tai with lando norris x non famous!reader

and

a number 37 smut-berry daiquiri with max verstappen

thanks cece, once again congrats on 10k, love love love your fics.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

8. shielding the other one with their body

.

You knew Silverstone was going to be insane since it was Lando’s home race.

Though your relationship with Lando wasn’t new, attending his races and being seen around the paddock were. Lando had respected your desire to keep the relationship private, even if it made it a little harder with the distance between you both during the season. But it was worth it. 

You were worth it. 

It wasn’t until a year or so into the relationship where you began making appearances in the paddock. You never showed up with Lando, trying to keep the least amount of attention on you but it didn’t take long for fans to start to pick up on the links between you both. 

But Silverstone was different. 

It was his first home race you were actually attending since the two of you started dating and you couldn’t say no to the excited look on his face when he asked you to attend. He wanted to share this experience with you, with the girl he was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

He just wished the experience didn’t include almost getting stampeded by fans.  

It happened far too fast for either you or Lando to fully realise what was happening. You were trying to make your way to the paddock entrance, passes in hand as you were approaching the turnstiles. 

But then a large group of fans appeared out of nowhere and screams broke out and suddenly there were so many people around you. They were shoving you back and forth, left and right, you didn’t know which direction was what. You didn’t know where Lando was.

Your breathing was starting to pick up, your heart was racing and your whole body was freezing up under panic as you realised you didn’t even know how to get out of the crowd. You couldn’t even bring yourself to call out to Lando, to anyone for help. You were frozen.

You smelt him before you even saw him.

You smelt Lando’s cologne overwhelming you as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. You could feel him yelling as his chest vibrated under your cheek but your hearing was muffled and you couldn’t quite work out what he was saying. 

All you knew was that you were in Lando’s arms and you knew he would keep you safe. 

He didn’t pull away until you were in the McLaren motorhome (not that you really remember how you got there) and he only pulled away enough to cup your face, his brows furrowed in concern and guilt written across his face. 

“M’sorry, baby,” he whispered with a heavy voice as his eyes skimmed across your body. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I can get Jon to get a first aid kit or we can go to medical—”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your fists clenching the fabric of his hoodie like you were worried he would be pulled away from you. “That was…a lot.” 

“I thought there would be more security,” Lando frowned, his thumbs skimming along your cheek like the action was just as soothing to him as it was to you. “I wouldn’t have put you in that position if I knew—”

“I’m fine, Lando,” you spoke again, giving him a soft smile in hopes it would help reassure him. “All thanks to you. My knight in papaya armour.” 

Lando snorted. “Oh, that was terrible.” 

“Yeah, but it made you laugh,” you retorted.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Lando confessed, a soft expression painted across his face. 

“I’m glad I’m here too, baby.”

.

[monarchberrysblog]

JINGLE BELL !! 𝒻𝓉. 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒶

art credit to @/willowo13 at X or @/slushdraws.bsky.social at blue sky!

synopsis: spending the holidays with a domesticated black cat! Miguel leaves to homey touches with red satin ribbons.

word count: 1.4k words

tags: gn! reader (if I did use pronouns I apologize in advance), dominant/submissive dynamic, reader wears lipstick, overstimulation, oral sex, a little twist in the middle 🤭 MINORS DNI

author’s note: happy holidays to my beautiful followers! this fic came to me while decorating for the holiday season. hope you all enjoy it! (this is honestly the most unhinged piece of smut I worked on. I kept laughing ngl. If it feels choppy, i apologize. I can't take this seriously.)

🎄 not proofread!! 🎄

“Can you help me with the ribbons?” You called into your apartment, hoping a particular pair of ears would prick and rush to your aid. Yet, alas, no one came to you. “If you help, I'll make you some chicken alfredo.” The sound of rummaging was enough for whoever it was to drop whatever they were doing and dash into the living room with a boyish grin and grey sweatpants.

“Really?” Miguel beams, stepping into the semi-messy living room littered with wrapped boxes. “No, just help me with the decorations.” You dismiss him and toss a bundle of neatly cut red ribbons and a clear baggie of little golden bells. He frowns but takes a seat next to you. “I thought that you said you got this.”

“Well, I don't.” You huff as you swat the strips of gift-wrapping tape off your fingers. “I got too many gifts for Mayday.” You disregard the soft teddy bear on the couch, hearing the soft toy squeak in contact. “I told you, two gifts would have been enough. But you got four instead.” You put a defensive hand up and hand him the unwrapped toy to him.

“Just wrap the gift, O’Hara.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The iridescent, colorful lights highlighted the apartment’s coziness as you sat on the floor, wrapping presents together. His calloused hands worked with the silk ribbon, attaching a golden bell to add to the aesthetic of the festive wrapping paper. He rested his hands on his lap, annoyed with the wrapping process.

He glances at the colorful tree, remembering how you probed him for putting up decorations in a specific form. He absentmindedly smiles at the memory but stops when you shove the last wrapped present under the tree. “And we’re done! Thanks for helping, Migs. But for real, I'll cook some pasta now since it is almost dinner time.” Miguel nods, watching you get up and making your way to him.

He instinctively leans toward you as you squat down to him and plant a forehead kiss, leaving your lip stain behind on his skin.

If he could, he would purr at the gesture. Instead, he smiles and slowly blinks, looking up at you. “I appreciate you.” He whispers. You giggle at his words and shake your head. “You’re an idiot.” You pick up the tubes of wrapping paper, leaving behind the ribbons and bells on the floor for Miguel to pick up.

He grabs the baggie of bells, the mini instruments colliding with one another in the small bag. He stops when he holds the bundle of unused ribbon and wraps it around his hand. An idea invaded his brain.

You stir away, taking precautions in case the noodles stick to the bottom of the hot pot. “Hey babe,” Miguel calls out to you as you focus on the boiling bubbles before you. “Yeah?” You call back in return, sprinkling some salt into the steaming water. “Can you take a look at this?” He calls out.

“Not right now, Migs. I'm wanting to make sure this doesn't stick like last time.”

“Just for a second, nena. Please…”

You glance away from the boiling pasta and glare at Miguel through your large frames, and there he is. The red, satin bow tied loosely at the base of his shaft, the tiny golden bell against one of his balls. “Miguel—” You choke out, fighting back the laughter of the red bow tied around his dick. “Unwrap me,” He comments, suggestiveness in his voice, but fails, not taking himself seriously with the flimsy ribbon against his shaft, tickling his length.

He breaks into a fit of laughter, covering his face immediately.

“Miguel, take it off.” You choke, walking towards him.

“That's the point. Unwrap me.”

“Not like that!” You wheeze into a fit of laughter, clutching onto your aching stomach. “Miguel, take it off!”

You soon stumble close to him, fanning yourself. You throw yourself into a fit of coughs and finally sigh. “Put your sweatpants back on...” You gently grasp his bicep for support, taking a deep breath. “Aw fuck…” You glance down once more and see his hardened cock, his tip leaking out precum, staining the tiled floors of your apartment. “You're making a mess.” The air in the room changes, the boiling pasta no longer being at your attention. The attention moves to him instead.

You collect yourself and look at his hardening length. The noise of bubbles boiling fades as you reach down, gently pulling the extra skin from his tip, and see the familiar mauve color. His breathing hitched, and the pads of your fingers felt new once again as your pointer finger grazed his slit.

You look up at him and see him bite his bottom lip, holding back any noises he is about to produce in the next forty minutes. You look at him with pleading eyes, tracing around the slit with your pointer finger. He swallows dryly and nods, giving you the green light.

You get on your knees, the cold tile floor picking on the skin on your knees. You continue to trace the slit for a brief moment before you stick your tongue out and kitten-lick the salty precum off. The taste made you melt as you kissed it and immediately sucked on his tip, salivating at the taste. Your hands ball up to fists as you continuously take more of him in your mouth, drooling on his length. You continue on with labored breathing until something soft grazes your cupid’s bow.

The damn ribbon. You pull away, taking a breather as you grab the ends of the ribbon and trace his length. A gutteral groan escaped from the back of his throat, involuntarily thrusting towards you, the small bell ringing from the movement. (what the hell am I writing 😭)

“The ribbon stays on.”

“But—”

“It stays on.”

The litter of kiss marks contrasted his tan skin, the marks decorated around his happy trail, but the mess stayed at his tip, the color red mashed with mauve well.

The faint traces of red smudge your lip area, giving him an amusing sight. You, on your knees, sucking and choking on on his dick while you caressed his balls in between your fingers.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks down and sees you eagerly sucking him off. Thin, sticky strands of drool found their way down with gravity, the clear drops landing on your cleavage and the floor. “Easy there…” He groans, his hand cupping your cheeks and gently thrusts into your throat.

A strained choke escapes as you place a gentle hand on his thigh. “Sí lo puedes aguantar, carino…” He rasps, tugging at your hair gently. “Ahí, carino.” The jingle of the bells greets your ear cavity, reminding you of the bell that nestled close to his balls, adding to the festive spirit.

A familiar warmth returned to your eyes as you looked up at him, barely holding on to the torturous throat fuck. The warm liquid from your eyes escape, leaving wet streaks of tears on your skin. The rings of the bells become sloppy, matching his chaotic thrust patterns.

“Ya mero, ya casi…” He groans, his patterns uneven as the clash of warmth greets your mouth and throat. He pulls out immediately, his sticky residue decorating your puffy, messy lips.

You lean toward him, chasing more of the salty taste, opening your mouth wide.

He reaches down, pumping more at his aching length, giving you what you desire. The milky discharge lands on your tongue as you look up with doe eyes, seeing him desperately trying his best to please you. He groans inaudibly, finally putting his softening dick to a rest.

Silence fills the kitchen immediately before he helps you up from the floor and unties the ribbon from his shaft and disregards the soaked ribbon and bell into the trash.

He gently moves your hair back in place before the pot on the stove sizzles, pouring the over-boiling water onto the stove. On the tips of your toes, you rush to turn off the stove while wiping your lips with your sweater’s sleeve. The result of black, burnt pasta showed, the smell of charred food filled the kitchen as you groan and cover your face with your other hand.

“Don’t worry about it, carino.” He gives you a peck on your temple and fans out the smell over the pot. “Nod if you want Olive Garden.”

You do so sheepishly as Miguel steps into the living room and puts on his sweatpants back on. “Olive Garden it is…”

[honeipie]

HOCKEY BOYS

part 2; izuku midoryia x fem!reader

synopsis: the captain of japan’s hockey team has his eye on the coach’s daughter

( the smaller font is gonna be a flashback! )

izuku midoryia, the black heron. people never really know what they are, and that’s what adds to his un-expecting nature. the black heron is most known for its unique methods for catching prey. the bird forms its wings to look like an umbrella, keeping out light from under them. the fish then mindlessly assume that this is shelter, some sort of safe haven. that is until the heron strikes, making sure that nothing is left behind.

he never wanted to get into any fights. if he had participated in one it’s likely because he had been roped into it trying to get katsuki out.

there were two reasons he didn't feel the need to fight. one, he just wasn't raised that way. if inko knew that he was picking any fight he could get she would drag him out of the rink by his ear. and the second was you.

"i don't like seeing you get hurt izu. especially when it's because of someone else" you had snuck back into the locker room once all of the players, plus your dad, had went home. the first aid kit sat by your side because he didn't let anybody else tend to him. he had said he was fine, but you weren't just going to let him go on in his current state.

"i know, i'm sorry" he mumbled under his breath, almost embarrassed that you had to see him this way "i just wanted to pull kacchan out of there. you know how he can be"

you placed a band aid on his cheek before placing your hand over it "i know you worry about him, but sometimes it's okay to let him fight his own battles. how will he learn if he never gets a chance?" his eyes gazed into yours and finally gave in. he let out a sigh leaning his head more into your hand.

"you're right. i'm sorry again"

you giggled at the sight of him. practically melting into you with the most apologetic tone. leaning in you placed a soft peck on his lips "it's okay my love. you're just trying to be the best captain you can be"

the kiss left him with a giddy smile on his face. he just loved you so much. it's not like he didn't want to make your relationship known to the world, he did. it's just your father was the problem.

yes, he was an amazing coach and mentor, but he played no games when it came to you. and yes, the two of you were both adults and could do what you wanted. it’s just that both of you knew that the news would probably piss him off for the rest of the season.

it really all started at one of the first practices you had attended, denki decided that it would be a bright idea to discuss just how attractive you were in the locker room.

"i mean did you even see her? she's gorgeous!"

sero chuckled grabbing his jersey "gorgeous, yeah, but she's the coach's kid, so messing with her is some dangerous game you're playing"

denki shrugged with a smirk on his face "i ain't afraid of a challenge" the locker room went silent after that comment. denki lifted his head up with a raised eyebrow "c'mon you can't tell me that you wouldn't want to get with her!"

"get with who exactly?"

the voice made denki's blood run cold. he gulped silently as he turned in his spot. he came face to face with your father who did not look happy. arms crossed, he took another step closer to him.

"get with who?"

“i- nobody-“

“i should shove you against these lockers right now. don’t ever speak of my daughter like that again do you hear me?” he looked up making sure to make eye contact with every single player in that room “this goes out for everyone. if one of you even thinks about getting with her then breakin’ her heart i swear i’ll make your career living hell. do you understand?”

a bunch of yes sir’s could be heard around the room. it was right on time, because you had just made your way into the locker room but with your back turned.

“everyone is decent right? i don’t wanna see anyone’s junk”

“you’re fine y/n” your dad shook his head as you turned around with a smile. in your hand you held a plate of cookies with labels on some of them “sweetheart, why would you bring those everyone’s on a strict diet”

you rolled your eyes taking off the plastic wrap “dad i know. that’s why i made the healthier cookies not the regular ones. they have flaxseed, bananas, oats, stuff like that!” you looked around the room with a happy smile “does anybody want one?”

the team looked down at the plate of cookies, then at you father. he nodded in approval which made them cheer in approval. you went around the locker room handing them each a cookie. when you got to izuku it was like the world stopped for a moment. freckles scattered across his face, and shifting when he went to smile.

his smile.

it was one of those things that you would never get tired of.

you’ve had a crush on him for a while, but had only seen him on television or from a distance. when your father said you could help out at the rink you’ve never been faster to agree.

“y/n?”

the sound of your name quickly pulled you from your daydreaming. izuku had been calling your name growing concerned each time you didn’t answer.

“sorry! i zoned out for a second there”

the smile made its way back onto his face hearing you were okay “good, i just wanted to know what the options were”

you explained everything that you had and he ended up taking one of the more plain cookies. deciding it was now or never, you made some conversation.

“you’re the captain right? how’s captaining?” what a smooth talker you were.

he chuckled a bit at your question “yeah, i am. captaining has been good. just hoping i can lead my guys to victory, y’know?”

you nodded along ready to leave before you embarrassed yourself any more, but there was one more thing you had to say.

“you’re doing great. the way you encourage your teammates and bring them all together is really inspiring. you can even tell the difference in the way they’re playing. just keep doing what you’re doing” with a smile you walked off going to hand off the last of your cookies.

red, everything was red. izuku had to turn his whole body just to make sure your father didn’t see the way he was blushing. the compliments you gave him were like cupid’s arrows to the heart.

katsuki stood next to him watching the whole interaction go down. with a shake of his head he sighed “you’re in fuckin’ trouble”

you had been “seeing” each other for a couple of weeks, but decided to make it official about six months ago. both of you being extremely happy and secure in your current relationship, and maybe when the hockey season was over you could really settle.

by the next game, izuku could take the small bandages off his face. there was no pre-game routine the two of you had, you didn’t need one. he knew you were there for him and only him, and you trusted him enough not to do anything. though you did keep a piece of him with you as he played.

usually you would wear a hoodie to games, so underneath you would wear one of his shirts. and don’t think forgot about you. izuku had carved your initials into his favorite hockey stick long ago. you decided on sitting in the box with the players on the bench, just on a separate chair. this game would be a big one, and you could tell by your fathers pacing back and forth.

“they’ve got this dad, don’t worry”

he sat down next to you with a heavy sigh “i know honey. we just can’t have anything go wrong” you gave him a pat on the back as you watched them line up. izuku had took his place with a focused gaze.

he was naturally a fun and playful person, but as soon as he stepped onto that ice, it was go time.

the starting sound rang out and they were off. speeding across the ice like their lives depended on it. you cheered every time a goal was scored making sure izuku could hear you above the others.

they were doing amazing in the first two periods. always up by at least three points. plus not even one fight insinuated from katsuki. it’s in the third period where you saw things start to get a little rocky. izuku was starting to slip. every time a certain player from the opposing team got near him he would miss a shot completely.

your dad whistled for him to come back over to the bench “kid the hell are you doing? get it together before you’re benched for the rest of the game, you hear me?” izuku gave him a silent nod, but you could tell that he was barely listening. you wanted to reach out, to ask what’s wrong, but all you could do was sit back and watch it happen. it was a good minute before izuku was let back on the ice again.

he had seemed to regather himself and was able to shoot a few passes, but once the player came back it all went downhill.

you could see your dad shaking his head out of the corner of your eye “dad maybe it’s just an off day. everybody has them-“

you had looked away for a second.

and when you looked back you saw izuku yelling at one of the players from the other team. the player had shoved him hard which gave izuku an opening. balling up his fists he sent a punch directly to his right cheek, but he didn’t stop there. he made sure to grab his jersey and pull him down to the ground with one hand and still tried to punch him with the other.

the refs finally stopped it when they saw the other guys nose was starting to bleed. two of them just had to pull izuku off the guy. he had been so distracted by what the guy said he didn’t even know he had kept going. you watched as they didn’t even drag him to the penalty box, but off the ice.

he couldn’t even look at you as he walked down the hallway back into the locker rooms.

“what the hell’s gotten into him-“

you didn’t wait for your dad to finish his sentence as you climbed over the small wall and headed down into the locker rooms.

“izu?” you saw him sitting on one of the benches head down and in his hands. there was some room next to him so you sat down gently rubbing his back “baby what happened out there?”

he didn’t talk right away, just trying to get his breathing back under control.

“they were just- just talking a bunch of shit. i didn’t care when they were doing it about me, that’s whatever. but somehow they know about me and you. the only people that really know is the team. i’m not sure how it even got to him”

it finally clicked. how he was playing, how the players kept getting close to him.

“you did it cause they were talking about me? izu you didn’t have to”

he shook his head “no, no i did have to. y/n you’re my girlfriend. if you think i’m gonna let some douchebag insult you when you’re not there to defend yourself then you’re crazy”

“oh izu” you cupped the other side of his cheek going to turn his head to face you. at first he wouldn’t meet your eyes, but it didn’t take long for his to find yours again “i am very thankful that you defended me like that. i would even say it was very, very hot”

this made him laugh, showing the smile you fell in love with.

“what i’m trying to say is thank you” you leaned in giving him a long kiss. when you pulled away you finally noticed the cuts and spot that was definitely going to bruise “i’ll get something to clean you up” you went to turn on the bench but stopped seeing someone standing in the doorway. the two of you stared in shock for a second before you got up “dad don’t do anything stupid”

he walked closer to the two of you, nodding his head towards the other hallway “the first aid kit hasn’t been refilled from the last fight. can you go find someone who can do that for us?”

“dad i don’t think”

“y/n”

“fine” you leaned down to kiss izuku’s cheek, but also whispered in his ear “i’ll be right back”

once you turned the corner, your father sat down next to izuku with a sigh. the green haired male looked down at his hands unsure what to say.

“son-“

“i love your daughter” he blurted out cheeks bright pink from embarrassment “really, really love her. and i know you don’t want anyone from the team dating her-“

“midoryia-“

“no sir, i’m sorry i have to finish this” izuku looked him straight in his eyes a small lump forming in his throat. this could either go amazingly well, or absolutely horrible. your father stared him down for a couple of seconds before nodding that he could continue “thank you sir” after taking a deep breath he went on to start.

“i tried to respect your wishes, i did. but every time i saw her, it was like i was drawn to her. i wanted to make her laugh because i love her laugh. and i wanted to make her smile more than anyone or anything. you raised such a kind, beautiful, and caring daughter that i just- just can’t imagine my life without. sorry if you think this is not manly of me, it’s definitely not how i thought this was going to go. thought i’d puff my chest out and do some big ‘it’s not your choice anyway’ shit but i’m not like that” he shook his head “you’re her father, and i respect that. i wanted to let you know how i really feel, and that she’s in good hands”

your father listened intently to izuku’s lovesick rambling. he noticed the way he smiled when he talked about you. along with some far off look in his eye. probably daydreaming about the future the two of you hold. lifting up a hand he clapped izuku on the back “i appreciate everything you’ve said. and i hope this doesn’t make it any less when i say this but.. i already knew about the two of you. maybe not dating but i could tell from every interaction the two of you had that something was going on”

izuku’s mouth hung open at the news. he just couldn’t believe that he had hid it for this long.

“i trust you. i trust you on the ice, and i trust you with my daughter. you’ve been nothing but good to her. so if you want my blessing you’ve had it for a long time. for what you two are doing now, and any plans you have in the future” with his other hand he tapped one of izuku’s fingers making his face turn a deeper shade of red.

“thank you sir. i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and-“

“thinking about what?” you asked walking into the room with a first aid kit. eyebrows knit together at the sight of your fathers hand on izuku’s shoulder “dad please tell me you didn’t threaten him or something. i’m a grown woman and i think i should be able to be with whoever i want” you’ve been mustering up the courage to say that ever since you’ve retrieved the first aid kit. your father got up heading over to you.

“i agree”

“i can try to see where you’re coming from but- huh?” you stopped your practiced speech when he came over to hug you.

“he’s a good kid, and i can tell he loves you” he placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head “im sorry that i made you feel like you needed to hide this from me. your mother has told me countless times that we need to set boundaries and i never listened, but i am now”

you started to tear up, but quickly blinked them away “thank you dad. that means a lot” a horn sounded meaning that the brake was now over. he stepped away going back into the doorway before turning around.

“midoryia this doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. you’re out for the rest of the game so get cleaned up” he pointed towards the two of you “but not together”

your face got hot and you grabbed the nearest jacket and threw it at him “get out!” he let out a roaring laugh that echoed through the halls until he was gone. shaking you head you sat next to izuku again “the audacity of that man” you mumbled going to open up the first aid kit but he stopped you.

izuku gently grabbed your one hand placing a kiss to your wrist. this made you giggle but you didn’t pull away “what’s with you?”

he then placed a kiss to the back of your hand “i’m just happy he found out. it’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders” you hummed in agreement.

“so what did you tell him?”

the last kiss was placed on your fingers. the fingers that intertwined with his own. the fingers that held his face every time you wanted his attention. the fingers that soon would be accented with a beautiful wedding ring.

“the truth”

[jasmines-library]

Hello?

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

WHUMPTOBER DAY NINETEEN: prompt: Blood Trail/abandoned cabin.

Summary: on a lone hunt, you end up injured and seeking emergency help. The only problem is, there’s no one around.

Warnings; blood.

MASTERLIST WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You stumbled through the woods, your hand clutching your side as you tried not to trip on the up turned roots. You clung close to the trees using them as support as you tried to make it to the cabin. It was just ahead of you now. Fractions from touching distance. You just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and you would make it. You were sure you would make it. You were-

Blood dripped from between your fingers. You had tried to staunch it with you hand, but as your hand began to grow slack; your blood stained the now below you a deep crimson. Keep going. Almost there.

With a heavy shove, you managed to get the door open. The hinges creaked and groaned heavily as you managed to haul the door open before slamming it shut again to keep out the cold.

Practically as soon as you were inside your legs decided to give out. Your knees bucked as you fell to the floor in a heap. Soon to be a pool of your own blood as it continued to ooze from your body. You fumbled for your phone. It was somewhere in your pocket, but your fingers refused to co-operate and it took you a clumsy minute to find it. But once it was out your muscle memory worked to dial that oh so familiar number, just hoping that the person on the other end would pick up. You weren’t sure what the signal was like around here.

Dean answered the phone on the fourth ring. “…..hello?” He mumbled groggily, clearly having just been woken up by your call.

“………Dean…?”

You could hear him straighten up on the other end of the line at the sound of your voice. “Y/n?”

“……yeah.” You coughed.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” Dean asked. His voice was laced thick with worry.

“…need some help:” you got out.

“Where are you? What happened to the hunt?” Dean was moving, pulling on a shirt before racing to his car. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m in Oklahoma……my location is on…….”

“Okay.” Deans voice was muffled by sound of an engine. “Are you hurt?” He asked again.

You mumbled a yes in response. “More of them than I thought….”

Dean cursed loudly. “I’m not too far out from you, okay? You just stay awake and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay….” You blinked slowly gazing up at the ceiling. A few minutes passed with Dean taking to you on the other end of the line to try and get you to respond to him and stay awake: but then your phone chimed. The battery was going to die. You told Dean this and he cursed once again.

“Shit. No no no. Okay. I need you to give me the directions to where you are, okay? I won’t be able to follow the location on your phone if it’s dead,”

You began to describe it, but very quickly your phone shut off plunging you it into darkness and leaving you all alone with no idea as to if Dean would be able to find you in the middle of the woods.

~

You were startled awake when the door was shoved open and a gale of wind whistled though the room. You shivered. You had been falling asleep without Dean to talk to you. Dean. He hovered over you now, falling to your side.

“De?” You asked, looking up at him as he rummaged for a first aid kit.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re okay:” he tried to reassure you as he began to try and stop the bleeding.

“…….how’d you find me….?” You asked, confused.

Dean was quiet for a moment. He had followed the trail of blood that you had left in the snow, but he didn’t want to tell you that. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. But I’m here now.” He said, beginning to wrap a bandage. Just relax, kid. I got you, you’re gonna be okay.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

This was SO sucky I’m sorry! But I wrote it in like half an hour so I could get it out to you tonight 😭

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY EIGHTEEN DAY TWENTY ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Tags:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[princessconsuela120]

✰ PATCHING UP ✰

—✰

Summary: after a run in with the poachers, Sebastian patches up all your wounds.

Warnings: mentions of blood, light cursing, fluff

Author’s Note: you already know Sebastian is gonna be here a lot. Enjoy guys!

—✰

“HOLD STILL NOW.” Sebastian said softly, one hand holding the side of your face while the other lightly dabbed at an open cut that took up your cheek. You had been out on another adventure after hearing of a group of poachers nearby. They had taken a baby niffler and were posting posters around town for ransom. You couldn’t let them kill the poor thing. So of course you stormed the camp. One thing led to another, and here you were again, sitting across from your boyfriend, snapping at him every few seconds the disinfectant would stink your wound. This happened so often in fact, Sebastian kept a first aid kit in the room of requirements, seeing as the injuries you gave yourself were too deep to cure with magic not done by a healer.

��It’d be easier to hold still if you weren’t digging that tissue into my skin.” You snapped, gritting your teeth at the stink in your cheek. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I’m not even touching you with the towel anymore, I just sprayed you with the disinfectant your mum sent you.” He explained, making you groan, squeezing into his arm as you tried to suppress the burn that came when he sprayed the bottle again.

“Ugh, we’ll, it hurts like a bugger, you must be doing something wrong.”

He sighed, taking a moment to frown at you.

“Take a deep breath, yeah? You’re probably just still reeling from the fight.” He said, making you listen to his instruction. He sighed, moving to the other side of your face to see your eye bloodshot and red, a large purple mark right below it. “Merlin’s beard y/n, you’d think you’d learn your lesson with magic.” He lectured, gently brushing his fingers against your bruised skin before turning back to the first aid kit.

“I have, mostly at least. The gash under my cheek was when I decided to start fighting with fists. Show those damned poachers who’s boss.” You mimicked a punch with your hands, causing Sebastian to scoff as he pulled out another cloth.

“It looks like they showed you, actually.” He teased, making you shove him playfully as he chuckled.

“Oh posh. They were wearing giant rings on their fingers. Cheating pricks.” You rolled your eyes. “I would’ve had them though.”

“Oh I’m sure you would have.” Sebastian mumbled, not able to hold back his smile as you described the fight with excitement. He wasn’t happy you got in a fight, not at all. But he couldn’t help but smile whenever you got excited over things like this. He couldn’t lie, he would always be proud of his girl.

“Are you almost finished?” You whined, making him chuckle at your childish response.

“Not even close. But I suppose I can patch up majority of the rest rather quickly if you’re in a hurry?”

“Only slightly. I wanted to show Rocky his new home.” You replied with a shrug, causing Sebastian to raise an eyebrow at you, pulling away from your face after smoothing out the bandage that he put on your cheek.

“Rocky?”

“The niffler I saved. You didn’t think this fight was for no reason did you?” He scoffed.

“Well, you do enjoy charging poacher camps for new cloaks, so I wouldn't be entirely surprised.” He teased, though you chose to ignore his comment.

“He’s the cutest thing you ever saw.” You gawked, pulling out the nab sack you had brought with you on your journey. You opened the bag, alleging the small light purple baby niffler to leap from the confinements of the bag. He seemed to quickly make his way into one of your vivariums, Sebastian watching as you swooned for the baby the whole time.

“Isn’t he just the cutest?” You asked, turning to him excitedly.

“I don’t know, I think you’re cuter.” He flirted, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“What a cheeky boy you are, Sallow.” You said with a smirk. He chuckled.

“What? It’s true.”

He grabbed your hand carefully, not wanting to mess up the bandages he had wrapped around your bruised knuckles, and led you back to the chair where he was patching you up.

“I’m sure it is. Now hurry up and finish so I can feed Rocky.” You whimpered loudly, pulling your face away from him as he dabbed a wet cloth on your lip. “Bloody hell!” You shouted, causing him to frown.

“Sorry.”

“Merlin’s, fuck that hurt.” You grumbled, carefully touching your lip before meeting his eyes. He pouted at you, grabbing your hands and kissing them gently, in an attempt to apologize.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll make sure to kiss it better when I’m done.” He smirked, once again causing you to scoff. You threw one of the cloths at his face as he laughed loudly.

“Oh shut it you arse.” You teased, now laughing as you smiled happily at Sebastian.

[stories4thepack]

The vampire bites the Physic

Wednesday Addams x vampire!reader

(Requested)

Warnings: blood, injury, stabbing (yeah!)

“No!”

You scream, the power of your words scratching the back of your throat like it were the dagger thrusted into Wednesday.

you can smell the blood before you see it

Crackstone twists the blade with a grin. You can hear the sickening tear of Wednesday’s flesh. Your want to run to her side, protect your girlfriend. Yet, the way your mouth waters at the scarlet, stained, school-shirt reveals how much of a danger you are right now.

Laurel Gates strides over to you, a silver dagger in her hand. You know she is going to kill you, plunge it into your heart while wearing that cruel, psychotic smirk.

“Stop,”

Crackstone hisses, his semi-rotten voice box doing little to aid his speech

“Let the leach finish of Goody Addams. “

The cuffs around your wrists are suddenly released, causing you to fall onto your knees. As well as smelling Wednesday’s, you feel your own blood flowing down the side of your head. A result of the beating you had suffered. You hear Wednesday slip to the floor, amazed she hadn’t yet screamed out.

“Bye Bye Wednesday.”

Laurel giggles, tailing Crackstone out of the Crypt. You crawl to the goths side, ignoring the way your chest burns with hunger. When you reach her, you lean against the pillar, exhausted by the pain from your own attack and the hunger flowing through your veins.

“Your going to be alright Wednesday.”

“Is your vampiric Vision impaired? I’m dying!”

You attempt to chuckle but the hunger that is making your vision scarlet and tightening your throat, makes the sound come out as more of a hiss. You’ve learnt to push the hunger down, and continue on with the day, but with more and more of Wednesdays blood flowing from the wound, it becomes increasingly difficult.

“I should put pressure on it, right?”

You manage to force out of your mouth, the words strangled but hopefully understandable. Wednesday doesn’t say anything.

You quickly crawl to your knees, placing your hands over the wound and pushing down hard. The goths face scrunches up in momentary pain. You smile, trying to help as much as you can

but then you look down.

Her blood flows over your fingers, decorating your skin a dark, red. You breath catches in your burning chest, your eyes fading into a dark, deep scarlet. You can not hear Wednesday speaking to you, trapped in your own hungry thoughts, before her hand wraps weakly around yours.

“I can read your face as if you were one of my murder novels, I find your intentions humorous.”

She mumbles, a tiny smile on her face, which is somehow growing paler than it usually is. You look back to the wound, your fingers have unintentionally curved slightly into it.

“Proceed Y/L/N.”

Wednesday mutters, your head snapping towards her face once more. You want to argue, to resist but the single, weak, curt nod she gives you is enough to make your shove away any form of doubt.

You carefully lean forward, your heart flutters as Wednesday lifts her head slightly, allowing you full access to her throat. You brush her messy hair away, unable to fully understand what you are doing. That is, until your lips press against her cool skin. You can feel her heart beat slowing with every second and suddenly, you know what you need to do.

You pull away, ignoring the confused look on Wednesdays face at your action. You place both hands on the Handel of the blade, forcing back your hunger as much as possible.

“This is going to hurt.”

You say, before yanking the dagger out of her body. You hear her hiss, see her eyes close and perhaps imagine a tear hiding beneath her eye lid. You bring your wrist to your mouth, tearing your fangs hastily into it before bringing it over her wound.

You allow a few drops of your blood to fall into hers before bringing your wrist up to her mouth.

“Are you going to turn me.”

You shake your head, you would need to drain her completely for that, and have a few candles and a spell book around. Wednesday manages to open her mouth slightly, enough to allow the blood from your own bite to fall into her mouth. You pull away, crouching beside her as her heart slows to a stop-

Suddenly she sits up, gasping for air. She looks at the palm of her hand before feeling her forehead, searching for the wounds your blood has now healed.

“Your a vampire, how is this possible?”

“The curse of being awesome Wednesday.”

You mutter, lying back against the pillar as Wednesday runs out, going to save Nevermore

———————————————————————

“You alright Wednesday?” You ask, watching as she paces around in her empty side of the room. Her stuff is still gone and her bed has been made with plain white sheets, nothing smells like her anymore, it feels so unfamiliar. She continues to pace…

“Wednesday, Crackstone is gone! Laurel is dead! What has gotten your pigtails in a twist?”

She pauses briefly to throw a sharp glare at you before continuing her pacing. You sigh, realising that calling her name again was useless. So you stand up, walk over to her and place both your hands firmly on her shoulders

“What are you doing Y/n?”

She demands, turning slowly with a scowl on her face. She is met with one of your cocky grins.

“Come one Wednesday! What is bothering you?”

Your voice bounces with playfulness, an attempt at calming the obviously adrenaline rushed girl. Wednesday pauses and you can see the way her jaw tightens as she decides whether to tell you the truth

“Y/n”

She finally says, looking up slightly to meet your bright eyes. There was something missing, she noticing, realising that she disliked the lack of burning, scarlet hunger. There was something about that side of you, a killer, someone who could match how dangerous she herself was, that she found incredibly beautiful

“Last night, at the Crypt-“

“If your gonna ask how I healed you, I honestly have no idea myself. Somewhere down the line I had a wizard for a great, great grandfather or something.”

Wednesday waits until you are finished, deciding the best way to ask is directly (as usual)

“Would you have bitten me.”

It sounds more like a statement but the words are enough to make you freeze. You hate the way your eyes snap to her throat, and you know for certain that she saw the short action.

“Is my blood that tempting for you?”

She asks, stepping closer, deep eyes never leaving yours. You swallow nervously, your hands feeling suddenly very sweaty.

“Yeah, you are.”

Another step, her head tilts upward for you. Instinctively, you brush her pigtail over her shoulder, finger carefully trailing her jugular. Wednesday watches as your glowing eyes darken into that scarlet and she adores the way they look into her own.

“Sorry, I should have my sunglasses o-“

She cuts you off by pressing her lips to your, the gentleness of the action surprises you but soon you are kissing back, hand grasping her throat as if it were a life line.

You pull her by her shoulder, guiding her over to her bed, making her sit down on the edge of it. You decide to sit behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I assume you are going to bite then?”

She questions, her usually monotone voice sounder so much sweeter now. Your lips press against her cool skin, feeling the light shiver that ripples through her body at your touch. You can both hear and feel her heart beating and feel the warmth of her blood. It is all too tempting

You bite down, fangs breaking through the soft skin as if it were nothing. You feel Wednesday stiffen and lean backwards into you as you begin to drink. Her blood the most incredible you had ever tasted. Your hand grasps the other side of her head, tilting her further to the side to give you better access. No other blood would compare to this, no one’s and nothings.

When you finally tear your head from her throat, she turns around, kissing you again and no doubt tasting her blood on your lips.

You fall back against her bed, head sinking into her pillow. Your surprised, nearly shocked when Wednesday lies beside you, your hands touching each other lightly.

“We are going to do this again? Right?”

She doesn’t hesitate with her answer, and moves her head a centimetre to look into those scarlet eyes once more

“Yes, Mon Cher, we will”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but you should make an OC.

You should make an OC. Specifically a Spider-Sona. Like now. Preferably yesterday. [A MEDIUM-LONG essay about OC's, fanfiction, and how to enrich and better your writing skills in literally every sector. Throughout this essay I reference my two characters Disco-Spider and Inca-Spider as examples of the way OCs can be used.]

_________________________________________

"But no one cares about OCs -"

OKKAYYYY??

IDK about ya'll but fandom is NOT my final destination no siree

I feel like a lot of the time we get so caught up in posting and notes we forget that for many artists and writers on this platform - fanfiction is not the true end goal.

Many of us write and draw fanart for years -

But the fact of the matter is if you want to be an author someday, if you want to be a graphic novelist, an animator, etc, etc - You're going to HAVE to make OCs.

If you want to study English in college or publish books - you're gonna have to write an OC at least once. If not hundreds of times.

If you want to study art - chances are at some point you're gonna have to fill a portfolio with original pieces, including some of OCs.

If you want to do something with your writing, if you want to get better - or make a career out of your art, you HAVE to make OCs at some point.

And this is especially true for fanfiction writers.

You can get very very very good at writing in your specific fandoms, you may have the emotions of the characters on point, and the ability to describe the scenery.

But if you don't know how to create and design a character - if you don't know how to worldbuild, or come up with scenarios without the help of characterai and ChatGPT - you won't be able to write a book.

If you're an artist and you don't know how to draw an original character from scratch, how to match colors, how to draw certain skin tones, certain hair, wheelchairs and mobility aids, how to design a character from looks, to clothing - it's going to be so hard to expand your art outside of fanart. You'll always be beholden to the notes and popularity of your particular fandom.

Do it - even if you've never written or never draw before. Even better.

That's why I CHAMPION Spider-sonas so much. They're basically OCs on easy mode.

Can't write backgrounds yet? Here's a bucket on canon events to pick from? Can't draw faces? Blank mask with eyes.

Hell, if you're really really new about it - just pick a character and make a slightly different variant. Make a Hobie of your own, make a Peter variant. Make a Mary Jane variant. Pick a something you like and turn that into a character.

Can't write? Just fill-in the 'My name is [blank], I was bitten by a [blank]' script that Miles does. Can't draw, just draw out a basic shape of a body and color-out the suit, no fancy pose needed. That still counts!!

Make a self-insert. Make yourself fit into the story, design your suit, write out how you fight crime, how you'd act at the Society, meeting Miguel or Miles.

That's still character design, that's still worldbuilding.

We always hear people say 'Make art for yourself' and yeah that sounds nice - but people also misinterpret it.

Make art for yourself doesn't just mean making art that you personally like.

Making art for yourself also means making art that develops your skills even if no one gives a fuck. It's about making art as practice without the intention of it being 'completed', making OCs that never get used, drawing locations you see or writing a random ass short story then shoving it into your Google Drive forever.

Making art for yourself means making art that invests in yourself.

It means making art that interests you, challenges you, or helps you develop.

And making OC's helps develop your fanfic writing skills.

In may fandoms we begin to fall into these routine 'tropes' between characters and their personalities. This is usually known as the 'fanon' characterization.

Because when you have a set amount of characters and people, there's also a set amount of interactions and relationships between those people.

Writing OCs and having those OCs interact with canon characters allows you to dig deeper into sides of the canon characters we'd never otherwise see.

That's why I wrote Disco-Spider Diane like I do. Often, we see Hobie characterized as the chaotic, rowdy, confident type - which is perfect characterization for him. But in almost all of his interactions - he's the wilder, bolder, extroverted one. I wanted to put him in a situation where for once, he was the calmer one. I wanted to explore more grounded and chill sides of Hobie, one where he's the one grounding the other, and thinking logically - because in canon, we're hinted at a side of Hobie who's way more methodical and slow-paced and willing to stop and wait it out and play it off. And I wanted to see that. I wanted to explore what he'd do if he was faced with someone just as chaotic, who put on a cheeky ironic act - just the same as him.

Because no other characters serve that purpose in canon.

If there are elements of a character or concept you think are interesting but outright ignored by canon and fanon, you can create an OC to explore those parts.

For Disco-Spider: I wanted to explore how someone like a militant Black Panther would handle being Spider-woman, when Spider-people are usually shown as pacifists - what that would look like or how it'd shape her morals based on era, etc. For Inca-Spider: I realized there were so many culture based Spider people like Pavitr and Spider-UK. But none for indigenous communities, and NONE from countries that only existed in other universes. So, I created an indigenous character from Tawanti - a country that's located where Peru would be for us.

You can give a canon character a sibling, to explore how they'd interact with family. Give them a partner that acts totally different than their canon partner, write how that'd change the way they show love.

OC's make your original writing better, AND your fanfiction writing too. They can help you understand canon characters on a deeper level.

And sure, nobody likes your OC. NOW.

But every single character you write about, is someones OC. Every character you write about was once treated that way. Once upon a time, Dean Winchester was just some rando character in the pilot script of a show that hadn't picked up yet. Probably no one gave a fuck until CW picked it up.

The writers had to not only make him and develop him - they had to BELIEVE in him enough to pitch him to a TV show channel to make people care.

That's always the first step. Believing your character's story is worthy enough of being told and presenting it as such.

ESPECIALLY if your OC represents a demographic you don't see represented. Cause yes if there isn't any black women in canon then I'll Thanos this shit and do it myself.

Make OCs.

Write them. Draw them. Even if it's bad. Who the hell cares. Big Mouth is on Netflix with multiple seasons, have you seen that show?? 'Ugly' art is not a crime.

Make piccrews, fill out OCforms or take quiz's as them. Write little blurbs of them hanging with canon characters then post it in the tag.

You don't need a huge Spidersona sheet or a long long fic explaining their backstory. They can just be there.

MAKE OCs.

Make them to explore more in your fanfiction, make them so future you can write that novel or draw or that comic or sell those prints or whatever it is you plan to do.

Make it so your fanfiction AND original writing can grow stronger. It isn't just about notes and content and follows.

Make an OC. Make a Spidersona. Literally you have nothing to lose but your chains.

"Nobody cares-"

Oh they'll care when you pop out with that 6-book publishing deal. They'll care when you're designing big characters for movies. Cause that's how it happens. Watch.

ANYWAYSSSS if you made it this far I hope this inspired you to at least play around with the idea of OCs and Spidersonas in general.

Here's Hobie.

BYE.

If you want to make a sona and are kinda lost on where to start, lemme know!! Because I think they're amazing starting places for those who have never written or drawn before. Or if you have a sona but want to develop them further.

I haven't seen a guide to spidersonas and i wonder if that's something some people might want/need.

Seriously if I can even get one person into writing or drawing I'll be over the goddamn moon.

MAKE OCS PLEASE.

[dayziiducks]

'This ones for you'

m!crush x f!reader

when your only motivation to go to school on Monday is to see your crush's basketball game

warnings : cursing

i sighed as i walked to the washroom with my best friend, (bf/n), on a Monday morning as per usual. Unfortunately for me our school and most school things here are like 5 hours earlier than all schools so.. yippee more sleep deprivation. The only two things that keep me motivated to go to school are my friends, and my crush, (c/n).

Luckily for me we had physical education with his class today so actually had a reason to look forward to all that running. "man i wish that we could just have Mondays off it'd be so much easier.." i said to her groggily as we entered the washroom to change into our PE attire. "hmm if we did the you'd just be complaining about how you can't see (c/n) all day." "i guess that's true.. but i don't talk about him that much..ever since his dumbass went and joined basketball the girls in our cohort flock like crazy at even the slightest mention of his name..i know hot girls don't gatekeep but still." "Don't worry too much about it i'm sure you two will get together at some point it's just a matter of time." she replied playfully in attempts to reassure me. (c/n) and I get along pretty well but we never really established what we were so i'm always wondering what context he means his words in. Every time he says something that could be romantic my brain just says : he does that with all his friends, you're not special. But I digress.

We walked down to the indoor basketball court and gathered with our other classmates. And (c/n). Me being the coward that i am i avoided all eye contact knowing damn well that he'll just go ' What're you staring at.' like i'm staring at you staring at me. i didn't want him to get all cocky that i was staring at him though so i kept my glance on the floor. We then dispersed as our classmates hogged the basketballs and started playing 3 on 3. (bf/n) and I sat down on the stairs and watched as (c/n) laughed and played with the other guys. God he was so pretty. I went on my phone and started scrolling since i was so bored. i guess nothing was gonna happen today after all.

Then, a familiar voice caught my attention. "YO (y/n) ! THIS ONES FOR YOU !" (c/n) yelled as he shot the basketball into the hoop and grinned. his friends made remarks as they pat him on the back. my jaw dropped. my brain was thinking : (c/n), i love you, but OH MY FUCK ARE YOU STUPID THATS SO EMBARRASSING IM GONNA GET BULLIED AND SHOVED INTO LOCKERS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. But in real life i just yelled back "Thanks" and smiled back at him. i could practically hear all the whispers from the people around me as (bf/n) elbowed me and said "ooh looks like that 'matter of time' is gonna happen soon"

As the bell rang and i started packing up to go to geography when (c/n) came up to me and said "yo (y/n) can you help me put bandaids on my fingers ? i got a few cuts from the game." "sure, oh yeah you must be thirsty..here take my water bottle. i didn't open it yet so its fine." i replied as i walked with him to the first aid station. He drank from my water bottle as i held his hands and tended to his cuts. Even his hands were pretty..I couldn't help but feel his gaze on me the whole time which made me feel giddy inside. "Here, all done." i said as i smiled at him. "Thanks (y/n)...if you don't mind maybe you can come with me to the new library that opened up near school ? i remember you telling me how you hated (subj/n) so i thought i could help you out with it." He offered as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "of course i really need help in it. And i recall you needing serious help in history. Maybe we can..help eachother?" i asked playfully "sure. we can meet up every Monday if thats okay?" he smiled at me. "fine by me" i said. "alright ! its a date." he said before running off to his next class leaving me to process what i just heard. i freaked out in my head before running off to my geography class to go tell (bf/n). Maybe i am special to him after all.

And maybe..just maybe..I’d start looking forward to Mondays too.

hii i hope you liked that i'll probably post the library date thing the day after tomorrow if you want it :) anyway please feel free to send requests since i'm having writers block rn so.

[mrsriddles-blog]

you broke me first | T.N

Pairing: Slytherin Fem Reader X Theodore Nott

WC: 1.6k

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, heartbreak, angst, alcohol, drugs, betrayal…

Summary: Theodore and you had broken up, Theodore the one to end things and suddenly he’s asking for it back.

Maybe you don’t like talking too much about yourself

But you should’ve told me that you were thinkin’ ‘bout someone else

You’re drunk at a party or maybe it’s just that your car broke down

Your phone’s been off for a couple months, so you’re calling me now

“Hello?” I murmur tiredly into the phone.

“Y/n/n? I need you to help me.” Theodore slurs into the phone.

“Theodore, I told you not to call me.” I sigh.

“Please, I don’t know where I am.” He slurs.

“Theodore, surely there is someone around to guide you back to Hogwarts.” I sigh.

“N-No, all alone. Fight…blood and all alone.” He slurs.

“Are you around any places that can help me locate you?” I sigh once more, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Alleyway…Three Broomsticks.” He slurs.

I hung up, a frown on my lips as I slid my shoes on. I slide my coat on and shove my phone into my pocket. I grabbed my purse, making sure I had my first aid kit. I walked out to the Common Room and saw Theodore’s friends there. They claimed they were still friends with me, but I felt weird about it all now. They were Theodore’s friends to begin with.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” Pansy says excitedly.

“Hey, Pans.” I murmur.

“Where are you heading? It’s past curfew.” Mattheo asks.

“Theodore called me. He’s drunk and got into a fight. He doesn’t know how to get back.” I sigh.

“Oh.” Mattheo mumbles.

I noticed his nose had a fresh cut across it and as I took him in more, I realized that it was Mattheo who Theodore got in a fight with. I sigh, rubbing a hand across my face.

“Do I want to know why?” I ask.

“He’s just being stupid right now, but he’ll come around. I just hope you give him a chance.” He mutters.

“Wait. You got in a fight with Theodore over his and I’s relationship?” I ask.

“He still loves you and he is well aware of his mistake, but he’s being stubborn about apologizing.” He explains.

“Matty, I appreciate your concern and all, but is it really worth getting into a fight with him over? Theodore made his choice and I came to terms with that. He and I are over. I don’t foresee us getting back together.” I say.

“You never know. He lost a good girl.” He murmurs.

I had no response to what he had to say, so instead I made my way out of the Common Room. I wished and hoped that one of them would hop up and offer to go get him, but no one seemed to want to.

I know you, you’re like this

When shit don’t go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

I’ve gone through so many alley’s and I have yet to locate him. It should be that hard to find a six foot giant in these tiny alley’s. I hear mumbling and turn down another alleyway and I see him stumbling down slowly.

“Theodore.” I call.

He turns around and gives me that swoon worthy smile I didn’t realize how much I missed. He walks towards me and wraps me into a hug. I sigh, pushing him away.

“Come on.” I sigh.

I grab his arm and he stumbles, throwing an arm over my shoulder. He leans against me and I curse as I nearly topple over. I walked us back to the castle somehow, this man practically half asleep on me, so I was supporting both his and I’s weight. I managed to get into the Common Room where his friends were still at.

“Hey, t-that’s the wanker who hit me.” Theodore slurs.

“Shut up. You’re drunk and you're a bloody wanker when you're drunk. I’m sure you were hit for a reason.” You snap.

“It’s because I love you and I won’t talk to you. But, we are talking now. Can we get back together, baby? Please?” He pleads as I try to drag him through the Common Room.

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back

Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had

But I don’t really care how bad it hurts

When you broke me first

You broke me first

“Baby, answer me. I miss you, I miss us. Please, baby.” He pleads as I shove him into a chair as I realized I couldn’t drag him to his dorm.

“No.” I spat.

I didn’t mean to sound so venomous. I busied myself with cleaning his face and hands as he watched me with both hurt and confusion.

“No?” He asks.

“You heard me. I said no.” I mutter.

“But, why?” He whines.

“Because, you broke me first. You don’t get to turn this around onto yourself and act like I just broke your heart. You broke mine. You ripped it out of my damn chest and stomped on it.” I say, tears welling in my eyes.

I threw away the garbage from the first aid materials before standing and hastily leaving the Common Room.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could’ve ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it’s there, I don’t really know what to say

“Theodore, you need to stop calling me.” I say as soon as I pick it up.

“I want to talk. I can’t keep up with this…this thing between us. I want you back baby.” He says.

“And I told you no. Not to mention, you are with Astoria.” I say.

Trying to keep the anger out of my voice was nearly impossible. My best friend went behind my back and is with my ex. To make things worse, he was with her too. He was completely okay with it. She expected to get in on the Slytherin group of friends, but they despise her. Apparently, they are the truest friends I have.

“Astoria and I are done, baby. She never meant anything to me anyway. I just…I want you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.” He pleads.

I look up when my door opens. It was Mattheo. I smile softly at him and motion him in.

“We are done, Theodore. I’ve made that clear. Maybe you should try moving on. It does wonders, you know.” I say, hanging up.

I know you, you’re like this

When shit don’t go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But, I ran out of every reason

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back

Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had

But I don’t really care how bad it hurts

When you broke me first

You broke me first

“Is it a bad time?” Mattheo asks, a hint of nervousness to his voice.

“What? No, no, it’s not a bad time. I’m glad you're here actually. I’ve missed you.” I say, smiling softly at him.

He closes the distance between us, leaving a kiss on my head, his arms wrapping around my waist. I smile, looking up at him.

“I’ve missed you too, but please don’t be mad at me. It was their idea.” He mumbles.

“I told you guys I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.” I complain.

“Shh, it’s a surprise.” He says, his arm around my waist.

We leave my dorm, heading to the Common Room. Despite me being aware of what they had planned, I jumped when they shouted “Happy Birthday” and a bunch of confetti poppers went off. My eyes immediately saw Theodore who was glaring at Mattheo’s arm.

Shit.

He wasn’t supposed to find out like this. Mattheo and I had been trying to keep it on the downlow for as long as we could, but obviously that plan just went to shit.

“He knows.” I murmur.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I should’ve let you go when we walked out of your dorm.” He sighs, running his free hand through his hair.

Theodore was striding towards us before stopping in front of me. He glares at Mattheo before turning his gaze to me.

“I was going to tell you, Theodore. I was hoping to tell you once you began to move on yourself. I didn’t want to hurt you.” I sigh.

“Right. And that’s why you're with my best mate?” He spats.

“Ex-mate.” Mattheo corrects.

Apparently, the group had a falling out with Theodore who has been sleeping around and just drifting.

“Surely, you weren’t truly expecting you and I to get back together.” I say slowly.

“I thought we had a chance! I thought we could’ve worked this out!” He snaps, stepping closer to me.

Mattheo pulled me closer to him as he pushed me behind him more, shielding me with his body, as his eyes narrowed on Theodore.

“No! We didn’t, Theodore and that is on you. We probably could have been forever, but you went on some spiel of how we didn’t click and shit. Then you went behind my back and dated my best friend! So, no! We didn’t have a fighting chance like you hoped! What did you think would happen? That we would have some happy ever after? You broke me.” I snap.

“You broke me!” He snaps.

“Well you broke me first.” I say, tears stinging my eyes.

What did you think would happen?

What did you think would happen?

I’ll never let you have it

What did you think would happen?

Now suddenly you’re asking for it back

Could you tell me, where’d you get the nerve?

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had

But I don’t really care how bad it hurts

When you broke me first

You broke me first

(You broke me first)

You broke me first, oh

[littlestarbigsky]

outsiders week - sodapop

my first offering for outsiders week ahhhh tysm @outsidersweek for setting this up💛💛💛

the prompt for monday was cherry and i didn’t finish it in time lol BUT the prompt for tuesday is soda and i was already writing a cherrycola fic for cherry so ig it worked out (however nobody ask me abt the timeline here tho i genuinely don’t know lmao) i do have a darry fic ready for tomorrow tho and i’m SO excited for it

so anyways here’s some cherrycola after a rumble ;)

cherry was silently very grateful that neither of her parents ever really cared to check on her. it made it worlds easier when her boyfriend would show up outside her window, wanting a kiss, wanting to cuddle, or in this case, wanting to be loved on after a rumble.

it was nearing midnight, and cherry had been getting ahead on some homework when soda had tapped on her window, soaking wet and covered in blood.

cherry bolted over to the window to let him in, “oh my god, are you alright?”

“yeah, rumble,” soda gasped, rainwater mixing with the sweat and blood dripping down his face.

she grabbed his shoulder and shoved him into the room, not caring too much if he got the carpet wet. he leaned up against the wall, hissing slightly in pain. cherry marched over to her bathroom and grabbed an old towel, throwing it to him so he could start to dry off.

“i’m sorry,” he called from the floor.

“for what?” cherry asked, even though she knew where it was going.

soda hesitated for a second, and she knew he was fiddling with his hands like he always did when he was anxious, “for fighting. i know you hate it.”

she reached into the cabinet under her vanity where she kept her stash of soda’s things and grabbed him a fresh set of clothing.

“get in here, you need to change and i want to look at that,” cherry instructed, pointing at the gash on soda’s cheek that she could see now that his face was mostly dry.

he pushed himself off the ground and stumbled over to the bathroom, clearly favoring the leg he had injured at a rodeo some time ago. he stopped in front of her and she took the towel from him, drying his hair gently and skillfully avoiding the cuts on his face.

“there you go, no more grease,” she smiled, shoving the clothes into his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “change and throw the clothes in the tub to soak out the stains. then we’ll get that handsome face of yours sorted out.”

she hopped up onto the sink and watched him as he started to strip off his soaking clothes, looking for bruises and where he was holding himself gingerly, watching if there was anything he was going to try to hide. from what cherry could tell, his bad knee was bothering him, there was some pretty nasty bruising around his ribs, and a few cuts and bruises here and there, but nothing that seemed worth truly panicking over.

he turned around after he’d pulled the sweatpants on, ready to grab his shirt from the sink, but cherry caught him before he could put it on.

“i don’t wanna get anything on your shirt,” she grabbed the first aid kit that was sitting next to her. “hold still, this might sting a little bit.”

she worked slowly, rinsing the cut out with saline and alcohol before placing a few butterfly bandages to help it heal, muttering apologies when he would clench his jaw or he would tense up.

when she finished, she handed his shirt to him and told him to stay put while she went to get some ice. cherry could tell they hadn’t won, and soda was clearly in his head about it. if they had won, he would have been celebrating with the gang at the dingo and not coming to seek comfort all the way across town. she could deal with that later, for now, she was focused on getting him comfortable. she came back to find soda standing in front of the sink and staring bleakly into the mirror.

“i can hear those little voices in your head being mean to you,” she teased, hooking her chin over his shoulder to look at the both of them in the mirror. “i’m not mad at you for fighting, baby.”

“i know,” he sighed, his breath catching in his throat.

she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, “but something is still bothering you.”

he sighed again and bit the inside of his cheek. cherry tapped on one of his hips to get him to turn around. she gently held his face in her hands and forced him to look into her eyes before kissing him sweetly, “let’s go lay down.”

he flopped down on her bed, pulling his favorite blanket of hers from the basket where it was neatly rolled up and spread it over the bed before crawling under the covers. cherry changed into her pajamas quickly before slipping in beside him and helping him to position the ice packs on his bad knee and his ribs.

“alright,” she laid on her side facing soda, giving him access to her in whatever way he needed. she gently brushed the hair off his forehead, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“i could have done more,” soda frowned. “in the rumble, i was too busy worryin’ about pony and johnny. i don’t know, maybe if i’d paid better attention, maybe we would have come out of it a little better off.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart,” cherry said quietly. “you were worried about your brother. that’s not letting anyone down, that’s you being a good brother. what if one of them did get hurt?”

“but they were fine…” he continued miserably. “they ganged up on one guy like they always do and they know how to keep each other safe, and curly was there to get them out of trouble if they needed it. they didn’t need me.”

“hey,” cherry cupped his face in one hand and his brown eyes met hers. “you did everything right. you did exactly what you were supposed to do. and even if it’s not what you would have done if you could do it over again, ponyboy and johnny were safe, and you would have been the first to know if they weren’t. it’s just a rumble, there will be another one. i’m proud of you for looking out for your family, baby, i wish i had someone who worried about me the way you worry about ponyboy. it just means you really love him. you can’t beat yourself up for caring about people.”

soda turned his head and kissed her hand gently, tears welling in his eyes.

“c’mere, baby,” cherry opened her arms up and he all but launched himself at her.

a few seconds later, she could feel the tears on her collarbone, which only led her to hold him tighter. he was so exhausted, physically from fighting, from having to get all the way over to her place, from having to keep himself together for so long. he was like an overtired toddler, clinging to her like his life depended on it and crying out all of his feelings. she never minded when soda cried, though, why should she?

“it’s okay,” she hushed as she ran her fingers through his hair. “you don’t need to be strong for anyone. it’s just you and me. just breathe, that’s all you have to do right now. just be right here with me and it’ll all be okay.”

eventually, the small sobs subsided and when he looked up, his eyes were puffy and it sounded like he had a bad headcold when he spoke.

“thank you,” he sniffled. “i’m sorry for-”

“don’t,” cherry cut him off. “don’t you dare apologize. you have got nothing to be sorry for.”

soda cracked a little smile, “i still kinda want to say it.”

she giggled and kissed him gently, whispering, “get some rest, i know you’re tired and you need it.”

he snuggled down into the blankets and pulled himself closer to cherry, “i love you, honey.”

cherry tried her best to ignore the blush across her cheeks as he used his family’s go-to endearment and it only made her feel more sure that he was going to be okay.

she hugged him close to her and pressed a few kisses to his soft and damp hair, already feeling him getting drowsy, “i love you, too, coca-cola.”