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aconflagrationofmyown · 9 months

Text

but then…Gigi

Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction

Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off

I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.

Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.

Enjoy

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Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.

Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.

As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.

Her tanned butt cheeks.

Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.

Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.

He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,

“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.

“Who’s that?”

“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”

“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.

“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.

Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”

“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”

Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”

“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”

Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”

“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”

“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”

“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.

“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.

“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.

“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.

“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.

“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.

They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.

“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.

“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.

“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.

He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.

“Are they?” she sighs with relief.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.

“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.

He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”

“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”

“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”

“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”

“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”

“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.

“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.

Gigi moans at his slight pressure.

“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.

“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”

“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”

“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.

“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.

“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”

“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”

He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.

“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.

“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.

He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.

“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.

“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.

“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.

“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.

A more mature option; interesting.

Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”

“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”

“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”

Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.

“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.

“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”

He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.

It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.

He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.

Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.

“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“

Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.

Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.

He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.

She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.

“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.

Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”

“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”

Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.

Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.

“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.

“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.

She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.

“Sorta.”

“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”

“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.

“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.

“Hold me, please?” she whispers.

“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.

“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.

He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.

Elvis is quite good with his tongue.

He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.

It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.

He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.

She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.

“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.

Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.

He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.

Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.

“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.

“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”

“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.

“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.

She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”

“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.

She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.

“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.

She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.

“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”

“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“

“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”

“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.

“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“

“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”

“You sure? I-“

“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”

“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.

God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.

“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.

Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”

“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.

Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.

The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.

She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“

Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.

She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“

Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.

Eventually there is no more.

Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.

“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.

“It was everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”

His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”

Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.

“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.

“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.

She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.

She asks him if he needs a drink.

“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.

Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.

“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.

“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.

“Promise.” he repeats.

“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.

“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.

“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.

He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”

As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.

“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”

There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.

“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.

“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.

Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.

She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”

Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.

The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.

Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.

She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.

Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.

She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.

Cheap drug store shit.

“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”

“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.

It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.

“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.

“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.

“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”

Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.

Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.

She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.

Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.

“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.

“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

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@stylespresleyhearted

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@coolgirl462

@colahola

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #70’s elvis #Elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis photos #elvis the king #70s elvis #elvis fans #Elvis smut #austin elvis imagine #big daddy Elvis #big daddy elvis fic #but then…Gigi

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cowgurrrl · 6 months

Note

Some way some how Joel and reader in lftl are able to take each other back to their homes from before. For closure and memories. They both are just two people who miss their babies. And now they get pictures and cards from their homes. Another little piece of Sarah and Jane to go back to jackson.

Hello do you have access to my wips I was literally working on this!! I wrote this more about reader going back to their last apartment because @hier--soir has an amazing fic about Joel going back to Texas and it's absolutely gorgeous <3 anyways, I hope you enjoy!! this made me CRYYYY

Never Grew Up With You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Jesus Christ I haven't cried at a fic like this in a LONG time I'm genuinely exhausted

Summary: "To never see her face again is what grief is." — Euripides, translated by Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides aka this ask [1.5k]

Warnings: talks of Jane, memories, oh it's so sad

It's eerie being back in that town. It's empty, but the remnants of Outbreak Day linger in the streets— decomposed bodies, crashed cars, craters where the bombs hit. You recognize bits and pieces. The downtown area which used light up with Christmas lights and smell like funnel cake during the winter months. The church where you lied on the application form so Jane could get into daycare. Your apartment building. You stop in front of it, Joel at your side, and look up at it.

It looks smaller than you remember it like maybe you romanticized the shithole after so many years of living in a worse shithole. Only a few windows still have glass, and you catch faded curtains flapping in the abandoned apartments. "Mommy, look!" Jane had yelled that day so you could catch the jets flying over the building. You were standing in the same area you are now. Your heart clenches, and Joel seems to feel it at the same time.

"Are you sure bout this?" He asks, and you nod. "I'll be right here with you the whole time. We can leave whenever you want." You don't answer him. You just take a deep breath and start walking toward the stairs—bullet holes and rusty, dried blood line the path up to your third-floor apartment, but other than that everything is the same. There's even still a flyer on the bulletin board advertising an apartment-wide potluck set the week after Outbreak Day. Jane wanted to go. She said her friends were going and she wanted you to meet them. You said you'd think about it.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you find your apartment door still open and immediately regret not closing it. What if there's nothing left? What if it's been raided? What if it's all destroyed? You push yourself forward until you're over the threshold and back into the life you left behind. The body of the runner who burst into your apartment that night is still there, grey and all but dust at this point. Dirty plates sit in the sink. Jane's kindergarten homework has slid off the table and onto the floor, her scribbly handwriting boring holes into you. You pick it up despite it having boot marks and ripped edges and stare down at how she wrote her name. Joel doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your shoulder and lets you know he's there.

Together, you silently move through the rooms and salvage whatever you find. In your room, you find ratty old clothes from 2003, medical textbooks, and a file full of important documents shoved under your bed. Among the papers are your tax forms, a copy of your college diploma, and Jane's birth certificate— the only physical proof that she was ever here. Jane Eloise born April 7th, 1998, to you and no one else. Somehow, the glaring absence of Matt's name on her birth certificate still makes your stomach turn. You find a few more keepsakes before moving to the living room.

Whatever might've been there has been taken or destroyed by whoever's been in the building in the last twenty years. The blankets and pillows that once lived on your couch are gone. Your TV has been smashed in. The shoes Jane always left in the middle of the floor have disappeared, probably taken by some other parent who was desperate and was too scared to think of the child who left them. You're about to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and Jane's room when something crunches under your foot. You look down, and all the air gets punched out of your chest. As gently as possible, you bend down to pick up the shattered picture frame and stare at it.

It was a picture taken by a friend at the county fair. Jane is on your right with a half-eaten blue cotton candy in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm. Her hair is in a braid, and there's a big blue stain on her Princess Ariel shirt, but she looks happy. You're both smiling big, the reflection of the colorful carnival lights shining in your identical eyes. Everyone always said she looked like Matt, but you can clearly see your features reflected back to you in this picture. God, how could you have forgotten about the way her eyes crinkled when she was happy? Or how she leaned into you in public? Or how young you both were?

"What's that?" Joel asks as he walks over to you, and you meet him halfway to show him the picture, unwilling to hand it over just yet. It takes him a minute to realize what he's looking at, but when he does, he looks up to catch you staring at the picture. "'S that Jane?"

"Mhm,"

"She's beautiful," he says, and you smile. "Is that cotton candy?"

"Yeah, it was her favorite. Practically begged me to buy it for her. I'm pretty sure I overdrafted my bank account just to get it."

"How old are you in this photo?" He asks, and you furrow your brows as you think.

"Uh, Jane looks about three or four, so I was, at least, nineteen."

"You look happy."

"And tired," you say. Both things are true, but you can't ignore the bags under your eyes or your horribly fitting clothes. You were struggling. You were alone. You were so incredibly ill-equipped and felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Jane... Jane is none the wiser. She's smiling. She's fed. She's loved. She's happy. Maybe you were doing a better job than you thought you were. "You know she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel?" You ask, and Joel raises his eyebrows.

"That little?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding.

"I said the same thing, but she was so determined. So, my friend got us tickets to go on it, and we went, just the two of us. But when we started going around, she started getting really scared about the height and how fast it was going. She buried her head in my arm almost the whole time, and I was stressed that she was miserable and we had wasted my friend's money, and I was so fucking tired," you say. "But when we stopped at the top, I told her to look at the sky, and she did. I pointed at the different stars and talked to her about the moon, and she calmed down. I don't know if I distracted her or if she realized how big the sky was in comparison, but when we got down, all she could talk about was how close she got to the moon. After that, we'd go out every night and look at the stars. Even snuck out of our QZ shelter after the Outbreak."

"D'you get caught?"

"Once. I knew a FEDRA guy, and he let it go. We never got caught again." You haven't thought about Owen in years. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You don't even know if he remembers you. You're not sure if you want to know.

You grab a few more things from her room: a teddy bear, a few shirts, and a picture of you and her on the day she was born. Being in her space again makes your head swim, and you want to stay here forever and leave as soon as possible, all at the same time. Eventually, after combing through every nook and cranny you still know, you do leave. You say a proper goodbye to the first home you shared with Jane and the memories you made there. You're silently grateful to the apartment for holding so many treasures you would've otherwise never gotten back.

You don't know why, but you trace your steps back through one of your old routes. Joel is silent beside you and lets you lead, knowing you would never do anything to endanger him. You recount stories as you pass certain buildings or paths; he listens and asks questions about her and your shared life. Before you know it, you're on the same hill overlooking the QZ. The one where you hid with her when the Outbreak first happened. The one you sat down on and sobbed after Adam died because you had to pull yourself together before reentering. The one you buried her on.

The tree holding her has gotten bigger, its limbs stretching to the sky and the leaves a brilliant green. Seeing it thrive makes you smile just a little before you pivot and start walking to where you know she is. The sight of a fresh bouquet on her spot stops you in your tracks and makes your breath catch. All these years, you worried she would go unremembered under that big oak tree. You worried she was alone and scared. You worried and worried and worried because that's what any good parent does. The yellow flowers protecting her prove your worries wrong. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand before walking over to her.

"Hey bug," you start, fighting your tears, "This is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad and he’s my… he’s my best friend." You squeeze Joel’s hand and take a shaky breath. "He takes care of me and I take care of him. So, you don’t have to worry about Mommy being lonely, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. You don’t have to be scared for me. I've got my people here just like you've got your people there. So, you just rest and I'll be okay." Now, you're really crying and there's no stopping it.

"I love you. I hope leaving didn't make you think otherwise, but I came back. I'll always come back because you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

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stargirl1nlude · 3 months

Text

I Only Have Eyes For You

LINKS TO DONATE IN SUPPORT OF PALESTINE: LIST HERE

Cop!Ellie Williams x Fem Drug Dealer!Reader

Summary: Ellie Williams is a cop, a damn good cop at that, but after spotting you at a party she isn't so sure anymore. You consume her thoughts and drive her insane, but for some reason she can't help but chase you.

Warnings/Notes: Mentions of drug dealing, reader is feminine presenting, modern AU, no outbreak, suggestive themes?, most likely inaccurate terminology for police work (I'm sorry), most definitely unrealistic situations, reader is possibly some kind of unearthly being??, Ellie is assumed to be older than reader, if this does well they'll be multiple parts and like future smut

Enjoy!

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Ellie hated house parties. She hated all these fresh out of college students still acting like they were at frat parties and having to deal with noise complaints. Tonight however she was showing up under a different reasoning. She had been given a series of anonymous tips that there was an up and coming drug dealer in the area and with one of these parties going on she was hoping to catch her person.

At the sound of banging on the door and bright red and blue lights coming from what could only be a cop car, the party goers had all dashed out the back door leaving you by yourself in the now abandoned house. "You've got to be kidding me" you mumbled to yourself as the front door opened up and in came the awaited police officer.

"Stupid fucking kids" Ellie sighed as she stepped over and around the solo cups that littered the sticky floors before making her way into the living room where a girl stood, facing away from her. "Hello?" Ellie called out to the girl from the large entryway of the living room.

You took a deep breath before thinking out what you were going to do. Pulling down your lacy plum colored tank top to expose more of your chest you turned around with a charming and slightly seductive smile "Hi there officer, anything I can help you with?" You asked, trying to keep calm as the woman approached you.

"Yes actually, are you the owner of this house?" Ellie asked, her hands shoved into the sides of her uniforms bullet proof vest. The house felt eery with none of the other people in it, the fact that whoever owned the place wasn't big on cleaning either didn't help.

"I am not, I'm so sorry, but is there anything I can help you with?" You internally slapped yourself. Why on earth would you ask that? You had one goal, to get out of here without getting caught and here you were just asking to get interrogated. In a better attempt to keep calm, you kept that little smile and looked over the cop before you, not failing to recognize that she was most certainly attractive.

Ellie took a deep breath. What kind of hosts would abandon their house at the sound of a singular cop car? These kids clearly hadn't grown out of college yet and it was making Ellie's job increasingly difficult. "Yeah sure. The station has been given a series of anonymous tips on drug deals going on in the area and I was hoping to maybe get a lead at one of these parties" Ellie responded, her tone serious and stern as she looked down at the other woman, she too noticing the other ones beauty.

"Ah, must be a hard job" You answered, just making conversation at this point. Your goal now was to either seduce or talk your way out of this so with a bite of your lower lip and an innocent look up at the officer before you, you started to execute said plan.

"Not really" Ellie responded, staying serious but noting the way you acted, she knew what you were doing but didn't mention it, filing that thought away as a simple 'she might be who I'm looking for, or at least know who I am looking for'. "So, have you taken or sold any drugs tonight?" She asked, getting straight to the big questions.

'Fuck' you thought, this cop was no nonsense. "I would never." You lied straight through your teeth. "You can even pat me down if you don't believe me." Why did you just say that? You were on a roll tonight that's for sure.

"Well it is a part of protocol." Ellie noted, slightly to you but mostly to herself "Alright this will be quick, arms out" She said sternly, gesturing for you to hold your arms out by your sides which you did and she felt along them before moving to pat down your torso, back, and sides. She then knelt down slightly as she moved to feel down your legs, making work down your calves through the flared jeans.

"Could've just said you wanted to cop a feel." You joked slightly, trying your best to keep with your plan as you saw her stand back to her full height.

"Let's keep this professional, yeah?" She responded as she looked back down at you. "You're clear but I am going to need some form of ID." She continued, it was late and the last thing she wanted to do was be here, desperately wanting to get back home and pass out.

You sighed internally at that. This officer could NOT see your ID. If she ran it through the system she would definitely see you'd been convicted of drug related crimes before and you'd be on the radar for this mystery dealer that the police department had been after. "I'm so sorry but I don't have it on me." You said in a more sultry tone, stepping an inch closer, putting your chest further on display for the other woman.

"You don't have any form of identification on you?" She asked, eyebrow raised in suspicion. That previously filed away thought being brought to the forefront of her mind as she took a step back to create that distance between the two of you again.

"Well I might but do you really need to do this? I mean my pat down was clear so why run my ID?" You said, a slight pout on your lips as you took another step forward running your hands up the sides of Ellie's arms.

"It is standard procedure." She stated, swallowing thickly as she felt your hands on her. "Do not touch me, I could arrest you for fraternizing with an officer on duty." She said sternly but she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy your touch, maybe as far as wanting it to continue.

As if reading her mind, you ignored her request, bringing your hands up to the muscles between her shoulders and neck, massaging slightly. "You wouldn't do that." You whispered, leaning completely into this seductive role, having a strong feeling that you could win over the cop. "So tense." You muttered lowly, kneading the knots in her shoulder muscles.

Ellie suppressed a groan at the relieving feeling of your skilled hands on her sore muscles. "You know this is extremely inappropriate behavior?" She responded, however not telling you to stop because it felt too good to ask for you to stop now.

"I know but it would kill me to leave you in this state, all tense and sore." You said back, whispering your words seductively into her ear knowing it would break her. You skillfully continued to massage the area in calculated circles.

"I could arrest you." Ellie mumbled but was yet to make any action to do so, not even attempting to grab the handcuffs from her holster as she let you continue your movements on her shoulders, trying to keep the relaxed noises in her throat at bay.

"You could, but don't you want this?" You whispered, your voice that of a temptress. A true siren in disguise as a human, luring Ellie away from her job to in turn benefit yourself and leave unscathed whereas Ellie would be in a worse spot on her case.

Ellie let a small groan slip, blushing slightly for having done so. She needed to put a stop to this but she just couldn't, it felt too good. "I am on duty right now." She said in hopes of reminding you but in all actuality it was more to remind herself not to fall for this and to stay on task.

Choosing to ignore that comment in hopes of finally slipping away from the cop you made a risky move. "Come back to my place." You whispered in her ear, your voice sultry and smooth, warm breath fanning down Ellie's neck. Your hands having moved to the back of her neck to massage there instead, your actions seeming almost to perfected, like each one had it's own specific reasoning.

"I cannot, I am working" She had almost entirely given in, showing her want for you as she relaxed into your touch. Her words saying something completely different from her body language and truly her own thoughts. She almost craved this touch and when you dropped your hands it solidified this thought.

This had worked almost too well, You dropped your hands back down and took a step away from Ellie. "Fine then, see you officer." You said charmingly as you left her with one final touch on her shoulder before making your way out, hips swaying slightly as you walked through the front door.

Ellie knew she should have stopped you, should have arrested you and brought you back to the station but she didn't. "Fuck" she said to herself as she rushed to the front door, exiting the house to try and find you on the street but you were gone. Completely gone, having disappeared into the night without a single trace.

Ellie was going crazy.

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a/n: First fic!! please if you would be so kind as to tell me what you think, that would be so helpful! this is a thought that has been playing through my head for like weeks and I thought "huh might as well step out of my comfort zone and share it with the world" so that has brought us here and idk I'm pretty happy with it

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie x reader #tlou ellie #x reader #tlou #the last of us #fiction

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silly-thinkings · 2 months

Text

"Let me, go find Damian." (DCeased Story line)

Well well well reader. You've got another choice. Wait, you're totally following along right? Just in case here's (Scene 1)

“Go find Damian.” You traded the suitcase for the shot gun and turned Alfred away. The butler quickly made his way to the bat-jet

Bruce now turned ran towards Alfred but you grabbed his cape pulling him back. Your husband roared as he faced you.

Alfred made eye contact with you. You smile. A bright beautiful smile before running deeper into the cave.

You ran towards one of the confinement rooms and turn around “I love you. I love you so much Bruce.”

You hoped he Heard you. His arm reaching out as he ran towards you. You ducked as he swiped a hand and promptly flipped him into a bullet proof room. With the press of a button you seal the door. Bruce banged on the glass trying to get to you and you felt your tears bubble up again. “I’ll find a cure. Damian will live. He will carry your legacy.”

The space around you shook. Booms could be heard from the city. Maybe it’s being bombed. But you didn’t care. After one last look at your husband you left him trapped there. You ran back to the computer shutting everything down. “Need to find my little ones.” You make your way to one of the moter bikes “computer. Initiate lock down.”

“Yes miss Y/n”

You put your helmet on and you were off.

***

The city burned, but there were still survivors. With your katana you cut down some of the dead as you led a group of about three dozen into the forest.

You were about to head into the city to find more survivors but the Batmobile burst through a crowd of dead. The jokers body strapped to the front of the car. Your confusion quickly turned into joy as your two children, Jason and Cassandra hopped out the vehicle. Gordon was with them but you held onto your kids for dear life. “Your ok. Thank the gods you’re ok. I thought I lost…” you didn’t think you had any more tears to shed. And yet here you were, what’s left of the family hugging each other. You feel Cassandra press her forehead against your neck. Her hand holding onto your cloths tightly. While Jason rested his chin on top of your head. “You’re such a bad ass Ma.” Since you’re alone he realized what’s happened to the rest of the family. He’s no idiot.

You pull away to get a good look at them. You then looked to Gordon “has Barbara…”

Gordon closed his eyes with slight nod.

“Sheesh I thought I got rid of my ex. Look! He’s following me” Harley shouted from the crowd of survivors.

You turn to see Harley and ivy waiting for you to wrap things up.

“Ma? What’s with them.”

You smile “they’re friendly. Apparently the plants like me. Ivy said it was because of the way I treated my garden back at… home.”

Cassandra held your hand. You look to her to see a warm smile. “They’ve been helping me find survivors, we’re going to build a sanctuary. Come.”

You take Jason’s hand “let’s go James. I have no intention of loosing anymore family.”

//Left behind ending//

Congratz! you got 2/3 endings :3 Hope you enjoyed the story. Trying something different and I'm not thinking much of it. This story was a spur of the moment kind of thing XD. Plz leave a a comment and lmk if the links work XD. Appreciate you! and thank you for reading.

#batmom #batmom reader #dc fanfic #jason todd #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman angst

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

Text

Purge Night

For @livresjaunes ❤️

Warnings: Violence, language, smut, Purge announcement taken from the movie, it’s long but bare with me!!! Not proof read

There were whispers of The Purge happening years before it actually did. The US government needed some way to control the population and what better way to see it through than use its own citizens as damage control? You never participated. You stayed in your apartment in the comfort of your incredibly expensive, top of the line security system and locked all of the fourteen locks that lined your door from the top to the floor. You couldn’t handle any kind of violence whatsoever. The sounds alone on Purge Night were enough to make you have on and off panic attacks until the sun came up. You made it a point to ask for February 12th of every year off so there was no chance of you getting caught in traffic on the way home and being forced to fight for your life. You never, under any circumstances, made any plans on February 12th so there was no chance of you running out of gas and having to walk home with armed with only a baseball bat and your tears.

But on the day of the 5th annual Purge, you woke up from a nap to your apartment in flames. All residents were evacuated and forced to sleep elsewhere until the complex was deemed safe enough for living again.

“But it’s Purge Night!” A resident yelled nervously in the parking lot of the complex.

The fire department was putting out the last of the flames that painted big, smoky, black stains on the side of your building. The industrial green hoses created a light, misting shower and left a barely visible arching rainbow across the parking lot.

“Not for another...4 hours!” Another resident said.

You were lucky enough to grab your keys. Four hours to get to your parents’ house. Fortunately, your parents only lived two hours away. That left two hours, if traffic allowed, to get there and hunker down for the night. You wasted no time. You pushed through the crowd of residents making phone calls and arranging for places to stay and made your way to your car. You put the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. You plugged your phone into your charger, waited for the charging sound and typed in your parents’ address. Your heart sank a little when you saw the traffic on the quickest route. It sank even more when each route after that showed the same red highlighted roads signaling massive amounts of traffic in every direction. Who would want to be stuck driving during The Purge? You bit the bullet and took the route that even with traffic showed the least amount of time. Five minutes could make all the difference when it came to Purge Night.

Three hours later, your sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel. You were still on the highway, it was getting dark, and you were running out of gas. Your stomach turned as you realized you weren’t going to make it to your parents’ house by 7pm. You flipped your blinker on, switched lanes and took the next exit. You decided long ago that hotels were too dangerous and too easy to break into on Purge Night, but desperate times called for desperate measure. The highway signs showed several hotels available to choose from off of the exit, each spaced out about thirty minutes apart. Your gas bell dinged as you pulled up to the traffic light off of the exit.

“Fuck!” You yelled, slamming your fists onto the steering wheel, accidentally pressing down on the horn. A man in front of you reached his hand out of his car and flipped you off. You looked around for your purse, tears welling in your eyes, only to realize you’d left in your now charred apartment. The tears spilled. There was no way you were going to make it to any hotel by 7pm. All stores closed early on Purge Night, so there was no place you could hide. The light turned green, and you slammed on your gas, hoping to get to a gas station before you ran out, but the car rolled slowly down the road. Enraged drivers sped around you, honking their horns at you as they tried to get home.

The clock read 6:52 when you sputtered up to a dark Exxon. You didn’t get out of your car. Maybe if you sat in the backseat and covered yourself with the blankets you kept in the trunk, no one would see you. You were too afraid to move. You sat there until sirens sounded from all around you. Your radio, which had been turned off, turned on, blaring the same siren.

A woman’s voice broadcasted on the radio and all around you, creating an eerie echo.

“Commencing after the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. When the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all."

The siren rang through your ears again.

Your worst fear and now become your reality.

You were now an active participant in The Purge.

You laid your head on the steering wheel, unable to move. Maybe if you pretended to be dead already, people would leave you alone. You closed your eyes and opened them slowly to see four large men with chainsaws and crowbars, bats with nails hammered into the ends and bats with chains and spiky balls attached. Some wore masks, even though crime was legal, they didn’t want to be known as the dude who killed Bill the Kindergarten teacher or Nancy the pediatric nurse.

Quietly and smoothly, you slid into your back seat, making sure the locks were in place. You covered yourself with the blankets and laid on the floor of your car. Barely breathing, as to not make the blankets on top of you move. Then your car shook. You covered your mouth with your palm, eyes filling with tears yet again.

“Knock, knock!” One of the men said.

“Anyone in hereeeeee?” Another man sing songed in a thick country accent.

You jumped at the sound of your windshield smashing. Your eyes winded as you felt your car lift, rising, as the four men outside pushed your car. You grabbed onto the metal bars attaching the front seats to the floor and held on. You couldn’t let them see you. If they did, you were dead. Some people just liked to kill for the fun of it, and that’s the type of men these guys were. So, when the car rolled on its side with an awful crunch of broken glass and creaking metal sounded, you bit your lip hard to keep from screaming. Then it rolled again. You held on tightly so that your body wouldn’t fall into the roof of your car. Your arms shook as you held yourself in place. Your legs throbbed as you prayed they wouldn’t try and open the doors. You heard one of the men slash your tires.

“Should we go in there?” A third voice said.

“Nah,” The first man’s voice said. He spit before talking again. “I’d like to go pay my old man a visit. Maybe we can finally wipe his ass out this year.”

The men laughed in unison, and you listened as their footsteps grew lighter and further away until you let your body drop. You couldn’t stay in your car anymore. It was no longer safe. It was quiet on this back road, but you didn’t want to risk running into anymore scary men. You crawled your way out of your car, broken glass embedding itself into your elbows and knees. You stood breathing in the fresh air and that’s when you saw the lights of another car turn off.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You whispered.

You saw a tall, slender figure climb out of the car. He crouched low to the ground and ran behind the Exxon. He had some type of weapon in his hand, and you were sure he saw you. You looked around the car for a something--anything--you could use as weapon. You circled your car, kicked in your windshield a little more and picked out a long piece of glass that looked the most like a dagger. You tore part of your shirt and wrapped it around the end of the glass, forming a place where you could hold it without slicing your hand wide open. If you were going to be in The Purge, you might as well try your best to defend yourself.

The Exxon was still dark, and since any and all crime was legal, you decided to do the most logical thing and break in. Just as you approached the front doors, thinking of how exactly to perform your first crime ever, the automatic doors opened. You stepped inside. The doors slid shut easily and you twisted the lock. It wouldn’t keep people out, but it’d at least make it a bit harder to get into the place. It was dark. The normal, white, blinding gas station lights had been cut off completely. Your felt around until the cold glass doors of the beverage coolers chilled your palms. Just as you made contact, the cooler lights turned on. One by one illuminating the inside of the gas station with a dull, but useful white light.

A man on the floor moved, tripping over a Twinkie wrapper.

You held out your glass dagger awkwardly and stayed with your back pressed against the glass doors. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit gas station, looking for whoever might be hiding. You slid your body down the expanse of the coolers, hoping to not have to use your poorly assembled weapon. Then, you heard the sound of something heavy ripping through the air. You barely had time to move, but ducked before something heavy and black flew into the cooler door behind you, showering you with broken glass. You stood and pulled a tire iron from the door.

“What the fuck!” You yelled.

You heard the tapping of old tennis shoes on bad linoleum tile before you seen him coming for you. He held a pocketknife out toward you, but you extended your glass dagger, and sliced at his shirt, cutting the fabric across his chest. It revealed his smooth chest, and a fine line of bright red blood popped against his creamy ivory skin.

“This is my favorite shirt,” he said calmly, looking down at the clean slice your windshield dagger made across his chest. He touched it with dirty fingertips and wiped the blood on his jeans.

You didn’t expect him to lunge for you, but he did, causing you to drop your weapon. You crashed into to the cooler of Redbulls and Monsters, your attacker on top of you. His body felt firm on top of yours, and even though he was trying to kill you, you couldn’t help but notice how nice he smelled. Like Old Spice and clean hair with a touch of that classic “guy” smell that you couldn’t quite place. He had dark curls on the top of his head, that shined nicely in the light of the cooler. If he hadn’t have tried to kill you with a tire iron you would totally date this guy. A shard of glass stabbed into your back, bringing you back to reality. Your attacker pushed you harder into the cooler, cans pelting you both in the head. Several bounced off of his back and onto the floor, spraying lime green Monster in all directions. You had to get out from under him, so you did the one thing you knew that brought all men to their knees. You kneed him in the balls. Instantly, he backed off of you, falling onto the Monster-soaked ground. You took your chance, jumping over him only to have your right foot land and slide in the spreading puddle of energy drinks. You felt his hands grab your ankles. He twisted your body over, your back sliding in broken glass and Monster. You grabbed bags of chips and threw them at him. He used one hand to swat them away, exploding them on impact. Chips covered the floor, creating a strange concoction of cool ranch seasoning and caffeine. You kicked a leg free and aimed for his dick. You missed several times before landing your shot. He groaned and fell on top of you. As lean as he was, his body on top of yours made it hard for you to escape him.

“Get off of me!” You yelled at him.

“Stop being such a fucking cunt!” He yelled back.

You spat on his face, causing his eyes to shut hard and his head to jerk back a little. Even you were shocked. You’d never spit on someone before. Your mouth hung open as you panted hard, too tired to try and fight him off of you. He used one hand to wipe the spit off of his face. Then the two of you stared at each other. Breathing hard. A few cans continued to fall out of the cooler and the faint hiss of exploding drinks followed.

Then, he smashed his face into yours. His lips enveloping yours in an aggressive kiss. His teeth clanked with yours as he forced your mouth open wider. You didn’t fight him. The adrenaline kicking through your blood stream was begging for him. The anxiety you felt all day and finally subsided into mind blowing arousal as his tongue wrapped around yours. Instinctively, you spread your legs, allowing him to press his knee against your core. You rolled your hips against him, groaning as his jeans pressed against your clit. He pulled away from your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.

“Was hoping you’d stop trying to kill me so I could fuck you,” he growled.

“Shut up,” you whispered. Taking the shirt you sliced open and ripped it further.

He looked down at his shirt, smirking slightly before saying, “I told you this was my favorite shirt. You owe me.”

You ran your tongue across the raw slice you cut into his chest, then down his stomach. He stood, unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down to his ankles, allowing his dick to spring free. You don’t know what had come over you, but you put all of your weight on your knees, not caring about the glass cutting into them or how much the Monster burned your fresh cuts and took him into your mouth. You sucked the length of his cock. Reveling in the groans and moans he was letting out as you pleasured him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gathering your hair in a tight ponytail in his fist. He slid is cock deeper down your throat, gagging you just enough for your eyes to start watering. He pulled his dick out of your mouth as you sucked harder. A small pop forming as the suction broke.

He pulled you to your feet and dragged you over to the counter, shoving all of the blue light glasses, heart shaped Reese’s and car air fresheners onto the floor. He tore your clothes off and sat your naked body on the counter, spread your legs open and tested your core with his fingers. He pulled them away and a thick shiny mass of arousal came with them. He sucked them clean and shoved his cock deep inside of you. He groaned as he filled you and you whined at the feeling of being so being so full.

He fucked you hard, and cupped your face, running his thumb over your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to dip his thumb inside. You sucked it swirling your tongue around his finger.

“My names Timothee,” he said, grunting out each word. “I want you to say it when you cum.”

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and placed it to your clit, pressing and rubbing it delicately as he pumped in and out of you. You felt yourself pulsating around his cock as he worked your clit. You whined as you approached your climax, leaning back on the counter, spreading your legs as far apart as they’d go, increasing the pleasure as you gave him more room to work.

“Timothee, fuck! I’m cumming.”

He picked up speed, the register to your left shaking as he pounded into you. His and wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly, and pulling your face into his so he could watch you.

“Tell me yours,” Timothee growled.

“Y/n.”

And he groaned it as he came, pumping everything he had into you until he had nothing left.

You cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and when you came out you were relieved to see that he was still there, waiting for you.

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #smut #dark!timothee #the purge

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finnpeach · 1 year

Text

Sand and Dust - Trigun Stampede

Yeah... I don't have any words for this one really. Vash has been living rent-free in my head and I need to get all my ideas out before I forget them, so please enjoy this hiding/allergy scene that definitely should've happened but unfortunately didn't. Set between episode 4 and episode 5. I love this little family and Vash duh <3 Comments and tags and feedback are always loved and appreciated as well ☺️

After their escape from the worm, the band of journalists and outlaws stop at an desecrated shanty town to search for fuel and supplies. It's small, with only a few buildings standing as proof that people ever lived here. The place looks like something out of a horror movie.

Meryl is the only one who wants to keep going. Something about this place doesn't feel right to her. “The radar says there’s a populated outpost fifty miles from here. We shouldn’t stop here, it looks abandoned.”

“I’d like to stretch my legs,” Roberto says, one of the first to hop out of the vehicle. Wolfwood and Vash follow shortly after. “And it looks like it’s three to one, newbie.“

“We won’t be here for long,” Vash reconciles gently, opening Meryl’s door for her. “It’ll be better to search here first, in case the next outpost isn’t welcoming.”

Meryl grumbles something about wanting to go one day without getting shot at or eaten by something before she hops out of the car, following behind Roberto.

“Vash and I will search the shops for supplies. Roberto, you and the kid find some fuel for the car,” Wolfwood says as he lights another cigarette, his cross weighted across his back. “Meet back here in forty five minutes.”

The two groups split up and head in opposite directions. Roberto and Meryl walk towards what looks like a service station while Wolfwood and Vash search a dilapidated store for bullets and supplies.

“This place looks like it’s been abandoned for years,” Wolfwood says as they saunter inside. Golden flecks of dust dance through the air, like shimmery diamonds. Just the sight makes Vash’s nose itch.

Wolfwood kicks over a box and rummages through the contents. “Wonder what happened.”

“There’s no plant here… but it doesn’t seem like there ever was one to begin with. Maybe they just couldn’t keep supplying the town.” Vash looks around the store. The windows are shattered, the shelves toppled over in a heap. The place has been ransacked, either by bandits or something else.

He starts to investigate for any information or signs of life while Wolfwood kicks another box over. Vash's gaze lands on deep, long scratch marks on the floor that lead out the door. They’re about a meter long and are cut deep into the wood.

“Was someone dragged out of here…?” It doesn’t look like an animal made this. He looks closer at the walls. There’s smatterings of blood near the baseboards and pieces of the wallpaper have been ripped apart. More signs of struggle.

Suddenly, the earth begins to vibrate, deep and slow. Vash freezes as the walls begin to shake and the broken glass on the floor starts to chatter. Dust billows off the tops of the shelves in waves.

Vash slides quickly over to the broken door and presses against the wall, peering outside. Something is here.

“Wolfwood,” he hisses, searching for him in the store. The undertaker appears silently beside him, like a ghost, and Vash nearly yelps in fright at the surprise.

“We’re being hunted.” Wolfwood’s breath is low and quiet. “Another worm, or something of the same size. See the sand over there?” He points to the enormous, sharp ridges rising like waves at the edge of the town.

Vash gasps when he realises where it's crawling to. “It’s heading for Meryl and Roberto—“ He moves to lunge towards the door, but Wolfwood is quicker and shoves him roughly against the wall, his hand pressed tightly to Vash’s chest.

“Idiot! Do you want to get swallowed up again? If they hide and keep quiet, it won’t know they’re there. We just have to wait it out.”

Vash heaves an irritated sigh but relents. Wolfwood is right. The worm might know they’re here, but as long as they stay put, it should pass on. He tries not to imagine the poor human who made those scratch marks on the floor, a helpless victim for the worm’s appetite.

They wait, pressed against the wall as the sand starts to shift towards the store rather than the service station. Even though it's now headed for them, Vash feels hope blossom in his chest at the fact that the worm has changed course from Meryl and Roberto. He shuts his eyes and sniffles, eager to get out of this dusty store.

The earth rumbles again, sending sheets of dust and sand off the shelves again. The aftermath hangs suspended in the air directly around Wolfwood and Vash, surrounding them like a fog.

Vash rubs at his nose. The itch that blossomed in his nose when they walked into the store has become more persistent, rooted. His eyes are starting to water and he can feel his throat becoming tight as the dust enters his sinuses. This is not a good time for his allergies to act up. He tries not to breathe, but that just makes the itch worse and makes his nose start to run. The rumbling gets deeper as the worm approaches. It feels like there’s a tingling, burning fire in his sinuses. He presses his head back against the wall, breath catching in his chest as the itch becomes too much to hold back.

“Hih… hh… hihhh…!” His eyes slip shut as he hitches, eyebrows pinching together in sneezy irritation. He’s going to—!

“H’NDKT!” Suddenly, there’s a warm hand pressed against his nose, pinching his nostrils shut and forcing him to stifle. He releases a shaky breath and opens his teary eyes to see Wolfwood staring daggers at him.

Don’t. You. Dare. He seems to say with his gaze. Wolfwood's hand is still clasped around Vash’s nose.

The worm rumbles past them, the vibrations growing lighter as it moves on.

Now that the imminent danger is out of the way, Wolfwood releases Vash and grabs him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him up so that Vash is just dangling in the air by Wolfwood's fists. He chokes in surprise and grips his wrists.

“You dumbass! You’re going to get us killed!“ He hisses, pushing Vash back against the wall.

“S-sorryhh… ihht’s the duhh.. duhhst…- heh! H’IGKT’uh! Hih’IGKTsh!

Wolfwood has dropped his grip on Vash’s collar to press his hand around the blonde’s nose again and catch the two sneezes. They both freeze as the rumbling of the earth comes to a sudden halt. They've been heard.

They’re chest to chest now, silent. The only sounds Vash can hear are their heartbeats pounding rhythmically in their chests, waiting for the inevitable.

In an instant, the worm races back in their direction again and the earthquakes resume in greater intensity.

Wolfgang presses him so tight against the wall that Vash can barely breathe. They need to stay silent. He can only drink in small sips of air around his hand, which is probably for the best because every breath just ignites the itch deeper in his sinuses. He rubs his nose against Wolfgang’s hand, desperate for relief. He’s so itchy. He has to… he’s going to—

“Vash—” Wolfgang stutters as he watches Vash’s features twist again. This is a battle that Vash is going to lose.

“H’ihTSSHHhiew!” Vash sneezes loudly against Wolfgang’s hand, unable to hold the sneeze back despite the support. Wolfgang curses under his breath as the spray coats his hand and pulls his hand back, readying his cross. The rumbling of the earth intensifies.

The itch has multiplied in his nose, flecks of dust and sand pressing themselves deeper into his sensitive nostrils. He sneezes again, and again, and again.

“H’TSCHhh! H’ITSCHh’tssh! Hh-ih… H’aHTSSCHhh’ue!”

“You absolute dipshit!” Wolfwood shouts and punches him in the chest. Vash grunts against the blow and leans against the wall. Any remaining glass on the window shatters as the worm screams beneath the sand.

Wolfwood grabs his machine gun cross and rips off the fabric, twisting the cross across his shoulders. He takes aim as the worm peaks above the sand with a roar. The building shakes and the ground starts to give way beneath them.

“Run!” Wolfwood kicks Vash in the ass out the door, sending him falling on his face and into the sand. He sneezes again but scrambles to his feet as the worm rams its enormous neck into the store.

Wolfwood fires off a round at the giant beast’s head, leaping towards solid ground before racing after Vash. His bullets make direct contact and penetrate the beast's hide. The worm roars and sinks back into the sand, bloodied and angry. The earth shakes again.

“If we survive, I’m going to kill you!” Wolfwood smacks the back of Vash’s head as they near the vehicle. Roberto and Meryl are already in the front seat, searching for them.

“Drive!” They both shout as they tumble into the backseat. Without missing a beat, Meryl shoots the car forward and they take off.

Vash is in the middle of a sneezing fit as they drive away from the town, holding his head in his hands. "H'idTSHh! Heh... H'ipTSHhhiew! Hih-hih-hh..! H'ITSSHhhh'ue! Snfff..."

He takes a deep breath and slumps against the seat, exhausted, but not before one final, "Huh.. hahktschh..." It's no more than a release of air and is a testament to how tired he is. He snuffles again and scrunches up his nose as the itch subsides.

"Enough! Will you shut up already!" Wolfwood snaps, pressing his body tight against the car door. He looks like a sibling who wants to do nothing more than to get away from his younger, annoying brother. Anger rolls off of him in fiery, unrelenting waves.

In the rearview mirror, Meryl watches as the general store sinks into the sand and the worm rises above again, its cries splitting the sky. It decides not to follow them, luckily.

“Jeez. No wonder that town is abandoned,” she says, turning on the radio. “I told you guys we shouldn’t have stopped there. We could’ve been swallowed up again!”

“Blame needle-noggin over here,” Wolfwood mutters, pressing a cigarette to his lips. He casts a glare at Vash out of the corner of his eye, who is pawing at his irritated nose.

“I told you I’m.. I-hh.. h’ITSHHiew!” He sneezes again, the spray catching Wolfwood’s thigh. “Sndff! I told you I’mb sorry!”

“I don’t care! And would it kill you to cover your mouth?!” Wolfwood punches Vash’s arm and turns to glare out the window, mumbling something about how disgusting Vash is and how he wishes he’d left him with the worm. Vash just smiles and rubs at his arm, chuckling sheepishly.

“Hey, boys, no fighting. Be nice,” Meryl chides, angling the rearview mirror to look at both of them.

Vash gives her a shy smile and waves, his nose a bright rosey pink. Wolfwood glares at her reflection and flips her off before turning his attention out the window again. She laughs, and turns up the radio as they race across the dunes of sand.

#hmm I hope this was ok #I feel like it was better than the first fic #but also still so short for me idk #anyway I love when theyre in the car dhjhfjkerhklda it's such 'siblings on a long car trip' vibes #wolf wood's like mooooom vash sneezed on me again tell him to stop!!!!#my writing #allergy fic #snzfic #snzblr #sneeze kink #I don't know if I necessarily ship wolf wood and vash just bc I love his friendship w livio #but hey I can be convinced either way and if you ship them and want to carry this idea on where they fuck afterwards then I am all for it #meh I feel like my writing isn't as good with these characters but I find vash really hard to write bc he's just him. and it's daunting to #try and write someone so perfect #anyway I hope you enjoyed please let me know if you did <3

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arkhamsrevenge · 2 years

Text

What is a Cythia?

Trigger Warning: Mentions of blood, needles, abuse, weapons etc.

You’re best friends with Roy Harper. One night he asks for your help when Batman goes crazy and beats the hell out of Jason. (If you’ve seen the Legion of Superheroes show then you might get a lot of references here. I got really carried away. Sorry ;) )

Y/N POV

I had settled down in my bed, determined to get 8 hours of sleep tonight. The sound of the rain tapping at my window started to lulu me to sleep. I was happy with my success until I heard my phone ring. I rolled over to see who was calling. Roy? Confusion washed over me as I answered.

“Cy! Thank God. I need your help.” Roy shouted. He sounded panicked...like more than usual. I quickly ran to my closet and suited up. I slipped on my bullet proof arm, chest and leg black matte armor and pulled my mask up over my nose and mouth. I then grabbed my weapons, two swords and tools. “A friend of mine is in trouble. I don’t think I'll make it in time to help him.”

“Where are you?” I asked, getting ready to leave.

“No, no please get to him first, he’s in trouble, south tower, over crime alley. Please hurry.” Roy said between breathes.

“I’m on it.” I said climbing out my window immediately feeling the pouring rain start to drench me. “Who am I up against?” I asked as I made my way from roof top to roof top, grappling and leaping.

“Batman.” Roy said, almost hesitantly.

“Got it!” I said, knowing I’d have to burn down my safe-house once I get this over with. Good-bye Gotham after tonight..at least for a while. “Thanks, I know Batman-” Roy started.

“I said got it Roy. No need to explain more just focus on getting there.” I interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah thanks Cy. I owe you.” He said hanging up. I didn’t need to know what was going on, all I needed to know was whose ass I was kicking. Finally, I approached the south tower, a flash of lightning reveled the figure of Batman himself. He was dragging someone by the helmet behind him. Fucking hero my ass. I jumped onto the rooftop and slammed my knee into Batman’s face. The caped crusader stumbled backwards, then turned to me. I landed crouching in front of whomever he had been beating on.

“Who the hell-” I didn’t give him a chance to finish as I charged him again. This time he blocked my punches and kicks I threw at him. Clearly, he was already in a pissy mood because he had no problem throwing hard punches to my face. Some of the hits, I know by the taste of blood in my mouth. I spit the blood in his face and ducked as he swung back. I then took out his knees and struck him with a high voltage taser. Finally knocking him out. Quickly I made my way over to the person, who I assumed is Roy’s friend as he was the only one getting his shit kicked in. I knelt next to the man, seeing his helmet was shattered all around his face. Red Hood? Batman beat the shit out of the Red Hood? Geez and they call me brutal. Bruises and cuts were littered throughout his body. The rain was washing the blood off at least. I checked for a pulse only to get my hand grabbed. The jumped slightly as my eyes met the man’s lying on his back.

“I’m a friend of Roy’s.” I yelled over the rain. “I’m here to help.” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling it around my shoulder. My other arm helped Hood in an upright position, his eyes dull, he looked completely out of it. I don’t blame him.

“Shit!” A deep voice screamed. I soon heard footsteps running towards me and Red Hood. I knew by footsteps it was Roy. He was right, he would have been too late. Roy got on the other side of Hood and helped me get him to his feet.

“Easy does it. We gotcha now bud.” Roy said. “We gotta get him out of Gotham. Do you still have a safe-house in uh...” I nodded knowing he didn’t want to say where we were going just in case we were being listened to. But I knew where he meant. “Ok, I’ve got a car for us ready. We gotta patch him up a little bit first.”

“Let’s get back to my place. We can clean up there.”

Roy and I helped Hood through the window of my safe-house.

“Let’s get him to the couch.” I suggested. Once settled, Roy and I got to work. “You still remember how to do this?” I asked. Roy nodded as he started to take the remains of hood’s helmet off as well as his armor. I started to clean all the cuts while Roy covered them in ointment and bandages.

“Fuck Jaybird...what happened?” Roy whispered as he took the armor off. Jaybird? Oh. I knew who this was.

“This is Jason Todd, right? You forgot to mention he’s the Red Hood.” I muttered as I started to patch Jason up. Roy shook his head.

“Never came up in conversation, I guess.”

“And it’s none of your business.” A rough voice rumbled. Jason was awake.

“Oh good, his charm is still in tacked.” I expressed, slightly annoyed.

“Hey, how ya feelin?” Roy asked, helping Jason sit up. “Spectacular.” Jason quipped back, grunting.

“We gotta go. Do you have shit at the safe house for us?” I nodded as I started to pack some other supplies for the journey. Roy then helped Jason into a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Take him, get in the car, I'll catch up with you on my bike. I need to burn this place down.” I said tossing the bags to Roy. Roy caught the bag nodding, then hoisted Jason up and made his way out. I started to cover the safe house in gasoline. Then disabled the fire alarm as well as the sprinklers. My phone screen lights up with Roy’s caller ID on it. Now what?

“Yeah?”

“You gotta come with us. I’m afraid to leave Jason in the back of the car alone.” Roy whispered. “I told you I’m fine Roy!” I heard Jason croak. I sighed. “Ok, I’m gonna light this up then I’ll meet you three blocks down.” Then the line went dead. I grabbed a box of matches hidden in the bookcase and swiped the match. I climbed back out the window Roy and I had just pulled Jason through not too long ago and dropped the match. Immediately, the house went up in flames, taking everything with it. I then met Roy four blocks away (he went an extra block just to be safe) and hopped into the back seat with Jason. He looked horrible. His face was paling, and a black eye was forming. Jason pushed himself up with his good arm, though it was still shaking, and made the effort to get up.

“Hold on.” I said as I scooted in and patted my lap. “Here.” Jason hesitated. “It’s going to be a long ride. You’ll be more comfortable.” Jason clearly didn’t have the strength to argue and laid his head down on my lap. Jason’s back lay on the other two seats, while his head rested on me, he sighed almost relieved. I shut the door to the car and looked at Roy in the mirror. He nodded and drove away, as we were leaving, we saw firetrucks zoom past us.

“Wonder where they’re going.” Roy mumbled smiling slightly at me. I mirrored him and shook my head.

“Eyes on the road Speedy.”

About an hour later, I was dosing off when my phone rang. Annoyed, I looked at the screen. Brainiac 5. Why was he calling?

“Hello?” I answered.

“I got an alert that one of your safe houses burnt down. I assume you’re alright?”

“Yeah Brani. I’m good. I gotta stay on the DL for a bit. Can you-”

“Already cloaking your signal. I’ll make sure no one knows where you are. Are there other people with you?” I flickered my eyes to Roy who nodded.

“Arsenal and Red Hood.” I spoke hesitantly. Silence followed on the other end.

“Understood, I will be covering them as well.” From his tone, I could infer that Brani was a little uncomfortable at the mention of Roy’s and Jason’s.

“Thanks. Use the old pager, ok? I’ll keep you updated.”

“Affirmative. Over and out.” Then the line went dead. I inhaled deeply.

“That was him. Right?” I could tell by Roy’s tone he was upset.

“Roy don’t start. You’re not always around. He’s my emergency contact when you're not here. Brani was only making sure I was ok. He’ll be making sure no one knows where we are.” I explained. Roy opened his mouth to say more but decided against it. “It was three years ago Roy.” I whispered.

“Doesn't matter. He crossed a line.” Roy said through closed teeth. Damn, he’s still very upset.

“He hurt you, Cy.” Roy muttered. “He should be behind bars.” My eyes shifted from Roy to out the window, watching the trees run by. I looked back a Jason, he was still out but breathing normally now. “He heals faster than you and I.” Roy said breaking the silence. I hummed.

“The pit, right?” Roy nodded.

“Yeah. He’s been through hell, like you and me. I don’t know why Batman would...” Roy trailed off. I hummed, still looking at Jason. He started to twitch, as if something was hurting him. My brow furrowed. “Is he ok?” Roy asked panicked. I lifted my hand and started to brush Jason’s hair off his face. Out of instinct, I then ran my finger through it, combing it back. Jason seemed to nuzzle into my hand and stopped twitching.

“Bad dream.” Roy sighed in relief.

“You would know, huh?” A sad smile appeared on my face.

“Yeah. I would.”

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but it felt like hours later, we arrived at the second safe house in Ohio. It was one Roy and I stayed in for a bit when he first got out of rehab. Roy turned the car off and stepped out then opened the passenger side door where I was.

“He’s still asleep?”

“I’m awake.” Jason’s hoarse voice made Roy and I jump a bit.

“Sorry Jaybird didn’t think you would wake up so quickly. Can you stand?” Roy chuckled.

“I’d worry about her not being able to stand. I’ve been laying on her for hours.” Jason croaked.

“I’m fine.” I spoke. “Let’s get you inside before Roy has a nervous breakdown.” Roy shot me a look. Roy and I helped Jason out of the car and into the safe house. It was bigger than most, two bedrooms, one bath and half bath as well as a small kitchen/living room area.

“Nice place.” Jason says as we all walk in.

“Thanks, which bedroom would you like?” I asked. Jason huffed out a small laugh. “I’m that special?” Heat started to rise in my cheeks. Why am I flustered? “I’ll take the one closest to the bathroom.” I led Roy and Jason to the bedroom that was one door away from the bathroom. We placed Jason down on the bed sitting up, Roy went to get the medical shit while I assessed the damage some more. A black eye was already formed. His lip was split, cuts and bruises littered his entire body. I looked at his arm that he was unconsciously holding.

“Your left arm is sprained, does your shoulder hurt?” Jason nodded.

“ROY?” I yelled. “GET A SLING.” Roy appeared two minutes later with a sling and more bandages.

“You yelled?” I rolled my eyes and got to work. I stitched Jason’s deeper cuts and wrapped them. Two very deep ones were around his torso. Once he was set, Roy and I left the room so he could rest. I washed my hands as did Roy, we both wanted to say something, but words weren’t a choice. I didn’t even know where to start. Jason’s condition was horrible, Batman really beat the hell outta him. But why? Why so brutally?

“Thanks, by the way.” Roy said after a long time.

“Course. Do you want something to eat?” I asked, walking towards the fridge. Stupid question. Roy always wanted something to eat. I started cooking a batch of pasta and meatballs that would last the week. Easy to heat up. I made Roy a huge bowl with three meatballs on top. He inhaled it almost at once. “Dude come up for air.” Roy squinted his eyes as his cheeks were full of pasta. “on’t ell e wha o o” Roy said with a mouth full of pasta. I started to laugh.

“I think you said, “Don’t tell me what to do”. Yes?” Roy nodded then started to chew and swallow.

“Eat.” He said pointing to the pot of pasta. I hesitated. “Eat, please.” I licked my lips and got myself a bowl of pasta. “Protein. At least two meatballs.” I turned to Roy with my mouth open about to snark back but didn’t. Roy gets more protective when he’s stressed. I put my bowl down next to Roy.

“He’s gonna be ok Roy.” I said wrapping my arms around Roy's shoulders, hugging him from behind.

“Yeah.” That was all that came out. I knew Roy was trying to hold it together but I saw through it.

“Got to bed. I’ll clean up here.” Roy shook his head.

“Not gonna happen. You get the last bedroom. I’m taking the couch. I clean-up” I didn’t want to argue even though I wanted to. Roy sleeps better on my couch anyway. “I’m sure you’ll check on Jason at least once an hour. So, take the other bedroom. It’s right next to Jason’s.” I hesitated for a moment. “I know you.” I smiled at Roy then finished my dinner and headed off to bed.

I was staring at the ceiling lost in thought before I looked at the clock. 1 am. I got up and opened the door to Jason's room. Jason was awake and he was surprise to see me as much as I was surprised to see him.

“Hey.” He finally said.

“Hi. I uh...I came to check on you.” Jason nodded.

“Yeah, I know, Roy came in here about 20 minutes ago. He also said I should expect you every hour?” I closed my eyes in annoyance.

“Of course, he did. I hate it when he’s right.” Jason chuckled.

“That’s rare.” I bit the inside of my cheek to try not to laugh.

“How are you feeling.” I asked. Jason’s eyes went down. Shit.

“Physically I’m doing better than I was 7 hours ago.” Jason swallowed roughly.

“Are you feeling ok to eat something or would water be a better option?” Jason seemed to be studying me.

“Who are you?” That’s fair. I never gave him my name.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Jason’s eyes lit up slightly.

“You’re the girl Roy crashed with. I thought you were fake.” I smiled.

“No, I am very much real. Nice to meet you, Jason.” I said as Jason stuck out his good hand. I held it in mine and shook.

“Why does Roy call you Cy?” I blinked and let go of his hand.

“Uh..well it’s short for Cythia.”

“What is a Cythia?" Jason asked quizzically. “Don't get me wrong it sounds bad ass but...”

I chuckled.

“Tell you what, if you drink a full glass of water; I’ll tell you during breakfast.” Jason paused for a moment. Then nodded.

“Deal.”

“Help her!” Roy stood in the doorway stunned for a moment. There was a knock on his door, and he thought Y/N had returned from her mission. She left three days ago when Brainiac 5 called her saying he needed her help with Luthor. Jason, who had been hiding out with her and Roy for about 2 months now insisted he was fine. Roy wasn’t too keen on letter Y/N go on a mission with Brainiac 5 but ultimately told her to go.

“You friend needs you. I understand the panic.” He finally said. Y/N hugged Roy goodbye and waved to Jason.

“I’ll be back in a week. You're sure you’ll be, ok?” She asked Jason, who smirked.

“Yeah Doll, I’ll be ok. Roy's here.”

“I’m aware, that’s why I asked.” Jason laughed as Roy reeled back like he was hurt.

“Hey! I’m responsible!” Y/N chuckled then grabbed her duffle bag and walked out the door. Once she was gone, Jason spoke up.

“Miss her already?” Roy shook his head.

“I don’t trust Brainiac 5. I don’t understand why she keeps in contact with him. Why she helps him.” Jason had seen Roy angry before but damn. It still surprised him how the laid back Roy Harper could be so cold when he wants to.

“Maybe that’s how she healed?” Jason suggested. Roy started to pace, something he did when he was pissed. About three years ago, Brainiac 5 unlocked the original Brainiac code knowing there was a big chance of corruption. But Brainiac 5 wanted to prove that he was better and brighter than the OG Brainiac. It corrupted Brainiac 5 and destroyed a lot in its wake. When the other legionaries stepped in to try and stop him, so many got hurt. Y/N was one of them. Roy remembered the call he got from Saturn Girl, telling him to get Y/N far away from Brainiac 5 as she could. Brainiac 5 had sliced her back opened almost killing Y/N. If his blade had been a centimeter longer then he would have severed her spine. He did leave a huge scar that ran right down the center of Y/N’s back. Once Y/N was better she didn’t go back to the Legion.

“I mean the guy almost killed her AND CAUSES HER CHRONIC PAIN AND...” Roy stopped realizing he was about to spill Y/N business to Jason. It wasn’t his story to tell.

“Yeah. I know. I heard you guys when we were all in the car 2 months ago.” Jason confessed.

“I thought you had passed out.” Jason shook his head.

“Nope. Just too weak to open my eyes.” Roy clenched his jaw. “I still don’t know the whole story but...I’ve see the scar.” Jason muttered almost ashamed. Roy’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“How?” Jason shifted on his feet.

“I walked in on her changing about a month ago. She didn’t even notice me I don’t think but her back was towards me. I just had to do a search in a couple databases, and I got the full story.” Jason explained.

“I just hope she’s ok...” Roy trailed off.

Today, she hadn't checked in with him or Jason. That was unusual, she always paged Roy and Jason but today, she didn’t contact either one of them. It’s the whole reason he kept the pager on him while she was gone, that was the only way she’d communicate that, and Jason still used one for some reason. Jason felt something was wrong but hoped he was just being paranoid and now he’s looking at Brainiac 5, the last person he thought he’d see, carrying an unconscious and bleeding Y/N. And on top of all that Roy was frozen with either anger, fear or both.

“Help her, please!” Brainiac screamed. Jason pushed Roy aside, seeing Y/N in Brainiac 5’s arms.

“Come on.” He said leading Brainiac 5 inside. Roy finally woke up and ran to get the emergency kit. It’s different than a first aid kit, as it has heavy duty shit. “What happened? Where is she hurt?” Jason asked as Brainiac 5 set Y/N down on the floor. Her face was pale, breathing shallow and her clothes were soaked with blood. He swallowed roughly, she looked dead.

“She was only down for a second. I didn’t even...” Brainiac 5 trailed off. “Her shoulder and chest. That’s where she’s hit.” Roy pushed Brainiac 5 aside and started to get Y/N out of her clothes. He took off her jacket seeing only a tank top which was soaked in blood underneath.

“Why isn’t she in her bullet proof suit?” Roy asked frantically, seeing one of the bullet holes was just above her heart.

“I... told her she didn’t need it when she arrived, she wasn’t going in the line of fire unless necessary, but we were betrayed.” Brainiac 5 explained as he started to remove the bullets still lodged inside Y/N. Jason’s temper flared as did Roy’s but they controlled it for now. The important thing is to keep Y/N alive. After Brainiac 5 removed the bullets, Roy started to stitched his friend closed while Jason bandaged and wrapped the wounds. “Shit, shit her heart beat is faltering.” Jason said, starting to push on her chest. Starting CPR.

“She’s lost too much blood, she’s gonna need a transfusion-” Roy started.

“You.” Brainiac 5 addressed Jason. “You have her blood type.” Jason felt a small wave of hope cover him. He could help her.

“Then take it.” Roy’s head snapped to Jason who was starting to tie off his arm. “Dude your still recovering.” Roy said, taking over pumping Y/N heart for her.

“Roy, we don’t have time to argue, get the needles.” Roy snapped his saw shut and nodded. Brainiac 5 just stared over Y/N’s body, guilt was flooding his system. He should have planned better. Jason grabbed two needles and a tube in order to do the transfusion. Roy inserted one side into Y/N’s arm while Jason did the same to himself. Everyone was silent for a minute.

“That’s good.” Brainiac finally said, trying to help. Roy nodded to Jason, who pulled the needle out of his arm as Roy mirrored the action for Y/N. “Vitals are returning to normal.” Jason saw her chest start to rise and fall steadily, though the breath was shallow. “She’s gonna be ok...but she needs to rest.” Roy nodded, preparing to pick up his friend until Jason stopped him. “I got her, you're on clean up.” Jason didn’t hear any protest from Roy, not that he would have listened, and carefully picked up Y/N limp body and carried her into her room. It almost scared him seeing her like this. Cold, pale, almost lifeless.

“So Roy thought you said Cythia and not Cynthia?” Jason laughed, trying not to choke on pancakes.

“Shut up. I was really high.” Roy answered grumpily. Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, you were, but it’s still funny that you still call me Cy.” Y/N said smiling, bumping Roy with her elbow. Jason smiled slightly at the memory. Y/N had kept her promise and told Jason how she and Roy met. It was during Y/N’s time in the Legion, and he was in Young Justice. Roy fell off the deep end once or twice. Y/N was the only one who stayed by his side; Jason was dead then and couldn’t be there for him. Y/N helped Roy get and stay sober, he spent most days on her couch working on riding his addiction. Y/N set him up with a therapist as well. She did so much for him during that time that he was more than happy to help her recover when she was injured.

Jason lay Y/N down on her bed and covered her with a blanket, keeping her warm. She’ll need some antibiotics. Jason brushed her hair out of her face, just as she had done for him. He didn’t tell Roy, but he woke up to her comforting him, and for a second Jason felt warm. But he was also confused, she treated him so kindly and even jumped between himself and Batman, though she didn’t know his name. Yet, Roy spoke of her as one of the most stone cold fighters he’s ever known.

“I’m tellin ya, Jaybird. She’s a badass. You’d really like her, she’s moody and sarcastic like you.” Jason sat down next to the sleeping Y/N and took her hand, it was cold, very cold. He bit his lip wondering what to do next, specifically what to do with Roy and Brainiac 5. Roy was going to try to kill him for sure once shock settled. Jason got up and made his way back to Roy.

“I’m sorry. I am, no one is sorrier than I am. I messed up I got that but-”

“You better pray she makes it out of this alive. Or I will activate you if it’s the last thing I do.” Jason heard Roy sneer. Roy was staring down the coluan. Roy was bigger and taller than Brainiac 5. Jason put his hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Get out. NOW!” Roy roared. Brainiac 5 clenched his fists.

“I’m staying until she wakes up, then I’ll go. Ok?”

“Fine.” Roy said through gritted teeth. With that Brainiac 5 went back thought the door.

“I’ll be back with some more antibiotics.” Jason shut and locked the door to their safe house, he turned to Roy who was trying to scrub blood off the floor.

“I want him gone Jaybird. Gone from this place, gone from her life. I want him gone.” Roy whispered. Jason crouched down to Roy’s level.

“I know. He will be after he knows she’s ok.” Roy shook his head. “He won’t leave her alone. He’ll try to make-up for his mistake. I want him gone.” Jason didn’t know what to say, he just continued to help Roy clean the safe house. About a half hour later, Brainiac 5 came back.

“Here, lets hook this up to her.” Brainiac 5 said heading into Y/N’s room. Jason and Roy followed after him. When they turned the corner, Brainiac 5 was standing in front of the doorway. “Hey move twerp!” Roy snarled pushed Brainiac 5 out of the way. Jason then heard Roy gasp and moved further in letting Jason make his way. Jason then caught the eyes of Y/N opened and alret. She was standing up, looking out the window of her bedroom. As if surveying the aera.

“Y/N?” Brainiac 5 whispered. She didn’t take her eyes away from Jason. He held her gaze wondering what she was thinking. “Y/N? Are you ok?” Brainiac 5 said carefully making his way over to her. “You shouldn’t be standing.” Y/N huffed a laugh and smiled though no humor was behind it. Tearing her eyes away from Jason, Y/N’s eyes fell on Brainiac 5

“Are you kidding?” Y/N’s voice was chilling. Roy took a step back and stayed beside Jason. “Am I ok?” Brainiac 5 continued to get closer.

“You were shot, we were betrayed-” Brainiac 5 started.

“We? WE? No, we were not betrayed. I was!” Y/N’s voice was rising with every word. “I heard you! You’re not as fucking smart as you think you are.” She said coming towards Brainiac 5. “You-AH!” Y/N screamed as she dropped to her knees holding her shoulder. Jason and Roy rushed to her side. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Breathe through it, we’re right here.” Jason whispered. Y/N inhaled slowly and released it. She then looked up at Brainiac.

“Get. Out.” She sneered. Roy and Jason helped her stand up. This was too familiar to Jason. Roy and Y/N had helped him like this 3 months ago. Brainiac blinked.

“I can explain-”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR EXPLANATION! GET OUT!” Y/N roared, lunging forward. Jason caught her as her knees buckled. Roy, however, grabbed Brainiac by the back of the neck and dragged him out of the room. Jason held Y/N a little longer. He didn’t know what she was thinking until he felt tears on his arms. Y/N wasn’t angry, she was heartbroken.

“Roy was right.” Y/N whispered to Jason. “I shouldn’t have gone. All he did was fuck me over.”

Jason pulled her back to her bed and sat her down. He then crouched down in front of her.

“I didn’t know coluans had dicks.” Y/N choked out a laugh. “Sorry I’m terrible in serious situation.” Jason whispered with a small smile. Y/N looked up and wiped her tears away.

“Neither am I. I hate this.” Jason didn’t want to press further. “I assume Brani brought me back here.” Jason nodded. “What happened next? You and Roy patch me up?” Jason nodded again.

“The green elf took the bullets out and he got you antibiotics too. Wouldn’t leave until he knew you were ok.” Y/N looked away from Jason. He didn’t mention how it was his blood that helped save her.

“Well now he knows.” Y/N said coldly, she then looked at something behind Jason.

“He’s gone Cy.” Roy said making his way towards the two, he then took a seat beside Y/N. “We got some pain meds for you...not that you’ll take them but the antibiotics you will be taking.” Y/N hummed. “Got it.”

“You should rest.”

“Not tired.” Roy sighed. “Just at least try, ok? We’re leaving in the morning.” Y/N cocked her head. “Brain-he is going to be kept far away from you as I can get him. I already called Kori, we are gonna use an old base in an island.” Y/N swallowed and inhaled. “Ok.” She breathed out. “I’ll rest.” Roy carefully gave Y/N a small hug. Jason stood up and grabbed her hand. Smiling softly, he released it.

“Night Doll.” With that both him and Roy left the room. Once they were in the kitchen again, Roy spoke up.

“So, when were you going to tell me you like Y/N?”

(Pt. 2?)

#jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine

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snowywolf1005 · 1 year

Text

TRIGUN STAMPEDE

VASH X PLANT READER

EPISODE TWO: THE RUNNING MAN

Vash and y/n at the dinner table with merly and Roberto.

"So let me make sure, I'm followed, This Bad man running around, stealing plant, is not you? And this guy who looks like you, but he's your twin brother." Vash nodded, Roberto smoking, y/n cough, "there's no proof, though, " said merly.

Vash was doing fake cry.

"Crying won't help your case," said merly, Vash put his head down. Y/n put him on his back.

"That guy knives, stealing plant. What did he want from it?" Said Roberto, "The money? Or is it about honor? " said Merly.

Then a little boy come up to them, bringing some bugs in a cage.

"Hey there, kiddos," said Robert, "or those guys for us" y/n question. "Thanks you Tonies, I keep your budding safe," said vash, patting in the head.

"What a heartwarming scene. Hehe, are the bug gone?" Said merly, "almost. ".

"Okay, quite that. Tonies, how many times I told you? Don't bring your worms here! Mama loves you, baby! Now shoo!" Rosa yelled.

"Sorry, vash and y/n," she said, pulling her gun at them. Everyone else pulled out their guns, too. "It the cash, not you two," said Rosa.

TIMESKIP

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!" vash scream, "Y/N!!! HELP ME!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!" vash screams top of his lungs.

"Don't let them get away!!" Rosa yelled, vash running for life, while y/n swinging around with her blade like spider-man.

And she is looking for vash as well. Y/n dough all the bullet.

(She spider-girl, spider girl), and she finally found vash.

He was surrounded by six people. "VASH!" y/n yelled, grabbed vash.

"Vash! Y/N! Over here!" Merly called out. Y/n landed safely, "Y/N! THANKS YOU! THANKS YOU!" said vash, hugged y/n.

Later.

Vash and y/n looked at the photos of themselves. Vash made a frown face, "Why do they use this photo?" Y/n asked, "that you're issues," said Roberto.

"So this journey, folks are part of this gang?" The man asks, vash and y/n, and other steps away back.

"Who cares? I can't wait to meet them anyway," said the other man.

After moving somewhere.

"This is why's we don't save lost puppies," said Roberto, "Sorry," said merly, while their walking. "Hey puppy, it would be easier if you pick up a fight," said Roberto.

"Huh!? Are you really in the mood for a shoot-out? Y/n is a good fighter, and she even has her blade, " said vash.

"What you deal!? oh wait, let's me guess, you forgot ammo," said merly, "no, I got extra, I prefer not to use it, bullet are too pricey, " said vash

"YEAH! Even pain our pill!" Said merly, "I can buy one bullet or two thousand doughnuts," said vash.

"Oh my God, vash, but I do have a plan, though," said y/n. They look at y/n, "OK, what your plan?" Said Roberto

The man sees a red coat. "This way!" He said running, "someone saw him!" Said the other.

"There!" He yelled, "That a dead end!" The other guys yelled, but they were shocked to see.

"Damn, they got us," he said. It was a blue bird. Y/n looked around, "Cost is clear come on," she wisperd, they walked. "You're plan works!" Said merly.

When they about leave. Rosa and two other women come out pulled out their guns. Y/n and other stop, "vash, y/n, don't make harder for me," said Rosa.

They dropped on their knees and put their hands behind their back. "With the plant(something, something), the money is our only hope," said Rosa.

"How could you! They scrafic their life, they save you twice," said merly,".

Rosa said (something, something, something, something, something, something, something, something,".

Then a big car coming towards to tonsi. "Tonsi!" Rosa yelled, y/n stood up and pulled out her blade, grabbed Toni's.

"VASH THE STAMPEDE AND Y/N THE STAMPEDE!! YOUR COMING WITH US!" An old man yelled.

Vash and y/n hopped on blue bird. Y/n is riding it, "money! Come back!" He yelled, merely and Roberto followed them, "what your plan now y/n?" Said vash.

She looked around and saw some rocks. A hand almost hit y/n and vash. The car is slowly down, and they stop, "they stopped," said merly.

Then, a hand came out and grabbed sleeping bags cause the birds get scared. They went off again. "Come on, fight me! You are a gunman, "an old man yelled.

"Nope," said y/n, vash laughs. Then the bag came off, the old man and his son fell.

After Merry takes vash, he has to fight back and can't run away. Leaving y/n to help him while she was injured.

"Help! We need backup! Bac- augh!"

"Coming," said y/n, they look at y/n. "Coming with wha?" Said Roberto, "the plant," she said. They were shocked, vash get on the blue birds, and took off.

Later (Sorry)

The old man fired a bomb at y/n, but she missed it. "Vash!" Merly scream. "That was a close one," said vash. Old man jaw dropped.

"Y/n, let's me protect you. You have enough to protect me," said vash. After some fight and talk. The bridge is falling apart, y/n used her blade to pull up the bridge so the old man came back, but her hands started Bruning.

Later again

They have drink. Y/n and vash packed their things and about to leave, but they were stopped by Roberto. "You shouldn't say goodbye, the people miss you, what are you running away from? Oh, right, he told me morning million knives, " he said

Then, a loud scream comes from the dinner. "What going on!?" Said vash. A spider creature crawling around on gofes. The spider trun red

He ran outside, and then he exploded.

#trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede #trigun stampede vash #vash the stampede x plant reader #vash x y/n #vash x plant reader #vash the stampede

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 2 years

Text

Being Married To Him

Mob!Todoroki x Reader

From @izukuisbaby: being married to mafia shouto headcanons (what is it like to be his wife, maybe he has private drivers getting reader to work or idkksjdjfjg that's up to u my love)

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Can you j say glamorous??

On days that he can’t be there when you wake up, he’ll have a private dinner scheduled that night

Private dinner include his staff setting up the dinning room for you guys. He has an amazing set up. Always so beautiful

He always cleans up from work of course, and you can’t help but smile seeing him in a nice suit when he comes to get you from the bedroom

But is that all? No of course not. Mob or not, Shoto is still human, your still human, the fancy private dinners are great

But the chill laid back private dinners? Absolutely your favorite

Shoto loves you. You don’t have to dress up and be all fancy for him to love you and continue to fall for you

So sometimes, the private dinner aren’t fancy

Sometimes it’s just the great food, plus you and Shoto in comfortable clothes, sitting on the round couch at the foot of your bed, laughing and watching tv (later falling into his arms and cuddling

Those are definitely the best

Of course, he has a private driver for you

He has a driver, plus a second guard and they stay together

They take you where ever you want

Also the car your always go in, Shoto had it specially made for you

It’s a Newer Bronco, but of course he made some adjustments

The inside of course is great. You got a place to charge your phone and Bluetooth, all the generic stuff

But also there’s a gun strapped under the seat you’re usually in and the driver and passenger seat

He added so you could have wifi in the car, and extra compartments for anything you might wanna store there

Also, the top and doors don’t come off

It’d be cool, but shoto wasn’t having none of that. He’s sorry, he’d know you love it, but not that sorry

Also the windows don’t go down. Again, sorry, but not that sorry

And it’s bullet proof

The entire car

He minus well have made it outta vibranium

He spent a lot of money on this car truck

But it’s fine, that’s the only way we could have the peace of mind of letting you off on your own

Anyways

You’re his shining diamond at galas and events

Everyone mostly respects you (or just keeps there mouth shut

Shoto always respects you so much

And he does his best not to have you around the messy part of his work

He tries not to kill anyone in front of you

Or beating people up cause, that could almost be worse since it’s his bare hands

He doesn’t want you to be afraid of him

Not like you ever could tho

Also with you around he has to break some of his habits

Like his reflexes, as long as you know you have to be careful, it’ll be easier for him to work to break down his immediate reflexes (when necessary)

Meaning just don’t sneak up on him, always let him know when you’re approaching if he has his back turned, even touching him too quickly is a little iffy, you have to be gentle and just know he might flinch

Some things and parts of his reflexes just never changed tho

Other parts aren’t something he can just break

You’re his number 1, the one he cares for most. His energy goes toward protecting you

So even if you guys have kids, he’s still never used to the sudden crying at night

He will still on reflex wake up immediately and shield your body with his, clutching his gun and aiming somewhere in the room

Side note: he sleeps on the side closest to the door and doesn’t have a window on your side, the only window is in your bathroom, which again that door is closer to the regular door and all on his side

But anyways yeah, that habit just doesn’t ever really break

And don’t worry, he doesn’t ever actually aim it at the baby or anything. He’s just automatically up and aiming at the door on instinct

It doesn’t matter how quiet it is, if your bedroom door opens, he will wake up

Shoto also loves when you come in his office

His office is open for you, he has a couch you can take a nap on and blankets and pillows and stuff

But if he’s not in his office, meaning he’s in the basement or conference room, that’s a different story

Conference room needs a knock on the door, and it’s a 50/50 chance he’ll let you in and he usually has guards outside the door and they’ll tell you who’s in there and if it’s even worth trying

If they’re dangerous, too dangerous, he’s not taking any chances. He doesn’t want you around the area while they’re there

If it’s the basement it’s a complete no. Doesn’t matter who’s there, what’s the problem, not happening. Just send someone to get him

If you do just have to go, he’ll already be with you

Only way you ever go, is if he’s with you

If you do have a job, shoto is iffy on that too

But if it’s important to you, he’ll let you go

He just always asks you have an extra guard with you in addition to your regular driver and guard

And that one will go with you into work and just kinda float around and stuff

Depending on what you do people usually get used to it and don’t really care

There’s always some nosy person but you usually come up with something and it’s no big deal

They know he’s not your husband, but they also know it’s just something about him, and you, that seems different

They’d never guess you were married to the number 1 mobster in Japan

But ya know, suspicion and internal questions always seem to surface more and more whenever you get the mysterious expensive gifts

The big flowers, and the lunches that get sent for you every now and then

It sure does make people wonder

Masterlist

#shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki headcanons #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #shoto headcanons #shoto todoroki fluff #todoroki fluff #bnha shoto todoroki

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siriannatan · 1 year

Text

So Maidtyn Monday had me thinking back to an old project. I even had a pinterest board for it and everything, and I'm tempted to drop a bit of it here... So here we are:

fWhip was fed up with his boss. What kind of prissy idiot refuses to have guards near because they aren't 'cute' enough. "Boss it's for your safety…" he tried arguing.

"No." Scott S. Major, his boss. Shook his head between sips of tea. After fWhip barely managed to stop another attempt on his life, mind you. He saves the guy and all hie gets is another damned argument. "I'm paying you to protect me so I can set my own rules," Scott continued arguing. "You've got a pretty face but this outfit just ruins it," he sighed staring fWhip and his black, tactical gear down with a disapproving, cold, stare. "I'm sure a guy of your talent can figure it out," he smiled, annoying his half-dragon bodyguard even further.

fWhip took a deep breath to stop himself from murdering his employer. Cuter outfit huh? "So if I wore, let's say, a maid dress you'd be fine with me being around?" he asked already wondering if it were possible to make a maid dress out of the usual protective fabrics top line mercenaries and bodyguards used for their protective clothes. He was sure some tailor in town would be crazy enough to try making it. Katherine maybe? She could make about anything happen.

"You'd sure look much cuter with some frills," Scott smiled, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "I'll be at home rest of the day, should be safe."

Once dismissed fWhip instantly called Katherine even before getting into his car. "Kath, I need a favour. Can you make me a maid dress out of our usual protective fabrics? Because Scott's being annoying and saying I need to stay out of his sight unless I look 'cuter'… I'm on my way to do any measuring. I have little time… Morning? Monday? Tomorrow? If you say you can do it…"

Scott was sure he was done with his security issue. Either fWhip returns cute and Scott has something to stare at during his days. Or he resigns and maybe he hires Scar to protect him from afar. But that had one issue - Scar usually worked with Grian and Scott didn't ever have the mood to deal with him. The half-dragon didn't look too eager to wear a maid dress but… he was the one to propose it. And Scott was maybe slightly giddy at the thought of his handsome guard being all cute in a short, frilly dress with a little apron.

fWhip might have underestimate how fast Katherine could work. She was indeed done with the whole get up the very next morning. Apparently the short, a little above the knee long maid dress was fire, blast and bullet proof. Same with the thigh highs she included… Maybe he should have actually participated in designing it… The knee high boots, laced on the front, with bows on the side weren't the worst part. Not even the short gloves and lack of sleeves of too much lace and frills. No. The worst part was that… he didn't hate it. It actually made moving with a tail a lot easier and the pouch on the belt and frills could hide a lot. And it helped him blend in with the house staff. Even if his 'uniform' was very different from much longer in both sleeves and dress length uniforms.

And maybe Scott would finally stop complaining.

The shocked face Scott pulled when fWhip marched into the dining room and took the spot that usually had Scott complaining made fighting with the barely there make-up and lipgloss worth it. "Everything all right boss? Should I call Grian and tell him you're busy?" fWhip asked with what he'd call his cutest smile. No smirk. Just a soft smile that had the present in the room maids blushing and tripping. And Scott looking even more lost for words.

"That won't be necessary," Scott waved it off and hid behind the cup of morning tea he was enjoying with his breakfast. "That's not a lot of a dress," he commented once he had his thoughts a bit more in control. Damn, fWhip had nice legs under those mercenary pants. And a great waist. And did his arms have to be completely out and in full view with all that muscle? Scott wanted to touch them for forever. Or be held by them for even longer. He hasn't yet decided which.

#my stories #my stuff #preview #empires smp #traffic smp #scott smajor #fwhip

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valyrra · 2 years

Note

Hi XD

Can i have a request? I don't know what genre you can write in but they don't know if my idea will suit you ọ v ọ

During the war between 2 earths, the reader was shot and is lying between life and death, Yoru tried to save the reader and when he saved the reader, Yoru almost cried when he was saved his lover :')

Hey! I hope you'll like it 💙

The war has been going on far too longer than anyone expected. Some of the missions were more dangerous, some less. It never was easy to kill, never was easy to see your teammates get hurt. But it was your job. And you were a good fighter. Protector of YOUR Earth. Anything else didn't matter. You held that power, to fight. To make something right. Some would consider this job too difficult, but not for you. Not while you can still help people, save lives, make a difference.

You and Yoru were a great team. It was surprising to some of your "colleagues". Yoru, being such a complicated person, is in fact - was a good teammate, especially paired with you. You had that synergy not any other person in Valorant Protocol had with the Riftwalker. Brimstone would usually send you two together on missions. It wasn't surprising for the rest of the team that you were falling in love though.

Your relationship was quite something. Even though Yoru was so much softer and careful when you are around - there was a passion burning between you two. To say the least - You loved the hell outta him and he had the same feelings for you.

The next mission should have been an easy task. You should've secured the box of unrefined radionite from one place and escorted it to another. Viper picked out a team of four: You, Yoru, Sova and Cypher. You knew the team was even too strong for such an easy task. Two locations weren't even that far from each other. The Earth 2's agents were silent for quite a while and Viper has prioritized the mission's status as strictly confidential. All of you even wore disguises - plain black costumes with bullet proof vests and some armour around shoulders and legs.

Yoru and Sova should have watched over the perimeter to make sure no one is following you. Cypher wasn't really happy about this, but he had to drive the car. You didn't even understand why you should be bothered because of some average radionite box, but it was important for Viper and Brim so you just followed orders. You remembered you overheard KJ rambling about how "they" should take a look at some "box". It could somehow help in her building of "that" exact teleport. You were lost in your thoughts, everything went smoothly. However, your thoughts were disturbed by a gunshot. The mission quickly went from boring to straight up risky. You loaded your Spectre and contacted Yoru via an earplug which you've been sure - was made by KJ.

- What happened?

- Someone's following your car. One is dead. We're behind with Sova, get ready.

You heard bikes and cars behind your vehicle. Cypher took a quick turn and stopped at some abandoned warehouse. He threw a box in your hands and asked you to hide until the reinforcements (Yoru and Sova) are coming. You contacted Viper and told her everything happened. She reassured you that KAY/O and Sage are already on the way to help. Cypher quickly started to set traps on all of the visible doors.

The team which attacked you consisted of Earth's 2 - Skye, Jett and Omen. One of their teammates was left behind, you didn't know who was shot by Yoru. Some time after, gunshots stopped. You heard Sova on a voice com. He stated that the enemy agents are running away and you should go back to regroup. You obeyed the command. When Cypher told you to hide - you did a good job at running at almost the top levels of the warehouse. While you were passing the big windows - you saw some red shining dot on a wall beside you. Moment after - a loud shot from a sniper rifle was heard. The bullet went right through your rib. The pain traveled through all of your body and the box fell from your hands. After the box - you fell too. You didn't understand how quickly Yoru came to you, everything was blurry, but he had lifted your body and ran to the bottom levels of the warehouse and then outside. While you were laying helpless in his arms you saw - he was so full of anger, yet so concerned. But you were lucky enough - the ship had already landed. KAY/O and Sage ran out. Yoru yelled "Help! Sage! They are dying!". Then, the sweet cold touch - all you were feeling. Yoru didn't even say a word and it was feeling like - he didn't even take a breath. Moments after - you opened your eyes wider.

- Yoru? - you said with weakness in your voice.

- You are alive! - Riftwalker hugged you very hard.

Sage smiled passed to Cypher, who was a injured too. Luckily for him, it was less problematic than your injury.

KAY/O made sure you are better now and ran away to Sova, who has already been hunting the sniper who shot you.

- Y/N... I was so scared...

You felt a small drop of tear on your cheek.

- Yoru, you saved me! - You felt your strength is coming back.

Yoru kissed your forehead and smiled.

- They are right, if it weren't for you, Riftwalker, it would be too late. - said Sage.

- Lovebirds, let's finish the mission - You heard Cypher's raspy voice. He was carrying that damned box.

- Can you walk? - Yoru asked.

- I think so. - You tried to get up, unfortunately, unsuccessfully.

- Yoru, I'll escort them to the headquarters, they need rest.

Yoru sighed, but agreed and thanked Sage. For you, the mission is over. You really loved Yoru, and knew he loved you back, but seeing him so miserable over you getting hurt? It was heartbreaking. Days after, you have a whole room of flowers. Not only Yoru. Everyone was scared for your life. Even Viper came to you to ask you for forgiveness. Again, jocking or not, that if someone died - she would lose a bet with Brimstone.

#yoru x reader #valorant #valorant x reader #yoru valorant #valyrra writes

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danglovely · 10 months

Text

Regrading Taskmaster: S02 E02 Pork is a sausage.

*Score changes noted in parenthesis.

Prize Task: Trendiest Item of clothing.

Richard brings in a t-shirt of the Osmonds but with his face edited over them. It's a clever joke, but a complete whiff on trendiness as the Mormon sing group gradually becomes less and less relevant over time.

Katherine brings in a pair of leggings with a unicorn fighting a robot dinosaur with a rainbow overhead. This actually isn't bad; the 80's aesthetic is pretty bullet proof and it exudes a level of non-sequitarian humor that can be pretty trendy.

Jon brings in a cardigan with a a black waist coat sewn in. He impresses Katherine with it, but outside of cardigans being a decently popular item of clothing, this isn't particularly impressive.

Joe brings in his best tie with his aunt (definitely a lie) and a small vintage car embroidered on it. It doesn't look terrible but he really needed to sell this with a better story.

Doc brings in bright red waterproof converse, or what he calls "wellies with laces." He tries to sell it by saying how ridiculous they are and that's what he finds trendy.

They all sort of whiff on the category to varying degrees. Richard's is the opposite of trendy and Katherine's is the best. The other three are largely dependent on taste.

Doc: 4 (-1) Joe: 2 (0) Jon: 3 (0) Katherine: 5 (+1) Richard: 1 (0)

VT 01: Eat me. Fastest wins.

Theoretically objective task but there is a ton of pedantry involved in how much of an egg one has to consume to "eat it." None of them eat the shell, but it's pretty collectively understood that it isn't included when you say you've consumed an egg.

Doc and Joe appear to completely consume their eggs. Katherine abstains after tasting raw egg and takes a DQ as a result The issue is that Jon and Richard both lose some of their egg to the table because they crack it into the egg-cup and it isn't big enough to hold the contents.

It's not an easy question because interpreting the task to mean consume any of the egg puts Katherine back in the game, but interpreting it to mean the entire egg DQ's Jon and Richard. Greg seems to take an intent-based approach (Jon and Richard didn't mean to lose part of their eggs and consumed as much as they possibly could) and the outcome feels just.

Doc: 4 (0) Joe: 2 (0) Jon: 3 (0) Katherine: DQ (0) Richard: 5 (0)

VT 02: Make the best music video for a nursery rhyme.

Doc's music video for Once I Caught a Fish Alive is so good that I occasionally go back and rewatch it, just because it jams. Jon's horror movie version of Three Blind Mice is a close second.

I'm not sure Katherine actually completed the task because one of the requirements of being a nursery rhyme is that it's traditional and she wrote an original song.

Richard's rendition of She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain while he's generally being mean to people is interesting, if a little confusing thematically. However, I'm actually going to give the nod to Joe, who I think achieved a level of terribleness that brought it back around to good again.

Doc: 5 (0) Joe: 3 (+2) Jon: 4 (-1) Katherine: DQ (-4) Richard: 2 (-1)

Studio Task: Using this camera, take a picture of an inanimate object that looks like you. Closest resemblance wins.

Most of them got pretty close and Richard did deserve top marks here because his is the only object that, if I saw it out in the wild, I would say "that looks like Richard Osman." Doc Brown looks a little more like Marvin Humes than Katherine does the woman on the Spanx box and somehow they both look more like their objects than Jon's 3D print of himself. Joe got two points for bringing in a toaster then dressing up like a toaster. Good bit, but unless he always dresses up like a toaster there's no resemblance.

Doc: 4 (+3) Joe: 1 (-1) Jon: 2 (-2) Katherine: 3 (0) Richard: 5 (0)

VT 03: Order the following pizza for the Taskmaster: Extra large vegetarian pizza with pepperoni and bacon, and without tomato and cheese. You may not use the following words: Extra, Large, Vegetarian, Pizza, Pepperoni, Bacon, Tomato, Cheese.

The task doesn't lay out the winning condition and all of them say one of the forbidden words at least once. They decide in studio that the best pizza delivered wins it. It isn't the fairest way to grade because they all were calling different pizza places and the task specifies that you just have to order the pizza, not receive it. As such, I'll rescore based on violations + the "bubbles" bonus point.

Doc: 2 (-1) Joe: 5 (0) Jon: 2 (-3) Katherine: 5 (+1) Richard: 5 (+4)

Live Task: Using these big chopsticks, get these potatoes into your basket. You must only hold the big chopsticks on the grips provided. The big chopsticks alone may touch the potatoes in turn. Whoever has the most potatoes in the basket after 100 seconds wins.

Richard breaks the rules right off the bat. Jon gets 11/10 potatoes which is great, and within the rules, because "these" could mean any of the potatoes on stage. Doc and Joe take zeroes because their baskets fall off the stage, but they should actually come in joint third unless the task required all 10 potatoes to go in the basket (which would DQ Katherine).

Doc: 3 (+3) Joe: 3 (+3) Jon: 5 (0) Katherine: 4 (0) Richard: DQ (0)

Final

Doc: 22 (+4) Joe: 16 (+3) Jon: 19 (-6) Katherine: 17 (-2) Richard: 18 (+3)

So it seems like Jon was heavily overscored in this episode mostly because the pizza task didn't penalize mistakes. Doc probably should have won the episode where he dropped the amazing nursery rap.

#taskmaster #doc brown #joe wilkinson #jon richardson #katherine ryan #richard osman #tm regrade

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bucky-h0e · 3 months

Text

A/N: The beginning of the 'Winter Soldier and His Angel' Universe! Be warned with this one that a fair few posts of this (like this one) will be re-writes of scenes in the movies with Alpine inserted into them. Also, at some point I will be doing re-writes of the previous movies with Alpine, so the first Avengers movie, scenes from before this one that don't involved Bucky just for a bit of world and character building.

In any case, I hope you enjoy!

warnings: Canon level violence, Alpine has basically no self-preservation instincts, scene re-writes, terrible puns and nicknames, the physics isn't physic-ing but we ignore that, Bucky hurting Alpine, Bucky as the Winter Soldier

The Winter Soldier and his Angel | Masterlist

Angel meets the Winter Soldier

"why am I in the middle? why couldn't we put Sitwell there. Hell I'd even take a ride in the boot over this."

Alpine Doe was not happy about her circumstances

sure finding out that she was on a mass hitlist that would be taken out simultaneously in less than 8 hours along with some of the biggest heroes in the world and millions of innocent people wasn't the best news

but that she could deal with

being stuck in a tiny four seater car when there were 5 of them wasn't fun and wasn't something she could wriggle out off, especially with Sitwell and Nat leaning forward to talk to Steve

"Alpine, seriously there are bigger things more important than your comfort in a 15 minute car drive."

she can't help but roll her eyes and wriggle to get comfortable, elbowing Sitwell in the process and grinning at his grunt

she couldn't even get to her phone

the cruelty

so she does the next best thing, looking at the man next to her she nudges him

"How'd you like your flight?"

"Shut it, Doe."

"Aw, are you still mad that Nat kicked you off a building? It it not sitting well with you?"

a groan from beside her at the pun makes her turn to the red head

"Nat it was right there!"

"Alpine, just because it's there doesn't mean you have to do it."

Steve is shaking his head, Sam is confused at her lack of care and Nat is trying to educate the girl in appropriate times for jokes

which she does not take to

"And you, Wings! Coming in like a badass to rescue the princess over here, you sure you didn't pull a muscle grabbing him?"

"Seriously, you're on a hit list and you're making jokes?"

"Hell yeah, no point in crying when I could be making someone elses,"

she points to Sitwell

"last moments truly unbearable."

"You're hanging around Stark too much."

she's about to give them all a snarky comment when she hears a thud on top of their car and Sitwell is dragged through the window and into the oncoming traffic of the other side

"HOLY SHIT THAT WAS NOT ME!"

Nat kicks her to the space Sitwell used to be, she glances at the hole in the car's roof above where she used to be

she watches as Nat saves herself, Steve and Sam from the same instance

she's left in the backseat and is thrust forward into Sam's seat at the sudden break from Steve

she's barely glanced at the front, too occupied by the truck speeding up to them behind a car that just barely managed to get away

"Guys-"

she's just brought her gun out of it's holster, aimed it to the truck when it collides with their car, her hand and gun being smothered in broken glass, her forearm caught between some of the crushed metal that used to be their boot

well at least she wasn't in there

Nat's searching for her dropped weapon and Steve turns to Alpine, reaching over as best he could and grabbing her arm

he's helping her pull her arm free when the Winter Soldier jumps on top of their car once more

once free, her dominant hand now a bloodied mess and the stinging pain of glass in her wounds keeping her adrenaline up, she takes aim with her other hand and starts shooting at the truck

it's times like this where she despises the existence of bullet proof glass

she hears Sam curse and more glass shatter before Steve is once again turning to her

"UPFRONT NOW!"

she doesn't hesitate, climbing up and into Sam's lap, mirroring Nat who blindly shoots at the roof of their barely there vehicle

she's spares a glance to the road, seeing what the sitation upfront was for the first time since they were attacked when

"WHERE'S THE STEERING WHEEL!?"

Sam only shouts in response , an arm wrapping around her when the truck crashes into them causing them to swerve

"Is now a bad time to say I get carsick?!"

she's half joking

"Hang on!"

Steve has reached over to her and Sam before she realised, pulling them over the gear stick

Nat is gripping onto Steve for dear life, her other hand coming up to grab Alpine and give her more stability on their little huddle over the car door

Sam is trying to hold onto her and Steve as they slide, but even with the door under them to protect them, she's still sliding off after their initial landing

that would leave a mark for sure

by now, her hand and arm is covered in blood and glass, the same arm now has a severe case of road rash along side her right leg

but at least she wasn't dead

yet

up ahead she sees Sam fall off, he rolls and so is saved from the same time of injury

she's up and running towards him as soon as she remembers

he's not armed

at least she didn't think he was

honestly she couldn't remember, but her instinct said to save him

when's she's reached him, she's grabbing his shirt and dragging him up and to cover

they take cover behind a car and the pain begins to creep up her spine as her body shakes

Sam's speaking to her but she doesn't register his words as Steve is blown, quite literally, off the bridge

"Are you armed?!"

Sam nods and shows her his knife, she nods in return and gives him her gun

"What about you?!"

"I'm not a good shot up close, much better with knives."

Sam goes to offer her his, but she shakes her head and grabs two of her own

"Where are you hiding all these?!"

"You don't wanna know!"

Nat's jumped off the bridge but Alpine knows she'd be fine, after all, Nat helped trained her

she takes a few deep breath as she watches the Winter Soldier flinch back and take cover, he takes his goggles off and Alpine practically sees the anger at the fact he'd been shot

she grins and shakes her head when he releases a bunch of bullets bellow them

"Nat's made the big one angry! Try and take out the little guys up here, make sure Steve is good! I'm gonna make sure Nat has some back up"

Sam is sceptical because this girl is 18 and hanging on by a thread

maybe they should have gotten a bigger car

but Alpine is up and running before he can stop her

she's attacked one of the last of the HYDRA goons and used his rope to get down to the street below, offering Steve some aid by dealing with the guy closest to her with a swift throw of her knife

she's able to use the distraction of Sam's shots and their attention of Steve to rush out of the way, securing her knife in her belt

her rush is stopped though as a bullet grazes her already open wound

i mean seriously, can't these guys at least aim to the left side where she wasn't injured?!

this is when she realises that someone had turned their attention to her, as she's about to turn and deal with it, Steve had already used the shield to deflect some bullets towards her shooter

"Go, i'll catch up!"

don't have to tell her twice

it doesn't take her long to find Nat and the Soldier, and she lets out a relieved breath to see Nat escape once again by electrocuting the metal arm

it seems to affect him enough, but a little more time never hurt anyone

an advantage of being an 18 year old spy, you're a lot smaller than her adult colleagues

she's rushed at him before he realises she was there, delivering a swift push-kick to his back which, thanks to his distraction with his arm, puts him on his knees

she runs to catch up with Nat, glancing back to see the Soldier adjust his arm and glare at area there were running in

oh that was badass

she's caught up to Nat by now, and the older spy is relieved to see her still kicking about

"Try and leave this one to Steve as much as possible! He's no joke, let the super-soldier handle it!"

"When have you ever known me to back down from a challenge Nat?!"

"Alpine I'm serious! You offer support and noth-"

they're cut off by a bullet in Nat's shoulder, the red head gasping in pain and grabbing Alpine's hand to pull her into cover

Alpine is helping apply pressure to her would before she freezes

something just didn't feel right

this guy was good at sneaking around

it felt like a set up

"Alpine. Support and nothing else."

Nat must have felt it too but the young girl just grins much to her dismay

as if she'd just sit back and Steve handle the man who shot her mother-figure, who tried to blow her up three times and who technically did blow up Steve had it not been for that basically invincible dinner plate of his

"Nat, I love you but-"

the sound of combat boots thudding on the metal of a car tells Alpine that they'd ran out of time for a heart to heart

she's pushed Nat to the side and starting a running start at the Soldier, surprising both him and Nat

he's barely raised his weapon before she's kicked it out of his hands and all but jumped on him

legs on his shoulders, she's giving him punch after punch to the head

she can feel his grip on her hips and waist, trying to get a hold of her so he could throw her down

she'd get a few more hits before he'd manage to do that

she feels his grip leave her on one side and puts more force into her punches

just a few more should do the trick to at least to make him lose some sort of balance

the sharp pain of a knife in her side makes her scream out, the shock of it making her lose her grip

he throws her onto the road off of him

she brings him down with her

the pair roll of the ground, both sitting up on their knees glancing at each other

she only breaks their gaze to glance at the black HYDRA knife still lodged in her side and groans

fuck

this was going to hurt

a lot

he's up and walking towards her, she's managed to scramble into standing up

they're walking towards each other with purpose, Alpine takes the knife from her belt and flips it

the soldier glances at it

time to have some fun

now Alpine preferred knives to guns for the simple reason that they were quieter

but even she had to admit that there was a beauty in knife fighting that she couldn't describe

had she had her swords, she would have been able to keep him at a distance

but she didn't

so she used her past training sessions with Steve to guide her

they meet in an almost elegant fashion

her hand is raised, poised to slash at his chest but his arm had come up to block it, her free arm coming to take the knife out of her hand before he can grab it but his other hand comes to block it in a weaker hold, obviously preparing to use it to attack

she drops the knife into her own hand and slashes at his thigh

hit one

be back up, kicking her hand and the knife goes flying up

it's a scramble to catch it, both of them trying to deflect the others attempts until it lands in his hand and Alpine had to lean back to avoid a slash to her chest

curse civilian clothing

in leaning back, she delivers a kick to his masked chin as she follows through in a backwards roll

hit two

he shakes his head and steps forward, she delivers another kick to his sternum

hit three

he grabs her leg after the kick, fingers pushing into the open road rash wound, twisting the limb around to throw her off balance and threatening to plunge her knife into her leg

ah shit

she brings her other leg up, kicking the knife out of his hand and catching it, slashing his thankfully fleshy arm

he drops her and she tumbles to the ground, rolling out of the way before he can land a very metallic punch to her face

brutal

she can hear Nat in the background calling out for her, to run whilst he's preoccupied with getting his arm out of the ground

but the pain in her body is simply getting worse and worse she can't move

but she has too

he's free and walking towards her, the knife in still in her hand

she has something in her favour at least

she struggles to get up, but the Soldier is walking towards her at such a pace that it's do able by the time he's reached her

like a goddamn wolf stalking it's prey

she rushes at him, he rushes towards her

she ducks and dodges his punches, the knife dances between the two of them as they each catch, flip and stab at one another

they're at a stalemate but it's tipping heavily in his favour

he's strong and definitely more experiences than she was

but she's more agile due to her stature so can just barely keep up

she needs the upper hand

she takes a chance, using the cars surrounding them to jump on top if him again

this time she uses her body weight to flip around him, to bring him to the ground with her once again

if she could immobilise him just long enough for Steve to come

because he was coming

she was sure of it

then Steve could land a few solid punches and gain an advantage

she could do that

but even without her training

she was just a little girl and this was a grown ass man

momentum and force meant nothing if he could counteract it

and he could with a simple arm around her waist and another jab to the knife still embedded into her left side

she feels the wound grow bigger, her lapse in focus meaning he could easily through her back onto the ground

she's gasping and scrambling away

maybe she should have taken the time earlier to run away

she thought she was ready to take on this challenge and in the end, she'd only managed three solid hits

if she survived this, then she would make sure she got a lot more in the next time they met

that was if she survived

he's obviously annoyed by her attempts to subdue him

she'd given him a good fight after all, but it just wasn't good enough

he stalking towards her, pulling a gun from his holster and she's staring right at him

if she died right now, she knew that Steve and Nat would Avenge her

hell, hopefully the other Avengers would as well

if she died right now, she just hoped they knew how much she loved them

she hears the safety click off as everything starts to move in slow motion

hears her own gasps for breath and feels the pain coursing through her body

hears Nat screaming her name

hears the stomp of shoes as someone runs towards them

hears another, smaller pair of shoes just after

hears the gunshot

hears a familiar twang

hears Steve's pants as he shields her

the world starts moving faster once again

she's pulled back by Nat, away from the fighting

all she can do is watch as Steve does what she couldn't

Nat rests her against a nearby car, gently pushing her hair out of her face and wounds

she looks up at her and tries to smile through the sickening feeling building in her stomach

Nat smiles at her, glancing up at the fight happening before them as Alpine does the same

Steve's holding up well, the Winter Soldier has gone through a lot of his options and is back in a hand to hand combat

but Steve Rogers can do the things that Alpine can't

such as flip the tank of a man and stop that goddamn metal arm that has added bruises to the list of Alpine's growing injuries

Nat had ran off to grab one of the many discarded weapons surrounding them to give Steve some support

Alpine uses her remaining strength to stand, a hand holding the knife still as she moves towards the fight, wanting to make sure Steve was okay

she'd re-join if she had to, even if she wouldn't last long

Steve had managed to flip the Soldier once again, his mask falling to the ground

Alpine steps closer, time to see who this guy was

"Bucky?"

she frowns at Steve words, looking at the man who had nearly killed her

there was no way that the man pictured in the Smithsonian's Captain America exhibition was James Buchanan Barnes

Steve Roger's best friend

Killed in Action during the war

he fell off of a train for fuck sake!

but as she's looking at him, she can see the similarities in the pictures and the man standing before her

well shit

Bucky Barnes nearly killed her

and she'd get him back for it one day

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

Sam decides the join the party, stopping Bucky from shooting Steve

Alpine turns to see Nat with a weapon she knows can launch grenades, turning back to Steve and beginning her run over as Bucky steadies himself and raises his gun after a moment of hesitation

"Steve!"

she's called out and jumped on him before Nat shoots, they stumble to the ground and Steve uses the shield to cover them from any flying debris

when the smoke clears, Bucky is gone and there are sirens in the distance

Steve's still in shock

Nat is panting, leaning against a car

Sam is just as confused as Steve, if not more

and Alpine is hanging on for dear life, her adrenaline having faded during her rest

Steve's hand brushes the knife in her side and she winces, he's pulling her up and checking her over - not liking the paleness of her skin

nobody moves as the cars begin to surround them, Steve can only hold her to his side as she watches everyone she thought of as colleagues and friends point weapons at them

he drops the shield watching in frustration as Rumlow grabs Alpine and forces to kneel further away before beginning to handcuff Captain America

Alpine glares at the men surround her, growling when one goes to take the knife from her side

"Touch it and I shove it in your throat."

weapons are raised to kill and the knife is removed anyway, a cry of pain drawing some attention

blood pours quicker from her would as she's cuffed and dragged up into the back of an armoured truck after Steve had been locked into place

all she can do is lean against a locked up Steve and focus on her breathing

Steve can only think about Bucky

how scared he must of been and how betrayed he must have felt when he realised Steve hadn't come for him

how he'd been turned into a killing machine for HYDRA, how he'd brought a girl, once happy and joking, near to death

Sam and Nat are trying to comfort him, but all he can feel is the weight of both his own decisions and of Alpine's nearly lifeless body on his side

Alpine is sort of conscious during their escape from the truck, even less conscious and more delirious when Hill brings them to the dam

Steve is carrying her in, Sam helping Nat and all three objecting when Hill tells the doctor to hold off on taking Nat and Alpine away just yet

when Alpine see's Fury, she frowns

"I'm dead and the person they sent to greet me to the after life is Nick fucking Fury in a hospital bed, the audacity."

"I'm not joining whatever undead Avenger 2.0 you have planned,"

"Well, it's a good thing we're not dead then huh? A blood transfusion and you'll be fine."

"I'd say you aren't the boss of me, but that would be a lie."

Its only when Steve hands Alpine over to the doctor for that blood transfusion that Steve relaxes when it comes to her situation

she'd been through worse

but Steve felt a sense of responsibly for this one

after all, it had been his best friend that had done it

but Alpine didn't care about that

she'd get Bucky back for it, whether that was before or after she and Steve rescued him, would be up to Bucky

not that he knew it

or Steve

for now, she rested and allowed her body to recover until it was time to leave for their mission which Steve, Sam and Nat no doubt tried to talk her out of

but she was stubborn

and she knew Bucky would also be there

so until then, she twirled the knife that had once been lodged into her side in her hand (it had been given to Hill and in turn she gave it back to her) and waited

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pandalandalopalis · 2 years

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Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Ten]

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: You have a nightmare and find comfort in a particular person's couch. Spending time with Steve Rogers is not an unpleasant occurrence. A familiar face shows up to kill you.

Read it on AO3

Part 2: Chapter Ten: Jigsaw

A Few Months Ago

There’s a carousel in Central Park.

Lights flashed, but there was no music today. Not this night.

Not as you hid in the shadows, watching, listening, waiting to intervene if you needed to.

Between the fighting of Frank Castle and Billy Russo.

You watched Castle get the upper hand, shoving Russo against the mirrors of the inner wall of the carousel.

And then you heard the most beautiful sound a horrible, deserving, fucked-up human being could make. A terrible, wrenching, shrieking that matched the blackness of Billy Russo’s soul, as Castle pressed his face to the broken glass and raked it down.

This was why you came here. To make sure that Russo got what was coming to him. You wanted your pound of flesh, too, but this moment wasn’t yours to take. It was Castle’s, who had lost his family. His children. His wife. His everything, because of this man.

Castle gripped the top of Russo’s head, angling his jaw up, knife in hand. Knife against Russo’s throat.

You weren’t Matt. You would let Castle kill him. You weren’t doing the killing — and it wasn’t your place to stop Castle now.

“Kill me,” Russo gurled. “Do it!”

And then,

Frank let him go.

“I’m not gonna let you die today.”

“Please.”

“Dying’s easy.” Frank kicked Russo’s face into the mirror. He gripped Russo’s head. “You gotta learn about pain.” He smashed his face into the mirror again. “You’re gonna learn about loss.” Again. Then, Frank kneeled next to him. “Every morning I look for them, Bill. I look for them. But then I remember. It’s gonna be the same for you. When you look at your ugly, mangled face — you remember what you did. You remember, Bill!” He shoved his face into the mirror again. “You’re gonna remember me!”

“No!”

Castle threw Russo’s face into the mirror one last time. Russo slumped to the ground, his face more blood than flesh at this point, shards of glass sticking out of his cheeks.

You waited. Until Castle was gone.

Then you made your advance.

Glass crunched under your feet as you approached. You wanted him to hear you coming — with the blood over his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see you. You wanted him to be afraid.

You gripped the top of the bullet-proof vest he was wearing.

“Hi Russo~”

He gurgled and blood leaked from his mouth. “Who. . .?”

“You don’t remember me, baby? I’m hurt.”

His throat bobbed and more blood poured from his mouth. He blinked several times, and he finally must have gotten rid of enough blood clouding his vision because he said,

“Wolf?”

“Little birdie told me what you did.” Your voice was less honey now. It was the snarling of a beast with sharp teeth.

His hand, shaking, reached up and touched your hand that was gripping his vest.

“Kill me.”

You laughed. “And let you off that easily? I was wrong about you, Russo.” You thought you knew him. Thought you knew him well enough to let him in your bed. Let him touch you. That was not an honour given to most men. You were always so careful. “And I don’t like being wrong about people.”

You undid the straps of his bullet-proof vest, wrenching it off his body as Russo made sounds of agony beneath you. Then you pulled out your knife and cut down the length of his shirt, opening it to bare skin.

“What are you doing?”

You gripped his bloody face and he cried out. “This was so you remember what you did. Now I’m going to make sure everyone else remembers it, too.”

Then you began carving into his chest.

Not deep enough for him to bleed out and die.

But deep enough to make your point.

Russo shrieked and screamed and spasmed underneath you, but you kept him pinned down as you worked, and he wasn’t strong enough to push you off.

When you were done, you stood. Wiped the sweat from your brow and felt blood smear onto your forehead. And admired your work.

1975

Crying.

Always crying.

The shrieking of little girls, some still holding onto tiny stuffed animals.

There was nothing you could do.

Not true.

You could free them, and die doing it. Die trying.

But you were too afraid to die.

Coward.

You wanted to live.

Was this living?

Overseeing little girls being rounded up and taken to the Red Room. Where they would be turned into monsters.

There was no numbness, here. You didn’t have access to drinks or drugs or whatever you could to dull it. You had to feel everything. All at once.

The images burned into your mind like a brand. Images your brain would never let you forget.

Something tugged on your sleeve. You looked down at a little girl with dark hair and big hazel eyes that stared up at you. She couldn’t have been more than five years old.

There was bile in your throat.

You crouched next to her. “[What’s your name?]” you asked in Russian.

“Melina,” she answered. “[I want to go home.]”

“[I know],” you said, and the words tasted like ash in your mouth. “[It’ll be okay.]”

LIAR

Present Day

You felt like you were choking as you startled awake, tangled in your sheets— The room was dark and unfamiliar and you didn’t know where you were, you didn’t know where you were—

You teleported yourself to your apartment, landing hard on your kitchen floor and knocking over a chair as you did so.

On shaking legs, you hurried to one of the kitchen draws and pulled out the pills you knew were there. You turned on the tap and swallowed some while putting your mouth under the running water, and willed yourself to stop remembering. Remembering their little faces and sad eyes and wailing like knives in your chest, over and over and over—

Your body started to relax.

You had been in your room at Avengers Tower. That’s where you had woken up.

It would take some time for that place to feel familiar to you. To wake up and not feel panic. It was only the first night there. You’d get used to it.

But the idea of going back there now felt suffocating. In that spacious, unfamiliar room with the comfiest bed and sheets Tony Stark’s money could buy. You wouldn’t sleep if you went back now. Even with the drugs calming you, the idea of having another nightmare . . . like that . . . with them under the same roof. . . .

You wanted to sleep, but you didn’t want to sleep here, in your own apartment, either. Somehow the emptiness was . . . not worse but . . . just so empty.

Cold.

You didn’t think. You just closed your eyes and let your body take you where it needed to go.

Matt’s apartment.

You tried not to think too much about why that felt like the most comfortable place for you right now.

Instead, you let your exhausted body fall down onto the brown leather couch, shifting the pillow to your head and pulling the red and white flannel blanket around you.

It smelled like him.

You closed your eyes and sank deep into that couch and into sleep.

Something was off when Matt woke up.

Breathing. An extra heart-beat.

Matt got out of bed and threw on a shirt, then slid the door to his room open. And there, sleeping on the couch, was Y/N.

Her heart was beating slightly faster than normal, and her body was tensed — mouth twisted, eyes scrunched closed. From the slight brushing of fabric, he could tell she was gripping the pillow with one hand and tightly gripping the blanket to her chin with her other. As if the blanket could give her security.

He’d done the same thing, many times.

Matt approached her cautiously, wanting to wake her from her nightmare but not wanting to startle her.

He kneeled next to the couch and put his hand on her shoulder. “Y/N.”

As soon as he spoke, there was a knife coming at his throat and he caught her wrist before she could make contact.

“It’s just me.”

It took her a second, but then all the tension melted from her body and she sank back into the couch. He let go of her wrist and the knife was removed from his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” she said. “Don’t you know better than to wake a sleeping person?”

Matt’s eyebrows knitted together, confused for a second. “That’s sleep-walkers.”

“I know what I said.”

Matt’s apartment hadn’t stopped the nightmares but they were . . . cushioned, somehow. It was hard to explain. Waking there, you didn’t feel as much a need to disappear. Take drugs. Numb and blur the world so much you couldn’t see the bad memories still lingering at the edge of your mind.

Drugs and alcohol relieved the tension — that fight-or-flight survival instinct that was drilled into your bones. Relieved the reality that you were not safe and maybe you never would be.

But there was no tension in your body now.

And you felt it.

(Safe.)

“Why are you sleeping on my couch?” he asked, gently. He couldn’t help but put two and two together in his mind. What happened last night. The truth she confessed about the Red Room and kids and her involvement in it. Her sleeping here instead of at Avengers Tower.

She matched his tone, almost as if she was mocking it. “Because the couch is more comfortable than the floor.”

Matt leaned back as Y/N got up. She stretched as she walked to the kitchen and her voice returned to a casual tone. “Where do you keep your coffee?”

As evenly as he could, he followed with, “Are you in trouble?” Not for the first time, he was reminded of the way one approaches a skittish animal, with a calm voice and slow movement. Like if he pushed too hard to help her, she’d run away.

And more and more he realized exactly what he’d put his friends through. God was punishing him with dramatic irony. Yep. He probably deserved that one.

“Always,” was her response. “But — not right now. Coffee?”

He let her drop it. There was no use trying to pull anything out of her now.

Matt told her where the coffee was and she began brewing a pot. He made his way over and leaned against the table.

Y/N poured two cups, and, before he could tell her how he liked it, said,

“Lemme guess. Milk not cream one sugar.”

Matt blinked a couple times. It wasn’t like it was a strange combination, but it was specific enough that it threw him for a second. He didn’t start drinking coffee until law school — years after she disappeared from his life. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said as she prepared the drink. “You wouldn't drink it black because that'd be too bitter; cream tastes stronger than milk; you need one sugar to balance out the bitterness — but two sugars would be too sweet and it would ruin the drink for you.”

Wow.

She must have seen the impressed and somewhat . . . touched look on his face, because she shifted her weight and tapped her mug with her finger. “What? I know you’re sensitive to taste.”

Matt smiled at her, then. “I think it’s cute that you care about my coffee tastes.”

“Shut up,” she said, but there was laughter in her voice and a smile on her face. “Drink your damn coffee.”

He took a sip — and found the perfect ratio in the taste. He gave her a nod and she finally lifted the mug to her lips, what he was sure was a smug look on her face as she drank.

After some silence, he set the mug down. And tried again.

“Are we gonna talk about yesterday?”

She put down her own mug, nodding. “We gotta find out who the fuck is trafficking kids and why.”

Matt softened his voice. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Her heartbeat picked up and she sighed. “Matt, I’m fine. Let me deal with my own shit, okay?”

God was laughing at him.

So he said nothing, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to get her to talk about the things that clearly pained her.

Karma was a fucking bitch.

Matt went to the office to do lawyer things and you went back to Avengers Tower, to do your own job as their now live-in medic. And you were just in time getting back, because they were heading off on a mission and needed you to come with them.

According to them, this was a run-of-the-mill kind of thing. Hydra base. Probably some Hydra agents to take out. The point was to dismantle it and discover if they’d be harbouring anything special. Your position wasn’t high up enough to know the details of that, but you didn’t really care, anyway.

Steve helped strap you in, and gave you that winning Captain America smile when you thanked him.

Steve sat next to you. The Winter Soldier sat on his other side.

You kept your cool on the outside, but on the inside tried not to think about Hydra and the Red Room and the walking reminder sitting a few feet from you.

Natasha sat on your other side. “What’s up, Doc?”

She had always been nice to you, and you honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. She was a Widow, and a Widows’ kindness was fake — your kindness was fake, for the most part, as you played your role and pretended to be someone you were not. Part of you liked to think that she was rehabilitated, that it was possible for a Widow to move on — but the other part of you was realistic. Cautious.

“Still hate flying,” you lied with a smile. It was a detail you added to make your character seem more innocent, more vulnerable. If people thought you were weak, they were less likely to perceive you as a threat.

“Never a fan myself.”

There was that voice again. The Winter Soldier’s true voice. You didn’t know if you’d ever get used to it.

You ignored the instinct to unbuckle your seatbelt and smash his head against the hanger wall and instead closed your eyes.

“If it would make you feel better. . .”

You opened your eyes at the sound of Steve’s voice, and you looked at him.

“. . .you could hold my hand.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and he gave you a shy smile. You smiled back a bit and took his hand. Then you leaned back and closed your eyes again.

When the plane began to lift, Steve’s hand tightened around yours, a warm pressure against your skin.

And you couldn’t help but think that it was kind of. . .

. . .nice.

It was dark and you and Matt were patrolling the train tracks. You were waiting to hear back on a lead on the child traffickers, so there wasn’t much else to do besides patrol. There wasn’t often any action here, but you were aware that it was a good spot for a murder. Dimly lit, loud. And with trains passing by, not only was it concealed, but it was also perfect for a quick getaway.

You and Matt chatted quietly as you walked, just killing time until you could get through the tracks and move onto something hopefully more interesting. You walked on the tracks, one foot after the other, not even needing to put your arms out to keep your balance. Matt walked next to you, on solid ground.

“You did not rob a bank with Bonnie and Clyde,” Matt murmured incredulously.

“Mark the heartbeat, Murdock,” you said under your breath, barely a whisper — his hearing was of course better than yours, which meant you could get away with speaking quieter. “I robbed a bank with Bonnie and Clyde.” You flourished your arm for dramatic effect.

He hummed, like he checked it and found it to be true. “Fine. What else?”

“I found the lost city of Atlantis.”

Matt snorted quietly. “Now I know that one was a lie.”

“Okay fine,” you conceded. “I didn’t find it. But it exists. I swear it does.”

You looked over to see Matt smiling and shaking his head — when suddenly there was a shout behind you.

“Y/N L/N!”

You both turned to face the source of the voice. Their face was covered, but it sounded like a man. The mask he was wearing was black and white, the design almost like a cracked skull, fractured throughout the face.

“Who the hell is that?” Matt asked.

“Fuck if I know,” you answered.

Then the man took his mask off.

And you started laughing.

High pitched, hysterical laughter. Maniacal, gleeful giggling.

It was Billy Russo. He survived being sliced and cut up. And now he had to live with a face like that.

You lifted your mask up so he could see your face properly. “Russo!” you called, still in hysterics. “Nice face, asshole!”

“Go ahead, laugh,” Russo said, in a tone much more serious than yours. “You’ll be dead in a minute, anyway.”

This made you giggle harder, consumed with the amusing idea of Russo being able to kill you. “What’s wrong, Russo?” you taunted. “Got tired of playing with Castle?”

“Castle?” Matt said next to you. “Frank Castle?”

You nodded, your attention still on Russo as you spoke to Matt. “Russo was Castle’s best friend in the unit the three of us served in — and then Castle found out that Russo was responsible for his wife and kids’ deaths.” You gave Matt a gleeful smile, finally letting yourself look away from Lieutenant Not-So-Pretty-Boy. “He didn’t kill him,” you explained. “He just fucked up his face.”

Matt felt a brief moment of pride. Frank finally found the person responsible, finally came to the end of his crusade of blood and death — and he chose not to kill.

“Y’know, I was planning to come and kill you,” came Russo’s voice again, as if he was desperate for the attention to be back on him.

You turned your head, one eyebrow raised, waiting for the inevitable bullshit to spill from his mouth.

“And then someone came to me, wanting your head on a pike. I would’ve done it for free, but there’s something just so satisfying about getting to kill you for money.”

No one would have known it from your face, but that took you aback for a second. Someone wanted you dead? Figures. There were probably a lot of people who wanted to kill you. The question was who?

“A lot of people want me dead, Russo,” you answered. “You’re going to have to narrow that down for me.”

He didn’t answer (—Worth a shot—); instead, he slid his mask back onto his face, and pulled a knife from the sheath on his thigh.

You slid your own mask down as he began running at you with the knife, a war-cry in his lungs. You let him get close enough, then teleported—

—behind him,

and was surprised to find Russo throwing his weight back, swinging that knife in your direction. For him, it was a second two late —it only sliced your arm— but the fact that he knew to turn around—

You were glad the mask hid the surprise on your face.

“That’s right,” Russo taunted, “I know your little secret, now.”

Someone gave you up. Whoever this person was that hired him, they knew you. Or knew you well enough to know about your ability.

The next instant Matt was on him — putting Russo into a headlock. Russo threw his weight forward and threw Matt over his head and onto the ground.

You teleported out of the way, then threw your body forward to knee Russo right in the chest — The momentum knocked him back onto the gravel and you were on top of him, grappling with him for that knife.

Russo shifted his weight and managed to roll the both of you so he had the upper hand this time, pressing the knife down as you held his wrists to keep the point from making contact.

“I’ll take your eyes, first,” he hissed.

I think the fuck not.

At the same time, you let go of his wrists and moved your head just out of the way. The knife stabbed into the ground next to your head, nicking your ear. But you weren’t concerned about that as you kneed Russo in the side— then pulled out one of your own knives and stabbed him in the leg.

He cried out— and then Matt was there, sharply kicking Russo off of you. He rolled a few paces, closer to one of the tracks now.

Matt began stalking to Russo as you got up. Russo groaned as he shifted on the gravel— then he crouched and pulled something from his waist.

Normally, Matt could dodge a bullet so long as he could see it coming. He had good reflexes and Russo was moving slower with his injury.

But Russo was a good shot.

A great shot.

So you weren’t taking that chance.

You ran and slammed into Matt, teleporting the both of you— And you landed hard on the ground, Matt’s back to the gravel and you on top of him.

A train’s horn sounded and you leaned up, looking back toward Russo. He was limping across the tracks just in time for the train to pass by.

And when the train was gone, so was he.

“He got on it,” Matt confirmed what you already figured as he leaned up to rest his weight back on his elbows.

“Fucking coward,” you said as you lifted your mask up, although there was more distain than malice in your voice. You could teleport over there and continue the fight, but honestly— Russo was old news. You and Castle already got your revenge on him. You’d get him another day.

The new news was the person who sent him. The person who contracted Russo to kill you.

You felt Matt shift under you as he sat up all the way with you still in his lap, and then you felt a hand gently lift your arm. You looked back at Matt, who seemed to have his attention on your cut. You’d forgotten it was even there. He pulled his right glove off with his teeth and gently inspected the wound with his fingers.

“Is it deep?” you asked.

“Might need stitches,” he mused.

“It’ll have to wait.” You got off of Matt and stood, holding out your hand (non-injured arm) to help him up. He took it and you supported him as he stood.

Then you meandered over to the knife still sticking in the ground. The one Russo tried to kill you with. You pulled it up, then inspected it.

“Shit. I was wondering where this went.”

“What is it?” Matt asked.

“It’s mine,” you answered. “I thought I lost it in the church, the night that—” Your voice faltered. The night that Father Lantom died. “The night we fought that Daredevil-copycat.”

“You think Russo’s been following you since then?” Matt asked.

You shook your head. “No, he was probably still in the hospital at that time. Y’know, cause—” You made a slicing gesture over your face. You looked at the knife again. “But it does mean that whoever hired Russo has been following me since then.”

“Any idea who it could be?”

“Well, it’s no short list of people who want me dead,” you said casually. Your eyes narrowed at the knife. “But no one with this kind of patience.” Your curiosity and confusion deepened the more you thought about it. “And no one who wouldn’t rather do it themself.” You sheathed the knife. “Regardless, Russo needs to be taken care of. I don’t know how much this person knows about me and I don’t know how much they’ve told Russo. What if he tried to attack me at work? My whole reputation with the Avengers, out the window.”

Matt’s mouth parted. “That’s what you're worried about?”

You waved your hand. “I could take Russo in my sleep, I’m not worried about that. But I’ve worked too hard to build this thing with the Avengers and I’m not going to let Private Shard-Face ruin that.”

“And what about the person who hired him?”

“We deal with Russo, first,” you answered. “Then we wait to deal with whoever they send next. Clearly they’re too busy to do it themself.”

“You don’t want to go looking into this person?”

“Priorities. Child traffickers, first.”

You would put them first, this time. Stop the child traffickers, then figure out who was trying to kill you. Their safety, the safety of these children, was more important than yours.

Besides, if this person was going to keep sending people like Russo to come after you, what did you really have to be afraid of?

“But,” you continued, “while we wait to hear back on that tip, why don’t we visit an old friend?”

Matt breathed through his nose. “Y’know I’m kind of nervous about what ‘old friend’ means to you.”

“Not my old friend, Mattie,” you said with a grin. “Russo’s old friend.”

The figure waited for news on Russo and the wolf.

Finally, one of their minions came in with some information.

“Dead?” the figure asked.

“No,” answered the minion.

The figure spoke through their teeth, “Couldn’t do it, or wouldn’t do it?”

“There was more than one opportunity, from what I could see. Didn’t take any of them. So: wouldn’t.”

The figure sighed disdainfully.

Disappointing.

Very disappointing.

Next Chapter

A/N: DON’T CRUCIFY ME FOR THE STEVE/WOLF CONTENT, WE ALL KNOW WHERE HER TRUE PRIORITIES LIE AND IT’S GONNA LEAD TO SOME GOOD MATT/WOLF CONTENT I PROMISE.

Also if y’all are new here, I don’t mess around with toxic jealousy storylines so don’t worry about that.

Also Wolf is not wrong about Atlantis, even if she’s never seen it with her own eyes.

Here have these memes:

Tag List: @stupidiout100 @coff3e-and-biscuits @caswinchester2000 @waywardsister1111 @ummvengers @asongofmarvelanddc @1971marauders @krazy-katt-lady @flowercrowns3438 @takethee @lov3vivian

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #daredevil imagine #daredevil x you #devil may cry wolf

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