#covered in dodgeball bruises

[literallybyronic]

everyone gasping in shock over the bioware layoffs, meanwhile me who's been waving origin's bloated corpse around and screaming warnings for the last decade:

[jockbroski34]

The Jockrooms

I hated gym class.  I wasn't athletic and I didn’t like playing sports.  Worst of all, I was stuck with the dumb jocks in my class.  Today, one of them, Kyle, threw a dodgeball right at my face.  The force was immense.  As the ball collided with me with the speed of a bullet train, I felt myself lose my balance and I tumbled onto the ground.  I sat on the ground in a daze, my head spinning from the raw power exerted from the ball.  If he threw it any harder, I’d be sent to the nurse.

Kyle was one of the tallest guys in the school, towering at an impressive 6’4, and he was just as strong as he was tall.  He was huge and he made sure that everyone knew it.  He was proof that God picked favorites in terms of genetics.  The guy had pretty much everything, except for a working brain.  He had little problem asserting dominance on those he viewed as weaker than him.  To him, I was yet another easy target with my wimpy constitution.

His jock friends cheered and high-fived him for how savagely he destroyed me.  Our gym teacher did nothing to discourage his aggressive behavior, but I wouldn’t expect any less from the football coach.  Those were his boys after all.  They could probably get away with murder and he’d still cover for them.  I sat down on the sidelines, covering my swollen cheek, as I was forced to watch Kyle and his goons dominate the rest of my team.

After what felt like an eternity, the teacher dismissed us to go change and I was relieved.  I was still covering my cheek, bruised from the dodgeball that was lobbed at me.  I sat down on the bench and opened my locker to change my clothes.  I felt a hand bump me as Kyle and his entourage walked past me.

“Sorry about that, bro,” he said, in a condescending manner.  “You’re supposed to dodge the ball, not get hit by it.  That’s why they call it dodgeball.”  I had to admit, that’s the smartest he’s ever sounded.  

“Whatever, you dumb jock,” I scoffed, ignoring his “advice” as he and his jock friends walked by.  I wasn’t sure if they were snickering at his lame attempt for a joke or at me, but I didn’t really care.  I doubt that they had much for brains either, with only sports and sex being the only thing keeping their testosterone-ridden minds running.

I glared over at Kyle while he was changing.  I had to give him credit.  He was very handsome, and he knew it, but that just made me hate him even more.  He was a guy who people either loved or hated, but his arrogant fuckboy attitude would be a turn-off for anyone who wasn’t as shallow as him.  I began to wonder why he had to be the one gifted with such a nice body.  If I was as strong as him, what would I do?

I finished changing into my regular school attire, but I felt the urge to go to the bathroom.  By the time I finished emptying my bladder, the locker room was completely empty.  Amidst the ghost town, something caught my eye.

I noticed a door that wasn’t there earlier at the end of the hallway opposite of me.  It looked out of place compared to anything I’ve seen in the school.  It was crimson with a silver knob.  I could hear something coming from the other side of the door, but I couldn’t make out anything.  It didn’t sound like construction.

For some reason, I almost felt like it was calling out to me.  Even though I needed to get to my next class, I needed to know what was behind the door.  My curiosity got the best of me as I put my hand on the handle.  It was warm, but not enough to burn my hand.  I hesitated for a moment before opening the door and I took my first steps in.

I tried to gather my bearings in this foreign room.  The room was very warm, steamy almost, with the smell of sweat lingering in the air.  It smelled like our locker room and the heat was far too much, almost like a sauna.  I knew I wouldn’t last long in this heat, so I figured it was best to head back to class.  I turned around, but instead of reaching for the door, I walked face first into a wall.  …This was where I came from, right?

“Hello?  Helloooo!”  I shouted, hoping someone would come to my rescue.  The only voice that responded was my own as my words echoed throughout the room.  I sighed.  Looks like I’ll have to find my own way out.

I realized that this would not be easy as I looked ahead.  I saw rows of lockers all around me and to my horror, the maze stretched out further than I could possibly imagine.  This room alone looked larger than the school itself!  Why did the school need this many lockers?  I decided to follow the line of lockers to find out if there was an exit at the end.  I started to hear a buzzing sound, not from the sounds of the lights, but from a different source, along with a voice so quiet that I couldn’t understand what it was saying.  I honestly felt like I was hallucinating.  Perhaps the ball Kyle threw at me actually put me in a coma.

I followed the row of lockers, the numbers increasing with every step.  The bold red lockers complemented the dark walls and white ceiling.  As I walked forward, I was tempted by turns and corners, filled with even more lockers.  I did not want to risk getting even more lost so I simply walked as close to a straight line as possible.  I found myself sweating profusely, drenching my T-shirt and jeans.  As I was getting more and more sweaty, I was also getting dehydrated, and there seemed to be no sign of any water fountains.  I was surprised that they had not installed any, but that wasn’t even the weirdest thing because nothing made sense here.

My heart sunk as I entered an empty room, a dead end.  If whoever built this place had any sense of interior design, there would be a door here.  I observed my surroundings, but there seemed to be no sign of any way out.  This was going to be longer than I thought.  I realized I would have to give an explanation to my teacher about why I was so late, but she would never believe an excuse like this.  That is, if I can even find a way out of here.  I looked down, surprised to find a bottle of some sort.  It looked to be some sort of beverage.  It looked to be a sandy brown.  I would’ve preferred…no…I desperately needed water, but I would be a fool to ignore any amount of hydration.

I untwisted the cap, and was surprised by the strange smell of the liquid.  It didn’t smell foul, but it didn’t smell sweet either.  I closed my eyes and took a sip, but I grimaced at the mixture of bitterness and saltiness.  The chalky taste lingered in my mouth, but at least it made me feel more alert.  Despite the unpleasant taste, I knew it was better than nothing, so I chugged the bottle before dropping it on the ground, making sure not to miss any drop.  To my surprise, I felt more full of energy than I ever had before.  But for some reason, as my body was starting to digest the drink, I felt as though the room was shrinking before my eyes.  Wait, was I getting taller?  Maybe this place is messing with my head.  To be honest, I wouldn’t mind being a couple inches taller.  Maybe Kyle would stop picking on me if I was on his level.

The downside, however, was that I was starting to feel even more sweaty to the point that my clothes were now flooded to the point of no return.  I knew they would smell of sweat forever no matter how many times I washed them, so I figured that stripping would be the better option.  I can always change back into my gym clothes when I get back.  I desperately hoped that I was all alone here so no one would see me in this embarrassing state.  I looked at the locker at the end of the room.  1000.  The numbers went up to at least 1000?�� This had to be some kind of sick joke.  I was frustrated, but I knew I had to retrace my steps in order to find a way out of here.

A strange idea entered my head after walking into several more dead ends, seemingly out of nowhere.  If I went to my own locker, would I find something there?  It sounded like a stupid idea since I would miss out on other potential paths, but it just felt right.  Besides, I had no other leads.  My locker number was 0136.  I continued walking back trying to test if my hypothesis was correct.  My body was trying to fight back against my exhaustion and my mind was trying to stop itself from being drowned out by the subliminal noise.  It felt like this place was messing with me in some way.  I had to find a way out of here.

Eventually, my eyes lit up as I turned a corner to find lockers numbered in the 0100s.  I felt my body guiding me until I found a locker that appeared to be left open.  All of the others were closed, so maybe it had some significance?  0133…0134…0135…0136!  I chuckled at the coincidence that my locker would be the one that was different like I knew it would be.  Inside, I found yet another one of those same drinks from before, a piece of paper, and a…red jockstrap?  I chugged the drink desperate to feel hydrated.  For some reason, it tasted better than I remembered.  The paper appeared to be some kind of riddle.

“Only this way is right.”

“The combination will show you the light.”

Turns out I was right to come this way.  For some reason, it seems like this room was made specifically for me.  I was more curious about the second line.  “The combination will show you the light.”  If my locker number was what led me here, then surely my locker combination would be the next hint.  05-13-34.  51334?  I shuddered, knowing that my journey would be a lot longer than I had anticipated.  Hopefully this helps me escape from this hell.

I started to wonder who wrote this, but I didn’t even know who built this room in the first place.  None of this makes any sense.  I might not even be in school anymore.  This could be some sort of pocket dimension.  I could be dreaming, or I could be in a coma.  I looked back in the locker, my eyes fixated on the red jockstrap.  It looked like it had already been worn and was a size too big for my skinny frame, but for some reason, I felt an urge to put it on.  I stripped out of my dripping boxers and put on the jockstrap.

To my surprise, it actually fit perfectly around my crotch area.  I expected to feel uncomfortable, but instead I felt liberated.  If only there was a mirror in here.  My cock bulged as it stretched out the red fabric.  I could’ve sworn it looked bigger, but I knew I was just imagining things.  Regardless, I felt faster and full of stamina and virility.

I was not an athlete though.  Only the jocks wore jockstraps, and I hated them, but I couldn’t even remember why.  Why was I so mad at Kyle earlier?  My memories of today started to blur.  I couldn’t think straight.  I couldn’t remember anything.  I had no comprehension of time anymore.  Who knows how long I have been in here.  I sprinted ahead down the hallway, with a newfound sense of energy that I had never felt before, as I needed to find locker 51334.  The heavy sound of my big feet created a steady rhythm, almost like a drum.  My body seemed to move on its own like it was on autopilot.

As I ran forward, the audio grew louder, yet the words remained just as shrouded as they were before.  Despite that, I felt like I started to understand the words deep down.  A weird contradiction, I know.  Wherever the source of the noise was, it had to be coming from that direction.  I knew in my heart that this was the right way.

I kept on going for what could’ve been hours.  Who even knows at this point.  The concept of time was foreign to this place.  If you told me I was gone for a week, I’d believe you.  I kept on finding the same drinks from earlier on benches scattered around.  They were the only thing keeping my head in the game.  They gave me strength, but eventually I stopped seeing them as I became reminded by the intense heat of the room and of all the dead ends I had run into.  I had to be in the 40000s as I began to feel fatigue again and it felt like my body was finally about to give in.  My body felt sore and swollen as if I was still recovering from a workout.  Workout?  Since when did I care about the gym?  Maybe this jockstrap was rubbing off on me more than I thought.  But I’ll never be like Kyle or the other jocks, I assured myself.

I kept going.  My body was pushing itself to the limit, while my mind started to wander.  I became worried that I was gonna miss the game that was on tonight.  Me and the bros were going to watch it together and I didn’t want to miss it.  I couldn’t even comprehend how unnatural these thoughts felt.  I should be thinking about playing the new update for my favorite MMO, not watching sports.  But bros always come first…

I felt like I was going crazy, like this giant locker room maze was having an effect on me.  I was awakened from my trance by a sudden realization.  I needed to get to practice.  It was like an alarm clock went off in my head.  The last thing I wanted was to get dropped from the team due to poor attendance.  This renewed sense of urgency was what kept me going instead of passing out from the heat and exhaustion.

At long last, I was greeted by a room that was surprisingly familiar to me.  It felt like a second home to me.  It was like the actual locker room in my school, but on a larger scale.  I looked at the number next to me.  50000.  This had to be the right way.  I was almost there.  The background noise was at its loudest here, but I still could not find any source, but at this point I didn’t mind it.  It honestly helped me calm down a little.  I checked every locker in this large room, until I saw it.  51334.  It was half open, so I pried it open, with a sense of strength that I had never felt before.  Inside the locker, I found another note and a larger bottle of the same drink.  I gulped every drop down like I had just found an oasis.  This one tasted better even compared to the rest.  I read the note, hoping to be free from my prison.

“Inside the locker you will hide”

“The way back is on the flipped side”

I had to get in the locker?  It was a weird instruction, but I followed the orders.  I was surprised I was able to fit into it with my bulky build.  I turned to the other side to read what it said.  My eyes widened as I felt a sense of dread run down my spine.

“Close the door but don’t be shocked”

“When you wake up, you’ll be a jock!”

Shit, I didn’t want to become one of the jocks!  I valued my intelligence too much to stoop down to their level.  But it was already too late as the door shut itself on its own and I felt the ground below me vibrate.  Was this truly the only way out or was I doomed to join them from the start?  I tried to break my way free, but my strength dwindled as my eyes dulled and I passed out from exhaustion.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up on one of the benches to the sound of metal and heavy chatter.  To my relief, I was finally back in the real world.  The football team was getting ready for practice.  Damn, I really did miss the whole day.  To make things worse, Kyle was standing right over me.  Great.  Despite everything though, I actually kinda missed him.  That was probably the first sign that something was very wrong with me.

“Bro, wake up!” he said as he shook me.  I looked down.  I was dripping in sweat and I was wearing only my jockstrap.  The fact that I was wearing the same red jockstrap was proof that it wasn’t a dream.  “You alright dude?  Coach says you were passed out here for hours!”

I regained my consciousness, surprised to see him concerned for me.  “Bro, you’ll never guess what happened.  I was in this, like, weird maze, dude.  Lockers everywhere.”  I was genuinely shocked by the words that came out of my mouth.  I sounded like a total dudebro.

“Bro, are you high?  What are you talking about?”  Kyle chuckled at how absurd I sounded.  I felt embarrassed because I honestly sounded as stupid as him.

“I’m not lying, bro!  There was a door right there!”  I got up and pointed towards where the door should be.  It wasn’t there.  I looked like I was insane.

“You sure you’re okay after gym, bro?  I figured you’d catch that dodgeball since you’re such a good wide receiver.  Must’ve gone too hard.  Practice should help clear your head.”

“Practice?  Wide receiver?  What the fuck are you talking about?”  I didn’t play any sports.  Before today, I didn’t even know any teams outside of famous ones and the ones local to us.  I didn’t know any positions, any rules, or any players.  If that was the case, then why did it all feel so familiar to me?

“Did you lose your memory or some shit?  Let me refresh you, bro.  You play football and you’re our wide receiver.  You hang out with me and the boys every day.  You’re a total jock, bro.  You’re hardly a genius, but surely that rings a bell, right dude?”  My eyes became fixated on his charming blue eyes, and I felt myself sink into them as if they were the ocean, as he reminded me about my place in the world.  Finally, things started to make sense…but…

What the fuck?  You hated Kyle.  You didn’t play football.  You weren’t friends!  But for some reason, that didn’t seem right.

You loved Kyle.  He was one of your best friends.  You guys played football together.  You guys basically ruled the school.  You didn’t need to think much because you compensated with raw strength and power.  Brawn over brains, bro.  You were a jock and you always will be one.

“Huhu…Now you’re making sense bro,”  I chuckled.  I only now realized how much I changed, with how deep my voice was.  How much of a cocky douchebag I looked with that smirk plastered on my face.  How much bigger and stronger and taller I was.  How toned and perfect every muscle in my jock body was.  I should hate this, but why does it feel so good?  “I had a dream that I was someone else.  A total nerd, bro.  It was awful.”

“That person never existed.  This is who you were and always will be.  Just think back to when we met, bro.”  He said it with his usual cocky grin, but I felt no malice from it.  I assumed he was gaslighting me into believing that I lived a different life, but he seemed genuine.  I remembered him cracking up at one of my dumb jokes at practice and we started hanging out both in and out of school.  Memories of the practices and football games and parties we shared filled my mind and I smiled as I looked fondly back on those days.  No…I shouldn’t remember this.  But for some reason, it all felt real to me, like I accidentally stumbled into some parallel universe where I was one of Kyle’s jock bros.

I felt any semblance of my former self lose control as my jock self remembered that he was the only me.  I was an intruder in my jock body, someone that was never there and shouldn’t be there.  I felt my thoughts slow down as my new self started overwriting any old memories with his own, and I started to remember who I really was, a jock.  I wanted to die inside, watching me become another asshole jock just like Kyle, but as I was fading away, I started to remember why I liked being a jock so much in the first place.  I got to be big, strong, and popular.  I could fuck anyone I wanted with my massive cock.  Who cared if I was a little dense?  Definitely outweighed being a fucking nerd.  I knew it was the jock in me talking, but it didn’t matter anymore because that’s all I was now.  My cock bulged further in my jockstrap as my conscious mind was engulfed by my real self.

“Sorry bro, it’s just been a crazy day.  Let's get ready for practice.”

“You’re going to practice in just that?  Haven’t gotten off yet today, bro?”  Kyle chuckled, pointing at my red jockstrap, which was already leaking with precum.  I became embarrassed as I noticed the damp stain on my favorite jockstrap.  And that Kyle was staring right at my 9 inch bulge.

“Nah, bro.  I gotta get changed.  Why are you looking at my dick, bro?”  I became defensive, not comfortable with one of my bros staring at my erect cock.  Kyle was hot and all, but this just felt wrong to me.

Kyle stammered, looking for an excuse.  I could’ve sworn that his bulge grew as well in his tight football pants.  “I just never realized how big it is, bro.  No homo though.”  He snickered, trying to ease the sexual tension.  “Come on, Coach will be pissed if we take too long.  Probably will make us run extra laps.”  Before we left, I took one look in the mirror to admire my awesome body before joining Kyle and the others.

I had been playing football ever since I was in middle school so it’s no surprise that I was a natural.  I worked up a serious sweat, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to with Coach’s exercises.  He worked us to the bone every day.  When I came home, my mom was cooking dinner and she asked me how practice was, and I told her good as usual with a smile on my face.  For a second, I was surprised my mom knew I played football, but then I remembered that my parents were always supportive of my athletic career.  They always dropped their plans to cheer me on at my games.

Later, Kyle invited me and the bros over to watch the game.  I went over there as I had done many times before and I was greeted by my bros, people who I’ve known for just as long as Kyle.  After all, If they were his bros, they were my bros.  We laughed and joked around as we always did until the game started.

We gathered into Kyle’s room, big enough for seven guys, but man did I forget how much we reeked after practice.  We always shouted a ton during the game and I’m honestly surprised we never got any noise complaints from the neighbors.  It was like our own little frat party hosted in Kyle’s room.  We got really into it, but we were devastated when the opposing team scored in the last minute to gain the lead and win the game.  A wave of sadness and anger filled the air as everyone started to leave.  Everyone but me.  Kyle told me to stay for a little bit longer.

“Are you gonna make me feel better or what?”  he ordered.  He was really upset about the loss.

“How, bro?”  I responded.  Did he want me to crack a joke for him?  Give him a bro hug?

“I figured you remembered.  I need someone to relieve my stress.”  He grabbed his massive cock in his shorts and wiggled it around, helping me put two and two together.  “We found out one drunk night how good of a cocksucker you are, so you agreed to ‘lend me a hand’ if I ever need it.  Don’t worry, this is our little secret.”

“Oh, sorry bro.  I completely forgot.”  God, that was a wild night.  It was an embarrassing request, but I knew I was just helping a brother out.  I got on my knees and serviced Kyle as he made himself comfortable.  He grabbed the back of my head with his firm palms, covered with callouses from years of pumping iron, and pushed his girthy shaft deeper into the depths of my mouth.  I was surprised at my lack of a gag reflex as this mass of meat clogged my throat.  I swallowed load after load of his hot, sticky semen until we had enough.

“Gotta say, bro, you suck dick better than like 90 percent of chicks I’ve been with.  You sure you’re not a little faggy?”  he teased.  I laughed and rebuked his claims.  I’m sure even some straight guys would be tempted by him and his impressive rod, and I’m no different.  We quickly changed the subject and we pretended like that never happened.  Neither of us wanted the other to know how much we enjoyed it.

To this day, I don’t know what the purpose of the jockrooms was.  Doesn’t really matter though.  As far as I’ve known, I’ve always been a jock and that’s all anyone has ever seen me as.  It is real though.  It was after gym class a few weeks later.  When we were changing, I saw a nerd, Kevin, walk down the same hallway I did at one point.  I felt like I knew him at one point, but that obviously wasn’t true.  Why would I hang out with someone like him?  I hid around the corner and watched as he approached the red door.  I smirked as he put his hand on the door and opened it, taking his first steps into his new life.  If you can’t beat us, you might as well join us.

I was eager to see Kevin at practice later.  He woke up on the same bench I did, wearing a jockstrap like me, almost completely unrecognizable from the person he was hours ago.  He took a moment to adjust, but we helped him remember how much of a jock he was.  Once a jock, always a jock.  I will never understand why the two of us thought we were nerds before.  After all, I’ve known Kev most of my life and I was the one who introduced him to Kyle and the others.  He’s been my best friend since 3rd grade and we were inseparable.  We were practically in sync on the field.  It felt awesome knowing that we were the kings of the school, and whoever hated us was just jealous that they’re not us.

[sturniololuvz]

Would you make one where Chris’s daughter is like 14 and she’s rlly competitive and for a video they do a bunch of challenges and she gets hurt but ignores it, cause she doesn’t like to lose, but then she came second to Chris, and she start to cry and laugh at the same time and acts like she’s mad at him, shes not seriously mad, make it funny 💕 btw your fics were always good but recently they been so good 😊

thank uuuu

“I’m Not Crying, You’re Cheating!”

⸻

“Okay, ready?” Nick clapped his hands and pointed at the camera. “We’re doing the Ultimate Family Challenge Showdown—winner gets bragging rights, and the loser has to do a TikTok dance with no rhythm.”

Chris smirked at you. “So you might wanna get that Renegade ready, princess.”

You scoffed, tugging your hair into a messy ponytail. “Dad, please. I literally beat you in Mario Kart blindfolded.”

Matt held up a whiteboard with everyone’s names. “Challenge one: obstacle course. Backyard edition. Let’s go.”

⸻

You were a beast. You crushed the obstacle course—vaulting over a lawn chair, crawling under a table, hopping over a pool float. But halfway through, you clipped your knee on a brick near the shed. You hissed quietly, glancing down.

Yep. Scraped, red, bleeding just a little. But it wasn’t that bad.

You stood up, shook it off, and charged through the rest of the course like nothing happened.

Chris had seen it, though.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, jogging over with a bottle of water as you plopped dramatically onto the grass.

“I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “Don’t distract me, I’m mentally prepping for the next round.”

He raised a brow. “You’re bleeding.”

You shrugged. “Battle scar. It’s fine. Real champions don’t cry over scratches.”

Matt, off to the side, whispered to Nick: “She’s definitely her dad’s kid.”

⸻

Challenge two: Water balloon dodgeball. You and Matt were instantly in an alliance until he betrayed you ten seconds in by pelting you in the shoulder.

“YOU LITTLE—”

“Sorry!” he shouted, laughing and running for cover.

You launched a balloon at him so hard it burst mid-air.

Chris was on fire. Literally hadn’t missed a throw. Every time you tried to catch him, he juked you with a stupid little dance move and yelled, “BOOM! Outta here!”

You were still in the top three when the round ended. But your knee was throbbing.

Still, you refused to quit.

⸻

Final round: Trivia + mini physical challenge combo. You and Chris were neck and neck.

“Last question!” Nick yelled. “Who is the tallest Sturniolo triplet—”

“Nick!” you and Chris shouted at the same time.

“Correct!” Nick laughed. “Now, final tie-breaker: three-legged race—Chris versus his clone.”

Chris grinned and held out his arm to you. “Let’s go, champ.”

You wrapped your arm around him, the two of you limping toward the finish line together like maniacs.

You were killing it—until your knee buckled a little at the end and slowed you down just enough for Chris to edge across first.

“AND THE WINNER IS… CHRIS!” Matt screamed, holding up his arm like he was at a wrestling match.

You stood there, sweaty, bruised, bleeding, and absolutely fuming.

You weren’t really mad… but you were also definitely crying and laughing at the same time.

“I hate you so much,” you said, voice wobbly as you shoved him with one hand, the other trying to wipe your face. “You cheated. You have… longer legs or something.”

Chris, red-faced and laughing, pulled you into a hug. “Oh my god, are you crying?”

“NO! I’M SWEATING FROM MY EYES!”

Nick, still filming, whispered to the camera: “She’s crying because she lost to her dad. She’s also bleeding. This is the most intense video we’ve ever done.”

You pushed away from Chris dramatically. “Don’t touch me. I’m mourning my dignity.”

Chris knelt down, inspecting your knee again. “You literally shredded your leg and kept going just so you wouldn’t lose.”

You sniffled and gave him a weak smile. “Was it worth it?”

He grinned. “Absolutely not. But you’re insane, and I love it.”

Matt jogged over with an ice pack and a Capri Sun. “Here. Champion recovery kit.”

You sipped dramatically from the straw. “I’m coming back stronger next time.”

Nick zoomed in on your face. “Any last words for the camera?”

You looked deadpan. “My dad’s a cheater. Subscribe for revenge.”

[writing-mlm]

Hey can i ask for a Travis Phelps x male reader where reader is part the gang catch feelings for him but travis tried to push the feelings but he ended up confessing, and how would the gang knew about their relationship, because they're in a secret relationship

If you didn't like this you can delete it

Keep it hush-hush

Pairing: Travis Phelps x male reader (head canons) W.C: 1.8k a/n: never done head canons I'm not sure how to format it

It started small; you’d been assigned to Travis for some trivial classwork for a class that you didn’t share with any of the others

he was shockingly nice, although still a bit of an ass but you assumed that was second nature to him 

but suddenly his cologne was all you were smelling for the coming weeks; you’d smell him everywhere and found yourself looking forward to class

His bruised knees would knock into yours during science lab and he’d mutter curses under his breath before he’d move away

he’d brush, not bump or shove, shoulders with you in the hallway and then curse you out when his friends noticed 

he’d comment when you changed your hair, trimming the ends less than an inch 

“at least now you look less gay than your homo friends,”

Ashely would ask if he’s bothering you and you told her it was fine; he’s really not a bother, not when he can’t even look you in the eyes when he says it

even when he’s targeting you during dodgeball

because he’s the one that begrudgingly takes you to the nurse's office and gets the tissues when the ball hits you too hard on the nose

(un)fortunately, the nurse was busy and he’s told to help you— he’s no stranger to a bloody nose so he grabbed a tissue and tilted your head back

you stared at him, unable to look away from his face for even a fleeting moment

“quit ya starin’” he’d spit, his cheeks flushed a shade of red you’ve never seen before 

he presses the tissue harder against your nose when you don’t and you shout, gripping his hand; “I told you to quit starin’ at me,” was his only defense 

you smile and look away while he focused on his breathing 

after the nurse fixes you up, you’re shocked that Sal is waiting for you in front of the nurse's office

“Good, stay with your homo friend,” Travis scoffed as he brushes past you, his voice harsher than his shoulder 

it wouldn’t be until your senior prom that anything of note actually happens between the two of you

after two years and glances and brushes, nothing more than hushed words of affection horribly disguised as insults, you’re alone with him in the bathroom

he’d gone alone; you’d gone with Sally and the others but they’d mostly gone outside to smoke 

you’re an asthmatic— barely, Larry would laugh when you smoked without coughing— so you rarely join their smoke sessions

you’re in the bathroom when Travis stumbles inside

he’s not drunk, no one at school would spike the punch and he doesn’t seem the type of guy to willingly drink outside of the communion wine

he stumbles inside because he’s fumbling with his tie and angrily talking

“oh,” He stopped and stared at you while you were sitting on the floor. “What? Your friends finally dumped you?” 

“Smoking outside,” You shrugged, pulling out your gameboy. “Your friends dumped you?”

“Don’t need them anyway,” He scoffed and sat next to you. Starting up Tetris, he watches for a bit, making noises whenever you make a mistake

“You’re annoying,” He said and you hum, nodding along. “And stupid. How even thinks that objects float because they weigh less than water?”

“That was two years ago, Travis.”

“Still stupid.” He gritted. “And you suck at gym.”

“I’m asthmatic.”

somehow, he kept riddling off insults until you set the Gameboy down and turned to him

“Are you angry with me or just listing off things you like about me?”

“I like about you?!” He sputters, faces red like the lights in the gym. “I’m not a fa—“

and yet, he kisses you back without hesitation

when you pulled away, he looked away and covered his mouth

“You better not tell anyone,”

“I can keep a secret,” You grinned. “You’re a good kisser.”

flash forward a month and you’re in his church because he asked you to

“if we’re gonna do this… gay thing, you need to come to church”

it wasn’t like you were doing anything better on Sunday so you readily agreed and got dressed in formal clothes and rode your bike to his father's church

Travis would sit with you in the pews, waiting for prayer to hold your hand because that’s the only time a man should be holding another man’s hand in the holy temple

he brings you a cross necklace one day, insisting you wear it to prove you’re not a demon. He just secretly likes that you’re wearing his cross-necklace

the others sort of notice the change in Travis. He sits closer to the group during lunch, he walks slower in the hallways because when he does he can touch your hand as you pass each other

but they mostly chalk it up to some new type of bullying; they’re busy dealing with demons and some end-of-world things 

it’s not hard to hide the relationship, you only hang out after school at your place and you don’t live in the apartments like the others. your parents aren’t home most of the time considering they work to avoid each other so Travis is comfortable there

dates are rare— almost nonexistent considering Travis refuses to be seen outside with you

it’s not that bad; you get it, he’d get hell from his father if Kenneth found out

besides, there’s not many places to go in town anyway so any sort of dates are really just movie nights or fake study sessions where you run into the woods and hang out

in the mix you’re still helping the others with the ghosts and the demons; working hard with all the revelations you’re having about the town

it’s such a chore keeping that from Travis and keeping Travis from your friends— like you’re living a double life

Until the end of year project 

it’s a large group project and there’s one slot missing for your group. 

you’re nervous as your gaze finds Travis. He doesn’t have a group, he wasn’t his friends' first pick

“no way,” Larry shakes his head when he catches your eyes

“He’s smart,” you shrug. 

“He’s a bully,” Ashely huffed out, arms crossed. 

“not anymore,” they groan but agree and you beckon him over with your eyes

naturally he doesn’t want to, of course

it’s bad enough he’s in a gay relationship now he has to hang out with gay town? god should just smite him where he stands 

but he does, he needs the grade and there’s no one else. he’s checked

he sits comically far from the group as you plan what to do for the month-long project 

it’s some diy kingdom thing; all you know is that Ashely is in charge of making the flag

“my place after school today?” You asked and they all agreed as the bell rang

it takes another week before someone finds out

it’s a Sunday, so you’re at church when the gang shows up wanting to hang out and also get some work done (they definitely don’t want to get work done but it’s an amazing excuse to their parents)

the house is empty so they wait, you’re probably at the store or something

you pull up on your bike laughing and they check, you’re not alone

“shit,” You whispered when you saw them on your doorstep. “Trav, i’m sorry. I.. I didn’t know,” He looks up and his face literally pales. he looks sick as he lets go of your waist and jumps off of the bike

“What’s this?” Sal slowly asks and you swallow, glancing at Travis. he’s about thirty seconds from a breakdown and you swear there’s a slur on the tip of his tongue he’s fighting back saying 

“We go to church together,” You shrug, unsure of what else to say.

“Cool, project?” Todd asks. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Travis rolls his eyes. “Why else would I come here?” Huffing, you put the bike into the garage

inside the others head down to your basement while you and travis are upstairs

“I really didn’t know they’d be here,” You apologized, playing with the end of his sweater

“it’s not your fault they don’t have a sense of privacy, I guess.” He sighed. “Hurry up before they get suspicious.” Heading to the basement, you see the shadow of Ashley running down the stairs and decide not to tell Travis about that 

During the project she keeps looking between the two of you, only now noticing how Travis keeps staring at you and how you stare at him with the same knowing gaze

“are you two dating?” she blurted and you pause, looking up from your work the guys had gone upstairs to get food- Sal went to make sure Larry doesn’t overdo it and Todd went to make sure Sal doesn’t overdo it. Really you should’ve went up

“Who?” 

“you and Travis?”

“No..”

“Yes.”

It’s shocking to the three who says what; you’re surprised that Travis even acknowledged the fact that you’re in a full-blown relationship 

“don’t tell the guys,” You urge. 

“especially the annoying one,”

“you think they’re all annoying,”

“because they are.”

the guys don’t find out until Travis nearly dies the summer before college

he wasn’t even supposed to be there

you were talking about the bologna incident and decided to venture down to the cult place again— because it went too well the first time around

you’re walking in the dark with flashlights this time, everyone only a hairline away from each other when something snaps and then crashes 

everyone spins to see Travis lying on the floor, groaning in pain and holding his side, debris falls on top of him as you’re rushing over

the others join and push the heavy wood and metal from his body

he’s bleeding, not a lot, but you almost wish he was because you’re sure he’s bleeding internally 

cuts on his forehead and his lip is busted, he’s hardly breathing as you pull him from the rubble

his church is above the cult, you’re reminded when you see he’s in his church clothes. his favorite outfit too

“travis,” You shook his shoulder and then pressed your ear to his chest. he’s breathing, it’s ragged but nearly steady. “thank god.” he coughs and you swear that was a sign to start taking religion seriously. it almost worked and then you remembered you were fighting literal demons

He sits up, holding his head and you help him, cradling him in your arms

“Wha-“ He looks around and groans. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just in pain 

“C’mon, we gotta take you to the doctors,” You urge and he shakes his head before resting it against your chest. “Trav, you’re injured.”

“God heals,” 

“With the help of medical professionals,” Again, he shakes his head and you grumble. “Fine, get up. I’ll patch you up at home,” He, thankfully, agrees to that

You’re no stranger to helping him, you’ve done through enough first aid kits on Travis that you’re basically a professional

“The fuck?” Larry says as Travis leans on you, completely letting you guide him around. “You’re helping Travis?”

“The devil is speaking to me,” Travis manages as you’re walking towards the exit

“That’s just Larry.”

“I knew it.”

needless to say, it was a long conversation when you’re done helping Travis

[yandere-paramour]

I feel like Vivien would LOVE a trampoline park. Hes probably never gone to one considering he’s an orphan..but also I feel like he would love it due to his ADHD. I need to know 😭😭

I love that the implication of this ask is that orphans are kept in dark, secluded rooms and only let out for food and adoption events.

Vivien has been to a trampoline park. A foster family took him when he was about 6 and he fuckin loved it. He bounced so hard he vomited and then got up and kept bouncing. He was the kind of kid who turned himself into a human projectile bouncing off the walls and left covered in bruises and smiles.

Adult Vivi would probably be the same way (excluding the vomiting part). He would probably sign up for a trampoline fitness class and bounce his way to a six-pack. He would absolutely love it. I think his favorite part would be the bouncing basketball hoop so he could do increasingly impressive dunks in front of Darling or the dodgeball court where he would decimate a pack of 12-year-olds for funsies. He needs an UrbanAir membership.

[ambcass]

Betrayed.

“I can’t stand him!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing a fit while walking with her best friend, Jaime Reyes. Her anger made her walk faster, making Jaime chase after her. It all started when Jaime noticed Y/N distancing herself from him and he asked why, she said it was nothing and just to mind his own business. During their gym class, Jaime noticed how violet Y/N was when playing a dodgeball match but he couldn’t help to notice how her arm was bruised. He also wondered how she was able to throw and dodge a ball like that. That bruise made him realize that it was the same spot where he hit a specific villain last night. The thought of his best friend being a villain hurts him. He tried removing the thought but it just came back every time he tried to shake it off. After school and on his way home, he spotted Y/N and decided to walk up to her. 

“I know you probably don’t wanna talk about your problems right now but ya’know I’m here for you…” Jaime suggested with a soft smile. Y/N turned to him with a dull expression and kept moving forward. Jaime once again followed up in front of her, “Can I at least walk with you? I do feel bad and I can’t stand to see you like this” Jaime pleaded, making Y/N give in. She nodded and the two started walking to the local 7-11 store. On their way, Y/N randomly blurted out “I can’t stand him!” and started marching towards the store angrily. Jaime followed up, hoping to hear more about this mystery guy. “Who? Who’s bothering you?” Jaime asked. Y/N scoffed as she opened the store door.

“You don’t know him…” She said, trying to keep her cool. She couldn’t expose herself to a guy who would most likely betray him to the heroes. “At least you can describe him. I’ll get a better idea of who the hell the guy is. If he is that much of a bother to you then I’ll make sure he gets it coming.” Y/N started chuckling, “And what the hell are you gonna do to this guy? But fine. He’s annoying, always on my ass, and doesn’t stop until he gets his way. Which annoys me because he went way too far yesterday.” Jaime stop to think too far? What does she mean too far? She was the one causing harm and trying to poison the water supply. Is it her? Please... Please… tell me that (villain name) isn’t you, Y/N. Jaime then felt Y/N nudge him. She mouthed you okay?  and Jaime nodded. They went inside the store and went to the chip aisle. When reaching for a bag of Takis, the sides of their hands touched each other. The two retracted immediately and looked away embarrassed.

“So…What did he do that was too far?” Jaime asked, trying to change the subject. Y/N grabbed that bag of Takis and walked off to a different aisle. “He- uh… I-I can’t say. Sorry.” Y/N tried to explain but she knew that Jaime wouldn’t believe her. Jaime gave a sympathetic nod. When the two finished paying for their food, they said goodbye and left. 

Y/N’s POV

It was very late at night. Almost 4 AM. I had to wait for the perfect time to cause any harm to anyone. Two nights ago, stupid Blue Beetle roundhouse kicked the shit out of me. I thought to myself when I find this bug, I swear I’m going to fucking smash and kill it. As I aggressively put on my suit, a shadowy reflection flew past my window and they left a sticky note on the outside of my window saying “Meet me on top of the xxx building. Rooftop –BB.”  I rushed to my window, opened it, and snatched the sticky note. The writing was in all blue ink. I knew who this was. My heart started beating fast, I felt nauseous and anxious. How was he able to find where I live? Was one of the many questions racing in my mind. I crushed the paper and tossed it over my bed as I finished changing into my suit. I flew out the window and headed towards the address. As I was flying there, I tried to retract where I went wrong and how I blew my cover so easily. Nothing came to mind and while trying to come up with another explanation, I had already arrived. There was a figure lurking in the shadows, eyeing me down as I landed on the rooftop of the building. 

“Come out, Beetle. I see you in the shadows. Hey, if you were a Shadow then you wouldn’t even make it out of Santa Prisca alive. Your dumb blue armor gives you away” I teased, crossing my arms as Blue Beetle slowly came into the light. I glared into his eyes and stepped closer. Pulling out (some type of weapon) out and pointing towards him. “How did you find me? How did you find where I live?” Blue Beetle didn’t answer but he simply just stepped forward. “Y/n…” Beetle murmured. Y/n? What the fuck? How did he know? I stood there in silence. He walked closer, closer, and closer, but I didn’t move a muscle. Now he was in front of me. I looked down at the rooftop floor while feeling Blue Beetle’s hand reach for my arm. I looked up at him and snarled.“Don’t touch me.” He immediately let go and sighed. 

“Why Y/n? Why would you go through this path? You know better than this.”  He said, trying to get an answer from me. I knew better than to answer. After all, anything I say can and will go against me.  As I was still glaring into his eyes, his face armor started to retract back to his suit. I broke eye contact and turned my head away, refusing to lock eyes with him. No, no, no…not him. Not him!  My head started to get foggy and blank. I felt nauseous and took a few steps back. I couldn’t believe that the boy that I cared for, my best friend, Jaime Reyes, is a fucking traitor and gave me that awful beating two nights ago.  “Look Y/n, can we please talk about this? Please just hear me out.” I ignored his suggestion. Still not looking at him. I was angry, betrayed, and sad. Tears wanted to come out of my eyes but I held back. With a sour look on my face, I gazed into Jaime’s eyes and mouthed “I’m sorry”  He looked at me with confusion. “I’m sorry? Sorry for what?” he asked, looking at me like a pathetic pleasing bitch. I shook my head repetitively and walked towards the edge of the rooftop. I leaped off of it, disappearing and never to be seen again.

Jaime’s POV:

I rushed after Y/N when I saw her leap off the edge of the rooftop but when I tried looking for her, she was nowhere to be seen. I attached my face armor back and flew back home. As I was flying back, I kept thinking to myself What does she mean when she said she’s sorry? What was she sorry for? Days went on and I haven’t seen Y/N attack since. Which is probably a good thing but she wasn’t at school either. It’s like she disappeared from the face of Earth. A few months went by and I still haven’t seen Y/N at all! I asked around at school such as Paco, Brenda, and the staff but they haven’t seen her. I talked to the principal but I didn’t get much from him. The only thing I got from him was that Y/N is no longer in their school system.

When I was dismissed from school, Brenda and Paco both offered to walk me home but I declined. Once I got home, I didn’t even think of patrolling for the night. I just wanted to rest. I can’t help the feeling but I miss Y/N. 

I woke up to a crowd outside of my house screaming and yelling but I couldn’t hear anything. My mom rushed into my room screaming into my ear but I couldn’t understand what she was saying for I was still half asleep. She dragged my arm into the living room and turned my attention to the TV. The news reporter was saying something but for some reason, I couldn’t understand what it was that he was saying until I started reading the words that were displayed on the screen. My face froze, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Local High School Teenager Jaime Reyes Is the Superhero Blue Beetle.

a/n: AHHH THIS TOOK SO LONGGGGGGGG. IM SORRY MY GRAMAR IS SO DOOKIEEE :((

Word count: 1,483

Character Count: 7,572

literally ty @miguelnation bc idk if this is even angst or not

[hauntedfalcon]

IF YOU DON'T HAVE A SOUL THEY'RE NOT WORTH HAVING

*comes out of Candela Obscura chapter two episode two covered in bruises shaped like the pattern on dodgeballs* haha you should see the other guy

[oogaboogaspookyman]

MATT PLAYS THE MOST HOT, BRAVE, AND BANGER TRICK ON NOKROM FIC ONE TWO THREE FOUR HERE WE FUCKIN' GO

@mushroom-for-art

[UP...]

It's a rainy, dark and gloomy night...

The trees loom over the grounds and bays, the towns and cities, the people and pokemon thriving under their leaves...

Something whooshes past the trees of the forest and up in the air. Something pale and something pink.

Matt, the pink armless mewtwo, is held firmly in the pale one's hand by the neck. His tail swaying and thrashing around just like his legs as if he's trying to swim, as if he's DROWNING. DROWNING. DROWNING. DROWNING. DROWNING. DROWNING.

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

Matt begins to speak, his voice hoarse from the pale one's grip on his throat, "w-what do you w-want..?!"

The pale one's face is emotionless, empty as his pitch black eyes, for ten seconds, his lips slowly forming a small mockingly adorable smile. His face gains harsh shading like that of an old black and white picture from the 1800s

Let's be real, what i'm looking for is just total destruction and assimilation. A world with my name carved onto it's very face.

-- -.-- ....... -. .- -- .

Every single muscle of his face had warped, twisted and deformed into exaggerrated facial expressions as he spoke, only forming into a normal soulless smile as he stopped talking.

He took another breath, his face once again deforming all the same.

Matt, you never told me your name, but i know it. I know much more than i let on, and i will be the one to remain with this information forever.

.. ... ....... .-. .. ...- . -.

Another breath. Matt's heart was beating and skipping at random intervals and somehow it's not killing him. It feels like a message

messagemessagemessage

for the pink armless mewtwo.

You are nothing, Matt. You're only ever useful for comic relief and a feeling of fulfillment. You're used to fill in a hole until a better replacement is found, and soon after you'll disappear.

Another breath, his face began to glitch into a familiar, more orange tinted one, yet defied and vandalized just to keep Matt in his state of shock and fear.

If you died, nothing would change, Matt.

His face had returned to normal, his smile still being mockingly small and cute, as Matt only stared in raw horror and shock at his empty expression of satisfaction.

Finally, Matt is thrown down onto the surface of the forest like a ball in a game of dodgeball, leaving dust covering the surroundings, the chunks of dirt and ground flying elsewhere, and the surrounding trees in the radius falling down in the blast.

Matt lays covered in dirt and dust, grass and bruise, his tail no longer moving about.

He begins to form an arm of his own through psychic energy, just to flip himself on his back, quivering in the process.

The pale one spontaneously manifests beside Matt, crouching down with his hands on his back, with bending any joint other than his hips.

He stares at Matt in the eye, still smiling like nothing is wrong. nothing is wrong. nothing is wrong. nothing is wrong. nothing is wrong. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine. stop being such a baby, Matt, you're fine.

Any last words, Matt?

Matt coughs, pants from the damage and exhaustion, and takes a deep breath...

"You know updog?"

The pale one's face expresses confusion, yet not in full, only a smidge.

What's updog?

Matt grins.

"Nothin' much, what's up with you?"

Matt proceeds to wheeze with all the air in his lungs.

The pale one raises his upper half quickly and walks away from his view with his hands on his face as Matt began to roll around the ground with his hands gripping his sides from immediately entering hysterics, alongside the apparent movie staff and director.

MotherFUCKER!

May walked into the scene, also screeching in laughter, to comfort the pale mewtwo, patting him on the back.

Well aren't you proud of yourself!!

"OH MY FUCKING GOD I DID IT" Matt yelled in his hysterical cackling.

"CUT! CUT! CUT THAT!" Exclaimed the director inbetween his lung-emptying wheezing, "OH MY GOD MATT YOU'RE THE WORST" Daniel groaned behind the camera, "Arceus give us strength Darkness isn't enough supervision" whispered Rebecca, sat down on a chair in Agony™

You're sleeping on the god damn COUCH, Matt, oh my GOD!

"It's- it's okay love- you didn't see it coming it's not your fault-" May spoke to him, before getting interrupted by her apparent monochromatic lover.

AND I DIDN'T SEE IT COMIIIIINGG!!

May screams in hysterical laughter, "GOD HELP ME NOKROM" she called out inbetween her wheezing as she fell down on her knees, slamming her fist on the floor.

I wanna go home now, i hate you Matt! I hate you so much!

"YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME~~!" Matt yelled in a sing-songy voice, only getting rewarded with Nokrom yelling back

I KNOW AND I HATE IT!

Matt entered hysterics once more, he's probably gonna die laughing like this. Actually i think everyone's dying right now.

What a day...

[chaosfindsaway]

Gray hated when Cas was right, but he was right. His dad could sniff out a lie from a mile away. He nibbled on the inside of his cheek, staring down at the table. "I don't want him to do either of those things. God, can you imagine? Him showing up here to talk to the principal about it. Then all the kid's will think I need my dad to protect me." His lips sunk into a light grimace. The thought made him sick; his dad would only give the jocks more reason to taunt him if he got involved.

Finally looking up, he glanced at Cas, still biting down on the inside of his cheek. "Okay, so my excuse is shit, but help me! I gotta find a way to cover up this bruise before I go home....or at least come up with a better excuse for how I got it. Like maybe I could tell him I got hit with a dodgeball during gym or something?"

@lymbycsystem

Resting his hands on his hips he squinted and a tilt of his head followed soon after with the way color washed over the other boys face. Castiel’s eyes widened almost immediately after his admission though and he glanced around the area before taking a seat across from him. “How’d you get into a fight?!” He exclaimed softly, tapping his fingertips against the table while he gnawed on his bottom lip.

“it’s a big deal to me…” His stubborn tone was loud and clear. “You don’t want your dad to stop them from beating you up next time… or you don’t want him overreacting?” He squinted again. “You can’t really believe your dad’s gonna buy your running into a pole excuse either do you? I mean, if I didn’t he definitely won’t.” Cas rambled a bit.

[poppadom0912]

Halstead!Sibling Masterlist

Series:

Together - What was supposed to be a quick trip cleaning your dad's cabin turns into something so much more.

One shots:

Falling in love with you - Growing up, you've always had eyes on you and your brothers did everything they could to get them off. 

Emetophobia - You're extremely scared of vomit and you've fallen sick, entailing your brothers to take care of you.

Dodgeball - In which a volleyball ball was used instead.

Older sister - Will and Jay have an older sister.

Birds and bees - Your having the 'talk' but unknown to your brothers, you've already done the deed.

Twins Halstead - That's why you two look so similar.

One night stand - Your brothers aren't exactly over the moon when they find out your pregnant and you don't know who the dad is.

Nosebleeds - The Halstead household goes into a frenzy when you appear covered in blood.

Gymnastics - Today was your time to shine but someone just had to ruin it.

A Prom Mess - Prom didn't go according to plan.

Excuses - You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

The best babysitters - Work prevents you from going home one night, thankfully you’ve got the best backup in Chicago.

Holding on - When going to visit your older brothers, things suddenly take a turn for the worst.

Sequel - Recovery from the worst night of the Halstead's lives seems impossible.

Hiding - You thought you could hide the bruises and obsessive ex from your brothers... You thought wrong.

Prompts:

'My mom thinks I'm dating you'

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 4

“Last time on Total Takes Island- the Inane Anons took on the Flying Fujoshis in an epic game of dodgeball. There was blood, sweat, even some tears- but in the end, Peter took a serious crash and the Anons got to stay to play another day. Who will sustain a life-threatening injury? And who will get out with only minor cuts and bruises? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

The Inane Anons are sitting atop the steps to their cabins, impatiently waiting for the challenge to begin early in the morning. Kelly steps outside and smiles. “Good morning, everyone!”

The team grumbles back, most of them still half-asleep. Julia sighs and closes her eyes for a moment before being abruptly woken up by a loud scraping noise. Everyone whips around to see Kelly dragging a huge portable tanning bed out of the cabin. 

“What the hell is that?” Max asks. 

Scary giggles, earning a glare from Julia. “I hope it’s a coffin,”

“Or a transportation device that’ll take me out of here,” O sighs.

“Looks like a portable tanning bed to me, baby,” Austin says, jogging around to the other side of the machine and lifting it with Kelly. “I’ve got my own at home.”

“Great. That’s awesome,” Max mutters. Austin rolls his eyes and helps Kelly carry the device to the communal bathrooms. 

“A little impractical,” Scruffy shakes their head, taking notes on their little pad of paper before flipping it closed and tucking it in their pocket.

“What’s that thing for, anyway?” Max asks, holding his face in his hands and leaning on his knees. 

“Oh, I’m just taking notes on everything. For my thesis, you know? I’ve already seen all the past seasons a million times, so I know what the challenges are going to be, but this is with a whole new cast. It’s kind of like an experiment to me,”

---

MAX: In all honesty, Scruffy wouldn’t be a bad ally to have. They seem to be one of the less mentally unwell members of the team, and having all of that information could be helpful…

---

“Alright, campers- your next challenge starts in five! And make sure to bring your A-game!”

Bonnie walks alongside Caesar on their way to the designated “challenge area” for the day, hands in their pockets. “Do you think this one’s gonna be anything?”

“Well, Mal said that this is the talent episode, right?” 

“Did she?” 

“I was talking to her and Ass earlier. You know, making connections,”

“Ah, okay. Talent show, then,”

Courtney watches their conversation from a few feet away and frowns, clearly troubled, but they don't say anything. McLovin jogs to keep up with them and notices their expression, giving them a look of vague concern.

Patrick and Kitty stay some distance behind, but it’s clear he’s still paying attention as Kitty frolics. “Talent show. Hm. How can we work with this?”

Kitty babbles something incomprehensible and scales a nearby tree. 

The team arrives at a shabby, half-built outdoor theater, lined with splinter-covered bleachers. The Anons are already there, sitting on one side of the area with their team’s logo on it. Mal- who inexplicably seems to have arrived before anyone else, somehow- waves over Ass. “Saved you a seat!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense. The bleachers are empty,” Courtney says. 

“Don’t be a hater, Court,” McLovin gives them a faint smile and playfully elbows them. Courtney grumbles back. 

“Welcome to our newly rebuilt amphitheater!” Chris walks out on stage, holding his arms out for emphasis. “This week’s challenge is one of my favorites: a talent show!”

Caesar nods with a smirk as the Anons look at each other nervously. 

“Each team will have five hours to choose their three most talented campers and train them to perform on stage for their teams, where Chef will judge via the Chef-o-Meter!”

“Oh, me! Me!” Kelly waves their hand in the air. 

“What’re you gonna do? Tan us to death?” Julia asks, to which Kelly glares. “I’m sorry, which one of us took eight years of competitive new-wave gymnastic-aerobic fusion classes?”

Julia rolls her eyes and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. Max shrugs. “Any other volunteers?”

Frollo begins to raise a hand, to which Max immediately says no. 

Scruffy clears his throat. “I might step in,”

“I don’t think competitive note-taking is really a talent, Arachne,” Scary giggles, looking over from where they’re carving gore into the bleachers with a sharpened rock. 

“No, way, I was my province’s spelling bee champion for five years,” 

Everyone groans, except for Max. “Eh, why not?”

Julia glares. “Are you serious?”

“What? Intelligence is always impressive,”

“Unbelievable,”

“Do you think you could do better?”

She pauses, looking long and hard for an answer, but eventually gives in and leans back. Max smiles. “Anyone else have anything in mind?”

Everyone looks at each other. Austin suddenly smiles. “I-”

“Anything appropriate?”

He falls silent. Finally, O clears his throat. “I can drink a gallon of milk in under thirty minutes,”

“What? How is that a talent?” Michael asks. 

“If you’ve ever tried it, you’d know,”

“Well, if that’s all, I guess we got our players,” Max sighs. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

---

“I say we go for Kitty,” Patrick says, crossing his arms smugly. “Last night I saw them strip the bark off an entire tree with their teeth.”

“What?” Courtney asks, looking over to where Kitty is digging a hole in the ground on all fours. “I don’t know if… you know what, whatever. That’s fine.”

“What about Mal?” Ass asks. “She does modern dance.”

“Aw, you’re flattering me, I’m really so bad, not even comparable,” Mal chuckles. “But yes, I accept.”

Courtney stares. “Wait, shouldn’t we vote on that?”

“I don’t think anyone has anything against it,” Caesar shrugs. “Now, let’s talk about meeeee!”

“I’m sure hosting is really great, but it’s not really what we’re looking for,” Patrick says coldly. “My vote for Kitty still stands.”

---

PATRICK: "If you’ve ever seen Total Drama before, you’ll know that the consistent winners are the freaks, the losers, and the physically unattractive. Think about it- Owen, Beth, Mike- by allying myself with the most deranged team members, I’m guaranteeing myself a ride to the finale.”

---

“Ok, how about we substitute Caesar for Mal?” Courtney says hopefully. “That way, we can get Kitty in, too!”

“There are three slots, silly!” Mal smiles. “Plenty of room for all of us!”

“Not so fast,” McLovin rises from his seat. “I want to compete.”

Mal snorts. 

“What’re you gonna do? Show everyone how to fit through a keyhole?” Patrick asks. McLovin glares back. 

“I’ll have you know I’m an expert magician,” 

“Yes! Okay, Caesar, McLovin, and Kitty- it’s perfect!” Courtney says, grabbing McLovin’s shoulders. 

---

Courtney stares at the confessional camera for a few moments before sighing. 

COURTNEY: It’s not that I hate Mal, it’s just that… Well, it’s a long story. The two of us kinda go way back… But I know if she gets up there, she’ll throw the challenge, like she’s been doing for the past few, I’m sure... I can’t let us lose.

---

“Actually, I think I’ll sit this one out,” Caesar shrugs. “It might be fun watching from the other side of the screen, if you catch my drift.”

“Aw, but-”

“Perfect! Me, McLovin, and Kitty!” Mal smiles. “It’s settled!”

A look of nervousness crosses Courtney’s face and they walk away. 

---

“Welcome to the second Camp Wawanakwa official talent contest, where six campers will showcase their skills and desperately try not to humiliate themselves, and then likely fail at that!" Chris chuckles. An intern attempting to fix a lighting feature in the dark falls off the catwalk and lands next to Chris, who has no reaction. "First up for the Flying Fujoshis is Kitty!”

Their team cheers weakly as they scamper out on stage, where a log has been placed in the center. The Inane Anons watch in confusion as Kitty gnaws at it like a beaver, chewing it down into splinters. Scattered applause follows, and a few Fujoshis glare at Patrick as the Chef-o-Meter gives them 3/9 points. 

“Next up, for the Inane Anons- Kelly!” 

A round of cheers opens their act as they bound on stage in a leotard, sporting a ribbon and a baton. They bow, then throw the baton in the air, using the ribbon to lasso it back, and then do an elaborate and mesmerizing cartwheel and backflip sequence through the ribbon, landing perfectly on their feet. 

The Inane Anons give a standing ovation (Austin cheering especially loud right in Max's ear) and Chef gives a nice 6/9. 

“Alright, very nice! Next up we have the wonderful Miss Mal doing an interpretive dance piece for the Fujoshis!”

Courtney groans and puts their head in their hands. 

Mal walks on stage, wearing an odd outfit that strongly resembles a garbage bag, and then begins to do the most uncoordinated, odd, somewhat offensive dance sequence that any contestant has ever seen. Chris’ eyes widen in both shock and amusement as he chuckles. “We’re gonna have to censor some of that, huh? Let’s see what Chef has to say!”

1/9

“Nothing good. Excellent!”

The Fujoshis look at each other nervously. “Next up, let’s hear it for O!”

The Anons cheer as O steps on stage, holding a gallon of milk and looking incredibly nervous. Max shakes his head. “We’re dead, aren’t we?”

O raises the jug and begins drinking. Chris watches nearby in bewilderment as he finishes about 1/3rd the jug before a pale, sickly look crosses his face and he runs backstage to throw up. 

2/9

“Wow. Impressive display from the Anons,” Chris chuckles. 

Backstage, McLovin peers around the curtain nervously, swallowing a lump in his throat as Ass coaches him. “No pressure, okay? Our team’s win is on your shoulders, but no pressure,”

“No pressure,” he repeats, trembling, pacing back and forth. “No-” 

McLovin stumbles backwards, tripping on his magician's cape and crashing into the table of props, crushing most of them. Ass gasps. “Oh, this is so not good!”

“No- no- I can fix this!”

“What could you possibly do now?! Pull a dove out of your-”

“I’m talented in many ways,” he says confidently, tearing off his cape and handing it to Ass. “McLovin always pulls through!”

“Next up, last one for the Fujoshis- McLovin’s Magic Ex… Extravaganza… who wrote these things?” Chris says, tossing away his cue cards. 

McLovin approaches the microphone with a solemn look on his face. He takes a deep breath before continuing.. “The magic show has been canceled,” the Fujoshis give each other nervous looks. “Hit it.”

A nearby intern puts a record on a turntable and a funky beat starts playing. McLovin nods along to the beat and immediately starts busting it down. His sweet breakdancing moves captivate the entire audience for the few minutes he goes on, dead silent and serious as the plague. 

The song ends and he spins into a perfect closing pose, earning a round of standing applause. Chef gives it an 8/9. 

“Despite their rocky start, the Fujoshis are currently leading with 12 points to the Inane Anon’s 8. It’s gonna take a solid performance to win this!”

Everyone glares at Max, who tries his best to keep a straight face. Scruffy steps out on stage, dressed neatly with their hair pulled back. They approach the microphone with a smile as an intern hands Chris another set of cue cards. 

“Oh, great. This is really riveting, guys. Your first word is necessary,”

“Necessary,” Scruffy smiles. “N-e-c-e-s-s-a-r-y.”

Scattered applause follows the sound of a correct ding!

“Loquacity,”

“Loquacity. l-o-q-u-a-c-i-t-y,”

“Chiaroscurist,”

Scruffy pauses to think for a moment. “Could I have a definition, please?”

Chris squints at the index card. “An artist who uses shade and lighting over color to make illusions of depth.”

“C-h-i-a-r-o-s-c-u-r-i-s-t,”

The Anons hold their breath in silence as they lean forward, on the edge of their seats. 

“Staphylococcus,”

“Um... Definition?”

“It’s a type of bacteria or something. I dunno, dude,” Chris chuckles, tossing the cards away again as interns rush to replace them in his hand. 

Scruffy is beginning to look nervous. “S-t-a-ph-y-l-o-c… um, o-c-c-u-s,”

“Correct! One more!” Chris says cheerily. “You’re gonna love this one!”

The Anons look at each other anxiously, and Scruffy crosses their fingers behind their back. 

“Your final word is Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,”

Max noticeably winces, and the rest of the team sucks in their breath. A bead of sweat trickles down Scruffy’s face as a grin spreads across Chris’. The Fujoshis are already smiling and fist-bumping each other, congratulating their fellow team members on the win. All but Mal, who’s looking a little annoyed. 

“Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,” Scruffy says, voice trembling. “Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis…”

The Inane Anons are biting nails, pulling hair, and staring intently. Even Chris seems invested as he leans forward with wide eyes.

Scruffy takes a deep breath, and then, in a calm, collected voice: “P-n-e-u-m-o-n-o-u-l-t-r-a-m-i-c-r-o-s-c-o-p-i-c-s-i-l-i-c-o-v-o-l-c-a-n-o-c-o-n-i-o-s-i-s!”

Chris stares in awe. "That's... that's correct!"

The crowd stares in shock for a moment before the Anons jump to their feet, screaming and cheering. 

---

JULIA: I’ve never seen anyone so hyped over spelling, but… I gotta hand it to Scruffy. That rocked.

---

“And Chef gives Scruffy’s spelling an 8/9, putting the Anons at 16 points and winning the game! What a game! What a game!” Chris shouts, tossing the cue cards in the air for interns to scramble over and pick up. 

The Fujoshis groan as the Anons cheer, surrounding Scruffy on stage and hoisting him up, carrying him like a king back to their cabins. 

“Fujoshis- I’ll see you all at the campfire soon,” Chris chuckles. 

---

MAX: Aaaaaand my judgment was right all along. Big surprise!

---

“Fujoshis- you’re here because you sucked. Big time. But only one of you will be going home tonight. 

You know the drill- whoever doesn’t get a marshmallow must walk the dock of shame, board the boat of losers, and never return, ever. 

And the first marshmallow goes to…

McLovin and his wicked moves. 

Mal, you’re safe, too. For some reason,” Chris chuckles. 

“Courtney, Bonnie, Caesar. Safe.

Ass, Sha-Mod, you’re still on. 

Kitty- your disappointing performance left a lot to be desired- and Patrick, you’re the one who vouched for Kitty while losing the respect of all of your teammates. If it were up to me, I’d send you both home. But it’s not! So…

Kitty…

…You’re safe.”

Everyone turns to each other nervously. Patrick stands, a look of cold hatred on his face, his fists clenched and teeth gritted. He marches over to Chris, shoving him over, and turns back one last time. “I’ll be back,” 

"Yayyyy!" Kitty smiles, waving. "Byeee!!'

Chris shivers from the ground. “Yeesh. Touchy,”

He pops up back to his feet, dusting off his shirt. “Who’s going home next time? And who’s staying to win? Find out on the next exciting episode of Total! Takes! Island!”

[babypinkhearts]

heyy! can i ask for a killua x fem! reader, where the reader is a healer and killua comes back with major wounds/scars from a fight and the reader has to take care of him,even thought she's just a novice hunter 🥺 thank you and take your time. have a nice day!💞

ahh i was thinking about writing something like this! i tweaked with it a little, i hope you don’t mind 🥺 thank you so so much for requesting! <3

pairing: killua zoldyck + reader

warnings: descriptions of wounds, blood, and slight agnst. overall fluff 🥺

with every footstep, the grass below you rustled.

heavy pants left your lips, the feeling of exhaustion slowly increasing. you fought the urge to stop, though your legs were practically screaming in protest.

every stride had gotten faster, the adrenaline fueling your speed.

you needed to get there as quickly as possible.

no amount of certainty could calm you down - your head was spinning and the aching feeling in your gut wouldn’t loosen.

the dreadful phone call you had recieved only minutes ago was stuck on replay.

the fright that was easily heard from their tone of voice - it haunted you.

“y-y/n! you have to come! killua-“

at the mere sentence, you had hung up and rushed to where you last saw your group.

he promised you that he’d be careful.

he promised that he’d come back unscathed.

he promised you that everything would be alright.

it were bare promises made by the link of your two pinkies.

now, he had broken it.

killua was strong and skilled. you knew that. he had endured a lot within his entire life.

rarely was he ever injured.

which meant that when he was, it was bad.

reluctantly had you let him and gon leave without you.

their reasoning was that you were “the most important element of the team” and with your abilites, it put you at a valuable position.

though you weren’t as nearly skilled as they were in combat, your ability to heal wounds made you the anchor of the group.

if someone got hurt - you’d be there to save them.

but regardless of how powerful your nen was - it didn’t have the ability of preventing injuries.

all you could do was make them better.

you wished there was a way to shield your friends from harm’s way. you hated to see them in pain. yet - you were grateful you were gifted with the power to eventually take that pain away.

it was hard to see in front of you - the moon barely granting any light to your surroundings.

you trusted your pure instincts to lead the way through the dark forest, mentally giving yourself words of encouragement to ease your anxiety.

he’ll be okay.

you’re going to help him.

don’t slow down now - you’re almost there.

and with another turn, you faintly made out the sight of bright green clothing.

a boost of energy ran across your body and you suddenly began to sprint. your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest - the aggressive pounding becoming admittedly concerning.

“gon!”

you watched as his head snapped up, his eyes growing wide as he noticed you.

you reached him in mere seconds, panting heavily. sweat ran down your face - your figure tembling in exhaustion.

you couldn’t stop - not now.

hastily, gon grabbed your wrist rather roughly, pulling you along as he headed toward a larger tree.

your head spun as you followed him, the lack of rest slowly catching on to you.

you disregarded your condition - eyes trailing on gon’s dark hair.

he hadn’t said anything.

“w-where is he?” you questioned, fear crawling on your skin as you noticed his lack of words.

his back was faced toward you, his head down low as he increased his pace.

“gon? gon! where’s kil-“

as you turned the corner, you felt like you were going to pass out.

upon a tree laid a far-too-familiar boy.

his body covered in wounds.

never, had you seen injuries as bad as the ones your eyes were currently laid upon.

for a second, you forgot how to breathe.

the condition he was in was almost scarring - you felt sick to your stomach.

“killua!” you exclaimed, dropping to your knees beside him. your hands shook as they cupped his face. his chest was rising rather slowly, each breath labored.

to your relief, his eyes slightly open, half lidded as they gazed upon you.

the blue was rather dim, now supporting more of a depressing gray.

the sight made you let out a whimper, your head quickly shaking in disapproval at your action.

now isn’t the time to panic.

“o-okay,” you breathed, swallowing the sob that threatened to come out. “you’re going to be okay - alright, kil?”

it was more of a rhetorical question.

and as much as you didn’t want to admit it -

it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

“stay strong for me, please.” you begged, gently pressing a hand on his abdomen - where his most severe injury was.

killua jolted against your touch, hissing at the painful contact.

the wound was deep - blood had completely soaked the clothes around it. from what you had seen - it looked like a miracle that he was still conscious. the blood loss was extreme.

“i know, i know.” you cooed, smoothing out his hair, trying your best to comfort him.

the amount of energy it’d take to completely heal him would be.... draining.

but if it meant that he’d be alright in the end - you’d do it a hundred times again.

lifting his shirt, you smoothed your hand across the damaged skin, whispering an unintelligible phrase under your breath.

killua had seen you heal people dozens of times.

he could never exactly hear what you muttered to yourself before you healed someone.

he was sure it was the name of the ability - but he never dared to ask. since you said it so lowly each time - it was clear you wanted it to remain a secret.

your eyes closed in concentration, carefully directing your aura to your hands.

you had been blessed with an ability to take away pain.

something that so many people craved - you could easily do in within seconds.

the aura in your hands glowed a bright white, shielding the view of killua’s injuries.

it grew slightly difficult to keep your hands in place - your eyes shutting even tighter as you drew a deep breath.

killua laid still, his eyes widening as the aching pain all over his body began to dull away.

all traces of blood were fading - the deep wounds on his skin slowly closing.

is this what angel’s breath felt like?

he could hardly remember.

when he had originally experienced it, it was on the lands of greed island.

his hands had been severely damaged due to the game of dodgeball against razor.

an adrenaline-filled memory, to say the least.

he recalled the use of the angel’s breath card.

when it had been used on him, it felt like a refreshing gust of wind. it had happened too quick for him to completely remember.

but this - your ability felt much different.

from the second you laid your hands on him, he immediately felt better. the comfort of your presence - you were the angel.

nothing was too quick. he could perfectly engrave every single detail in his mind.

he could see your nen.

he could see his injuries being restored.

his eyes didn’t miss one detail.

and he certainly didn’t miss the look of desperation on your face as you gently comforted him, begging him to keep his eyes open.

“killua?”

he blinked, nearly jumping at the sudden call.

you sat beside him, your expression full of relief. exhaustion was also part of it - but you could manage with it.

you had done your best.

with the amount of pure concentration it took - you managed to stop all the bleeding and heal all of the major wounds.

thankfully, your best had been enough.

“how do you feel?” you softly asked, your expression full of worry.

you felt guilty that you couldn’t completely heal him - you lacked the energy to. any more longer and you’re sure you would’ve passed out.

killua attempted to sit up, though immediately fell back, a groan leaving his lips.

your eyes widened, your arms wrapping around his torso to help him.

“i-i’m so sorry i couldn’t be more use - i promise i’ll heal you better, just give me five min-“

a harsh pull into his chest shut you up.

with a surprised gasp, arms wrapped around you. you felt him bury his face into your neck, his breath slightly tickling you.

“i should be sorry, idiot.”

you froze.

“i promise you i’d be careful.” he continued, closing his eyes. “i’m so sorry for breaking that. along with everything else.”

slowly, you copied his actions, embracing him.

he shouldn’t feel guilty. especially after what he just went through.

“don’t be. i’m just glad i made it to you on time.” you whispered. you felt his grip tighten.

“thank you for that.” he breathed. from his hold on you, he still felt your body shaking.

it was reasonable - a few minutes too late and he could’ve died.

the mere thought of it drove the two of you anxious, the need to embrace one another growing stronger.

a quick thought circled your mind, your head lifting from killua’s shoulder as you inspected the area around the two of you.

gon was no where in sight.

sensing your tensed body, killua pulled away, raising a brow at you.

he noticed your wandering eyes, realization hitting him.

“he went to get everyone else.”

you blinked, tilting your head at the white-haired boy.

the sudden absence of your green-clothed friend worried you, anxious thoughts appearing in your mind.

“how do you know?” you questioned, furrowing your brows.

killua sighed at your cautious self, shaking his head. he knew you were still on edge - rightfully so.

“i told him before he contacted you. in case of an emergency like this.” he explained, his bright blue eyes looking at you.

relief soared through you, a sigh leaving your lips.

“alright.” you replied, nodding.

your gaze turned to killua, scanning his face.

a few small cuts were scattered across the skin - though nothing bad.

“we need to get you cleaned up.” you mumbled, gently running a thumb over a tiny bruise on his jawline.

killua hummed in response, his eyes closed.

with a heavy sigh, you leaned against the tree behind you.

for a moment, it was peaceful.

the wait for the rest of the group was filled with long talks.

you almost lost each other.

you felt the need to bask in one another’s presence.

for every laugh that was shared, you felt your heart grow more and more.

if you hadn’t been there in time...

you could’ve lost him.

though, here he was.

right beside you.

a smile on his face.

staring at you with the most loving eyes you could ever imagine.

and you thanked the world for it.

[despovoador]

bus drivers strike -> no classes -> interviews day at internship -> "nico u GOTTA play dodgeball with us" -> why not? -> forgot i quite literally go beast mode -> body covered in bruises. no problem ✌️

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Mornin’ Coach!

Author’s note: Heyo, here’s a lil bit of fic to go with a moodboard requested by @carl-sweet-serial-killer ! Hope y’all enjoy! Remember I’m always open for requests for both fic and moodboards if you wanna request them :3 

Negan Miller rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out as he switched on the lights in the gymnasium, yawning and watching as each of the overheard strips lit up one by one. They illuminated the practice equipment he’d set up before going home the night before, everything in its right place where he left it, an air of peace and quiet surrounding it all until the sound of rubber soles squeaking against plastic flooring filled the hallway behind him.

‘Weak form today, Walsh, you and Anderson get up to something that’s making you limp?!’

‘Shut your mouth, Greene, I’m faster than you!’

‘Yeah, right!’

‘Beat you to the locker room, bitch!’

The coach snorted in amusement at the words of his students, wandering down the closed off hallway to follow them all to the locker room. As he put his hand on the door, he heard the familiar squeak and scuff that always came a bit slower behind the rest of the group, pushing lightly on the wood to watch his favourite student shuffle up the corridor with his hands tucked into his hoodie and his hair down since he wasn’t yet in the gym.

Negan watched him in silence through the gap, not expecting him to notice his eye on him. When the teen had passed by without a sound from his mouth, the coach followed behind, waiting outside of the locker room door for them to get ready.

His best six gymnasts consisted of four boys and two girls, an odd ratio in the field of gymnastics but for his little group it seemed perfectly normal. The one student he couldn’t seem to stop watching, though, was Carl Grimes. The kid was perfect on every jump, every move, every twist, and at the end of the day when he took his hair plait out and let his brown waves fall down his shoulders, his coach couldn’t help but admire his beauty.

It was a problem that Negan pushed to the back of his mind. His star gymnast was nineteen, he didn’t need an old man thirsting over him from the side-lines, so Negan kept his gaze away whenever Carl looked back, focusing on one of the other teens when that perfect one stared back at him too hard.

‘Mornin’, Coach!’

The man broke out of his thoughts when Ron Anderson passed by him with a nod and a smile. Negan smiled back, patting his shoulder when he got close enough and leaning off the wall as the group of them entered the main hall. Carl and Michonne passed him without a word, chatting amongst each other while the other four fooled around by the balance beam. With a sigh, the coach followed the two quieter students to the other group.

‘Okay, Hawthorne, you’re on beam, Grimes on rings, Greene on floor, Anderson on parallels, Walsh on A-bars, and Rhee on the horse. Rules are the same as every practice, you know how I feel about foul play so watch your ass.’ He warned the group, waiting for everyone to break off to their respective equipment before he made a beeline for the rings where Carl was chalking his hands.

‘Mornin’, kiddo.’

‘Hey, coach.’ The teen turned to him with a bright smile, his brown hair already braided as he stood between the rings, waiting for Negan to help him up.

Negan did so like he always did, sliding his hands onto the younger’s soft waist and pressing his thumbs into the plump skin. Trying not to get distracted by the silky flesh of his student’s body, the coach lifted him up with ease, helping him grab onto the rings and stepping away to let Carl begin practising.

‘Thanks, coach!’

The next few hours went by without a hitch, each student of his taking their turn at each station and passing his daily tests. Negan hated how his eyes would stray to watch Carl train every time he was distracted, gaze focused on the way his stomach muscles moved on full display in the crop top he always wore to practice.

He wasn’t defined in the torso department, not like Negan himself or the other guys on the team, but the older coach liked him that way. He was slim and fit but still soft, and Negan had seen him put away burgers and fries like a lion would a zebra without putting on weight. The teen just kept on giving him more reasons to obsess over his body and mind, looking like an angel and showing off his skill like a pro.

After three hours though, his need to take a piss was stronger than his desire to watch Carl move on the A-bars like a snake twisting on vines. Standing up, he stretched his arms and yawned, nodding to Michonne.

‘Hawthorne, you’re in charge. I’ll be back in five.’ He told her, disappearing through the doors to find the restroom.

By the time he had finished emptying his bladder and started walking back down the hallway to get to the gym, he could hear voices in the hall, making him wonder if they’d taken a break from practice. He wasn’t a dictator coach, so he didn’t mind them taking breaks if it meant they worked better, but as the voices became clearer he didn’t like what he was hearing in the slightest.

‘Your daddy’s gone now, faggot, no protection anymore!’

‘No stopping us from beating your sissy ass!’

‘He went to the toilet, assholes, he didn’t leave the school. If… you… beat… me… half… to… death,’ Negan heard a thump as Carl landed on the mat after swinging between the bars with each word, ‘he’ll know it was you and he’ll kill you for it.’

Negan smiled at that, leaning on the wall outside of the gym as he listened to Carl to defend himself, not wanting to go in until he was done. He didn’t need him to make his point, he was doing that all on his own.

‘You’re right, he would kill us. It’d be worth it, though, slut.’

‘I think you mean yourself, Ron.’

Ron fucking Anderson. As if he could judge Carl if he were dating Negan when that little shit was fucking his best friend every chance he got. The group seemed to go silent after that, so the coach waited a moment before entering.

When he did, he regretted not doing it sooner. He found Carl swinging on the A-bars to avoid dodgeballs being thrown at his body by Ron and Shane, moving swiftly to dodge each one as they kept coming. The other two gymnasts seemed determined to kill him from what Negan could see, throwing balls constantly while Carl continued to swing between the two bars.

He never faltered, moving with the same ease that made him an exceptional gymnast, but Negan wouldn’t stand by and watch what could turn deadly in seconds.

‘ANDERSON, WALSH, STOP!’

At the sound of their coach’s bellowing, the two bullies halted in their actions, but not before one last ball was launched at Carl. The younger gymnast also stuttered in his movements at the sound of Negan’s yelling, failing to avoid the last ball and taking it to the head.

The man watched in horror as Carl fell from the bars onto the edge of the mat at an odd angle, landing with a thud with his head hanging down far too close to the solid wood floor underneath. Negan ran over faster than he’d ever done for a student, lifting Carl’s head onto his thigh carefully and checking him over for visible injuries.

His heart broke when a pained groan came from the teen’s lips and his endless blue eyes looked up at him, watering already.

‘My wrist, I- it hurts, coach…’

His words forced Negan to look down at his wrists and take in the bruising appearance of his right one. It looked like a closed break and made him wonder how high the kid’s pain threshold was if he hadn’t passed out yet.

Looking up from Carl for a moment, he sent a scathing glare at both Shane and Ron.

‘You’re out of competition season for this. You don’t go near equipment until he can, understand me, you little pricks?’ He hissed, keeping his glare even as they nodded then looking back at Carl with his gaze completely softened.

The teen had passed out now, his head limp against Negan’s upper arm as he breathed softly against his skin. He’d probably looked at his injury and fainted from being so squeamish – after all, the coach had once seen his favourite student vomit at the sight of a dead hedgehog on the running track.

Careful not to move his wrist too much, Negan unwrapped the bandage he kept covering his forearm, not caring much if his students saw the scar on his skin if it meant helping Carl. Securing it around him so his injury was immobilised, the coach lifted the teen up from the ground, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly to prove a point to the assholes that had caused his broken wrist.

He glared at the boys once more.

‘Practice is done for the day. See yourselves out. Come on, darling.’ He sighed down at Carl who was still unconscious, carrying him out of the gymnasium with the intention of heading for the hospital.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Special Soul-mark

Part Two Of Two: I’m Glad It Was You

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Modern AU

Words: 1,138

Warnings: Talk about fights and past abusive situations, a stapeller to the hand. P sure that’s it.

Request: For the Anon who donated to the Australian Bushfires.

Summary: Don’t call it a bathing suit, she’ll kill you.

A/N: I honestly did not know what tf to do fr this part. So, I hope you guys like this.

(Not my GIF)

***

"She's my what now?"

Natasha laughed at Tony's words before her smile dropped from her face suddenly, and her laughter fell away.

"You're not being serious are you, Tony?"

"Of course I am," he smirked, sitting back behind his desk, gesturing for you to take the seat next to Natasha. Which you did, hesitantly.

"So," Tony started, "How did you like the recital?" he asked you.

"Yeah, It. It was great."

"You were there?" asked the beautiful red-head, who name you had just come to learn was 'Natasha'. It's a perfect name for her, really. Everything about her was perfect. Even the things you had yet to learn.

You surely hoped that Natasha truly was your soulmate.

"I was," you told her, nodding your head, "You were amazing."

"Thank you." Natasha smiled.

Your attentions were brought to Tony, as he cooed adoringly at you both.

"You two are so cute."

"That reminds me," you said, "What makes you think that we're soulmates?" you asked, waving a finger between you and the woman beside you.

"Ah! Well, I'm glad you asked-"

"Oh, God," you groaned flinging your head back. Natasha groaning beside you, placing her head in her hand.

"-It was a warm summers day-"

"Can we have the quick version, please?" Natasha demanded, rather than asked.

Tony hummed childishly, before sighing out a, "Fine. We'll do it your way... Basically. You both had matching bruises, on your middle fingers. From where you."He pointed in your direction. "Trapped it in the door. I asked Natasha about it, and she said it was off of her soulmate." Tony explained. "And she was pretty pissed off about it, too. Because she had a show that same day and had to cover it up with makeup."

Natasha chuckled inwardly, remembering the day with a fond smile.

"Yeah, but how can you be so sure?"

"Like this," Tony spoke. Then out of nowhere, there was a stapler colliding onto the back of your hand, where it rested upon his desk. Leaving two small blood-red pricks in its wake.

"Ow!" you exclaimed, reaching over to rub at your skin. You joked, "That's a lawsuit."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can say that, and thank me in your wedding toast." And with that, he pushed yours and Natasha's hands until they were pressed up, side by side each other. Showing the matching marks.

"Holy fuck," you breathed, looking up to see Natasha already watching you, with a bright smile stapled onto her face. One that clearly said, "I've finally found you".

That very same smile moving to take over your face.

"Ahh. I just love being a matchmaker," Tony sighed.

"And a detective, apparently."

***

Tony gave you the rest of the day off, so you could spend it with Natasha. To finally get to know your soulmate.

At long last.

After a short stroll in Central Park, you took a seat on the freshly cut grass, thankful that you had taken your hayfever medication that morning. Leaning back on your hands as you continued to talk with Natasha.

"So, wait. Hold on." Natasha raised her hands, stopping you in your tracks, mid-sentence. "That's the reason I had to walk around with, a black eye, my noes and lips busted, and more bruises than I could count, all over my face and body," she listed, as you smiled humorously, "All because you go pounded in dodgeball?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "It was like a wall of dodgeballs. Hurt like fuck, too."

"Yeah, no shit," she laughed.

"Hey! You can't say shit. Because I was fourteen and I had to go to school looking like I got the shit beat out of me."

"I did get the shit beat out of me."

Things got more serious after that. Natasha letting you in on some stuff about her past. But not going into the nitty-gritty details of it all, considering you were still practically strangers to one another. Soulmates of not.

She told you about the fight- Well, it wasn't actually a fight. She had gotten jumped by some kids that she went to school with, that lead to her nose being broken. The fight she had gotten into to defend herself and her little sister. And had almost offhandedly mentioned being adopted out of an abusive household, but she was quick to talk about other things. Which of course you understood.

That day was four months ago.

And you and Natasha had been together since that night when you had taken her out on your very first date.

Your family had been ecstatic that you had found Natasha, as was hers. Not to mention your brother was a cocky little shit because he was right all along. He would tease you something rotten.

Natasha played into it.

You hated that.

But you got your revenge, by teaming up with her sister and finding out every embarrassing thing you could about her, from her and her parents.

So, ha!

Two could play at that game... however you were dreading the next time you visited your family, and pulled the same thing.

But still, you couldn't believe your luck. To have a woman like this, be your soulmate. That's what you were thinking as you watched her stretching across the rehearsal room, where you willingly allowed her to drag you on your day off. You had been in the position many times before. And it always amazed you, just how flexible she was.

"How in the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?" Natasha smiled your way, as she had her leg pressed against her chest, from where it rested on the wooden bar by the mirror. "Stretch?"

"Yeah."

She chuckled, knowing exactly what you were getting at. Walking into the middle of the room, to continue with the rest of her stretches, she said, "A lot of hard work over the years."

Your eyes widened and your breath got caught in your throat, as you watched your girlfriend. Your very flexible girlfriend, bend over right in front of you. Her hands wrapped around her ankles while she inhaled deeply.

"You know exactly what you're don't you?"

Natasha smirked. "Of course I do. I've been dancing for years."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She sauntered towards you, her hips swaying with each movement. Drawing your eyes to her bare legs, all thanks to the black leotard she wore. Which looked exactly like a plain one-piece bathing suit. Bending over where you sat, Natasha's hands gripped your shoulders, and she leaned into an intimate kiss, pulling back just far enough to whisper against your lips.

"I know."

"God. I love you."

"I love you, too." She pated your shoulders. "Now watch me dance. And maybe I'll show you how flexible I am when we get home."

Fuck.

[sinagrama]

Restraints with razor? Idk it seems like itd fit well :0

We are doing this!!! Razor content - my favourite. I love this man with my whole heart.

Restraints : “It doesn’t hurt too much, does it? I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly.”

Warning: mentions of past abuse (Razor when he was a kid). This whole fic is very fluffy.

The rope was digging into your skin uncomfortably, and your wrists were getting numb. You were certain they would leave marks behind - red traces that would show Razor’s possessive side.

You weren’t sure how long your wrists would take to heal, but you knew that whenever that happened, your boyfriend would claim you in other ways. Either by tying you up again, or by biting your supple flesh, leaving hickeys along your collarbone, neck or thighs. Razor always made sure for the marks to be visible because he enjoyed seeing you covered by his love bites, and most importantly, he relished in making sure others saw them, too.

Although he had never admitted this to you, the way he stared at your bruises - and the way he (unconsciously) puffed his chest out whenever he saw one of his pirates eyeing those same marks - was very telling.

Whenever you were being intimate, he sometimes tended to claw at your hips, clutching them possessively, making sure to leave red splotches on your sides. Furthermore, when you cuddled together after an exhausting day at work, he hugged you close, so very close, and he didn’t allow you to leave his side. At first it had been uncomfortable, but after some time you had grown accustomed to this.

Some nights you thought about Razor’s childhood, about the despair he surely had felt. Whenever your thoughts wandered and your eyes began to water just by thinking about how your boyfriend had thought the whole world had turned its back on him, you couldn’t help but feel admiration. Razor was a great man, a person that had managed to become someone worthy of praise and that now could rejoice, for he had transformed himself into someone he himself could feel proud of.

Still, the fear of losing someone important to others, or to life itself, never quite seemed to fade away, so you allowed him to be possessive. If not, he wouldn’t be as relaxed around you, or feel comfortable whenever you met new people. Those traumatic years still payed their toll, no matter how powerful he became, or how strong he thought he was. True paranoia never disappeared.

Really, it wasn’t as if he harmed you. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was caring, and he would stop if you ever told him to, so you did not feel fear whenever you were together.

This night is one of many, but you two have only used ropes thrice. Handcuffs came into play once, but they weren’t tight enough and therefore Razor deemed them unlikeable. As he watches you squirm, the restraints making your arms itch due to their tightness, he smiles warmly.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it? I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly.”

You stretch - or try to, at least - to see if you can relieve some of the unpleasant feeling. You can handle it, the sting is bereable. You trust this man, because you are aware of the fact that he knows when everything becomes too much, and he doesn’t push you to do things you don’t like. Sure, he has sometimes tested your boundaries, but so have you his, and you had given him permission. There is a warmth that settles deep inside your chest whenever you understand how much you can rely on him.

Oh, you really loved this freaky dodgeball player.

Your own train of thought startles you into a laugh, and he seems put off for a second. You squint at him and see how confused he looks, and suddently -panic. He sees tears fall from your eyes and immediately begins to fret: mistaking them for ones of pain when in reality, you are the happiest you’ve ever been. His large hands settle on your cheeks, caressing them as if to apologise, and then he moves to your bindings. As he begins to untie them, you say:

“I love you.” It’s nice to watch his fright melt into shock, and then into something warm and loving. His eyes crinkle with relief and with something else, something you can’t quite place -

You try to reach his nose with your lips, plucking them cutely, because he is far away. Your whole body tries, to no avail, to get closer to his, ignoring your aching muscles. His arms are around you after a moment, when he has had his fill of your awkward display (a wriggling mess, flailing legs trying to get him to crouch), and he breathes out an amused laugh. You kiss his nose and his forehead. It isn’t very cute, though, because you are goofy and like leaving sloppy kisses that last for mere seconds.

He reminds you so much of a child, in moments like this. So vulnerable and wanting. There’s a thing he does with his posture, something he probably isn’t even aware of, that almost looks as if he is guilty of receiving such care. As if he was undeserving. You simply smooch down his neck in retaliation.

Razor really deserves love - if anyone has earned it in the world, it’s him - and you will make sure he gets it.