Can I Get A Daryl And Reader? The Reader Has ADHD And Talks Very Fast That Never Stays On One Topic But

hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼

Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??

First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣

Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…

You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.

‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.

He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.

For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.

‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’

‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.

‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’

He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.

‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.

‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.

Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’

Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.

‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.

As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.

Omg but picture Soap and Ghost coming back from leave and hearing Birdy freaking out in the next room, only to find König on top of her again— they don’t know what’s going on, but Ghost is ripping him off of her and ready to fuck him up, and Soap is by her side trying to calm her down and get her away. Price hears the commotion and comes in like ?????? What the fuck happened? And oof, Ghost is livid. This guy almost killed their Birdy once and Price is just gonna let him do it again?? Not fucking happening.

Side note— she made that comment, “you got the job you wanted, the transfer, the training.” I wanna see more of that— her feeling like König killed her and replaced her and everyone was seemingly fine with it (they weren’t, but they’re a bunch of men who suck at showing their feelings). Some of them make more of an effort to spend time with her rather than him (ie Soap and Ghost), but the others think König’s actually an alright guy if they gave him a chance.

Idk. Lots of potential for angst here. Could be fun.

OH MY FUCKING GOD YES.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I can see Ghost being fucking furious over Price allowing Konig to train the reader. Now that Ghosts back he pulls Price aside privately and straight out says "I'm off leave now. I'm the better hand to hand combatant and I outrank that cunt. Let me train them"

Meanwhile König wants to fucking die. You're right about the other guys being cool with him, Gaz is alright, Rudy as well (if we're including him and Alejandro). Alejandro is a passionate guy so I don't think he'd be okay with it.

I feel like Soap is actually on the fence about it. He's probably the most logical of them all regarding knowing it was an accident but understanding the hatred. He didn't just try to kill the reader, König fucking mutilated her. He's psychotic on the battlefield and everyone admired that until they realized just how fucked it would be if it was turned on them.

Oh don't worry the readers hatred isn't going anywhere either. I specialise in angst 🤌😏

This whole thread has killed me

Only bars keep us apart - Chpt. 2

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x femReader

Word Count: 4280

Summary: Over the past few weeks you keep on catching yourself thinking of Crane more than you should. You two get to know each other better, and he knows exactly what impact he has on you. At least you're safe with him behind those bars...right?

Warnings/Tags: angst, teasing, protective!Crane, minor mention of blood

A/N: I am truly sorry that it took so long🥲but the second part is finally here! It's not yet the end of the story but I hope I'll finish the next part quicker than this one XD. Have fun reading😊💜! ~✨Star

PART ONE

You’ve been working at the Asylum for three months by now and you’d be lying claiming that you didn’t like the attention he gave you. How couldn’t you now that you saw him every day and were allowed to have longer talks with him? You’ve been interested in him from the start but over time just like the trees outside your interest in him blossomed into something beautiful. He was intimidating but somehow it gave you a sense of safety to have the bars between the two of you at all times. His smart ocean eyes that bored right into your soul read you like an open book. His smooth, deep voice sent shivers down your spine and made your heart flutter. You’ve never met someone like him before and still, there was something drawing you in.

You had gotten used to your daily schedule by now; Get to the asylum in the morning, check in with your boss before talking to a few of the more harmless inmates. Then you had lunch and finally, it was time for your daily conversation with him. The only thing that changed was that with every day that passed, you walked down the hallway of his cell a little slower when it wasn’t quite time to see him yet. You lived for these few more seconds you could feel his eyes on you. For these few more words that fell between the two of you. Your interactions were the only thing motivating you to go to the asylum.

At night you lay awake, unable to shake off the feeling of his eyes grazing your body up and down. Whenever you fell asleep eventually, your dreams revolved around him. Somehow deep down you seemed to wish for him to step through that door and overcome the barrier between the two of you. But every night, right before he did, you woke up. And you hated yourself for it every single morning. Why the hell would you want him to get out of the cell they put him in for good reasons? Why were you so intimidated but longed for him to be free in your dreams? How did that make any sense? Were you slowly going insane in there?

On your way to the Asylum, you thought back to one of your many talks a few weeks ago…

Crane casually leaned back in his chair and folded his chained hands on his lap. His eyes studied you intensely as you sat down and adjusted your blouse. Looking up you noticed his gaze and raised an eyebrow at him, which made him smirk. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said firmly.

“Why not?” he asked calmly. “Is it that wrong to state a fact?”

“It’s rude, we barely know each other,” you told him and grabbed your pen, scribbling down the date on your paper.

Crane sighed and rolled his eyes. “I miss the time when you could compliment a woman without being called rude or a creep.”

“Oh, so it’s a compliment?” you asked defensively. You wouldn’t fall for his charms even more. You were here on a professional basis and not to flirt with the inmates.

“It was intended as one, yes,” he said calmly and raised his eyebrows at you. “Is that a problem?”

You met his eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m here to do my job, okay? You are part of my assignment, that’s why I’m here.”

“Purely that?” he asked curiously.

“Purely that,” you nodded firmly and brushed back a strand of your hair.

“So you drew the card no one else wanted,” he nodded more to himself and you frowned at him confused. “I’ve been there…but I found it quite interesting here.”

“I bet,” you commented dryly. “It must’ve felt like home,” you added and bit your tongue hard once you realized what you just said. Shit, you weren’t here to tease him and make fun of him.

“Does my suffering amuse you, L/N?” he asked, not looking offended one bit. 

“Did the suffering you put others through amuse you, Dr. Crane?” you asked back, deciding not to let him win that one.

“Amusement is the wrong word here…It delighted me, actually,” he told you and studied your face observantly. He watched your expression change to a mask of horror before anger and disgust laced your features. “There we have it.”

“You’re sick,” you spat out and stared at him. Well, what did you expect? That he didn’t decide to send people into insanity with his fear toxin? That in fact he was just a misunderstood soul who longed for nothing more than to be loved by someone and not harm others?

Crane shook his head and made a disappointed noise. “What’s one of the first rules you learned talking to a patient or client?”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Let me help you out,” he smiled, almost gently. “Never, and I repeat, never, judge the person sitting opposite you and insult them. Always stay neutral while talking to your client, no matter how crazy they really are.” His blue eyes lit up for a second as the word crazy mockingly rolled off his tongue.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you spoke firmly. 

“You think so? Allow me to elaborate on that,” he said and started talking. You didn’t really listen, trying to calm down and sort your thoughts. You had a job to do, for fucks sake. Before you realized it your eyes were wandering over his body. You took in his confident posture, the way his full lips moved as he rambled on, his ocean-blue orbs displaying a theatre of emotions. You-. “Why aren’t you taking any notes?”

“I’m not here to write your memoirs,” you snorted softly. “I’m here to analyze you and I have a good memory, thank you.”

“Analyze me…Are we talking about my psyche here? Because the travels of your eyes tell me there’s a different sort of analysis going on,” he said almost mockingly and smirked succeedingly as the blush rose to your cheeks.

“Shut up,” you pressed out.

“So you can write down that I seemed awfully quiet today as if I had something stupid in mind? I don’t think so,” he smiled politely.

“Can we focus on the task at hand?” you asked frustrated and scribbled down his name on the questionnaire.

“I can,” he nodded.

…

Your casual conversations had gotten interrupted several times by now. About two weeks ago, a soldier from the military had been appointed to keep Crane behind bars, since rumors of a planned breakout sent panic throughout the city. The soldier had laid eyes on you and he had not given you a minute to breathe ever since. Not once. Suddenly, making your way down that hallway wasn’t fun at all anymore.

It was rather irritating, as you were trying to enjoy Crane trying to indulge you in some small talk, slowly easing you into longer conversations, when said soldier kept on flirting with you. Persistently so. 

You really didn't want to hear how hot you looked in your work clothes. And you definitely didn't want to hear how he praised himself to heaven and back, annoying you with what a good boyfriend he would be. It made you uncomfortable and not even Crane’s mindfuckery reached that level of discomfort.

Speaking of Crane, he obviously noticed your discomfort. He had not spoken up - not even once - which made it worse. No, he rather seemed to enjoy your aggressive talks with the said soldier. He seemed to like seeing you try to get out of the conversation, and how you tried to be polite and stand your ground at the same time. You hated him for the joy it seemed to bring him.

Three days ago the soldier really stepped over the line, smacking your bum as you walked past him. You had been too stunned to speak, trying to swallow down your fear, and quickly made your way back home… 

You couldn’t sleep and tried to fight down your sickness as you walked back to Crane’s cell the next day. You sent the soldier away, as always during your sessions with Crane, and sat down heavily. Quietly, you wrote down the date and his name, not looking up at him once. “How are you feeling today?” you asked then, staring at your first question. Crane remained quiet and after a long moment of silence you sighed and looked up. He studied you intensely, tilting his head a little as you finally looked up. “What? You didn’t hear me?” you asked more aggressively than you had intended.

“I’m doing fine, thank you,” he said calmly before squinting his eyes at you. “I suppose it’s a bad moment to ask you the same?” You remained quiet, only confirming his thoughts. “You can’t even keep eye contact, that’s dangerous in here. There won’t always be a guard around to protect you.”

“The guards are even worse than some inmates,” you spat out, still not looking up at him.

“I could’ve told you that on day one,” he smiled as you glanced up at him suspiciously. “Will you really let him mess up this opportunity for you?”

“Excuse me?” you asked quietly, a shiver running down your spine. “Who are you talking about?”

“I thought someone as stunningly beautiful as you are would be familiar with men acting up around you?” he gave back and raised his eyebrows at you. “But as it seems him touching you has been a first.”

You shifted in your seat and swallowed hard. “Why would I be alright if it happened more often?”

“I didn’t say it would be alright…but you’d be less shocked,” he shrugged. “Are you afraid of him?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you asked sharply. “So you can analyze someone’s fear? It’s the other way around here, I’m the one in charge.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “My dear, the patient is always in control…So, are you afraid?”

You stared at him before grabbing your things and getting up. “I won’t deal with this. We either do this my way or I’m leaving.” 

“Would you accept something like that from me? Or him?” he asked smirking.

Tears shot to your eyes and you firmly grabbed your notes. “Fine, I’ll leave.”

His smile faltered a little seeing the tears and he didn’t respond anymore, watching you leave.

…

Going back home that day made you question your planned career. Yes, the asylum was an extreme, especially here in Gotham, but were you really ready to deal with people like Crane on a daily basis? Were you ready to walk such corridors more often and encounter all types of screwed-up people? 

You weren’t looking forward to coming back to work today, knowing Crane would find it amusing that you took a few days off. The soldier would still be where he had been when you left and he wouldn’t stop. You subconsciously pull your sweater even further down, hoping it would hide the parts of your body he loved staring at. You wondered about Crane noticing your discomfort the last time but still questioning it. Did he really not care at all?

The moment you stepped into the asylum you knew he did care. The director met you at the door and filled you in about the events of last night. Apparently, Crane had gotten into a fight with one of the soldiers and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was that soldier. If it had been you somehow felt no compassion for the soldier which scared you a little. Why did that thought give you some sense of safety? Were you even more insane than Crane himself?

Your hopes of avoiding Crane for another day vanished into thin air the moment you heard there was an issue with the electric safety system of his door at the isolation cells. Of course, typically for your luck in life, the assigned electrician was at home because of a heavy flu. You had watched him a few times working at the doors and you had some past knowledge of circuits yourself. Apparently, you had mentioned that in your application because now you were being escorted to Crane’s temporary new cell to fix his door. You felt like the asylum’s personal monkey; just good enough to do whatever others didn’t want to.

And that's how you ended up in this awkward situation of sitting on the floor in front of Crane's cell, trying to fix the door and him continuously watching you. He had a small cut on his cheek; clearly the result of his fight. 

You decided you had had enough of the silence. "Why did you start a fight with a guard? I thought you enjoyed your cell outside the isolation corridor." 

Crane was surprised about you initiating the conversation first this time. Positively though. He smiled and shrugged. "He was...annoying." 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Of course. "So if someone annoys you, you just punch them in the face?" 

"He said some disrespectful things. That's all. I thought it was only appropriate to teach him some manners." Dr. Crane's mood had worsened within seconds. You wondered what the guard said for Crane to react like this. Sure, he had a threatening aura, but normally he was rather calm. Stiff, almost. Seeing him lash out into a physical fight was something new. 

"Appropriate. Somehow you using this word in combination with a beating actually makes sense. It's you after all." You made a vague gesture with the screwdriver to emphasize your words. 

Crane's face lightened up and he chuckled. "Oh? You know me that well? I had no idea you studied me this throughout." You looked up at him in annoyance. This guy really had no shame, now did he? 

Deciding, it had been enough small talk, for now, you resumed your work. At least you attempted to. You really did. You tried to concentrate on the circuit, you really did but it was incredibly hard when you could practically feel his eyes burning into your skin. Were you simply another pretty thing for him? Or was he actually interested in you?

You put down the screwdriver, a bit too aggressively than necessary, catching yourself fantasizing once more. "Turn around."

"Excuse me?" 

You immediately regretted saying that. How weird must that seem to him right now? "I feel watched. I can't work like this." You groaned in frustration as one of the cables once again slipped from your grip. Him laughing at your request just made it worse. "Prick", you muttered under your breath.

Crane actually heard that and started laughing even more. Something inside of you snapped and you grabbed the screwdriver and threw it through the bars, right at him. You only realized the impact of your action, when he easily caught it and his smirk grew. "What a nice gift from you."

Your throat went dry. Shit. This could easily be used as a weapon. "Give it back.", you demanded in an attempted authoritative tone, though it came out shaky. Fuck.

Crane spun the screwdriver between his fingers and watched you thoughtfully. "Alright." You were surprised but also relieved that he agreed so easily. "Just hold out your hand."

Your heart dropped. Of course, it wouldn't be this easy. As if he had read your mind, he answered by rattling the chain of his hand. You were a bit confused. If you remembered correctly there weren't any cells with non-extendible chains. Maybe it was an extra addition because it was him. "Safety measures since my little...confrontation. I can't get to the door. So you'll have to stretch your hand inside. I'll do the same." Dr. Crane could practically hear the fight you were having with yourself in your head. "Unless...you want me to keep it?"

No. That could end horribly. You took a deep breath and stepped closer to the bars. "Fine." Shaking all over, you reached through the bars.

Crane calmly stretched the screwdriver in your direction. It was right over your hand. Come on. Just give it to me! 

You should have never trusted him. The chains had been extendible from out the wall after all. He had lied to you. He dropped the screwdriver and launched forward, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you in his direction. The pull caused your body to collide with the cell bars, at the same moment, the screwdriver dropped to the floor. Fear spread through you like a wildfire and you felt your heart starting to race.

Your breathing was speeding up as you stared into his unreadable eyes. To test the waters, you gave your hand a little pull but Crane didn't loosen his grip one bit. "Dr. Crane. Let me go,” you spoke as calmly as possible.

His gaze was calm but that made you feel all the more threatened. Where were the guards? How could it be that you two always ended up being alone? Maybe this was your karma. You had wished for some time alone with him - without the stupid, flirtatious guard around - after all.

Crane stood up and walked forwards until he was right before you. The metal of the bars dug into your rips. He was so close that his breath mingled with yours. Crane lifted his hand - you tightly closed your eyes. You expected a punch. A jab. Him forcing you to open the door. Anything. Anything but this.

He very gently wrapped a strand of your hair around his fingers. The air got stuck in your throat. Crane smiled at you with something in his eyes you couldn't quite explain. "I always wondered if it was as soft as it looked."

Something about his smile and his casual demeanor made you really...angry. Maybe because you had just been afraid of him killing you and he does something like this. You gritted your teeth, putting as much rage into your gaze as possible. "Let me go!"

Crane blinked, seemingly knowing exactly what was going on. Another trait that was so infuriating about him. He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought, and hummed. "Why would I hurt you? I told you I'd give you a reason for you to feel safe around me."

"Then how about you don't just grab me and slam me against the door after you told me you'd only give me the screwdriver? Or how about you don't lie? That would make you seem more believable." You practically spat out the last word, staring over at the extendable chain. 

Crane followed your eyes and chuckled. "Fine. You caught me. But...the opportunity was just too tempting. If I would have asked you directly, you wouldn't have let me do it, right?"

"So you just force me into a situation where I can't run? Charming."

Dr. Crane's calm smile faltered when he realized how angry you were. He sighed, thinking about how to calm you down.

You decided to give him the answer by pulling at your hand again and glaring up at him. Crane huffed and rolled his eyes. It was the first time he was displeased in front of you. It made your blood run cold and you started shaking. Have you taken it too far? Would he hurt you now after all?

As always, the former psychiatrist noticed the change in your attitude and decided to gift you a calm smile. Which - in all honesty - just made him seem creepier.

Crane tilted your chin up with one finger, scanning your expression. "You are only angry… not scared at all. That's surprising. Or maybe you're just good at hiding it?"

You decided to use his own words against him. "Why would I be scared? After all...you won't hurt me." You said it with all the confidence you could muster but your voice shook a bit nevertheless. Crane smirked at that and nodded.

"You're right. I did say that." Your confidence faltered and you turned pale once more. What did that mean? That he was lying? You tensed when he got even closer, pulling you against the bars even more by grabbing your chin.

His eyes kept on flickering back and forth between the electric strike and you as if he was unsure whether it was worth forcing you to open the door after all. Unbeknownst to him you were contemplating too. In the end, you decided for it. Not the same thing he had thought about though. Instead of opening the door, you lowered your head quickly and straight up bit into the hand that had been grabbing your chin mere seconds ago.

The sheer surprise caused him to let go of your wrist. Without waiting for a moment more, you pushed yourself off of the bars, bringing several meters between you again. You only stopped when you collided with the bars of the opposite cell.

The look that Jonathan Crane was giving you was terrifying. In the next second, Crane's eyes flickered for a moment and then his threatening smirk dropped. "Y/N. You...should really step away from there."

"If you think I'd come even an inch closer to you, you are so wrong!" you hissed at him, unaware of the danger you were in.

Did he seem even more serious than usual and oddly...worried? No. That couldn't be. What would he be worried about? But he lifted both of his hands calmingly, the thumb of the hand you had bitten a bit bloody. You felt a bit of pride well up inside your chest. There. At least there were some consequences for his actions. He deserved it. It could barely be called a wound anyways. 

"Y/N." Crane swallowed and let out a light chuckle but it seemed stressed. "You don't need to walk over to me. Just...step aside at least."

"I'm not doing what you're telling me to do! I've had quite enough of your stupid games! So stop it with your smooth words and your stup-." The words got caught in your throat, by a strong arm wrapping around your throat and slamming you back against the bars.

Oh. Of course. You had been so infuriated by Crane that you had forgotten about the fact that you should stay away from the other cells as well. This was the more isolated and safer corridor for a reason.

Your nail dug into the flesh of the arm, trashing and gagging. This wasn't good. How the hell was the person behind you so strong? To believe you had even the smallest chance was a joke in itself. Your shoe didn't fit through the bars so kicking the inmate wasn't an option either. All you could do was claw at his arm. He didn't budge. Calling out for help turned out to be impossible. You'd need air for that. 

While you kept on searching for options and solutions, your sight got blurred and your throat dry as it tightened. Someone kept on calling your name frantically. Who was that? It was hard to focus on anything, with your lungs clenching painfully like this. They were aching for air, your whole being begging you to just breathe but you couldn't.

Your thought process slowed down. Of course. You could just-. But no. What that would mean for Gotham...how could you ever be so selfish? 

The consequences would be enormous. You pressed your eyes closed, croaking out a weak sound. This could've been your last one. The thought itself was so scary that you changed your mind within seconds. Nevermind. You didn't want to die. You'd rather get locked away for this than die.

You took your last remaining strength and kicked in the direction of the opposite cell. If it was destiny or sheer luck, you didn't know, but the sole of your shoe collided with the electric strike.

The corridor had been overshadowed by your tears and black dots dancing in front of your eyes. In the background, you could hear the loud, aggressive tone of a door opening. A door? Which door again?

You got your answer surprisingly fast when someone screamed in your ear like his whole life had just been turned into a living hell and the arm that had been choking you, let go. Staggering forward, you braced yourself for the impact with the floor. Instead, you fell face-first into the chest of someone else, and strong warm wrapped around you.

You frowned. Who was screaming around like this? It only increased your headache. And what was that shrill sound? Was that the alarm?

Your head was spinning, barely able to comprehend what had happened. At least until you looked over your shoulder. Now, you were able to see the inmate that had attacked you as you slowly regained your senses. He was lying on the floor, nails dug into his head, screaming and crying with wide eyes. You scooted back - or tried to - remembering that someone had caught you. Remembering your kick and the sound of a door, caused goosebumps to spread over your arms. Your heart was pounding like crazy when you slowly lifted your head. Please not him. Please not him. Please not-. 

You slowly turned your head and instantly met a wild blue ocean. It was him. For the first time since you knew him there was fear in his eyes that frantically searched your body. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up, starting to run whilst pulling you after him. There were no bars left between you two anymore.

PART ONE

MASTERLIST, PROMPT LIST, NEWS

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the list):

@angel-888x @alexxavicry @expensivechimmy @midgardianminx @washingmachineheart-13 @by7a @sirenshouts @unbeknownnst @kmctvsh

PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Pairing: Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader

Summary; You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you.

Warnings; fluff, mistreatment of women

F1 Master List

You had fought to get in the position you were in today and you had done it all with a smile on your face. It was easy back then, when there was less attention on you and less people questioning your every decision or underestimating your talent compared to the other drivers on the grid simply because you weren’t a man.

You were known for your smile, the way it was always present with everyone you spoke to and no matter the question you were asked but people seemed to take it as an invitation to say whatever they wanted as though it had no affect on you.

It didn’t in the beginning.

But as each of the questions piled on top of each other, the strain made it harder to maintain the smile, your struggle was hard to notice because you did such a good job of hiding it but one person did.

Kimi Räikkönen.

Whilst he was quiet, he was observant.

To him only a fool would think your smile was real. There was clearly such a huge difference between you being happy and you pretending to be happy.

There were no more sparkles in your eyes or twitch of your nose and it enraged him.

It was infuriating, knowing that the journalists and media had managed to ruin the pureness in you.

He wasn’t going to allow them to destroy you of everything you were.

You normally didn’t mind the driver’s press conferences but lately they’ve been…. hard.

The questions lately have hardly been about driving, instead about your possible challenges against the other drivers or if you feel as though you’re at a disadvantage.

You don’t. You’ve said countless times that you don’t feel the need to be treated differently in any sense and that you being female added no extra struggles in your opinion.

It seemed the tipping point for Kimi with these questions was when a female journalist asked not only peculiar but disturbing question.

You smiled at the woman as she stood up, thinking you’d get a real question about driving but that smile soon faded as she opened her mouth.

"Hi, this is a question for Y/N. As a woman, I was curious as to whether it’s more difficult for you to finish a race during the time of the month when you’re menstruating?"

You hated it. You hated that just because they’re a woman they think it excuses the questions they’re asking.

Beside you Kimi scoffed loudly, the most noise he’d made during the entire conference. "What sort of fucking question is that?" He stared straight into the woman’s eyes with a face as hard as ice.

The woman seemed taken back by him and started stuttering. "I-well-I was just-"

Kimi shook his head "We’ve been sat in these chairs for half an hour and not a single one of you imbeciles has asked her a real fucking question about the car or the race. All of you have sat there and just questioned her ability to do her job as if any of you know a thing about racing."

Kimi stood up from his seat and gestured for you to get up as well from where you were sitting in pure shock, lips parted and eyes wide you did and followed him out of the room, ignoring the fact that you weren’t meant to be leaving any time soon.

He was raging, he had sat and watched as your smile dimmed with each question; anger building inside until he just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

You had to run to catch up with him, he was walking so fast, fuelled by his anger. Your body was still in shock from the way he had spoken and stood up for you but you caught his arm which caused his footsteps to pause.

You looked up at him in silence for a moment, contemplating what to say as he looked down at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"You didn’t have to do that," you settled on saying.

Kimi huffed, glancing away for a short minute before returning his gaze back to you. "I did, I wasn’t going to sit and let them speak to you like that, you deserve better."

You shrugged and smiled weakly "It’s how it’s always been, they’re not going to change and I’ve accepted that."

"You shouldn’t need to," he argued before grumbling under his breath and reaching out to cup your cheeks, keeping his gaze locked with yours. "They’re taking away your smile and I’m not going to let them. You’re beautiful and your smile is beautiful, I’m not letting them take that away from you."

You blinked up at him in shock whilst trying to process his words, raising your own hands up to wrap around his wrists to keep his in place.

Eventually, you smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you."

He gave you that half smile you knew so well before pulling you into his embrace "Don’t listen to anything they say, they don’t know you."

You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let them knock you down, not when you had Kimi there to stand in front of you like a protective shield or hold your hand as you walked through the media storm.

You could do anything with him beside you, you could even keep your smile.

Peter Hayes x Reader || Drabble

*Yep, more Peter! I love him a lot and I just got a burst of inspiration for douche-boy.

Plot: You have a complicated relationship with your roommate from hell, Peter, who you most definitely hate. This is a sort of throw back to an old multichapter story I made for Divergent- there was this whole Enemies to Lovers thing with reader and Peter that was deliciously slow burning and I'm still kinda in love with it even though its so terribly written XD So I wanted to write something a little better for it.

Warnings: Love/Hate relationship, and you have a bullet wound. Unedited as of now...

When you, Tris, Four, Marcus and The Bastard got to Amity, since you and Peter (The Bastard) were badly injured what with his busted arm and your shot hip, you were allocated a room together, in the Hospital bay.

It was the worst thing ever to happen to you.

All day every day, you two argued. Sometimes it got physical, being Dauntless and having gotten used to sparring- him grabbing you with one arm and throwing you against a wall one time when you were hobbling to the bathroom and said something snotty to him, and you bending his fingers painfully back another, when he came over and patronised you. You slept in beds opposite each other in the little room, only a metre or two between your feet, which meant you were in each others faces throughout bed rest.

It was h e l l.

And you tell him so- "This is hell, Hayes."

"Back atcha, pansycake."

You flash him your best greasy, at that, from where you sit with your legs spread out straight in front of you upon your bed; Bored out of your mind as you're still in bedrest. "You are so hateable."

At that, he just flashes you a finger gun without looking up from the book he's flicking through. Huffing, your cross your arms. For a few moments you try to stay silent, and think about something else... but god you're just so bored. "- Why are you even here? You aren't on bed rest anymore. You can leave, you know."

He hums, turning another page. "I like to bother you, its one of my very few entertainments in this place."

Immaturely stick your tongue out at him. Then you calm down, pursing your lips and tilting your head in curiosity. "So... what're you reading?"

Peter rubs his face, and shrugs. "Ahh, its about- "

"Y/N? How are you going?- " Tris suddenly comes in, looking morose as ever and only looking at you; Ignoring Peter's existence.

"OH TRIS! Hi!~ I'm good, great, wonderful, how are you??" You immediately smile, acting like you weren't just about to engage in a domestic moment with your most hated rival. You'd rather die then let her know that happens... often... Peter looks bemusedly at you, before shaking his head and turning to Tris himself- just as happy for the entertainment.

"I'm... good... " She responds, looking at you weird. She glances Peter's way, and scowls. A scowl she can only ever muster the magnitude for, for Peter. "Has he been bothering you?"

"Not anymore than usual. But lets not talk about him- come here! Sit, talk, tell me what's happening outside of prison."

Tris chuckles, shaking her head and sitting down gently. "This isn't prison, Y/N, they're healing you."

"Yeah, but I'm stuck here with him."

At that, Peter perks up. "- Can I say something?"

You and Tris both say 'No', before turning away from him again. Tris sighs, and Peter raises his palms up like he's some victimized pup, behind her. "... I guess I'm just wondering how long it'll be until we get to leave. I don't know how much more of this I can take... "

Snorting good naturedly, your pat her hand. "I figure Amity wasn't one of your factions."

She smirks, and shakes her head, silently.

Frowning, you look down at your hip. You don't think you can travel with it like it is just yet... But you take a deep breath anyway, about to say you're ready to go whenever she is because you're a good friend damnit, but an unwanted voice speaks up, first.

"- You talkin' about the pansycake's hip, Stiff?" Tris and you both turn to him with another glare, her from hatred and annoyance, and you from confusion and annoyance. What is he doing? "Yeah that's still totally fucken stuffed. We're not going anywhere for at least another couple weeks."

WHY!? Your eyes widen, and you look back to Tris who's looking at curiously, worry etched in her eyes as she searches you, for the truth. She certainly isn't going to take Peter's word, and you're so thankful for that. "Is that true? you said you were getting better."

"I am." The words come out firmly, flashing Peter a Shut up kind of stormy look. He narrows his eyes, back at you.

Then he shrugs, casual. "Just ask the doc. Y/N still needs help taking a shit."

Your face goes up in flame, at that. "I do not!" You exclaim in a high voice, then turn back to Tris; Shame written all over your face. "He just helped me to the bathroom a couple of times and it got to his egomaniacal little head. Please believe me, I'll be fine if you want to go! If you really aren't happy here, I'm ready to- "

Tris just looks increasingly confused as you try to assure her. "He helped you?- "

"She needs a lot of it. Actually they're pretty much a dependent."

"Peter!" You exclaim, just needing him to shut the hell up! Like, that's all you want. Why is he doing this? What's his stake!?? Looking around, you search for something. Something to throw, something to throw, something to throw...

Meanwhile Tris looks quite alarmed, as she gets up from your bed. Reaching for her, you try to make her come back, but she steps back. "... I think I'll talk to the healer."

"Yeah, Stiff, you do that." Peter nods, looking back to his book like he never did anything. Tris turns, and you're just thinking about how bizarre it is that Tris is following Peter's advice on something; Dumbfounded.

She leaves the room and you're just watching her with dropped jaw... before gathering your senses and turning to glare daggers at your roommate from hell.

At first he ignores you, but you persevere, darkening your glare and strengthening it, and making it an supreme glare, until finally he looks up; Brows raised up his forehead towards his brown hair, like, what?

WHAT!?

"Something you want from me Y/N?"

"Something I want from you!?- YEAH. I want to know why you decided to lose your ever loving mind for too many moments there, and look out for my health of all things!?- "

The evil boy with the innocent face, shrugs. Quietly, he responds with; "Someone has to."

For a moment you have no idea how to even respond, to that. But, forcing a dry laugh, because you're shocked, you shake your head. "Yeah! But not you... "

You continue to stare, full of shock, at Peter. Waiting an answer, but this time he doesn't respond.

~

Its not until late that night that you speak again; Until you gather the courage to go and do what you've been doing every night since basically you moved into this hell-place. Because suddenly it's odd... weird.

It should have been those things the whole time, but it is only now, for some reason. The only thing that's clear to you is that that reason is not the one it should be.

Taking a deep breath in, you slip out of bed. As soon as your feet touch the floor, a strike of pain flashes through your body coming from your hip and you wince- but gather your crutches anyway and continue on.

You cross the room, which is quite a familiar journey at this point, quite carefully; Basically sliding across the smooth hardwood in your socks, to keep from changing the amount of pressure on your hip too much, too often.

You get to Peter's bed in a minute or so, and cross your arms over your stomach after leaning your crutches against the wall. Worrying your bottom lip, you wonder whether you should even do this tonight. Whether the whole thing is just fucking up your feelings about each other too much and soon you wont be able to remember that you hate each other... or why you should hate each other.

Because you do, indeed, hate him. Of course you do. He's an ass and he's crass and he's rude- all of which he is on-purpose, for some reason.

You have to hate him... don't you? That's why you want to throw things at him, and glare in his face, and spit venom-words him way.

The only thing you don't know, is why you sleep with him in his bed every night. Why you need to, or you cant sleep at all. Or why he likes to be like that with you.

Sighing, the idea of slipping in and falling asleep too good to pass up now that you're close, you drop your arms and pat his arm. "Up, Peter. Coming in." You whisper, and see him roll over to face your way, making room for your body to curl into his own.

Its a bit of a struggle to get in, but he helps you but pulling your body from the edge, into him. Then, as you're sighing against his chest and closing your eyes, relaxing, Peter hikes your leg (The one on your injured side), up over his hips- as its better for your injury, to be elevated during sleep.

Getting comfortable now, you wrap your arms up around his neck, as his arms go around your waist; Its all muscle memory now, going to bed with him.

And this is how you sleep. Together.

Every night.

No words are spoken except your knee is digging into me's, or maybe a half-hearted i hate you, as you fall asleep safe, in a much-too intimate position for most hated rivals to enjoy. And then, before you wake up a little early, the both of you say goodmorning, bane of my existence, and you sneak back to your own bed before anyone comes in to check on the two of you- because no one in the world, can know about this. For obvious reasons.

Which is the only agreed upon term you've come up with together concerning your should-be illegal cuddling activity.

Tonight is slightly different, though, as you open your eyes again. You cant help but think about what he said earlier, about taking care of you. Should you ask...?

Looking up at him, you wonder if you really should, but he opens his own eyes under your gaze and you immediately look down again; Pretending in vain to be asleep.

Damn it!

"Y/N... " Peter mutters, shifting against you.

"Oh," You say back, awkwardly. "We're... talking, now, are we? We're doing that?"

"Nah," He chuckles, before adding; "I am."

Oh.

"I just feel like I kinda gotta tell you something." Here it comes, you think, dread and... something else, filling your chest. Something unfamiliar, not to you in general but... having it be connected to Peter. THAT's unfamiliar. "While you're all tired and quiet, and only minorly annoying."

At that, you pull back and open your mouth to retort something, as you're quite outraged, but he just smirks at you; And its so soft, it stops you in your tracks. You promptly close your mouth again, looking at him and paying attention.

"You're still a huge pain in my ass, but whether you like it or not I'm going to keep you safe in all this bullshit." His face goes serious. That dark, cruel look he gets when he's about to do something horrid on his face- and you know he's got something up his evil sleeve. "I promise."

"How am I supposed to trust you... ?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me. Just telling you how it is, okay?"

You feel dread fill your chest, but also... warmth. Because if anyone's going to be looking out for you, you're oddly glad its Peter. He's a familiar evil, at least, in a war full of unknown before you. You feel like you wont ever be surprised, by him. Because you expect the worst. And he knows you well- After all; He is your roommate from hell.

- And also, maybe, you've really enjoyed your cuddles with him- more then you're ready to let on.

You find yourself nodding, back at him. "I'll keep you safe, too."

... At which he scoffs, rolling his eyes and tucking you back against his chest. "Yeah, right."

You punch him in the gut- gently, though. Just enough for him to know you hate him.

No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck.

Instead of Magneto…

✨vagneto✨

Cause he’s a 🐱🐱 magnet

She… she calls it “Chupi”.

THE IMPERFECTS 1.03 “Portland Warehouse Massacre”

(My) Nuisance Mini Series

Hobie Brown x Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been Hobies neighbor for around a year and you absolutely despise him. His stupid hair, stupid clothes, stupid music, and stupid boots. What happens when you find out he’s the one behind your favorite superhero’s mask?

Things to know! • Reader is obsessed with spiderman. Like totally in love with spiderman. • I use Spiderman and Spider-punk interchangeably (they’re both hobie) • A flat is an apartment in Britain • Reader uses british slang but isn’t necessarily british

a/n: so many people wanted this to be a mini series and i’m finally doing it!! idk how long this will be but i’ll post short installments for a while. Some will relate to others and some will be one parters.

Parts! -

One. (My) Nuisance

Two. Hate the AM, Hate the PM, But love you

Three. Drunk words are sober thoughts

Last update: June 12th 23

Stay Tuned for more!

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