slams own face repeatedly into wall

anonymous asked:

You should write one where the reader gets in a really bad fight with a jock and Eric and Dylan clean up her wounds causing her to undress and she gets shy?

Your bags strap stretched with your chest as you took a large deep breath in, exhaling slowly and looking at the door in front of you.
GIRLS LOCKER ROOM beaming at you like a omen of doom. Rolling your shoulders you quietly pushed the door open and hurried inside.
Gym class. Physical education. Student torture….
It was your most loathed subject as it meant you were in close proximity to the queen bitch devil herself Annabelle Worthington. This…this thing that was an excuse for a human, made it her mission in life to make yours a misery. She must of got commission from satan himself for every tear she made you shed.

You quickly glanced around and assumed that you’d timed your arrival perfectly for once and that everyone was already changed and waiting for the lesson to start. You quickly opened your gym locker, taking out your change of clothes before starting to remove your own. As you reached for your shorts a sickly sweet voice filled your veins with ice.

“Jesus you look even worse without those rags you call clothes on!”

You spin quickly to see Annabelle and her tag along friends walking you in disgust. She walked slowly towards you, eyeing you over in the same fashion that a farmer would to a cow he was interested in buying. You swallowed hard and resumed dressing. Trying in vain to ignore her clicking her tongue and giggling at your discomfort.

“What? No smart words coming from you now y/n? Oh I get it! You only grow a spine when those loser faggots are around you. Do you really think trying to look tough will make them want you? Your pathetic.”

“Look Annabelle just leave me alone!”

“Oh look! She speaks! Hmmmm and why would I do that y/n? It’s so fun to see you cry and then STILL get into trouble for it! Don’t you get it yet? Your nothing, you never will be anything in your entire life. Well maybe you’ll be pumping gas into my Mercedes one day but that’s aiming pretty high as it is”

Her two cronies trilled sickening giggled as she finished. Copying her exact words to you. You felt the tears begin yet again to well in your eyes. No. Not this bullshit again! You were so very very tired of the same shit from this fucking bitch day in and day out. As she laughed at you distracted by her sense of entitlement and security in regards to how your school operated, your fist curled into a tight ball, connecting perfectly with her chin. Knocking her into her buddies and therefore all 3 collapsing to the ground.

She stared at you in shock before her face contorted into a hideous snarl as she launched herself at you. The other two quickly following suit. As they pinned you to a wall she grabbed a bat discarded nearby from a previous class and smashed into you repeatedly in body. Snarling and cursing at you the entire time. Dropping the bat and curling her own hand into a fist she connected with your face, over and over. She finally grasped your hair tightly in her fist wrenching you face close to hers before she spat on you, then slammed your head back into the lockers.

You vision wavered as she loomed above you, her voice sounding as it it was underwater before turning tail and stomping away, leaving you slumped on the ground bleeding and dazed. It must of only been a few minute but the entire attack felt like it lasted hours. You gingerly picked yourself up off the floor. Wincing in pain with almost every breath.

“Fucking bitch! I’ll kill you you fucking whore I swear to god!”

You muttered under your breath. Fuck this class you thought, grabbing your bag and stumbling out and into the halls. You needed a smoke badly so made a beeline for the smokers pit. You sat on the ground, you back pressed against the wall as the smoke kissed your lungs. You pulled your hood up over so it covered half of your face and stared off into the distance. Wallowing and succumbing to your humiliation and physical pain you shivered as the tears cut salty trails down your face.

“HEY Y/N!!! What you doing skipping troublemaker?”

“Hey were just as bad as her REB”

You flinched as you instantly recognised the voices of your two good friends Eric and Dylan. Keeping silent and your face turned you gave a weak wave of hello before taking another deep drag of your cigarette.
They quickly reached you and lit their own smokes, mumbling to themselves and trying to engage you. Dylan was quick to realise something wasn’t right.

“Y/n…you ok?”

“I’m fine”

“You don’t seem fine”


“Whoa shit ok ok! Damn! What crawled up your butt and died?”


An awkward silence filled the air until you felt a pair of hands drag you up as another pulled back your hood.

“JESUS!! What the hell happened to you y/n?!!”

“Who did this?! I’ll fucking kill them!”

You looked away from them both as they stared in horror at your bruised and bloodied face. Eric gently turning your face and examining you. They looked at each other, silent words flowing between them as they ushered you away with them. You all reached Dylan’s cat and the pushed you gently in. Still in silence. You looked everywhere but their faces. From the back seat you could see Dylan glance at you constantly from his rear mirror. You knew Eric was seething mad by how red his neck was.

You arrived quickly at Eric’s house and they bundled you Down to his room. They say you on the bed and Dylan hurried off into Eric’s bathroom, coming back with a clean cloths and warm water. They both gently washed the blood away from your face and where it had dropped onto your hands and neck.

“You need to take your shirt if y/n”

“What?! No Eric!!”

“Y/n we need to check you over!”

“No Dylan!”

“It’s okay y/n… it’s ok, we honestly just need to check the damage, I can see brushing on your chest, and since you don’t want to tell us what happened…”

You groaned and slowly pulled your shirt off. Fresh tears beginning to drop down your face. They boys exclaimed loudly and cursed as they saw the purple welts beginning to form all over your chest and torso. Dylan touched one close to your stomach making you gasp in pain.

Eric threw his cloth to the ground in fury, knocking the bowl of now cold orange tinted water across the floor demanding to know what had happened and who had done this to you.

“DUDE! You fucking scaring her!”

“I’m sorry V but look at what they’ve done to her! How can you be so calm right now!”



“It wasn’t they…it was her. Annabelle…she was giving me hell so I punched her.”

“That’s our girl!”


Dylan glowered at Eric who was far too pleased that you’d thrown the 1st punch.

“What Dylan? Annabelle is always kicking y/n around! I’m happy she clocked her!”

“Well Eric all it got me was her two flunkies pinning me down while she beat the shot out of me with a bat….”

Both Eric and Dylan’s mouth hung open in shock and horror at what you’d just told them. Afterwards their expressions became that of pure hatred. You gingerly pulled your shirt back on. Grimacing in pain at the movements. Eric stood quietly and left the room. Dylan placed his hand on your shoulder telling you that it was all gonna be ok.

“How the fuck will it be ok huh Dylan? Tell me fucking honestly? Coz I don’t see any fucking possible way that it’s gonna be ok. I can’t tell the deans they’ll just say I provoked her!!”

“Trust us when both Dylan and I say…you’ll get revenge. I promise you.”

“Don’t make false promises Eric! She’s won! Yet again!”

Dylan and Eric looked at each other again then at you. Those silent words flowing between them again. Eric placed two pain killers into your hand before offering you water to take them. Eric then sighed deeply, almost sorrowful.

“We never make false promises so we Dylan?”

“No….no we don’t REB.”

anonymous asked:

B*rchie is coming!!

When you get so lost in your own fanfiction that you start believing it, create a pseudo religion out of it bc it’s becoming something greater than an obsession and go around door to door to sell that ‘religion’ by screaming your nonsense in people’s faces, you get messages like this. 

By the way: that ship died in alone in a ditch due to the decapitation back in episode 101. The body might convulse from time to time due to Wilbur’s bullshit but there’s no saving that thing without it’s head. Might wanna consider slamming your head into a brick wall repeatedly over a different cause, Anon.  

Tough Love (Bias x Reader) Pt.12

Trigger warning: abuse.

Seeing B/N leave hurt more than any blow Sid could’ve given you. Seeing the pain in his eyes felt like your chest was going to cave in on itself. So why would you stay with your abuser? Because you were scared. 

You were scared to leave. Even with the door of opportunity swinging wide open, you didn’t take it. You know he’d find you and every time you thought about an escape plan, you’d imagine him two steps ahead of you. 

You were discharged from the hospital about two months later and not once did B/N return. What reason did he have? But Sid catered to you. He did everything for you. Not once did he raise his voice to you. 

You’re going on your sixth month since the incident and Sid continues to apologize. He wants you to say it’s okay, that you forgive him. You don’t give him that satisfaction because with it comes the gateway to other things.

You’re able to eat and do everything on your own now. You think him being kind would put everything back to normal. No. He’d kiss you and you’d feel your skin crawling. He’d touch you and your mind would go back to B/N. He’d make love to you - no. Not make love, you hated the phrase when it was associated with Sid. It wasn’t love. You called it what is was. Sex. That’s it. 

The closest thing to love you made was with B/N and even thinking about it has your stomach fluttering and your heart hurting. You nearly let his name slip when you were with Sid. You don’t want to imagine the repercussions. 

You don’t go back to the gym, for obvious reasons. You practice at home, not wanting your body to forget all B/N has taught you. But you’re absolutely miserable, so you hide it. You’ve needed time to do all you planned to do. 

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” Sid asks as you cook, him sitting on the couch in front of the TV, like always.

“No,” blunt honesty, the kind he hates. His head snap around and you look him dead in the eye. 

“What did you say?” his soft tone has been withering for the past few weeks and honestly you’ve been waiting for it.

“I said no, I wasn’t listening to you,” you don’t raise your voice, even though the volume of the TV is too high. He hears you clearly though.

He bites his lip and gives a slight laugh, turning back to the screen. He does nothing, but you wish he did. Enough reason to do something. You both sit at the small table and eat, the silence deadly between you both. 

“Do you still think about him?” 

“To the point where it makes me sick,” 

He pauses, “Since when did you get so honest?” 

“Why lie?” 

He nods and leans his arms on the table, “You’re right. So let’s be honest. Do you love him?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Then why did you stay here?” 

You lean into your chair, “Because this is my house,” 

He laughs, “Nice,” he gets up to go to the kitchen. You take your phone out and dial the police. Your turn the volume low so that Sid can’t hear their voices, but making sure they can hear yours. You hope they can trace your call like they do in the movies. 

“You can threaten me all you want, I don’t care. This is my house, my money. I’m not leaving. You are,” 

He turns to you, perhaps starting to take you seriously, “My name is on everything, good luck with that,” 

You laugh, “I thought you were smarter than that. I removed everything. Bank accounts too.” He narrows his eyes. You haven’t seen him this angry in months. Here’s the Sid you know. 

“So you never loved me?” 

Of course you did, but that love quickly turned into something toxic, “This isn’t love, it hasn’t been for some time now. And I don’t want this. I don’t deserve this,”

“All these months…” he laughs to himself, “You were waiting for this?” 

“I stayed because you threatened me and because a part of me thought you’d change. But you can’t change unless you want to,” he cuts you off, not wanting to hear what you have to say.

“I think six months was enough of a break, do you?” you know without a doubt he’s going to give it his all. 

You get to your feet slowly, phone in your hand, “Yeah, I think so too,” 

“Pretty boy isn’t here to save you though,” 

“I don’t need him to,” 

The scrape of the chair let’s you know he’s serious as he rushes you. You almost forgot how fast he was. Usually you cower, but this time you duck last minute from his reach, sliding under the table. You shove it against him and it flips over, falling onto his bare feet. As he screams, trying to free himself, you slide the phone towards the sofa as you grab the chair, slamming it against him. It doesn’t break but it leaves an impression. He grabs the chair and flings it at you. You dodge it but it’s a distraction that brings him to you. 

You’re against the wall and his hands are squeezing your throat tight. You clasp your hands together, forcing your hands between his own as you grab his head. With your elbows pushing his arms aside, you did your nails into his face. You didn’t grow your nails long all these weeks for nothing. You slam your head against his chin, since it’s the only place you can reach.

You slap him repeatedly for the sole purpose of humiliating him. A slap is more degrading than a punch. You don’t give him the upper hand. You kick the back of his knee in and he falls to the other with you punching him in the face with everything you have. He shoves you back and you trip over a stupid shoe. 

He’s on top of you trying to hold your hips down the same way B/N demonstrated. Talk. It might not work but you’ll try. You’re calm, despite the turn of events. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you cry. You don’t fight against him. He stops and hovers over you now, face bloody.

He squeezes your face, “You’re sorry?”

You nod, the tears coming out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t do this next time, I promise,” 

“There won’t be a next time,” He raises his fist, but you slap his ears hard with your palms. He’s on the ground holding his head as you kick him in the stomach repeatedly until he cries out. Did you break a rib?

His face is contorted in pain, “Doesn’t feel too good does it?” you kick him again harder, “Does it?” 

He wipes his mouth, but he appears to be enjoying this. He gets to his feet, holding the wall for support, “Who taught you all this?” 

“My boyfriend,” he laughs. He must think you’re talking about him, “I recalled he handed you your ass the last time you met,” his smile is gone.

That’s one way to get him riled up. He flies towards you and you repeat a move you’ve seen B/N do countless times. One of his favorites. You slam your knee into his diaphragm and he hunches forward. 

Seeing him in pain makes you mad, because you were in his position merely months ago. But he’s evidently had enough too. He swings, the back of his hand spinning you around as you see stars. 

No anger, you hear B/N’s voice, you need to think clearly. Breathe.

He picks you up and you know he plans to throw you so you cling to him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder, tasting blood. He forcefully throws you off of him, but you land better than you would’ve before. 

With him rushing you, you spin around, raising your foot last minute as you kick him in the one place he can’t recover so easily from. And you kick there again and again, until he’s on the floor, unable to make a sound. You kick him all over and you find that you’re screaming and crying. And you’re scared and relieved. 

There’s a knock on your door before they kick it open. The police. Late as always. Their guns are up but they slowly lower it once they see you standing and B/N on the ground. The thought of beating Sid at his own game didn’t occur to you, but would the cops actually arrest you instead?

They step towards you hesitantly, one moving to Sid, the other towards you. “Are you alright Miss?” you can’t even speak. You watch them handcuff Sid, pushing him out the door. Something you wish you’d done three years ago.

Even in his pain, he tries to defend himself, “This isn’t how it happened. She’s lying! Listen to me!” he fights against them, what else is new, “Look at me. She attacked me!”

The cop turns to you, “We know what happened,” Of course they do, after the amount of complaints they’ve received, “You’re lucky to have gotten through this. Some aren’t,”

They call an ambulance, because they’re supposed to even though you said you were fine. As you wait, you look at your apartment, seeing the broken items and damaged furniture. You pick up your phone and the overturned table. Your hands shaking as the realization sets in. You sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. And you cry, for all the right reasons this time.

Out of Sorts

Based on this imagine at imaginexhobbit

Warnings: Period stuff.

Word count: 1,659

Discomfort is one thing. Scrapes and bruises, the blisters on your feet and the occasional headache you get when you ride your pony for too long… those are all uncomfortable. Not to mention infinitely more manageable.

This, on the other hand, is unbearable.

The pain holds like a vice onto your pelvis, reaching up your back and down into your knees as you curl in on yourself, trying like mad to keep your head up in case of attack, or worse, Thorin seeing you slacking on your watch; you weren’t going to allow yourself to be caught in a vulnerable position which puts the company in a vulnerable position, and your hide in a much more vulnerable position as he reprimands you for being so careless.

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Fix Me part 4

Request: Hi! I read that the requests are still open, and I have an idea. My idea is that the reader is batman’s girlfriend, and works at Arkham asylum and treats the joker. The joker falls for her and wants her to turn crazy? I love your blog btw :) By anonymous

Word Count: 919

Warnings: Blood, Guns, kissing.

A/N: Sorry that it took so long! This is the last part!! -Demi

part 1, part 2part 3


You stand up, walking to the two men. ‘’You could’ve killed me already…’’ You say, walking past them to the doors of the Asylum. ‘’Well… are you guys coming?’’ You load your gun and walk through the doors followed by Joker, Johnny and all the henchmen.’’Let’s kill the bat.’’ A smirk crosses Joker’s face.

‘’You’ve heard her, get him.’’ Joker walks through the hallways searching for the Dark Knight. He loads his gun and starts to kick in doors and open the cell doors of patients. A man comes out one of them and looks scared at him. ‘’Boo!’’ He laughs as the man starts to run like crazy, screaming as hard as he can. You look at Joker and can’t stop but smile yourself. He looks back at you and sees your smile, for a second he’s competently quiet. 

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