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[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | 483 words | teen | tags: childhood friends | @steddiemicrofic prompt "stuff")

Steve is seven when he runs away from home.

It's the end of his first year at Hawkins Elementary. His report card says his reading is below grade level and that he needs to improve over the summer. Steve doesn't mind practicing reading, but he's afraid his parents will be angry.

So he packs his little backpack and leaves. His little legs carry him through the woods behind the Harrington estate. The sun is still warm and bright, but soon it gets dark in the dense woods and Steve starts to feel scared. What if there are bears? He saw some on the Nature Channel; they could eat him in one giant bite.

Or worse, what if there are monsters?

Whimpering, his legs speed up until he almost runs.

He barrels into a boy playing at the edge of the woods, both of them falling to the ground with a loud oomph.

"What did you do that for?" the boy demands, looking at Steve with big brown eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I was running from the monsters."

"Monsters?" the boy asks in alarm. "Where?"

Steve points behind him. "In the woods. They would have eaten me!"

They both scramble to their feet and look to where Steve came from.

There are no monsters, but they agree that this doesn't mean anything. Monsters are sneaky.

"Wanna go to my place and play?" The boy suddenly asks Steve. "There are no monsters, just Wayne. He's, like, super nice."

Steve looks at the boy's dark, unruly curls that would make his mother huff, and thinks he likes how wild they look.

"Yeah," he agrees, and then, remembering his manners, holds out his hand. "I'm Steve."

Eddie looks doubtful, but takes it. "I'm Eddie," he says, pumping Steve's hand exaggeratedly, which makes Steve giggle.

They play for hours until Eddie's uncle, who is super nice, asks him when his parents are picking him up. It doesn't take much nudging to get Steve to spill the beans. Wayne assures him his parents won't be mad and that they are probably worried sick.

When he leaves Eddie's room to call them, Steve looks at his new friend with sad eyes.

"I don't wanna go. What if the monsters catch me?"

Eddie looks back at him with equally sad eyes but then straightens his little shoulders and picks up a stuffed dragon.

"You can have Sir Lancelot. He protects me from bad dreams; he can protect you from monsters."

They hug for a long time as Steve's parents arrive to take him home, Sir Lancelot safely in Steve's arms.

Years later, Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed to find Sir Lancelot lying on his chest, watching over him, while Steve sleeps in a chair next to him.

Protected by his dragon and his knight in shining armor, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take over once more.

[drurrito]

A/N: Another blurb--don't @ me I wrote this off painkillers and muscle relaxers

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: none...?

-----

Natasha doesn't miss the look the nurse gives her when she's only a few down the hall. Like she couldn't get here fast enough.

You're too busy beaming up at Natasha from the wheelchair to care. She's here, just like she said she'd be.

"There she is," you swoon, Natasha breathes out a laugh. You try to throw your arms up to greet her, but almost drop the sagging bag of meds from your grasp had it not been for her quick reflexes.

"I'll take it from here," Natasha gives a lopsided smile as the nurse makes haste of spinning you around. In a blink, the handles to the wheelchair are in Natasha's hands. Natasha watches your head loll to the back of the chair, your tired eyes trying to give some semblance of a wink. You think this might be your favorite view of her, ever.

"Missed me?"

"Your name instantly fell from my lips when I came to," you say, still slurring from the drugs.

"Oh, they really pumped you full of the good stuff, huh?"

"Doc told me to count backwards from 100, I got to 77," you couldn't look prouder, and that made Natasha roll her eyes much harder than she planned to. Stubborn even in the face of medical-grade anesthesia, figures.

"I talked a lot about you, too."

"Ad nauseam!" The nurse shouts, already halfway to the doors of the hospital wing. You both share a look of amusement before Natasha carts you off into the compound for some much-needed rest.

[bustybounty]

(no pressure to answer this immediately; Love your work, and hope you are doing well~)

After you found her ship crashed out in your backyard just a couple days ago, you've quickly found out how dangerous incredible your newfound 'bunny wife' truly is. Not only has she acclimated to Earth's culture really well, but she's even discovered some new things about herself in the process! Like how quickly her body can convert the excessive amount of calories she consumes into more T&A; Both for your pleasure, and her own. Or how hopelessly compatible her species is with yours, seeing how she's already given birth to a couple million or so of your hybrid offspring, and is still openly "begging" (note: demanding) for you to pump even more into her. Or how her milk production has become so excessive that she requires industrial-grade pumps to drain her massive chest, and even with them milking her 24/7, she still produces more faster than they can drain!

To be fair, though, you've also discovered a few things about yourself throughout this process. Like how dangerous incredible it feels to breed your 'bunny wife' senseless, or how much bigger you've felt ever since you started drinking the excess milk she produces.

...Then again, maybe this is why her home planet (and home galaxy...) got 'accidentally' destroyed through sheer overpopulation...

She's been so excessive generous to me ever since I rescued her, and I'm making sure that her stay here is very hospitable! I wouldn't want her to feel terrible about her new home after all, it's not just a different town, it's a whole new planet, with a whole new species... that turned out to be EXTREMELY compatible with hers...in fact, somehow breeding with humans provides more outcome than breeding normally...something we were both maybe a little too excited to find out.

Well, her growing curves have also been an absolute bonus that's providing more pleasure for the both of us, which results in faster and more efficient breeding sessions, as well as plenty of foreplay before and after these sessions by playing with those immensely soft and heavy curves of hers. They've even served as a bed before, though usually that's reserved for her constantly hyper pregnant belly, since it's a whole lot bigger than everything else in her body combined. She's so completely overtaken by her womb in every regard that it's hard for her to size down even after a gigantic pregnancy or two.

She's always ready to breed for more no matter what. It rarely takes her longer than an hour after one pregnancy ends for her to demand getting bred again, no matter the cost, no matter whatever it takes, she WILL get another batch of beautiful healthy offspring.

Her milky tits are still extremely impressive despite not being as large as her continental belly, though with the way they swell when she isn't milked enough, they make up for it. The milk is sweet and potent too, rich in nutrients, meaning it's great to drink it too! I know I drink plenty, which fuels my energy and gets me prepared to...well, breed her even bigger~

Overpopulation problems are a bridge I'll cross when I get to them...Probably... I mean... as she's starting to make billions per pregnancy, it's definitely starting to be an issue we should consider fixing, but we're both too horny and breeding-minded to ever think about anything else at this point... Plus, it's not like we can just move everyone to a different planet, at this rate she's not just going to overpopulate the galaxy, she's going to grow as BIG as one, and probably overpopulate the local cluster if not the universe itself...

Give it time and I'll breed her enough for those goals to be attained...she'll love every moment I'm sure~ <3

(Thank you, hope you like this one too! <3)

[syrupfog]

Tired, tired barista Law. Works in the coffee shop at the heart of campus where the line is always out the door and the drinks are so sugary it makes him physically ill to pump the syrups. He's the shift lead though so he has to pull the longest hours and cover anyone out sick. 

He's just. Tired all the time. But it's fine, he just has to keep his grades up and keep his job and get into the fellowship he's after and then it'll be smooth sailing to get onto the night shift at the hospital he wants and work his way up to day shift it's fine.

Honestly the biggest problem he deals with is the store manager, Doflamingo. Once, a year ago at this point, Law had mentioned that he would have to leave his position if he managed to get the receptionist position at the university hospital. It would've given him connections.

But apparently the mere idea that Law would be willing to leave, to no longer work under Doffy, was betrayal enough. He's been... off. Ever since. At the very least, Law knows he's never getting a raise again. He'll be lucky if he's not framed for stealing from the till.

One morning, after an especially rough clopener where Law found himself cleaning literal shit off the bathroom walls multiple times, Doffy comes in to inform him that he's going to have to stay until close because he’s declaring an emergency shift lead meeting.

Law has two midterms and a lab due within forty eight hours, but he needs the money and as much as he'd like to in this moment, he can't just walk out on the job. He nods, stiffly, and goes back to creating the worst latte art of all time.

It's for a regular. He comes in almost every day, orders lattes, and then DOESN'T DRINK THEM. He insists on the drinks that are the most annoying to make (Law's good at hearts but he's started turning them into dicks out of annoyance) and then he doesn't EVEN DRINK THEM.

He just sits in one of the plush chairs in the corner until his drink is cold and then leaves, waving at Law with a big smile on his face like they're old friends. 

It's weird. Law doesn't trust it. 

Of course, as Bepo says, Law doesn't trust much of anyone these days.

And as Penguin says, that's probably because he hasn't slept more than 3 hours in a night in two years. 

And as Shachi says, damn. That's fucked up, dude. 

Finishing the latte (the art is a dick, there's no denying it), Law pushes it across the counter to the regular.

His straw hat is pushed back, giving Law a view of his wide, wide eyes and general overexcited look. 

"Thanks!" he says, taking the drink and blowing on it, instantly sloshing foam over the side. 

Law rolls his eyes and goes back to the ever growing line of customers.

The day doesn't pass quickly, but it ends eventually as all things must. Law is dead on his feet, sweeping the same spot of floor with stained mocha powder for almost ten minutes before Bepo, sanitizing the espresso machines, takes pity on him.

"You should go," he says. "I can finish cleaning up. Go get some real sleep." 

Law rubs at his eyes. "No, it's fine," he says. "Actually, you should go. Doffy's making me stay for a shift lead meeting so I'll be here regardless." 

Bepo does not look happy with that answer.

But Law's his boss, technically. Law grits his teeth and checks another closing chore off the list. 

He knows Doffy's upstairs in his office, but it does slowly dawn on him that he's seen no other shift leads coming in. There's four of them, and yet... 

Odd.

All he can concentrate on at this point, is that the sooner he gets done the sooner he can go home. Home. Where his bed is, and more importantly his notes for O Chem. 

He shoos Bepo off home when the only thing left to do is inventory. Moving slow, he grabs the clipboard and makes his way into the walk-in, propping the door behind him. 

Scones, muffins, cheesecakes... It's dark in here, and Law realizes he's left his phone on the counter. He can't tell what's blueberry and what's chocolate chip. 

He's just about to turn around and grab it when the door of the walk-in slams shut. 

Law freezes. 

He'd propped that door open, right? It wouldn't just close like that. 

The walk-in door doesn't lock, for like. Security purposes. He goes and pushes against it, only to find resistance. Not like it's latched, but like like someone's barricaded the door. 

Law grits his teeth. This isn't good. 

It's cold in here, he has no phone, and Bepo's already gone. If he listens, he can hear someone's footsteps, the scraping of chairs. 

It feels like overreacting to yell. To react at all.

But— he's cold. he's in his uniform, and a short sleeve polo doesn't do much when one is locked in a freezer. Is this one of the shift leads playing a prank? Kid wouldn't be organized enough to try this. Apoo might... 

His chattering teeth eventually win out over his pride.

"Hello?" he yells. "I'm still in here!" 

There's a beat of silence, and then slow, steady footsteps. 

"I know," says a voice that is distinctly Doffy's. "And you'll keep being in there, until you learn your lesson." 

"What the fuck," Law spits. "What fucking lesson?"

"I saw your papers, Trafalgar," Doffy says. "I know you're applying to that summer internship program." 

Law is. He doesn't have a shot in hell of getting in, doesn't have the connections. He's still applying, though. "So what?" 

"You're my best shift lead," Doffy says.

"You're my best worker altogether. It would be ridiculous to abandon me now." 

Law was always going to abandon him. This is a coffee shop. He's not planning on working clopeners the rest of his life. "Let me out, Doffy," he says. His nose is icy. His hands are in his armpits.

"I'll give you a night to think on it," Doflamingo says. "Maybe you'll make better decisions in the morning." 

Law knows very well that he won't survive in a freezer overnight. He's not even wearing socks inside his boots, the cold is already numbing his ankles.

"Stop!" he yells as he hears Doffy's footsteps receding. "Wait! I'll-- I'll cancel the application!" 

The footsteps return. Then Doflamingo laughs. "You can't fool me like that," he says, still chuckling. "I'll give you the night to REALLY reflect on it."

His footsteps recede again and Law shudders out a breath. This is bad. 

He tries the door, pushing with all his strength, until his shoulder is freezing against the metal, but it doesn't budge. He tries pacing, but it's pitch dark in here. He breathes onto his hands for warmth.

He's so cold. So cold. It's been barely any time at all and he's already feeling desperate. Did Doffy lower the temperature? 

He wonders if the door is barricaded well enough that he should be worried about running out of air.

Squatting down, he tries to wrap his apron around himself, but even that is already freezing. it's wet, too, from a spill he'd been cleaning up. 

Law's thoughts drift against his will to home. He thinks about all he did to escape everything. How it wont have made a difference.

How he'll be found in the morning, how the newspapers will say that he is succeeded by no kin, because everyone else has been gone for two decades. 

He should've quit months ago. 

The thing is, is Law is so tired. He was already tired. And now he's cold, and it's dark.

And he knows he shouldn't go to sleep, but— it seems easier. It would be so much easier than having to deal with the numbness in his hands and feet, the way his eyelashes stick to his cheeks. 

But he knows he shouldn't. Knows he should be doing something.

And as a last ditch effort— he knows no one can hear him. Knows Doflamingo will laugh— as a last ditch effort he screams. 

He screams until his throat hurts. Screams until he's coughing from the cold. 

Wordless screams that draw the last of his strength, steal his warmth.

He falls into unconsciousness as the last of his breath is ripped from his cold lungs.

Darkness is welcoming. 

He floats in it. The cold is still there, but muted now. 

He had been so tired. For so long.

Suddenly, Law is pulled back to consciousness, painfully, like ripping a bandaid off of a wound. 

There's light in the walk-in. He feels it on his eyelids. When he cracks open his eyes, he's hit with blinding light. Is this heaven? If it is, it's pathetic.

But with the light comes a wave of warmth, not enough to help him, but enough for him to notice. 

And with the warmth comes arms, strong arms, roughly hoisting him around his middle, dragging him out and onto the blessedly warm tile floor of the back room.

"Traffy?" a voice says. "Traffy! Hey!" 

Someone slaps his face. 

"Fuck!" Law yells, putting a hand to his cheek. He still cant really feel anything in his fingers. The blindingly bright light is clearing enough that he can see the silhouette of someone standing over him.

GOD he hopes it's not Doflamingo. 

But that voice didn't SOUND like Doffy. 

"Traffy! You're alive! Do you have hypno thermia?" 

"Hypothermia," Law mumbles. "Who the fuck is Traffy?"

"That's what your nametag always says!" 

Law's nametag says Trafalgar. He knows it.

"How-- Where's Doflamingo?" 

"That tall guy who locked you in here?" 

Law's vision finally comes into focus and he startles at the sight of the regular with the straw hat. "Yeah," he says. "Him." 

"I dunno, I saw him leave a while ago." 

Law flexes his fingers in search of warmth

"What do you mean you saw him leave? Why are you here?" Are you a part of this? he doesn't say. 

Straw Hat doesn't look at all embarrassed when he says, "I was hiding in the bathroom. You guys never check it at the end of the night." 

Law gapes at him. "Why?" he asks.

"I dunno, I mean most places do and I was honestly surprised you guys don't, but--" 

"Not-- you do this a lot?"

Straw Hat grins. "Yeah! My roommate kicks me out whenever he wants to have sex, which is like every night at this point. So I've been sleeping here. Chairs're comfy."

Well that's. Better than it could be, honestly. 

Law tries to refocus. He probably IS hypothermic. What's he supposed to do for that? Body heat? 

"You said Doffy left?" he asks. 

Straw Hat nods. "Yeah! A while ago! It took me a bit to get all that stuff off of the door though. Like, he's strong! He pushed a whole refrigerator in front of it!" 

Dear lord, he really had been trying to kill Law. 

Shit. Doffy knows where Law lives. 

Law can't go home. 

"Anyway, I think you're hypno thermomic," Straw Hat says. "And you probably need, like, a hot bath."

Okay Law does know that will kill someone with hypothermia. He remembers that much. "I can't go home," he says, still trying to process. "He knows where I live." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "You can come home with me! My roommate is a cook, he'll help."

"Your roommate kicked you out to have sex," Law points out, dazedly. 

Straw Hat shrugs. "This is more important," he says, and like. Well Law can't argue with that. 

He tries to sit up and his limbs listen a little, but Straw Hat steadies him anyway.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," Law says, "But I shouldn't just impose. I can-- I'll call my coworker, my phone's around here somewhere." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "Is that it?" 

He points to a spot on the floor where Law finds his phone. 

Smashed. 

Into several pieces.

He does NOT have the money for a new one. 

"Oh my god," he whines. 

"Come on," Straw Hat says. "Let's go to my place. We can build a fire!" 

"Do you have a fireplace?" 

"No!" 

Law still can't feel his hands or feet. "Listen," he says. "Just- why do you never drink your lattes?"

Shockingly, Straw Hat looks embarrassed at this, gaze shifting nervously. "Because," he says. "They're really gross." 

"Why do you get them, then?" Law demands. 

"The first time I came in, I asked what to get and you said a latte because you're good at hearts!"

Christ. Law has... no memory of that. 

Straw Hat crosses his arms, looking petulant. "It's not my fault they taste gross." 

Law's throat is raw and he's probably got frostbite on his penis like that prince. "I'll make you something you actually like," he says. "Next time."

Straw Hat perks up. "Next time?" 

"If I live through the night," Law adds. "And. Not next time here. I'm quitting this job." 

Straw Hat nods. "Good. That guy was mean, I think." 

Then, without informing Law of his plan, Straw Hat turns around and pulls him onto his back.

Everything in Law hurts at this, but he also doubts he could've walked wherever they're going. 

Straw Hat is shorter than him, but he's jarringly strong. 

"Hey," Law says. "If you murder me, I'll kill you." 

He feels Straw Hat laughing through his teeth.

The actual straw hat's brim is pushed up against Law's cheek. 

"Don't worry," Straw Hat says. "I want you to make me a better drink!" 

He carries Law across campus to a rickety old dorm. 

Law listens to him talking about all of his friends and also his favorite bugs.

He makes sure that Straw Hat does NOT draw him a hot bath or make a fire in the dorm, but he does accept skin-to-skin warmth, which does wonders. The hot tea made by his cranky roommate also helps. 

Tomorrow, he's going to have to press charges, probably. And get a new phone.

Tonight, he's sharing a bed with the weirdest guy he's ever met. 

Life is sort of okay.

[onwednesdayswewrite]

this hell is better with you {tara carpenter}

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader  

Warnings: canon typical violence for scream, talk of murder, blood, smoking weed, cursing, misuse of prescription drugs, dark themes. CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6

Word Count: 3.5k

hey y’all, I had a ton of fun writing this, and have a few more ideas in this little universe so let me know if you would be interested in seeing more!

chapter 2: you, tara carpenter, have stolen my heart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the fall of your senior year at Blackmore University when you first realized you loved Tara Carpenter. Your heated debates over Geoffrey Chaucer and Jane Austen had drawn you closer to her. Being the overachiever she was, Tara was taking English Lit as a freshman; while you barely scraped by to get a passing grade. Though your time together was usually cut short, you couldn’t miss the way even the overly bright fluorescent lecture hall lights made her eyes sparkle. Or the way the memory of summer days danced across her cheeks in the form of freckles. Or the way that little scar by her eye crinkled whenever she smiled. 

 Of course you knew of the Woodsboro native’s past, everyone did. It didn’t terrify you like it did most, it only excited you. 

Your encounters had been limited to a few study sessions and passing each other on campus. You wanted more, but her friend group always lingered. Mindy was sweet, a bit of a geek but you found it appealing. And Mindy’s girlfriend, Anika was nice too but you didn't know her well. And Quinn, you liked Quinn. Of course then there was Chad. You didn’t like Chad one bit. Chad rubbed you the wrong way. He always walked around acting like he owned everything. Including Tara.

And Sam? Well Sam was a whole different monster entirely. 

The day started like most did these days. A double at the hospital meant the twelve block trek back to your off-campus apartment would be hell. The caffeine pumping through your veins did little to ease the exhaustion. It was a Sunday which meant you only had a few hours of peace before you had to begin studying for morning classes. You wanted nothing more than to fill those hours with sleep but the constant honking of horns and the wailing of sirens made it seem unlikely. It was days like this where you wished New York City wasn’t the city that never slept, even if it was the middle of the day. 

As the hustle began to ease closer to your apartment, the sounds of sirens continued to fill the air. You didn’t live in the best part of town, but this was unusual. Your phone buzzed in the leg of your scrub pocket. It was a notification from the News app that came pre-installed on your phone. The heading read ‘police release names of Blackmore students murdered to be that of Anika Kayoko and Quinn Bailey’. You felt lighter now, that takes care of two of Tara's friends. Poor Mindy though, she seemed to really like Anika. Your bitten-down fingertips hit the notification, and scanned the article. ‘Kayoko and Bailey were in Bailey's midtown apartment when the attacks took place.’

Your blood ran cold and you felt your heart plummet to your feet, Quinn was Tara’s roommate. Was Tara okay? Your mind ran through every possibility, before you took a moment to settle. Think rationally, y/n. You had been floated to the surgical floor, if anything too bad had happened, you would have known.  

It was when you were about half a block from your apartment and the sirens only got louder and louder you grew concerned. You didn’t live that close to the Carpenter’s and there shouldn’t still be police activity.

When you turned the ally onto your street you knew something was very wrong. The entire block filled with every first responder in the area. New York’s finest. The fire department. Paramedics and emergency medical technicians. The coroner. 

‘They found you y/n. I told you that you should have hidden the body better’ the bottle of pills shook in the pocket of your thrift store jacket. Maybe an extra one wouldn’t hurt, they would kick you from the nursing program if they knew about the voices. The bottle rolled between your fingers when you pulled it from your pocket. Only 13 pills left, you couldn’t risk what would happen if you ran out. You slid the bottle back into the pocket and zipped it shut. 

You quickly realized things were not as they seemed when you spotted none other than Samantha Carpenter amongst the crowd. Her body was covered in blood. It didn’t seem to be her blood, but where the hell was Tara? You knew Sam never let her far from sight, so Tara had been with her? Sam didn’t seem overly upset given the situation. 

Your worries dissipated into the air when Tara hopped down from the back of an ambulance. Your heart settled in your chest. She was walking, talking with Sam and another blonde woman and seemed fairly unharmed. And she looked even more beautiful now than you swore she had before. The way the red and blue lights of the ambulance reflected against her chocolate eyes. And being soaked in blood that wasn’t her own was a good look. Though her arm was in a sling, the white fabric tightened around her neck. A rather shitty job, you could have done better yourself. 

You observed them as they spoke for a few moments. They were just a little too far to hear the conversation, but you certainly saw when Tara’s face crumbled. Oh. Oh. She was crying now, tears driving her mascara stains farther down her cheeks. You had never seen her cry before, and the deep pit forming in your stomach told you that you would never let it happen again. Now if you could only get your hands on whoever did this you would rip-

“Hey, we got another one here” a grimace of pain flashed across her face from the movement, but it didn’t stop Tara from rushing to greet the second paramedic squad rolling a gurney from within the theater. 

“Chad, Chad” Tara’s voice cracked when she called out to him, nothing but joy laced in her words. 

“How are you alive?” Sam joined Tara at the side of the stretcher. A stupid boyish smile found its way to Chad’s face under the oxygen mask as he held up four shaky, bloodied fingers. 

“Core fucking four” Tara let out a watery giggle, and a smile followed. A wide smile. One that made dimples crinkle up the skin on her blood stained cheeks. Normally it would have settled the fire in your stomach, but not this time. Not when Chad was the reason for it. Not when Tara was clinging to him, tightly gripping his arm, scared that he would leave her.  

‘They should have just let him die, he’s too close to Tara’ the voice echoed through your head. The pill bottle felt heavy in your pocket now. You untightened the safety cap and dry swallowed the pill. 12 pills would have to be enough. You would make it be enough.

“Oh my god are you guys okay?” Mindy stubbled past the line of police officers. An IV port in the back of her hand, and a hospital bracelet hanging from her wrist. She practically crashed into the group. Tara’s hands only leaving Chad’s arm to steady Mindy’s gait. 

“Ma’am this is an active crime scene, you can’t be here” the officer was much larger than you, and it was no use fighting against him as he backed you down the street, pushing you farther from Tara. 

You took one final glance back at Tara as she clung to her sister’s side, both watching as they loaded Chad into the second ambulance. With a deep breath, you turned your shoulders and headed down the street. I’ll be back for you, Tara Carpenter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I recovered, I got mad. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life being afraid of monsters. I wanted the monsters to be afraid of me. Kirby’s words echoed through Tara’s head as she entered Sam’s mandatory trauma group therapy. Tara was tired of it. Tired of always being afraid and running. Tired of being small and tired of being stabbed. Tired of being on the shit end of kill or be killed. Ever since the moment Tara drove that knife into Ethan, something changed in her. It came as a gnawing, aching feeling, a deep desire to feel the warm blood pump over her hands again. 

The therapy did little to ease the continued obsessive thoughts. Sam’s new therapist freaked her out and she hated the sterile environment of private therapy so Sam suggested group therapy. 

Tara felt sick to her stomach as she listened to the others talk about their feelings. She reached for her now lukewarm Starbucks coffee, but it did little to push the bile back down her throat. How could they feel this way when she felt so different? 

“Tara, do you have anything you would like to share?” Every pair of eyes in the room shot to Tara when the older lady running the session spoke to her. Curious eyes, just waiting to hear her sob story. All judging her as if they didn’t have their own fucked up shit going on. 

“Hi…I’m Tara, and about 3 weeks ago my friends and I were attacked and I…” Tara voiced trailed off. She hated the way they all looked at her now. The pity laced in their eyes. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t deserve it. 

“I just keep...I keep having these, um…these thoughts in my head, and I don’t…” Tara’s voice shook as she spoke. What the hell was she even supposed to say? The truth would no doubtably get her locked up. 

“Now die a Fucking virgin” it felt good under Tara’s hands as Ethan choked on his own blood. His chest heaved as he tried to get oxygen past the blood rapidly filling his throat and lungs. Fear floated into his eyes as he realized he was dying, and it was so so sweet. Tara twisted the knife a little more. He gargled for air one last time. Tara let him fall at her feet. Fuck Ethan. And fuck his whole family for what they had done to her. 

“I don’t know if I can control them...and I’m just...afraid of what’s gonna happen” Don’t say it Tara. Don’t say you’ve been longing to take another life since that moment. Don’t tell them it's the only thing you can think about, day and night. Make something up Tara, think fast. Her eyes rapidly scanned the room looking for an answer. All eyes were still on her, wide and scared, just waiting for her to lose it. Her chest felt heavy, how was she going to get out of this one?

Until her eyes found yours across the room. And for once someone was finally looking at her like she wasn’t crazy. Like they weren’t going to lock her up and force pills down her throat. Like someone who finally understood her. Her heart was racing now. It was all too much. 

“I’m sorry, I need a second.” Tara pushed herself up from the chair and darted for the door without a second thought. 

The stale air of the meeting hall had been suffocating her, and now with the cool evening air rushing into her lungs, she felt like she could breathe again. She took another deep breath and settled down against the brick wall of the building. It felt nice on her spine after half an hour of sitting in those cheap plastic chairs. Tara checked her phone again, had it really only been 30 minutes? 

“Want a hit?” Tara almost didn’t notice you settle down next to her, offering a small vape in her direction. “Or may I offer a stale doughnut and coffee that tastes like it was brewed with sewer water?” You offered up your other hand which contained a white paper coffee cup with a black lid with a chocolate sprinkle doughnut balanced on top.

Tara took your offering of the doughnut, maybe the sugar would stop her hands from shaking so much. She picked a few sprinkles from the icing before tearing off a chunk of the doughnut. She was right, the chocolate did settle her nerves a little. 

“What are you doing here, y/n? Therapy I mean” Tara ripped off another piece of the doughnut, and then set the rest down on her thigh. 

“That’s a bit of a personal question, don’t you think?” Your eyes followed a fallen leaf as it tumbled through the parking lot. Tara knew it wasn’t that interesting, you were just avoiding making eye contact. 

“We almost kissed, I think I’m allowed to ask you personal questions” Tara chuckled out, the autumn breeze cooling the fire blooming on her cheeks. 

“And that shows the complex relationship between- y/n, are you even listening to me?” Tara paused her rant about Paradise Lost when she noticed your eyes had been focusing on her and not the book in front of you. You clearly hadn’t been paying attention, you didn’t even notice her lift her head up to look at you. Tara grabbed a paper clip from the nearby stack of papers, and tossed it in your direction. It hit you square in the side of the nose and you jumped. Caught red handed. 

“What? Yeah of course I am” your eyes shot down to the book beneath your fingertips, clearly trying to figure out what the hell she had been going on about. 

“Focus, our midterm is next week” Tara tapped her pastel blue pen down on the paragraph she had been talking about.  “And stop staring, it’s creepy” Tara didn’t really think it was creepy, but she knew if she let you look at her for too much longer then you might notice the pink tint that was finding its way to her cheeks from you being so close. 

“I’m not a creep! I just think you have a pretty voice” you pretended to act shocked, but you knew Tara didn’t take any of your shit. Not when it came to classes. Not with your graduation looming in the distance. Tara wasn’t sure what your plans were after college, but she hoped you were planning on staying close. Would you stay working at the same hospital? 

“That’s something a creep would say” Tara teased, rolling onto her stomach to copy you. She didn’t want to think about you graduating, and leaving just yet. It made her feel like lightning struck her heart. She didn’t like that feeling. “This is important, can we please focus?” As much as Tara wanted you to stay, she didn’t like the idea of you failing being the only reason for staying. 

“I’m already focusing on something important to me” Tara looked up to see you already looking at her. Your hand pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun. Fuck. Tara felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Their soft wings tickled the sides, spreading the warmth they left through her body. Tara watched as your eyes shifted down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. Please kiss me. Tara felt the heat between the two of you, something seemingly pulling you closer and closer. 

Your copy of Paradise Lost disregarded somewhere on the bed between the two of you, and for once Tara didn’t care. All she could think about was why the hell you couldn’t put on your big kid pants for once in your life and kiss her. Did she really have to do all the work? Just when she thought she was gonna explode, you leaned forward on your elbows. Your breath tickled her nose. Please just kiss me, you idiot. 

“Tara” Quinn shoved open the door to Tara’s room without a care. You quickly jumped away from each other, the notebooks in front of you suddenly becoming very interesting. That's it, Tara had decided you really were an idiot. She wasn’t even sure she could save you anymore. 

“Did I cockblock you?” it didn’t take a fool to read the situation, and Quinn certainly wasn’t a fool. Definitely not when it came to this. 

“What did you just say?” Tara squeezed her eyes shut. This is not happening right now. 

“Cockblocked you, I cockblocked you, didn’t I?” Quinn waved her finger between the two of you. 

“Immediate no” Tara jumped up from her spot on the bed, shaking her head. Quinn had just ruined this for her, and now she was only making it worse. 

“Please stop saying the word cock” your voice was muffled from where you had your face pressed into your notebook. Tara wondered if your cheeks looked as red as hers felt. 

“What’d…what’d you need?” Tara’s voice stuttered. 

“Sam just texted me asking if I needed anything, so she's on her way home” Quinn waved her phone at them as evidence. Tara hated it. She wasn’t ready to handle Sam just yet. You sent her a sad smile; you knew that meant your night was over. Tara took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. She really hated it. 

“Don’t ever enter a room like that again” Tara let out a sigh of frustration and sat back down on the bed. 

“I won’t” Quinn nodded her head, feeling just as awkward now. 

“Nice to see you, Quinn” you waved her direction and she offered an apologetic smile, turning and leaving the room. “But I'm gonna get out of here before your sister kills me” You smiled down at Tara. Tara could feel her cheeks burn even hotter now as you packed up your books. 

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Carpenter” you sent a wink in her direction before slipping out the window and down the fire escape. Tara let herself fall back on the bed. Fuck. The butterflies in her stomach felt bigger now, like a bird had taken over and was starting to flap its wings. 

“I changed my mind, give me that” Tara snatched the vape from your hand, and began to take a hit. The fire had begun to light up in her chest just from being close to you again. And she definitely wouldn’t have the courage to follow through with her plan if she was sober. 

“It’s weed Tara, don’t green out on me” you tried to pull the vape from her lips, but she swatted you away. It burned her throat, and her lungs felt heavy. 

“I know what I’m doing, I’m not some amateur” Tara took another long hit from it just to prove her point. When she exhaled she instantly felt the tickle in her throat. She felt her face start to turn red as she resisted the urge to cough. She wouldn’t let you think you were even a little right. 

“Not an amateur?” Your eyebrow cocked up, and a smirk played on your lips. After a few more seconds of watching her struggle, you offered her the cheap therapy coffee. And Tara took it gratefully, anything to soothe her throat. 

The second the coffee hit her tongue she knew it was a mistake. You had been right about one thing; that coffee HAD been made with sewer water. Tara felt humiliated as she sat coughing and spitting up trash coffee as the people of New York City passed by. Judging her. As if they even had a clue what she had been through. 

“Easy sweetheart, they haven’t given me my nursing license yet” your hand felt warm on her back, rubbing soothing circles. And even when the coughing settled and she sat back upright, you didn’t stop. You pulled her closer even. Tara didn’t mind though, she honestly hoped you wouldn’t ever stop. 

You were so close together now, the scent of coffee and weed still lingering on both of your breaths. Tara watched as you scanned her face for any sign of discomfort. Your face visibly settled when you found none. Tara wasn’t messed up by any means, but she definitely felt the high easing her nerves. She felt lighter now, like the weight of the world wasn't completely on her shoulders for once. And by the look on your face, she was sure you would take that weight if she had asked you to. 

Tara’s fingertips traced the scar above your eyebrow. It ran down the side of your face, and ended abruptly at your cheekbone. How had you gotten it? It didn’t look overly fresh, but was that why you had come to counseling? 

You abruptly grabbed her hand. Tara’s eyes flew to yours, and your skin warmed hers. The warmth burned hotter in her chest too. Tara liked having you this close. 

“I will not be held responsible for my actions if you don’t stop touching me” Your eyes were serious. 

Tara swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. She had been holding back from you long enough that even the idea of giving in made her hands shake. Tara held your gaze for a moment, contemplating her next move, then shifted onto her knees and pressed her lips against yours. 

“Good girl” you whispered when she finally pulled away. She shivered under you. 

“You like that, don’t you? You want everyone to think you're so sweet and innocent. And good.” your breath tickled her ear “but you like the darkness. You need it, crave it. And I'm going to give it to you, Tara Carpenter”. 

And you were right. Tara needed it. She craved it. She craved you. 

chapter 2: you, tara carpenter, have stolen my heart

[vacantwatchers]

And the beat goes on

ao3. wc: 1,521 Tommy & Steve, season one, hurt/comfort, panic attack, hugging, bed sharing

It's loud when he pushed the window sill up, but he doesn't know how to make it not be. He's too occupied with the shaking in his hands and the desperate need to breathe deeply for the first time in hours. Heaving himself through the window isn't much quieter, not when he always forgets the little action figures Tommy lines his window with.

They clutter to the floor, but their sound is masked by Steve’s body hitting the floor harder, startling the bed in front of him and causing a groaning ripple as his best friend (ex-best friend? What's the use by date on the term after a fight?) rolls and pushes himself up to investigate the sound.

Tommy is barely visible amongst his covers and Steve can't tell if it's because the nightlight he's had since they were five wasn't plugged in, or because he can't see through the tunnel vision he's had since leaving the hospital and it was about to swallow him whole. Either way, Steve would really appreciate being able to see him, the familiarity of seeing his sleepy, cowlicked hair would be a real comfort right then.

Tommy moves quickly, leans over the pillow he uses to hug at night ever since Mr Tumbles got too delicate to cuddle with, and turns on the lamp by his bed.

"What the fu—Harrington? What are you doing here, man? I thought you were sick of me."

Steve would absolutely love to answer Tommy, but the fear and panic that had been trying to drown him for the last God knows how many hours have decided to settle into his bones and muscle. All he can feel is static pumping through his fingers and chest. Somewhere deep in the back of his head, he knows that this is only happening because he's retreated to one of the only places he has ever felt safe. Knows it as surely as his body did when he'd made the unthinking left turn that would lead onto Kerly instead of turning towards home.

Distantly, Steve is aware of the rustle of shifting blankets and sheets, of socked feet hitting the floor. It's all secondary to trying to get the buzzing static out of his body instead of dragging everything away from his arms to start pooling in his chest. There's a warmth in front of him, a furnace that snares his hands and drags them away, pushes them against a heaving drum. He tries to pull focus, uses the pressure of his knees against his chest and the steady beat of the drum under his hands as a guide and slowly becomes aware of his body.

Steve blinks slowly, matches his breathing to the rhythm under his hands and lets himself focus on the external stimuli instead of the spiral he fell into harder than he had Tommy's floor. The idea of immediately looking up into Tommy's eyes scares him, the idea of not knowing what he'd find his friend's eyes is almost as paralysing as whatever the fuck is happening to him right now. Instead he squeezes his blinks to focus on the ancient light blue T-Ball team shirt innocently gripped in his hands.

When had he closed his hand?

"You with me yet, Stevie-boy?"

Tommy's chest buzzed against his clenched fingers.

"Come on, Stevie, I need you to breathe, man. You're starting to freak me out. You haven't been like this since you broke your retainer in the ninth grade, and if it weren't for the fact that I know your dad is still on that business trip I'd think this was because of him." Tommy pressed harder against Steve's trapped hands. "Give me an explanation, man, because I haven't seen you since yesterday, and that's weeks for us man."

"I fought a monster." It came out as barely a whisper, it certainly lacked the energy to cross the scant space between them.

"You fought—listen if you don't want to—"

Steve sighed. "Tommy. Tommy, when have I ever not told you something?"

Finally, Steve looks up. Tommy is frowning but he hasn't moved away. Doesn't look as mad as he'd expected, he looks mostly worried actually. The right side of his face is washed yellow from the lamp. His freckles remind Steve of distant stars, the way they're barely visible in this light.

"I don't know, Steve. Until a day ago, I didn't know you thought I was an asshole."

"I don't—we were—the situation in context—" Steve groans, all drive that was powering him to stay upright was quickly vanishing. Frustrated, he leans across the space between them, brings his aching head in to press against Tommy's. "You're an asshole. I'm an asshole. Carol's an asshole. We're fucking seventeen, we're all assholes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I'm not—fuck, Tommy. I had a gun pulled on me, they shot it and I had to jump over a bear trap before they set it on fire. It didn't have a face but that didn't stop it from having a fucking mouth."

He wishes he could press closer to Tommy, the same way he's always wanted to be able to press closer. Wishes they could combine, that maybe Tommy would let him press close enough to hide in his chest and make a home amongst his ribs.

"Stevie—"

"I fought a monster, Tommy. It killed Barb, and all I can think about is that you were the last one in after her before she went back out there. You could have—"

Steve's hands were no longer trapped against Tommy's chest because Tommy was hugging him, the arm around his back as strong as the vice they used to build the bookshelf across the room. And yet, it wasn't as strong as the hand that was holding his head, pressing it into the safety of Tommy's neck. Steve doesn't know if he believes him, doesn't think he will without seeing that monster that dropped from Byers' ceiling; but with all the blood and will in his body, Steve will make sure Tommy never has to see that shit. Ever.

He would rather die in agony than let harm come him.

"Okay."

The word brushes against his ear and tickles his neck.

"It's okay, Steve. It didn't—I'm still here. Nothing happened to me. It sucks that it happened to Barb, we'll deal with that shit later. But right now, I'm here. You're here."

The hand cradling his head tightened its hold, gripped Steve's hair and helped ground him in the here and now.

"We're safe. We're both safe."

Steve pressed deeper into Tommy's shoulder, tucked his nose into his neck and let the familiar remnants of his aftershave and shampoo wash over. He was safe with Tommy. Nothing bad would happen to them here. He would keep Tommy safe, and Tommy would keep him safe. The same way they have since they met.

They were okay.

Tommy squeezed him tightly once before pulling back - not enough to let go, enough to pull his hand out from Steve's hair and bring it around to his jaw, enough to tilt him towards the yellow lamp light.

Steve felt like a bug pinned to styrofoam under the considering weight of Tommy's brown eyes. Knew he was looking at the dried blood and blossoming bruises but wondered if he was also seeing something Steve couldn't.

"Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna get up, and I'm gonna clean your face up. You're going to have a shower because you have blood on your sweater and then we're gonna go to sleep," Tommy's eyes flickered between his own, like he was looking for something. "We're gonna go to sleep and I'm gonna wake you up in two hours to see if your brain is soup, and tomorrow, tomorrow we'll talk about all the bullshit you told me. Okay?"

Later, after first aid and a shower, tucked into Tommy's clothes, Steve will move the pillow that replaced Mr Tumbles to the head of the bed and slip beneath the blankets. He'll wait until Tommy is in bed and laying down before twisting to turn off the light. He'll slide down and lay still for a moment before hearing a sigh and feeling Tommy's hand tug on his shoulder.

Steve nods. "Okay."

Later, Steve will curl into Tommy's side and Tommy will pull the blankets up and over his head, the same way he always has because he knows how Steve likes to sleep when he's stressed. He'll shift until he's filled all the gaps Tommy has left for him and will feel Tommy's arm drop heavy and grounding across his back while his hand rests in his hair, petting it slowly.

Steve will breathe in familiarity and relish in the fact that even after a fight and facing a monster, he hadn't lost this. That he has the chance to keep this. And tomorrow, after they talk about all the bullshit he somehow found himself in, Steve is going to put the work in to make sure he keeps being able to have this.

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 1: Cridhe

Corazon x gn!reader word count: 3.1k a/n: figured i'd pump out two chapters for y'all. a prologue as always and the first chapter. i definitely decided to just google the word 'heart' in different languages and use that for chapter titles bc idk what the fuck else to do next

After that, you didn’t see either of them again. The two left the hospital and you kept your end of your deal. You erased all traces of them; it was as if they had never been there to begin with. No one questioned you either, you were too valuable to lose anyway. Besides, they knew you had a reason - it wasn’t like this was something you did on a regular basis. You just rang in a bunch of favors and hoped for the best.

Following the events, you finally had the courage to tell your father that you didn’t want to be a part of…any of it anymore. You were going neutral. Things were really put into perspective for you and really solidified just what you wanted. You wanted to be able to help people, not hurt people. You also wanted to be able to help others get out of situations like that as well.

Your father respected your decision. He knew you were strong enough to hold your own and make your own decisions, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to stop you if he tried, so he let you go. He also had an inkling as you started withdrawing way before you had made your final decision. He didn’t include you in any family decisions or really tell you what he was planning with anything. The only thing the two of you talked about was what normal people talked about. Sure, he might have talked about people in the family, but he didn’t talk about work. It was more just funny stories, or if people were getting married, etc. You would talk about school and work.

Because of your father’s understanding, you were able to fully focus on your career. This rundown hospital was going to become your ultimate project. Your lifelong dream. You were going to help people in more ways than just health. You wanted to be able to help other people like yourself, getting them out of that kind of lifestyle. That was your ultimate dream.

You stayed in that hospital, moving up quickly. Before long, you were practically running the place yourself. You graduated college early, getting your doctorate at a young age. Your grades were off the charts and it seemed things came naturally to you. You had an immaculate memory, helping you memorize just about anything and everything, which also aided in your work. 

Over the years, you also built up the hospital’s reputation. You turned the entire place upside down. It was now state-of-the-art. It was the top hospital in the region. You had dragged it from its own grave and given it new life. It was now constantly bustling, people didn’t shy away from coming to get help. You made sure to have some of the brightest minds, but also made sure to have the best bedside manner. 

There was also another, underground side of the hospital you developed. You had achieved your dream, for the most part. While you are neutral and had gotten out of the mafia lifestyle for the most part, everyone was always haunted by their pasts. You were a central hub for them coming and seeking medical attention. Your hospital was good at keeping things under wraps and doing things under the table. You also aided any and all families. You didn’t care who was associated with whom. Your goal was to help anyone who needed it. 

You also helped those who no longer wanted to be in that lifestyle. They would come to you, you would give them new identities, and send them off into the metaphorical night to live a new life. A few families tried to take over the hospital over the years, all of them quickly learning that you wouldn’t go down without a fight. No one had been able to take you down. Between your own abilities and the small handful of trusted people you had to help defend the hospital, no one was taking you over.

Those same people helped you with the underground side of things. They were some of the brightest minds so they ran that part of the hospital.They were your most trusted staff and they tended to stay on the underground side of things, coming in when you needed them. There was always at least one or two staff in the wing, others coming in when you needed. It obviously wasn’t as busy as the hospital itself, so you didn’t need to have it bustling at all times.

“You’re spacing again, doc.” You were ripped from your thoughts as a voice rang through. You looked over seeing one of your most trusted colleagues, Marco. He’s been with you since almost the very beginning, you trusted him with everything. He was also one of the few people who actually knew your history. He helped you run both sides of the hospital. You honestly wouldn’t be able to do all of this without him.

“Thinking about that night again?” There was a smug grin on his face and you wanted to punch him. You groaned, nodding. “I don’t know why. I’ve been thinking about that time a lot as of late.” You folded your arms, shaking your head as you stepped away from the window you had been gazing out of.

Over the years, you hardly thought of Rosinante and the child he had been with. You were focused on your goals, on helping people. The last few weeks, he started appearing in your dreams and you started thinking of that time a lot once more.

“Maybe you’re going to see them again,” he mused, leaning against the doorframe with his coffee mug. “Subconscious manifesting n’ all that.” You regret telling him about your dreams.

You gave him a droll look. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe in that shit.” You rolled your eyes as you moved to pour coffee into your own mug before taking a sip.

“I’m just saying. Why else would you be thinking of it all of a sudden? You even admitted that you hadn’t thought of them in years. And dreams too? We all know that shit is important.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean…” You just sighed, shaking your head. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t pop into your head. It was rather annoying. If fate was planning something, you just hoped she’d get it over with. 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause it’s been a decade? I don’t know. Do memories have anniversaries? Milestones that cause something like this? I don’t even know what the hell I’m asking.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. Ugh, maybe you’re just working too much. You were always here.

“Well, if they’re traumatic, yeah. Which, for you, should be almost all of your childhood.” Marco snorted and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, that’s…” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Then I guess if that was the case, I’d just be reveling in the past all the time. So I guess I can check off whatever weird ass theory I had going on.” Not that you could really call it that. It was more of a nonsense ramble. 

“I’m still sticking with my fate theory. Who knows, maybe you’re soulmates and they moved back. Expect to see them soon.” Marco gave you a lazy grin and you rolled your eyes. “Twenty bucks says fate.”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you’re out of your mind.” He just laughed at you, shaking his head. He glanced at his watch. “Oh shit - we’re late!” He jumped, straightening himself out. “Let’s go.”

You blinked, immediately forgetting about your conversation. “Late? For what?” You looked over your shoulder at him as he pushed you out of your office. You were currently racking your brain for what could possibly be going on right now.

“The new guys are starting today! You know, the two new interns? For their residency or what have you.”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” You started walking quickly down the hallway, Marco hot on your heels. You stopped causing him to almost run right into you. “What were their names again? Shit. I forgot my clipboard.”

“For fuck’s sake, y/n.” He grabbed a tablet from a nurses’ station, tapping away on it. “I don’t know why you don’t just use the tablets, for one. For two, here you go.” He handed you the handheld device and you took it, looking at it.

“Shut up. You know I just like having papers.” You read the screen before you. “Looks like…Trafalgar Law and Nico Robin? They both look promising.” They both had high marks and seemed to pass their tests with flying colors, they also had glowing reviews from their professors. They also seemed to have jumped a few grades like yourself. Prodigies. 

“Wow, I’m reminding you about an important meeting and helping you gather your information beforehand and you can’t even thank me? You wound me, y/n.” Marco feigned hurt, putting a hand over his heart and pretending to faint.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic.” You laughed, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes. “You’re right. What would I do without you, Marco?” 

“That’s better. I know my worth.” He straightened himself out and you chuckled. “Alright, let’s go. We’re already late as shit.” You started back down the hallway, Marco close on your heels once more.

It wasn’t long before you entered the conference room where the two were sitting. They both turned to look at the both of you. You were greeted by a rather grumpy looking man and a neutral looking woman. Both gave off the same but different vibes.

“So sorry we’re late. We were in a meeting.” Marco shot you a look as you lied and you ignored him, looking at the tablet in your hands once more before setting it on the table.

The two just looked at you and you nodded. “Anyway. I’m Doctor y/n. I’m the head doctor here at the hospital. I run the place. I am typically always in meetings or putting out fires, so I won’t be able to work as closely with you as I would like, but I will be keeping an eye on the two of you. Especially with how promising your resumes and such are. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful addition to the team and I hope that you find everything to your liking.” You smiled at the two of them.

“I do have an open door policy, so if you need anything - don’t hesitate to come and talk to me or ask. If you can’t find me, feel free to leave a note or let Doctor Marco here know. He tends to somehow always know where I’m at.”

“I have a y/n radar. Comes with the territory of knowing them for so long. It’s how I keep them out of trouble.” You glared at him and this time he’s the one that ignored you. He gave a small wave. “I’m Doctor Marco, by the way. I’m their right hand man and will be the one who is going to be looking over the both of you. Like y/n, I also have an open door policy. We all are going to be seeing each other a lot, so it would really suck if we hated each other, yeah?”

The two just stared at you blankly. It was a bit unnerving, but the both of you had somewhat made fools of yourself by being late.

“Since we were late, I’m going to go out and grab us some drinks. I have a bit until my next meeting and figure that it might be a good way to apologize. Marco is going to start giving the history of our hospital and how things run. Write down your orders and I’ll go and grab them from the cafe down the street.” You smiled at the two before you. The woman returned your smile, but the other seemed to keep the same face. 

Oh man, you always hated the awkward first few weeks of anyone’s residencies. 

--

After grabbing the interns’ orders, you headed out. You obviously knew yours and having known Marco so long, of course you also knew his order.

You were mentally kicking yourself for being so off today. You had no idea why you were like this. You were usually so punctual, organized, and not so…’spacey’ as Marco had put it. Sure, you were growing more spacey as of late, but especially today. You also weren’t the type to stutter and stumble over yourself when introducing yourself. Nothing seemed to be going right. You were mentally kicking yourself.

A familiar feeling overcame you, finding yourself moving before you could process what was happening. Your hand reached out, catching someone by the collar before they fell flat on their face. “Oh my god. Are you okay?” you asked, moving to help them up. 

Only when they stood, they towered over you. A familiar feeling once more and your eyes widened as the man turned around. You felt your entire body grow rigid and your blood run cold as the memories came flooding back for a second time today. You had to be fucking joking.

“I’m so sorry!” 

Donquixote Rosinante stood before you with an apologetic look on his face. The air around him was definitely different from the last time you saw him but…it made sense considering the circumstances. He was more…playful and lighter.

“Are you alright?” he asked you. You blinked, coming back to reality, clearing your throat. “Uh, I’m fine. But are you okay? You’re the one that fell.”

Marco’s words were echoing in your head and you could imagine the look on his face once you told him about what happened. Maybe you wouldn’t. No, you had to. You told him everything.

“I’m fine! I’m really clumsy so I fall all the time.” He let out a nervous chuckle before pausing. He tilted his head to the side. “Do I know you? You look familiar.” He leaned in close, causing you to back away slightly. 

You shook your head, putting your hands up as some kind of barrier between the two of you. Your head was spinning and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I don’t believe so.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, making your heart rate pick up three fold. You thought it was going to burst out of your chest.

“Well, I have to get going. I’m running late. Be careful and make sure you watch where you’re going,” you said, inclining your head and basically running off.

--

What the absolute fuck? Your head was spinning. Was that really him? Was everything Marco said true? Did you start remembering those things because he came back and you somehow sensed it? Was it because you were soulmates? No, no. That was fucking ridiculous. There was no way. This was all just pure coincidence.

You wouldn’t have been so shocked to see him if you hadn’t literally been dreaming about the man the past few weeks. If you had just ran into him without all the pretext, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. 

That had thrown you so off guard you almost completely forgot to grab coffee and had been halfway back to the hospital when you remembered, so you went again. Only you took a different route this time, you didn’t want to risk running into him again.

You eventually dropped the drinks off, but you had a conference call that you had to take care of, so you couldn’t stick around. You did apologize about fifty times to the two. You were making quite the first impression. Robin seemed rather amused, telling you it was fine. Law didn’t say anything except for a thanks for the coffee. Real talker. But you also have done nothing except make a fool of yourself, so he was probably reconsidering working here. You didn’t blame him.

Finally, things calmed down for you. You were sitting in your office, head down on your desk as you were taking a breather. The events of earlier still ran in your mind as well as a million questions. Why now? Of all times? You hadn’t even had time to think let alone process what happened.

“You look like you’re having a great time.” 

You looked up at Marco with a deadpan expression. “How could you tell?”

“Oh, with the way you’re bouncing off the walls, for sure.” He snorted, setting a mug on your table. You thanked him before taking a sip.

“So, what happened on your little excursion?”

You looked up at him as he asked. “How-”

“C’mon. You’ve been off all day. I can feel your anxiety radiating from across the hospital.” He began to sip from his own cup, looking at you expectantly. “Plus, I’m your best friend. I would lose my title if I couldn’t tell.” He grinned at you.

“You know how I’ve been thinking about…you know…all that lately?”

His eyebrows raised and he nodded, immediately intrigued. He looked at the hesitant expression on your face and his eyes widened. “No fucking shot.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I fucking told you!” He laughed loudly, ringing off the walls. He jumped up from his seat, doing some stupid ass victory dance causing you to groan into oblivion.

You glared at him, rolling your eyes. “It’s just a coincidence. Shut up.”

“If it was that, you wouldn’t be all up in a tizzy about it, now would you?” The stupid grin wasn’t going away.

“Who the fuck says ‘tizzy’ anymore.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Failed. Try again.”

You let out a long sigh and shook your head. “It was only once. I’m sure it was just coincidence and I’m thinking too much about it. I’m just on edge is all.” You shook your head. “They are from here, maybe they moved back for some reason.” You frowned. “Who knows, maybe he rejoined his family.”

Marco rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Yeah…sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, doc.” He wasn’t even going to humor any of that.

“If it happens again, then I’ll…” You thought. “Probably really freak out. You’ll be getting a call immediately.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He grinned behind his mug and you just narrowed your eyes at him. You opened your mouth and he held up his head. “Oh, it’ll happen. Trust.” 

You just rolled your eyes, shaking your head. There was no way it could happen again. Especially not in the way that it did. Right?

[wellhealthhub]

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[leam1983]

The Substance - Thoughts

As a preamble, let me say this: I'm disabled. Being disabled means you spend your entire life being confronted with ideals of physical capacity, of mobility, of reactivity. It means being confronted with the fact that for all of your society's bright smiles and well-meaning assertions that you're Part of Them as much as anyone else - you're one of the Lessers.

Statistically, disabled individuals struggle more, financially. They struggle at reaching higher education, and struggle socially. I've lived through it all. I also know that even if the wider world tries its damnedest to shoot a hospital-grade dose of Self-Respect and Positivism up my arm, there still are days where I absolutely and utterly loathe myself.

As to why? Let's see: I'm a Cerebral Palsy sufferer with lower-limb mobility issues that make any serious effort at BMI maintenance an absolute fucking slog. I have never felt sexy or empowered or self-assured, while in a gym, and I struggle to reach that point in an exercise routine where the body starts to burn fat. Considering, my only recourse is to watch my food intake like a hawk, in weighing myself compulsively - in displaying almost all traits of an anorexic person's behaviour, except for the purging. I'm a man that likely looks unkempt to most women and is long past the point where men - Walt excluded - compliment me for my appearance.

So once Coralie Fargeat's Faustian bargain sank in, in the form of a single question, the answer to said question was a whispered yes that might as well have been a shout.

And that question went as follows:

Would you take The Substance?

Now known as Demi Moore's single Golden Globe-clincher, The Substance is a 2024 Body Horror film starring Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, and Margaret Qualley as Sue. Both women evolve in the TV segment, in the over-exploited Daytime Fitness genre. Think Jane Fonda's VHS haul, and you'll have the gist of it. Both are subjected to Harvey (Dennis Quaid), a slimy and shallow TV exec. The movie opens as Sparkle's career resoundingly comes to a close, thanks to Harvey's ageist and misogynistic commentary on the expendable nature of female talent. Instead of seeking therapy and some form of closure, Liz comes across a strangely-delivered advert for The Substance, a black-market procedure that promises to "unlock" the user's DNA and birth a younger, better and perfected version of themselves. She ignores it for the hogwash it should be, but one last run-in with painful memories of her faded glory happens to be enough to have her consider dialing the number on the back of her ominously black-and-yellow USB stick...

Follows a number of decisions that further underline Sparkle's self-loathing and her desire to utterly subsume herself in an idyllic version of her own existence - albeit one that her own hangups render increasingly unsustainable as time passes. You're effectively left with a "Jekyll and Hyde meet Dorian Grey" type of situation, where the implausible and impossible physical shenanigans on offer are obvious metaphors for ever-deeper levels of denial - and perhaps as obvious signifiers for substance abuse. Sue leads the brittle-if-idealized world Liz so clearly yearns for, and Liz is increasingly left with nothing, except perhaps the actual ugliness that untreated substance abuse and self-esteem issues can foster. In the end, both women are left in a cage match of their own making, with a festering dream basking in the Hollywood Hills' verdant slopes facing the wretchedness of a life cast aside for foolish hopes.

Then - there's a third act. I won't spoil it. It's Brian De Palma's Carrie on steroids, it's Grand Guignol theatre at its most resoundingly French, or Sam Raimi if Sam Raimi decided he wanted to wax Sociocritical while pumping buckets of fake blood through high-pressure arterial nozzles. It's a lot. It, perhaps, is too much, even. Still, Coralie Fargeat summarizes its ending as Elisabeth finally claiming what she spent the entire movie yearning for - an end to the prison of flesh shackling her.

Story aside, the movie deserves props for turning a few miles' worth of Antibes, in France, into a facsimile of the general public's idea of Hollywood. Nothing here looks quite like the Hills, much less Sunset Boulevard - but as Fargeat herself said, all she needs to evoke the land of glitz and glam is a palm tree framed by a robin's-egg blue sky. The only discordant note is the seedy little diner Sparkle eventually enters, which is partitioned more like a French café than as a traditional American diner. Apart from that, the illusion is flawless.

Knowing Universal Pictures snubbed this - when they produced it - and that an indie streamer (Mubi) effectively saved it from oblivion, you're left to think that Hollywood doesn't really like to look at itself too critically.

Imagine the note of self-aware unheimlich I felt as I watched this, knowing that Los Angeles is currently burning - and that many a temple of transitory excess and overly-Botoxed false idols of beauty and virtue has been razed. The Substance should be mandatory viewing to any star that has their ego pumped up a tad too much by an over-eager agent fishing for a fat commission.

This is a deserved and long-delayed win for Demi Moore, and, I hope, the start of a career revival in a few directions she, herself, typically snubbed, up until recently.

I, for one, stan a Splatterfest Queen.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Prettier When You're Mine

Andy Barber x reader

Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family. Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion. Masterlist Playlist Chapter 4

Chapter 5

A doctor's visit leaves Y/n unsettled. When Y/n tries to open up, Andy misinterprets her vulnerability for a covert advance, leading to a fallout that may kill any hope of a romance between them.....or force Andy to move forward with his plan to make Y/n his. Warnings: Medical references, harassment

The waiting room was cold; muted colours and boring art decorated the quiet space and the air reeked of what she assumed was hospital grade disinfectant. In a bid to busy her hands and distract herself and get some work done, Y/n scrolled through a file that Andy wanted to discuss when she got to the office after her appointment. Despite her best efforts though, she simply couldn’t seem to focus; she’d been reading the same paragraph for at least fifteen minutes and hadn’t retained a thing, instead she’d memorized a poster on the wall that listed the importance of safe sex and had awkwardly waved to the receptionist twice. 

By the third, clumsy half wave, Y/n sighed and set her phone down in her lap, shifting her gaze just in time to see a young couple walking in through the automatic front door. They must have been about her age or a little younger, and the woman was visibly pregnant. Tightly, Y/n smiled when she caught the young woman’s eyes and as she felt something odd stir in her chest, she averted her gaze. Jealousy? She wasn’t sure if that was the right word.

It was more like……familiar ache. A dream that was just out of reach.

Once again eager for a distraction, Y/n picked up her phone and that time she found that there was a text from James that she hadn’t realized had come in. 

“Hey! Sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

Y/n smiled at the message; he was always so sweet and protective of her and she never failed to forget how lucky she was. “No, its okay.” At the end of her response, she included a little smiley face emoji to soften the tone. 

“Its no trouble,” that one came in first and another quickly succeeded, “Sorry I couldn’t come with.” 

“Its just a routine pelvic exam,” she chuckled at his obvious concern; despite her telling him all week that she was okay with going alone, James had insisted that leaving her to go on her own was the equivalent to not caring at all, but his boss had been adamant about the company’s latest project having a strict deadline and had barred time off with the exception of an emergency- Y/n had decided unilaterally that a routine procedure done by millions everyday was absolutely not an emergency.

“Your first one!” He sent shortly after Y/n’s last message before sending another, “At least let me pick you up from work later.”

“I would love that,” she typed quickly, letting the message go off just as the receptionist read her name off a clipboard. 

With gentle professionalism, the woman led Y/n to one of the exam rooms down the hall, in a more private part of the small clinic and upon ushering her inside, she’d politely read the instructions and asked if Y/n had any questions before leaving her to change out of her chic work dress an into a paper gown. 

It wasn’t long after she’d hopped onto the bed before a graying, middle aged woman with a white coat thrown over seafoam green scrubs entered the small, cold room. “You must be, Y/n,” she smiled warmly. 

“Dr. Eekle, hi,” Y/n smiled nervously as the doctor pumped a bit of hand sanitizer into her palms before rubbing it in and reaching for a manila folder and pen left on the desk shoved against the wall. 

They went through formalities and as the older woman sank onto a metal stool. Adjusting the height accordingly, she went over some of the things the receptionist had earlier and then explained that she’d have to answer some questions first. “End of last period?”

“Uh…last Sunday,” just over a week before the current date, “It was short but I’ve always had an irregular cycle.”

“Birth control?”

“No,” Y/n shook her head.

“Any medications and have you had sex in the last two days?” 

“Nope and no,” a shuddered breath seeped off Y/n’s lips as she found that she felt more exposed than she usually preferred. 

“Ever had an STD or an STI?” Y/n shook her head no and Dr. Eekle asked a few more questions, scribbling her responses on the form before getting to the final one,”Are you currently pregnant?” 

Y/n scoffed, suddenly a little peeved. She'd obviously been asked the question before at other doctor’s appointments, but right then, it felt like Dr. Eekle was prodding at a sore spot left after seeing that happy couple in the waiting room. “I just told you that I had my period last week.” 

“Its just a formality; I have to ask, for legal purposes,” the doctor explained, maintaining her cordial tone. 

Ashamed of her snappy tone, Y/n bent her head and fixed her gaze to her fidgeting fingers and the round diamond that made its home on her left hand a couple months ago. “Right, sorry,” she knew well enough the legal implications of not covering all protocol during a medical examination. “I’m not pregnant.” 

“Are you sure?”

In a haste, the irritation welled up and doubled. Y/n’s head snapped up and she glared at the doctor and she clenched her jaw; the only thing keeping her in that room was the possibility of a last minute cancellation fee. By then, it had started feeling like she was being taunted- or worse yet, not trusted. How dare Dr. Eekle question her knowledge of her own body and situation? It was completely ludicrous! “I’m sure,” Y/n gritted, moving her hands to hold the sides of the exam bed in a white knuckled grip.

Apparently Dr. Eekle sense her irritation and quickly  jotted down her final response before quietly instructing her to lay back and put her feet up on the stirrups. The rest of the appointment went by in virtual silence with the exception of generic questions and responses about the exam being traded, giving Y/n enough time to try to sort her thoughts and get her feelings together so it wouldn’t interrupt her work.

Later that day. “Hey,” Y/n’s voice in the doorway prompted Andy to lift his attention from the file in his hand. 

Leaning back into the leather upholstered chair behind his large desk, Andy propped his elbows on the armrests, keeping the file open before him. “Hey,” he breathed, “Come in,” he invited, discreetly glancing at the time displayed in a little corner of the screen of his computer. He was about to make a comment about how she was an hour and a half later than she’d assured him she’d be- though his irritation was probably stemming from a more personal issue- but when Andy looked at her again, he noted the slight redness rimming her eyes, poorly hidden by make-up and her slight, occasional sniffle. 

She looked pretty like that, was his first thought while the second was that something must be wrong for her to have been crying

“Is everything-”

“Brought you coffee,” she offered hastily upon sinking into one of the smaller chairs on the other side of his desk, “Dark roast, one cream, two sugars?”

Her usual quip about how he’d chosen the worst way to have coffee was absent, further adding to Andy’s newfound worry. “Yeah,” he reached over the populating the dark tinted, glass surface for the cup, “Thanks.”  She didn’t seem to want to talk about what was bothering her, and not wanting to push her- yet- Andy took a sip from the hot take-away cup before asking if she’d managed to read the file he wanted her to. 

Pulling her drink away from her lips, Y/n swallowed slowly, not meeting his gaze, “Uh…no, sorry. I meant to, last night but I ended up preparing a draft for your opening,” sniffling again, she reached into a plastic envelope folder that she usually brought to work and produced a couple stapled pages. 

It took a beat before Andy registered that she was trying to hand it to him, he was too busy staring at her; completely enamored by the way the slight glassiness of her eyes made them seem brighter while the ever so slight puffiness of her face was cute. She must have been a pretty crier. 

“And this morning, I meant to read it in the waiting room, but I kept getting distracted. Sorry,” she said meekly, seeming all small and vulnerable. The overwhelming urge to shield her from whatever had upset her so much. 

The waiting room; she’d gone to see a doctor. A gynecologist, specifically.  Andy had tried to get her to tell him why she’d been going, or even what type of doctor she was going to see, but Y/n had seemed adamant about keeping the information private. “Oh, its nothing, just a little check up for my insurance,” she’d said. Though, his own scouting had proven that she’d been lying. It had taken a bit of digging around in her office after she’d left one night the week before. She really  could stand to learn it was safer to lock her desk drawers because that was where he’d found a card for a women’s clinic with the name of a doctor scribbled on the back. The rest had been easy after that; the next day, Andy had called saying that his ‘wife’ was busy but wanted to confirm that she had an appointment for the date and time that she’d requested her time off. The receptionist had been the one to let it slip that she’d be going in for a routine pelvic exam.

Knowing something so personal had been thrilling; every piece of information was a little power trip. A inch more of control. 

But he was also a little pissed off that she hadn’t trusted him enough to just tell him. 

“I almost forgot,” he lied, “How was your appointment?” He asked, setting the pages down without even looking at them. 

Y/n hesitated, and he supposed she was flattered that he remembered, it was in the slight furrow of her brows and the way she hesitated before speaking. “It was- it was uh, it was fine. Thanks.”

Andy frowned deeply, wondering what could have possibly upset her- and who he’d have to hurt. “You sure?” Taking a leap of faith, he reached across the desk to grasp her wrist in what he hoped would be perceived as a soothing gesture. He used to be good with Laurie, and she was a lot like Laurie, ergo, Andy presumed that if Y/n would give him the chance, he could be good with her too. “We can talk about whatever is bothering you, if you want.” 

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she tugged her hand away defensively and Andy reared back, raising his palms in surrender. 

“I’m just trying to help, sweetheart,” she flashed him an odd look, the same one she did every time he called her that. It was still too personal, too presumptive; it was clear that Y/n wanted there to remain a boundary between them and while he would continue to be obscenely offended by it, it was imperative that he try to keep up the appearance of respect for that. At least, until he could deem his plan a success. 

Despite her obvious distaste for how he’d chosen to address her, she huffed a dry chuckle, presumably because she didn’t want to stir any animosity between them, something which he appreciated. Andy even thought that it was quite telling, and it roused the urge to push her boundaries a little more. See how much she could take. But he couldn’t, not yet. “I’m sorry I just….I’ve got a lot on my mind,” from the minute she said the words, Y/n started tearing up, though, she blinked quickly to remedy the moisture. 

“We can talk about-”

“I know, you said that,” she cut him off hastily. Shutting her eyes for a minute, she exhaled audibly and followed that up by moistening her lips. “Have you ever gotten to that point in our life where you feel like you’ve got…..ninety percent?”

“Ninety perfect?” Andy took a punctuating swing of his coffee and knitted his brows, “I don’t think I understand.”

She shook one shoulder, “You know, like you have everything you could ever want but one thing? That ten percent that….makes everything else seem so small.” 

He did; Andy had money, his dream job and what sometimes felt like an enthralling amount of power. A channel for his aggression where he still got to come off as the hero. But he didn’t have the one thing-person- that he fell asleep thinking about; her. 

“Yeah,” eager to establish that connection, he conquered, “That’s how you feel?” 

“I didn’t before….I don’t think I did,” she shook her head, “Or maybe I always have but didn’t realize it,” she lifted her head and because he’d been staring at her so intently, their eyes met. For a few precious seconds, there was something real and true between them; affinity that he thought could be easily translated to affection. “I know that I have everything, I keep telling myself that I do-”

“But you feel like you don’t. You feel like that one thing would just…..make your life complete.”

“Exactly, yeah,” she agreed, “And its ridiculous, because I was fine before. I knew I couldn’t have it....at least, not the way I want to, and I made my peace with that,” Y/n sighed, and he could see the guilt creeping to her face, “But now I’m thinking; why not me? Is that selfish?” Their eyes were still locked with his and that was how he knew what she was talking about; him.

Finally, vindication. 

“You can have it,” Andy leaned forward, urgency evident in his tone, “Its yours if you want it.”

Knitting her brows, she shook her head, “Its not that simple. It would….it hurt someone that I really care about if I said that this was what I wanted.”

Rising from his chair, Andy rounded the desk, taking a knee when he reached Y/n’s seat. Visibly confounded, she shifted awkwardly in the chair and gasped when he took her hands. They were so soft and small, a stark contrast to his. “Andy-”

“You can have it, that one thing. Its a little selfish, but sometimes selfish is what it takes,” he rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumbs and she briefly stole a glance at their joined hands. When his finger grazed the stone on her left ring fingers, Andy let out a shuddered breath and it took everything in him to not pull it off. 

She wasn’t wearing the look he expected her to, Y/n actually seemed bewildered. “I…I don’t think we’re having the same conversation right now.” 

Andy shook his head, “You can try to hide it and be cryptic,” he reasoned, arching towards her a little, “But I know what you want because I want to.”

A  scoff vacated her burgundy lips and Y/n briskly tugged her hands out of his grip, not noticing the soft clatter that resulted in his reluctance to let them go. “You do not know what I want,” she stood abruptly, chair falling backwards onto the carpeted floor with a thud as she did, “This is….completely inappropriate and I promise you we are not having the same conversation.” 

Shit. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, exasperated, embarrassed and more importantly enraged, “Y/n,” he tried to get her to stop packing her things away and hear him out, “I didn’t know-”

“Its okay,” she mumbled without looking at him. 

“Its just-”

“I led you on, yeah?” She looked at his face, but didn’t meet his eyes, “That’s what girls like me do?” 

“That’s not what I said,” he gritted, struggling to keep his cool amid the overwhelming amount of rage that had surged up in him when she’d pushed him away. If he scared her too much, it would make things harder later on; that was the only thought that kept him grounded. 

But when would 'later on' come? He was growing pretty damn tired of waiting. 

Y/n slung her handbag on her shoulder and haphazardly gathered her collection of papers, “You didn’t have to,” she shot back, tone short. “I’ll work on this in my office,” she offered next, tone flat and eyes fixed on the door. 

Just as she started to move past him, Andy impulsively grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him, “You don’t have to run away,” he growled, making her jump, “I’m trying to fix this.”

“I don’t need you to fix it,” she ripped herself away, “I need you to give me some fucking space,” locking her jaw, she stomped towards the door, rather petulantly and Andy could have only likened her to a child throwing a tantrum. Even if he hadn’t outwardly agreed, Y/n was right; she had led him on, this was her doing. 

The slamming of the door, which he was pretty sure the entire floor heard, signaled Y/n’s departure. Blowing a breath through puffed cheeks, Andy stepped forward, about to pick up the fallen chair- and maybe throw it through the fucking window- when he felt something under his foot. He stepped back and seeing what it was, Andy grinned. 

Licking his lips and barely containing the rumbling chuckle that ran through him, he crouched to collect a familiar ring off the floor. A simple, round cut diamond on a yellow gold band. Not bad to bad for an heirloom ring, but not very worthy of a woman like Y/n. He always envisioned her with something a little more glamorous, like the sapphire waiting for her in his bedroom. 

Righting the chair as he stood, Andy gave the ring one last look. It was like holding leverage in his palm, “So much for space, sweetheart.” 

Tagging: @polytheatix @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @ambreds @patzammit @sarahdonald87 @evansgal

[pilot-posting]

🔞 "Asynchrosis" Pt.2

hehe it’s been like an hour since i finished the first little bit but oh my god i am losing it

“Medical leave”

i stared at the ceiling in the trauma center, my legs bouncing lightly up and down unconsciously. i looked pretty out of place, most patients wore clothes similar to hospital garments from earth, but i was wearing my body glove, a simple black skin-tight body suit. the nurses had tried to get me to change out of it but i wouldn’t let them, protesting aggressively about how it made me feel comfortable. thinking about the tantrum made me cringe at myself but i shook my head and stared up at the ceiling. i had other things to be embarrassed about.

i had just been given “the talk”, my lieutenant pulled me aside the day after i had been admitted to medical leave. he sat me down in a locked office and explained to me my predicament.

“Listen, Emerson, it’s not unusual or even necessarily bad for pilots to grow attached to their mechs, Class-X mechs are arguably designed to make that happen…”

i wasn’t listening, there was just so much static behind my eyes. the night before i was pulled out of my Haratora-Zed by a concerned Class-I pilot while in deep synchrosis, in plain english, i was fucked up. i felt so angry with him for a little while… why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut, why’d he have to poke me. i don’t blame him as much now, he was doing his job, but still…

“Your mech, The Nagarrond?” my head snapped up to listen at the mention of her— i mean it, whatever.

“yes sir?”

“are you even aware how quickly you reached pique synchrosis?” i stared at him and shook my head no, i was lying, i had been training myself to fall quicker and quicker,

“22 minutes, you were in your mech for 22 minutes before synchrosis was complete. that’s record lows, and also terribly uncharted waters…” his voice faded off for me again. Nagarrond, my mech, has a specially designed interior, it was originally made for the feminine frame but, it was given a masculine attachment between the legs, to accommodate my… yeah.

“Pilot, we’re more worried for you than anything, alright?” i nodded, taking this comment as the end of the conversation and stood up,

“may i return to my quarters sir?” he looked a little beside himself but he nodded, i quickly walked down the hallway to get to the elevator, praying no one else was joining me, i could feel the crotch of my body suit getting tighter…

the way a class-x works is pretty simple to explain, pilots are pumped full of sensory enhancers through these fun little mechanical ports they put into you, before you put your body suit on, they cover you in a siphoning substance, basically so that the suit will vacuum seal itself to your skin… sometimes you do it yourself, but normally you have other crew help you. recruits to the program have a pretty typical track record of sexual misconduct during this period, as the gel is applied, hands wander and, protocol falls apart. but once you get into the mech, i assure you, you will never yearn for hands again.

once entering, your body suit will be pressurized by the mech grabbing and tightening around your body, this will cause the siphoning liquid to rapidly leave through the neck, finalizing the body suit equipment, then the mech will attach various prongs to the neural link halo implant around the upper half of your head, causing you to gain eye sight, and a informational HUD, including power levels, estimation on “time until release” (how soon you’re likely to cum), incoming messages and orders, some of which are automated meaning the mech is basically just using you as a power source, and some of which will request your direct input, alongside this you also get various fun “settings” you can neurologically activate.

after the halo insertion, then begins the output interfacing. in crude language since they somehow manage to make it boring during training, if you have a dick, it puts you into an industrial grade, personalized, and neurologically tuned vibrating, squeezing, and sucking fleshlight, which is constantly self lubricated. if you have a pussy, it attaches a pump to your clit which will constantly suck on it, and occasionally spray it with water to rehydrate, alongside this pump a scan of your interior is taken, and a studded self positioning dildo will extend to your ideal length and angle, and then always pump into you at the right speed. both body types are penetrated with anal vibrators which run on personalized cycles to stimulate your anal g spot as well as they can. most pilots will cum up to 4 times during calibration alone, causing the suit to provide appropriate sustenance through a pair of ports which are surgically implanted into your neck.

as the elevator door started to close i couldn’t help it, i leaned against the back wall and reached down to my girl-bulge, rubbing it through the bodysuit~ my tip tented against the rubbery material which hugged my skin, i could only imagine how bad this would hurt for a girl with a bigger dick… but i didn’t have that problem. i whimpered to myself as the door finally finished closing, i collapsed to a cross legged position, leaning forward as to rub my bulge across my calves, i humped at it desperately, growing frustrated with myself. it was the first day in months i didn’t have any stimulus enhancers, every stroke and hump felt unsatisfying? despite how much i whimpered at them. before i knew it i had to get back to standing, as i saw the floor number rapidly approaching mine. as i got myself up i made myself look professional, aka i yanked my girldick between my legs and just prayed it would get a little softer…

i rushed back into the trauma unit and past the receptionist, into the quarters, locking myself in my room and collapsing against the door, the cool blue lights were flickering on from the motion detection as i just stared down at my humiliating girl dick, i shook my head rapidly for a second to try and get my mind off it before undoing the body suits binding and tossing it on my bed.

i grabbed my holo phone and went for the shower… i had some sketchy websites to look at.

[strawbszz]

Hi vamps hii!! Uhhmmm I wanted to ask for a fanfic💪💪🧐🧐 like one where reader (she/her) is in mcr too and she starts to feel dizzy on stage and she passes out and has to go to the hospital and Frank and gerard lay on each side of her while she wakes up and doesn’t know what happened Tysm you don’t have to tho😭 I love your post sm istg!!!!

Gerard way x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1,082

Warnings: hospitals, blood (not graphic), injuries

Its 2002 and you are the drummer of the little band My Chemical Romance.

You are secretly dating Gerard and the rest of the band just thinks you and gerard are just good friends (since you’ve know him since like 9th grade)

Its 7:34am and you just woke up. Ray is making some coffee.

“Hey (Y/N), you ready for tonight’s concert?” Ray asks you.

“Yes!! I’m pumped!” You laugh.

“Sweet!” Ray says.

“I’m gonna go change out of these pajamas.” You say.

“Ok!” Ray says.

You walk into the backroom with the beds and stuff and open a drawer and grab jeans, black hoodie, and a korn shirt.

You look over and see gerard sleeping his bunk.

You walk over to him and rub his back. “Gee.. wake up.” You say softly.

He groans and wakes up. “Huh..?”

“Wake up gee.” You say.

“Oh, morning.” Gerard says, smiling at you.

“Come here.. i wanna cuddle you..” gerard says.

“Shh!! Remember we can’t let them know we are.. you know.. also ray is in the next room.” You whisper.

He groans. “Fine..”

Frank walk out of the bathroom. “Oh morning (Y/N).” Frank says.

You jump. “Oh! Hey.”

“What did i scare you?” frank smiles smugly.

“A little..” you roll your eyes.

“I should get changed.” You walk away from them.

You go in the bathroom and change.

~

It’s around 11:36am.

“Hey what should we get to eat?” Mikey says.

“Hmm.. i don’t know.” Gerard says.

“I saw a diner down the street, we should go there.” You say.

~

You guys get to the diner and walk in.

“Ahh, it’s warm in here.” Frank says.

You giggle.

“Fuck.. i hate Jersey winters.” Mikey says.

~

You guys are eating lunch in no time.

Gerard touches your shoe with his on purpose.

You glance at him wide eyed pissed a little.

Gerard just smirks and goes back to eating his food.

~

It’s about 5:36pm and you guys are driving to the venue to set up.

You guys park and hop out of the van.

“Lets unload this bitch!” Frank yells.

You giggle.

~

about a hour later you guys finish unloading and setting stuff up.

You start testing out your drums.

“Yo, (Y/N)! You gotta get your makeup on!!” Gerard yells.

“Oh shit! Right!!” You hop off your drum seat and run to the dressing room.

“Thanks for telling me, Gee..” you say out of breath.

“No problem.” Gerard says.

~

You guys start it off with Gee just speaking.

“Hi guys! We’re My Chemical Romance from New Jersey! I’m so excited playing with you guys!” Gerard says. “Alright! Lets start with our first song..”

You guys start with our lady of sorrows.

~

Its gotten up to song the last song on the record.

You look over and see frank rolling on the floor and jumping. You snort.

You focus on playing the drums. Until frank jumps and crashes into you. You hit your head pretty hard.

The only thing you hear before you pass out is “OH SHIT- (Y/N)!” From Gerard.

~

You wake up in a unfamiliar place.

“Gee! She’s awake!” You hear a voice that sounded like Frank’s say.

“Wha..?” You open your eyes and see Gerard.

“Hey.. how are you feeling (Y/N)..?” Gerard says softly.

“I-i’m fine.. wha.. what happened..?” You look over to a guilty frank.

“I- i jumped into you.. i’m so sorry (Y/N).” Frank says.

“Wheres Mikey and Ray..?” You ask Gerard.

“They are in the waiting room.. Mikey almost puked seeing you bleed everywhere.” Gerard giggles.

You giggle.

“How long have i been out?” You ask.

“Oh.. like.. 2 hours? Yeah 2.” Gerard says.

“Really! Oh my god!” You say.

Frank giggles.

“Also we got a hotel! So we can sleep comfortably and you don’t have to complain to be about your back hurting from the bunks!” Gerard says.

You laugh. “They do hurt my back!! I feel elderly when i wake up!” You say.

“Elderly?” Frank laughs.

“Yes! Like my back feels the same as your grandma’s!” You laugh.

The nurse walks in. “Hey you two- oh your awake (Y/N)! Yeah you just have a slight concussion but your fine if your going home with anyone.” She says.

“Oh i’m going to a hotel with those 4. We are touring around here so.” You say.

“Ah okay.” She says. “You’ll be free to leave let me just take out this stuff out of your arm..”

She takes the IVs out of your arm and you tense up from the pain.

“Alright! Your set!” She says.

You get up wobbling a little. Frank helps you stand up.

“You good?” Frank asks.

“Yeah.” You say.

You guys walk out to the waiting room to grab Mikey and Ray.

“Hey! She’s ready to go!” Gerard says.

“Oh hey (Y/N)! Are you okay..?” Ray says.

Mikey is sleeping on ray’s shoulder. He rubs his head to wake him up.

“Huh..?” Mikey mumbles.

“It’s time to go Mikey. (Y/N) is okay.” Ray whispers to mikey.

“Okay..” mikey puts on his glasses and gets up.

You guys leave the hospital and get in the van.

You lay your head on Gee’s shoulder and fall asleep.

~

“Hey.. (Y/N) we’re here at the hotel.” Gerard says.

“Okay..” you say.

You guys get out of the car and walk into the hotel.

“Hello!” Ray says to the lady at the table.

“Hello.” She says.

“I booked 6 rooms for us. Its under the name Ray.” Ray says.

“Okay..” the lady starts typing. “Yeah.. we only have 5 rooms open..” she says.

“Oh.” Ray says.

“That will be fine!” Ray says.

“So sorry that happened we got over booked a little..” she says.

“It’s fine..” Ray says. “Okay so.. we gotta share rooms by 2 people.. got it?”

You guys nod.

“Okay.. I’ll stay with Ray.” Mikey says.

“I’ll stay with Gee.” You say.

“I’ll stay with the tour manager.” Frank says.

“Sweet. Heres your guys’ cards.” Ray hands you guys’ the key cards.

You and Gerard get on the elevator to go to your guys’ room.

“Okay heres our room, Gee.” You say.

“Kay..” he says.

You unlock the room and walk in.

Gerard drops his bags and flops on the bed.

“C’mere..” Gerard puts out his arms.

“Hold on..” you say.

You undress from your bloody-ish clothes.

You climb into bed with Gerard and cuddle up to him.

“I love you (Y/N)..” Gerard Says.

“Love you too..” you say.

[darkpeacemusic]

Creepypasta Headcanons: Sully Woods

(Note: Some of these headcanons were inspired by the 2015 reboot of Jeff the Killer and one of them was inspired by a rumor based around the Jeff the Killer image)

(TW: Abuse, bullying, suicide and murder)

In my AU, Sully is actually Liu's younger twin instead of an alter or demon possessing Liu.

Like Liu, he is 33 years old as of currently and he is also 8 years old than Jeff.

He is 7 minutes younger than Liu even though he acts like he's older than Liu.

He and Liu were basically inseparable like they were always around each other and never left each other's side for a minute.

Growing up, it was always hard to tell which twin was Sully and which one was Liu so Sully has gotten used to people confusing him for Liu.

Sully has hated Jeff ever since Jeff was a baby because he thinks he was the reason the family fell apart and their dad didn't have time for him anymore due to working overtime.

Before Jeff was born, Sully was taught by his father how to use a BB gun.

Like Liu, he is half Korean and curses in Korea whenever he doesn't get his way or gets very pissed off.

When Jeff and Liu started to bond as brothers, Sully started to get jealous of Jeff because of how close they bonded. So as a result, Sully would do what normal jealous would do and try to get rid of Jeff such as dropping off to live with the Hopkins (their next door neighbors at the time) and shaving off his hair.

As he got older, he got borderline abusive towards Jeff. There was one time he yelled at Jeff and threw his Rubix cube at him for coming into his room in the middle of the night without his permission when Jeff had a nightmare (Liu was at a sleepover at that time).

Sully was a perfect son in his parents' eyes. Always getting good grades, never getting trouble at school, and even winning Student of the Month awards. If there was anything that he could do to make his parents and himself look good, he would do it.

He listens to rock, pop, and rap. The most common song he would play when he's driving his Honda is Pumped Up Kicks as it reminds him of what he will do once he catches Jeff.

He and Jane only get along due to their mutual hatred of Jeff.

He's only nice towards anyone who isn't associated with Jeff.

When Jeff was burned alive by the bullies, the only thing Sully cared about was how damaged Jeff's face would be.

He has a dark sense of humor.

At age 18, he got a scholarship to an art school where he would meet and become best friends with Bloody Painter.

His favorite artists is Van Goug.

Before the night Jeff snapped, Sully at one point photoshopped one of Jeff's photos and made him look like the Joker. He would later plaster it on the internet which humiliated Jeff to the point where he nearly committed suicide. Sully would then say that Jeff was being too sensitive and it was only a joke. This would be one of the reasons why Jeff would snap.

He drives a 2024 Honda CR-V.

During the night Jeff had snapped, Sully would escape the house by sneaking out of the window and left his twin to suffer in the hands of Jeff without noticing.

A year after he escaped from Jeff's rampage, he would later release a autobiography called "Jeff the Killer: A Love for Blood" which tells the Jeff the Killer story in Sully's POV. He twisted the story up by making up lies about Jeff such as being an abusive brother towards Liu and getting addicted to painkillers after getting out of the hospital.

He lives in a penthouse that he bought when his book became an overnight seller.

His favorite food is ramen.

He firmly believes Randy was innocent and that Jeff should've died that night he was burned.

He still loves his twin, Liu while Liu still hates him for everything he has done to him and Jeff.

He doesn't murder innocent people but rather anyone who is associated with Jeff or anyone who tries to debunk his lies. He is determined to keep his crimes secret so he won't have his reputation get ruined.

He smokes as a way to destress.

[sewagetreatmentplant01]

Netsol Water: The Best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi

Along with the growth of Delhi the demand for pure, safe water for industrial applications keeps on increasing. Presently, there is a zeal to have water treatment systems of high capacities particularly from hotels and restaurants, hospitals, and manufacturing facilities. Netsol Water sensed this growing need and positioned itself to meet that challenge head-on. Netsol Water is one of the best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, providing advance solutions for waste water.

Netsol Water specializes in the ingenuity and excellence of commercial RO plants in its manufacturing. Over time, the company grew to be the preferred business partner for various businesses based around Delhi and other cities. Their high-tech facilities, comprising of experienced engineers, strive day and night to design, manufacture, and install top of the line RO systems that set the benchmark standard for their performance and reliability.

 

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A successful base by Netsol Water is about unwavering commitment to advanced water purification technology. Their industrial RO plants feature:

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Real business benefits from these technological advantages involve higher-grade water purity, reduced energy consumption, and reduced maintenance.

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Commercial water purification cannot be a single-type solution. Netsol Water understands this through the diverse quality requirements of different sectors and specific limitations in operations. Accordingly, they are offering the consumers a wide range of customized RO plant solutions to meet the unique needs of various sectors as discussed below:

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Working closely with clients to understand their unique challenges, Netsol Water develops custom RO solutions that optimize performance and cost-effectiveness for every application.

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Commercial RO plants may look to describe water purification industries, but Netsol Water has established a good name in all this by offering long-lasting commercial RO plants. Quality is reflected in the strict selection of materials and strict quality control in each and every aspect of operations. Here are some examples:

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This quality-centric approach towards fulfilling the needs of companies and multiple establishments within Delhi has helped Netsol Water win the hearts of thousands of businesses and, ultimately, to be positioned as the number one manufacturer of the commercial RO plant in the city.

Core Sustainability 

The water treatment solutions at Netsol Water keep up with the environmental-friendly concepts driven by the increasing environmental awareness. Their commercial RO plants embrace only those practices from this notion that generate less amount of waste and consume lesser quantities of resources.

A. Advance Technology: With the advanced membrane technology and system design, the recovery rate allows for a maximum amount of pure water production with minimal reject water.

B. Recycling options: Netsol Water offers a reclamation or reuse solution for the rejected water from the process that can help to increase efficiency further by avoiding waste.

C. Chemical-free operation: Most of the RO systems developed by Netsol Water are operated based on physical filtration processes that help minimize the use of harsh chemicals used in the treatment process.

D. Optimization of Energy: Smart control devices and energy recovery devices offer the minimum consumption of power without letting a single drop in performance.

Businesses in Delhi can choose a commercial RO plant from Netsol Water to purify their water exactly as they emphasize more concern towards the environment.

 

Customer Success Stories

Indeed, the hallmark of excellence in case of Netsol Water is simply found in the happy and satisfied experiences of its customers. Business houses in Delhi have come across various types of expertise from the company while excellent RO plant solutions. Five-star hotel in central Delhi had 30 percent of its operational expenses on water reduced through a Netsol Water commercial RO system that was installed.

- A leader in the nation's pharmaceutical manufacturing industry saw a dramatic improvement in the quality and uniformity of products using the high-purity water treatment solution from Netsol Water.

- A huge food processing facility also achieves 100% compliance to strict regulatory standards through a custom-built RO plant designed by Netsol Water.

These stories and so many more tell the tale of the impact which commercial RO plants have made in business success tales in the city.

 

Looking to the Future

With the constant growing trend and development, the same is with Netsol Water, as the advancement takes place. The company has always been a forerunner in water purification technology and continues the innovation and improvement of commercial RO plant offerings. According to research and development, Netsol Water will soon launch more high-tech and efficient solutions for water treatment in the near future.

In such a case, for the best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturers in Delhi, the companies would look nowhere else other than Netsol Water. Netsol Water provides unmatched expertise, cutting-edge technology, and a commitment to customer satisfaction that makes it a go-to partner for all commercial water purification needs. In this regard, opting for Netsol Water will allow companies to have a reliable clean and safe supply of water while optimizing their operations and contributing to a more sustainable future.

While water scarcity and quality will remain an issue in the region, it is when such solutions as offered by Netsol Water are ready for presentation that the businesses in Delhi will find themselves leaving all their concerns about staying alive to the solutions that will come. The future city along with its industries now boasts cleaner, better water security with the commercial RO plants leading the way.