#also his heart DID FUCKING STOP but hes electric enough that the ring have him enough of a jolt to restart his heart

[zaynes-ocs]

Tempest

Tw for graphic descriptions of execution via electric chair

This is part 3 of milo’s backstory read parts 1 and 2 here:

Part 1

Part 2

He was going to die.

He was just a boy.

He was going to be executed.

All of these realizations had slowly settled in on Milo’s psyche as he had sat huddled in his cell for the few days he was allowed as the world around prepared for his death while he was left to stew in the anxiety of it all. Every set of footsteps echoing down the hallways sending a jolt of terror down his spine, wondering if it was finally his time until his anxiety ran him numb. At some point, he stopped caring, though he couldn’t for the life of him remember when, so when those footsteps finally halted in front of his cell one day, he found it easy to stand.

He didn’t resist as he was guided down the hall, chains jangling like the bells that would toll for his demise as his feet shuffled against the cool cobblestone floor towards his doom. His tears had long dried from the hours if not days upon sobbing he did in his cell, and quite frankly he was over it by now.

Even as the doors moaned open into a dimly lit room, he felt nothing. His dull, lifeless gaze settled upon the only piece of furniture in the entire room as he entered. A single, wooden chair was bolted to the ground, metal restraints that shimmered like the foaming waves of the trecherous waters of a flood were attatched to the arms and legs of the chair while another sheet of metal lay in the seat. Up the oaken backing stuck another line of frigid metal leading up to an odd mechanical circlet hanging by looping wires that spiraled up into a cold and clinical cobweb of copper and iron.

“Take your seat.” Came the guard’s command, to which Milo silently complied, wincing breifly as the metal cuffs of the chair bit and constricted his wrists and ankles, a discomfort that he promised himself would disappear soon, as dead people dont feel.

The chair was uncomfortable in design, forcing Milo’s back staight as the cold metal backing pressed up against his spine while the circlet clenched like the fangs of a predator against his temple as his guard checked over his restraints.

“Sorry to have to do this to you kid… but orders are orders…” The guard sighed as he took a step back, glancing over the young boy’s form with a grimace of discomfort. “If you have any final words to get out… I’ll record them for you if you’d like.”

“Alec is a lying bastard… and I hope he rots in hell.” Milo softly snarled, surprising even himself at the venom that drolled off his tongue, astonished to the new feeling of pure, vengeful rage that held no room for fear to prevent him from speaking, for what place does fear have in a dead man’s body anyways?

The guard’s mouth formed a fine, grim line in silent understanding of those words before he swiftly made gis departure, leaving Milo alone in the room with only the feeling of impending demise and the ever present weight of his mother’s ring boring a hole through his pocket. At least he’d have a chance to apologize for being late to dinner this way, he supposed.

His fists clenched in nervous anticipation as a soft electrical hum filled the air, almost a squealing shrill scream that danced through the wires before it roared into a cacophonous buzzing as untamed blue light shot down the wores, igniting across the metal of the chair before sinking its prickly fangs into Milo’s nervous system, his skin clicking and popping as sparks jumped between him and the metal, forcing his body rigid as the sheer power overrode his body as his execution began.

He couldn’t scream, nor control any of the haphazard spasms and convultions that rocked his body against the chair, his jaw forced tight as lightning danced hotter than fire through his blood, burning and stinging far worse than he could even imagine as his heart was forced to thunder with every spasm, constricting and gasping for every missed beat as it tried to keep up with it all. Milo’s very spine scalded like magma as it was forced against the metal, his skin feeling like it was boiling from the inside as the tingly sensation of needle-like sparks jabbed and stabbed at the very bone, sending shudder after shudder to the rest of his limbs that rattled and bashed against their restraints that only served to burn him further, condensing the circut into only his body and leaving the excess nowhere else to go as it was forced to burn its way back through the body reversably.

The circlet atop his head bit and hissed as a bolt of energy danced across his face like a thunderclap, searing its way over one of his eyes with a terrible flash that nearly blinded him as his eyes watered with tears that wished to express themself, his lip tearing and cracking as the lightning tore him apart from the inside. His heart hammered faster and faster until he was certain it had stopped completely before it seized once again, his organs twisting and churning just like his limbs with no way for him to control their movements before the electricity finally ceased, and his heart lulled to a final stop.

Mere seconds had felt like an eternity as Milo’s head slouched forward, his snowy hair straying from the path of gravity with wn electric hum to it as his mind slowly began to fuzz and fade, his last few surviving moments of air to his brain dissappearing with every sefond as his vision grew darker and darker, conciousness fading with it as he was faintly aware of the sensation of his restraints finally loosening before a sudden, violent spark leapt between his fingertips and danced its way back through his body, and his heart began to beat again.

Gasping out, Milo lunged forward with a vicegrip, holding on for desperate life as his systems reinstated themselves and his vision returned, only to find his hand wound tightly around the neck of one of the guards and his pocket filled with a warm, energetic buzz that drew him like a moth to a flame. Wordlessly, he dug his other hand in, finding a small sapphire ring hidden amongst the cloth that hummed with purpose and gave off a faint glow almost that mesmerized the newly awakened elf as the cogs in his mind slowly began to turn, remembering once more who he was, where he was and what exactly had just transpired before a roar of rage shot through his body, a surge of energy flowing through his arm like a tidal wave before it slammed into the helpless guard with a violent electric flurry, brilliant blue sparks shooting out and swarming his arm like ribbons.

The guard lay bloodied and motionless on the floor of the chamber, earning nothing but a glower from the elf a gave him nothing more than a glance before turning his attention back to the ring in his pocket which slipped flawlessly onto his finger, calling to him like destiny as he shed what remained of the shy, quiet boy from the village and donned a new outlook on life and an all consuming rage the likes he had never felt before. His very mind itself had changed as he stormed his way out of the prison like a hurricane, wind and thunder smiting any who blocked his path as he had only one destination lingering in his mind.

They wanted a monster to blame so badly?

They’d get their monster.

Part 4 - FINAL PART!

[jeanie-g]

#50 jamie and trevor :)

this one's all about the vibes. when this song plays in my car, and i'm sailing down the highway, i feel like i'm ryan gosling in 'drive'. also, i've got 'inertia' on the brain, so it's an f1 au!! (pls excuse my very little knowledge of f1 and also how racing works beyond 'car go fast').

[#50] Stylo - Gorillaz

If it's love, it's electric / It'll be flowing on the streets

Trevor wants to throw his helmet on the ground the second he steps out of his car. The calvary of cameras are already on him, though, and reacting badly to placing in Monaco would make him look like an asshole. Lord knows there's enough digital proof of his bad temper on the Internet already.

Nice job, Trevor. P3 is ringing in his mind, only getting louder when the shouts of congratulations assault his ears and his team comes forward to shake his hand and slap him on the back. Trevor only half-tries to hide his disdain. He has to save his energy for the podium, and he doesn't think anyone would give him shit this time. They know what they did, after all.

And the thing is, Trevor does feel like an asshole, but he also thinks he was royally fucked on the track back there. He held onto that precious lead the whole race, only to fall two positions after a shoddy pit stop in the final leg. He doesn't know what went wrong, exactly, only that the crew was slow and scrambling, and by the time he was back on the track, McLaren and Ferrari were ahead of him.

He tried to get in close, force Sainz into a corner and pass him, but there was never an opening big enough to not send them both crashing into the barrier. So, biting his tongue so hard he could taste blood, he crossed the finish line in third.

Trevor doesn't want to celebrate, no matter how historic a win this is for Mercedes!, as his crew chief tells him as he walks off the track. It would've been more historic if Trevor actually won.

Time on the podium passes by in a blur, the voices of reporters and clicking of camera shutters distant and echoey. Trevor paints on a smile and distinctly avoids looking at the other drivers as much as he can. He holds up his medal while the shower of champagne descends on him, and when his wet, sticky hair falls over his eyes, he doesn't brush it out of the way.

Trevor gets a moment by himself to breathe before he gets pulled for media, heading to the since-abandoned flag stand and parking it on the fifth step. He stares at the ground, making fists and trying to control his nausea. This race was his. It was his, and he knows he shouldn't blame his crew, but if they hadn't fucked up, it would've been him up on the top podium, lifting the trophy, instead of—

"Zegras."

Trevor nearly jumps out of skin. He recognizes the voice, but he still hopes he's mistaken as he looks up. Drysdale is standing there, stupid half-smirk on his dumb, freckled face. He's drenched in champagne—just stinking with it.

Drysdale wasn't always on Trevor's radar. The past few years they've raced together, while Trevor stayed in the top four, Drysdale was floating down around P7 or P8. This season, though, he's been a pain in Trevor's side on the track. McLaren's churned out a stud this year, and both Drysdale and Piastri drive it beautifully. The both of them are sitting comfortably in third and fourth so far, but they haven't won.

Well, until today.

"Good race out there, man," he says, and Trevor feels his blood run hot. "Seriously. By all accounts, it should've been you."

Part of Trevor wants to tell him to screw, shove him aside and go find somewhere else to wallow, but the thing about Drysdale is that he's just too fucking nice. Trevor doesn't have the heart to be mean to him.

"Well, it wasn't," Trevor settles on, hoping that will shut this conversation right down and send Drysdale on his merry way. "You won. Congrats."

Something curious passes over Drysdale's features: surprise—amusement, maybe. "Thanks. I'm always used to being on your ass. Never thought I'd see Mercedes in my mirrors."

Trevor lets a long breath out through his nose. Deep down, he knows Drysdale didn't mean it as an insult, but it still stings like one.

He crosses his arms. "Ferrari, though, not a surprise?" he asks, goading.

Drysdale doesn't bite, though; he just grins, this sweet thing, eyes crinkling with it. Trevor's not used to driving with players who are nice. Usually, when they smile at him, their teeth resemble a shark's. Drysdale, though; every single one seems genuine, even the ones aimed at his enemies.

"Sainz lacks consistency," he says with a shrug, like that explains everything. To be fair, it sort of does, though. Sainz is a good driver, but he's been blowing leads all season. "Once you stayed out, it wasn't hard to pass him, in the end."

Trevor doesn't know what to say. "Why'd you come find me?"

Drysdale again shrugs. "Wanted to congratulate you."

"That couldn't wait for the cool-down room?"

"I wanted to do it personally."

Trevor doesn't hide his exasperated sigh. "Why?"

Drysdale's tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip. It's a quick movement, but for whatever reason, Trevor's brain processes it in slow motion.

"I like racing you, Trevor," Drysdale says. Trevor's brain snags on the fact that he used his first name. "You're tenacious, and when you know you deserve something, you don't give it up easily. I wanted to tell you, I admire that."

He steps closer, effectively boxing Trevor in on the step, as if he's letting him in on a secret.

"This win is good for McLaren, and it's good for me, but I didn't earn it, not really. There's a difference." He smiles. "I know I'll be on your ass again, and I know I'll beat you for real someday, and when I do, it's gonna be fair. I want a challenge. I want a fight. Wouldn't you agree?"

Trevor doesn't know when his throat went dry, but he has to clear it to speak. "Yeah. I'd—I'd agree."

Drysdale hits him with another half-smirk as he steps back. "So, don't give up now. Give me a good fight, Zegras."

If Trevor was put under oath, he still couldn't explain why his belly goes warm at that. And then Drysdale winks at him, and his heart stutters in his chest.

Look, Drysdale isn't an unattractive guy, but Trevor has never had a single thought about him that could be construed as sexual. But something about what he said, the way he said it, and how he looked when he said it...

Before Trevor can do something stupid like ask him if he's ever thought Trevor was attractive, Drysdale starts to turn, giving him a quick, two-fingered salute. "I'll see you on the couch, man."

Trevor watches him walk back into civilization, hands in the pockets of his fireproofs, an orange blur getting smaller and smaller. Trevor gets the sudden urge to run after him, grab him by the epaulettes, and kiss that stupid half-smirk right off his face.

Trevor clenches his hands into fists again. Great. Losing in Monaco wasn't bad enough; now, he's got this to deal with, too.

[bonniebird]

Carl x Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

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Part 1 here

Carl woke with the sun on his face. He was in the bed crammed against the corner wall. Fiona was hugging him and he felt tired. But better. “You awake?” She asked and he nodded. “Want to talk about it now?”

“I fucked up.” He said as he rolled to stare at the ceiling. He felt her rest her head against his and closed his eyes.

“No shit Carl that girl has stuck with us for the worst of it.” Fiona said before adding. “Sorry. Go on. I won't get mad or interrupt.”

“I called her a gold digger. Also, I pushed her around.” he swallowed guilty and Fiona gasped.

“Carl!”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad or interrupt! I know what I did was wrong. I tried apologising.” Carl grumbled.

“You do know what a golddigger is right? Because (Y/N) gave you her Christmas money last year when Frank robbed us and the electricity got cut off. Gold Diggers wouldn’t do that.” Ian said from the bunk bed.

“I was mad! She said she didn’t want to be around me anymore. I was heading down a road that would get us both killed and I was different since I came home. She’d heard all these rumours from other people and most of them were true. She said that we weren’t good together anymore because I wasn’t me anymore.” He explained. 

“Ok and the shoving?” Fiona pressed, trying to bite her tongue and not tell him off.

“She walked away before I could say my piece and I grabbed her arm. I pulled her to make her stop leaving and she shoved me. So I shoved her and she slapped me. We haven’t spoken since.”

“Jesus Carl!” Fiona muttered. She gave him a disapproving look but spared him anything else as he already looked rather guilty.

“I tried calling and taking flowers. I tried apologising a couple of times too. She doesn’t want to hear.” Carl complained. Fiona and Ian shared a look as Fiona got up.

“Well, you can’t give up.” She said quietly. Carl had sat up to look at her but flopped down on the bed again and sprawled out. “Look. Just take today to mope and then we can start fixing all this.”

Fiona checked back on Carl at lunchtime, leaving something to eat and drink on the window sill next to the bed. He’d cried himself into exhaustion and slept for most of the day. It felt a little like her heart was breaking for him. He got up for dinner. He ate enough that no one complained when he left early and let Frank finish his dinner. Fiona stayed up half the night taking out his cornrows and talking softly about how he could get things on the right track. When she’d finished and her fingers were aching Carl looked back at her from his spot on the floor.

“What. What if I’m too late? She doesn’t want to get back together. What do I do then?” He asked and Fiona sighed as if he’d asked her to explain how the universe worked.

“Then you nod. Say you understand and that you’re sorry. You let her leave. Then you do your best to make sure that when you run into her again you don’t make her feel awkward and maybe you’ll be friends again.” Fiona said in a way that made Carl wonder if she had wished someone had done the same for her.

“What if I can’t do that?” Carl asked as he turned away and picked at the carpet. “What if. I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Fiona didn’t answer as she got up and left him alone in his room. 

******************************

You jumped as your phone ran again. It was Carl. You hadn’t heard from him for a while. He eventually stopped texting. As you hurried home you saw him sitting in the park. He was talking frantically on his phone. He stopped and your phone pinged. A message saying you had voicemail popped up and then it started to ring again. A crowd crossed the road as Carl looked your way so you were able to silence your phone without him spotting you. 

“It’s me again. I just. We don’t have to meet in person if you don’t want to. I just. Wanted to apologise. Tell you that you were right. I was being an idiot.” Carl said as you hurried past. You almost stopped and turned back but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It had been so long since you’d spoken in person that it felt like you needed to hype yourself up first. For the first time in months as soon as you got home you hurried up to your room and flopped down on your bed, finally opening the messages he had sent you. I love you and miss your messages, apologies and pleadings. Then they all stopped as if he understood you’d needed space. Or he’d given up hope. Then you listened to each message he’d left you. It had been a while since you’d heard his voice. You’d forgotten how comforting it was to just do nothing and listen to him. Spending several hours just laying down and wondering what you should do you started to feel nervous and it ebbed into bravery. 

You found yourself making your way to the Gallagher house before you could second guess yourself. You could at least hear Carl out. He had sounded sincere. Knocking on the door you waited, you’d never waited in your life, just let yourself in and yelled that you were there since you were smaller than Liam. No one would question why you were on the sofa watching TV, someone would just sling a snack your way and you’d spend all day there with Debbie or Carl. Then you started to follow Carl around after a couple of years. He thought nothing of it until he and his friends had gotten in trouble while you were hanging around and he had to turn around and run back for you. You’d not run fast enough and had started to go straight home. He had squeezed your hand and led you away until you lost the pursuers. He’d pulled you into a large bush and you hid with our hands over your mouth as you tried not to nervously giggle with Carl squished up against you whispering for you to shut up. He had gone home and asked Fiona a lot of questions about love and ‘mushy shit’. They’d made fun of him until they saw the two of you together. Years of friendship seemed to have grown into awkwardness that made everyone a little uncomfortable for a while. 

“Hello. Oh! Shit. (Y/N)!” Ian said as he opened the door. He grinned at you and you smiled, relieved that he didn’t immediately turn you away.

“Who is it?” Debbie yelled.

“(Y/N)!”

“She knocked?” Debbie said as if Ian had to be mistaken. She came to the door and looked you up and down. “Oh shit. It’s (Y/N). Carl’s not here.” Debbie said.

“Oh.” You sounded a little disappointed and you started to feel more nervous. Would you be able to build up the courage to come by and talk to him again?

“You know. He’s at work. So I could drop you off. I’m on my way out.” Ian said quickly. Debbie frowned at him. 

“You just got in. Ow!” Debbie complained as Ian elbowed her arm. He drove you down towards the diner where Fiona worked. Heading inside you were a little relieved that he got out and went to sit at one of the empty tables.

“Oh shit. (Y/N)!” Fiona said when you approached the till.

“Is Carl here?” You asked.

“Yeah.” She said and nodded as she turned to the back. “Carl. You still on break?” She called out.

“I still have five minutes.” He called back. She motioned for you to go through to the back.

Carl had his back to you, staring down at his phone. You cleared your throat but he didn’t look up.

“Carl?” You said quietly. His head jerked to you and he turned in his seat.

“(Y/N)? How’d you know I was here?” He asked. 

“Ian. He gave me a ride. I went to yours to see you but. You were here.” You muttered. He smiled a little and nodded.

“Yeah. Washing dishes for minimum wage. It’s not. So bad I guess.” Carl muttered. You looked uncomfortable and awkward standing in the doorway, holding your coat. He would have hopped up from his seat and tried to make you feel more comfortable but he wasn’t sure that you’d let him. 

“I got your messages.” You said after a long pause. He nodded and you realised that he’d been looking at the long list of messages he’d left you.

“I saw. It said you read them.” He explained. Awkward silence again. “I’m sorry. I’m. I’m really sorry about everything.”

“I know.” You said quickly and he nodded.

“I. If you just want to be friends I get that. I’m ok with that.” Carl swallowed and looked down at his feet then back at you. He could see that your face had fallen a little as if he’d disappointed you. “I’ve been a fucking asshole. I don’t expect you to forgive me.” 

“You don’t?” You said quietly. Carl had been about to insist that he was just hoping that you would, not wanting to pressure you but he spotted Fiona and Ian peeking down the small hallway and hurried to shut the door.

“I’m hoping you will.” He admitted and you smiled.

“You stopped it all…”

“The crazy shit. Yeah. It got out of hand like you said it would and I had to sort it.” Carl explained. He paused and cleared his throat. “I um. I’d like to still be friends if you moved on.”

“Moved on?” You said with uncertainty. This wasn’t going the way you thought it would. You figured he’d apologise and show you he’d changed and then insist on walking home with you. But he was looking at you a little like he was hurting.

“I saw you with your friends at the cinema. Well. Outside.” He confessed. 

“Oh. Honestly? We invited him because my friend liked him. But he just wouldn’t back off. I was hoping he’d kind of move onto her.” You admitted and laughed a little. Carl suddenly felt a lot more confident and smiled genuinely at you. 

“Well. I could handle him if you wanted.” Carl offered. You winced making him frown a little.

“I actually. Did that myself. I’m supposed to be at home, grounded, but. I wanted to talk.” You smiled as Carl nodded and laughed as if he approved. There was silence again but now it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Carl. Your break is over.” Fiona called through the door. Carl sighed and Gave you an apologetic look. He hadn’t expected you to step closer but let you. His eyes slid shut as you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and pulled away.

“How long are you grounded for?” Carl asked.

“A month. I hit him the way Lip showed me and he had to go to the hospital.” You explained. Carl grinned at you and laughed again.

“Damn. That’s almost hard time. Maybe I’ll come by and keep you company?” He asked and you nodded. He was smiling ear to ear when you left. Ian managed to get you back home and Lip happened across the two of you as he took a shortcut that passed by your backyard. As he and Ian helped you climb in through your bedroom window while your parents pulled up outside the front of the house, Ian explained that you’d spoken to Carl.

You’d gotten ready for bed and almost fallen asleep when our phone pinged. Rolling over you fumbled around for it until you found it. Wincing at the bright light you saw it was a message from Carl wishing you a good night. With a smile you read it twice before responding. Having no idea that on the other end of the message Carl had fallen asleep with a delighted smile on his face after reading your message.

Carl tags:

@linkpk88 @babypink224221 @lisainhell @spiderwebs-blog @gryffindorqueensworld @rockyrascal @twerp8999 @supernatural-wolfie @love1deandra @archaeologydigit @im-eating-rn @bucketbunny @littlefreakingfangirl @jayyeahthatsme @gillybear17 @kaitieskidmore1 @bluejaysaysstuff

[kkodzvken]

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you. 

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor. 

It was always some excuse or another. 

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age. 

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric. 

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy. 

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

[change-the-world-someday]

I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

[rosewater-chlxe]

pumpkin | colby brock

✖ Summary: While taking a trip to Rosehill Cemetery for one Colby’s videos, you both become a little too distracted to realize the dangers surrounding you. 

✖  genre ; fluff, comfort, the tiniest bit of angst 

✖  warnings ; slight mention of smut, reader w/ anxiety, mention of rituals 

✖ requested - yes | no

anon asked:  Hi love ! I saw that you take requests for colby again and I sent a request a while back asking if you could write one where he and his gf wanted to film a video but they start to make out super randomly and have to film the whole video again and now I am wondering if you could write it ?

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry for the wait; i hope you like it my lovely!! stay hydrated, take care of yourself, n make sure to rest!! ily <3 

✖ masterlist

The setting was quite bizarre for the feelings you felt so deeply and beautifully in your heart; you were completely, utterly mesmerized by the boy standing beside you. You walked in this dark, melancholic place with your fingers intertwined; both his and your hands interlocked. He carried a backpack of filming equipment, drinks, snacks, and band-aids; you carried a separate bag of blankets and pillows. Ghosts and ghouls were rumored to be in this grey, brooding place; even dangerous rituals have taken place here: Rosehill Cemetery. 

“Where do you wanna film the intro? I was thinking next to the Mortuary,” Colby said, “If you’re still comfortable and down for this, that is.” 

“Of course I am!! Maybe a little nervous, but there’s no turning back now,” You replied, feeling a cold chill go down your spine at the thought of anything going wrong. 

“Then the Mortuary it is,” He said with a grin that contained a hint of rebellion and mischief in it. 

As the violet-haired boy filmed the intro to his video, you admired his every feature and each mannerism. The way he talked while swaying his hands and hips; the dimples slightly showing through his cheeks, the motions of his jawline. The angelic, ethereal man that stood before you made you weak to your knees; it was hard to count every breath he took from your lungs. 

You were so in awe that you couldn’t hear the pet names said to get your attention, until finally he said your name. 

“Y/N? You alright?” He questioned with a slight smile, catching your wandering eyes. 

“Perfect.” You replied with a soft smile as he looked you up and down. 

You both ended up heading to the biggest honorary statue nearby, to not only take a thumbnail but also to explore more of the graveyard. As you quietly stumbled down the gravel path with Colby, hand in hand, he made witty comments to the camera whilst paying close attention to your surroundings.  This if the first kind of video of Colby’s that you’ve joined; you’ve always been eager to do something like this, though you know it can get risky and dangerous. That’s exactly why he held it off for so long, he never wanted to put you in any kind of uncomfortable or tense situations. The dyed-haired boy leading you has always been the utmost respectful and kind human being you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

The amount of pure infatuation and love you held for him came without hesitance or thought; no number could label what you felt, no word could describe what happened in you when you simply glance at him. The electric blue butterflies swarming through your heart and the rosewater in your veins never faded, only growing more and more intense each waking second. Before him, it was as if your world could only be seen in light grey and shades of blue; now everything is built with much higher saturation. 

You knew not of what may happen in the future, but you knew you seen him in every upcoming chapter. 

“Excited?” Colby asked, grinning at you as he looked back at you. 

“Very; and a little scared, not gonna lie,” you replied with a light, friendly laugh. 

“It’ll all be fine, if anything were to happen you know we can just go home,” he reassured you with a sly wink. 

You nodded with a giddy smile, trying your best to look away from him. He could always make you feel like you’re on top of the world even with the smallest of interactions - that absolute bastard. You rolled your eyes as you realized just how much you’ve truly fallen for him. 

You skipped in front of him and stopped him from walking ahead, smirking at him while he looked at you questioningly and suspiciously. 

“What’re you up to, rascal?” He asked, knowing of your mischievous tendencies in the past. 

“Now why do you always assume the worst from me?” you laughed as you started to trace a fingertip along his jawline, then to his neck; you felt him swallow as if he felt nervous, though you knew it wasn’t nervousness making him eager. Soon enough your fingertip made it’s way down to his chest, then to the bottom half of his black button down shirt. You let out a light laugh as you teased, completely removing your hand from his torso entirely. 

Colby scoffed and quickly ran his ring-clad fingers up to your throat, his hand then forming a light grip across your jaw.  

“Wanna think about teasing me again, princess?” He asked with a now lower toned voice. 

You sweetly smiled at his intimidating exterior and leaned in to kiss him, in which he happily obliged. 

You felt his soft, light pink-tinted lips against your own and the rest of your face grew numb. Your body became weak, and your legs tightly squeeze together as you felt the grip on your throat roughen. His tongue darted against your bottom lip, making you let out a sweet, soft sound. Within a few seconds, your hands started wandering beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt; though as soon as your hand drifted lower, Colby almost immediately pulled away.  

You were snapped out of your lovesick state as his facial features grew concerned; the only thing you seen at the statue you were a few feet away from was the illumination of candlelight and light chanting.

“Down,” He whispered, gently grabbing your shoulder and taking you to crouch with him. He placed a finger over his mouth, creating a silent “sh,” sound as he watched what was happening. 

“Colby,” you whispered, “What’re they doing? Who are they?” you began to panic. 

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, just make sure you stay with me and do as I say,” he calmly whispered while making the softest direct eye contact with you. 

He knew you have always had the worst anxiety and one of his top priorities are making sure that anxiety is calmed; that you’re taken care of. He always tries his best to keep you comfortable in every setting, that became much more evident rather than subtle when you told him about your anxiety. He very much understood what you went through and knew that you could help each other through your anxiety issues. Situations like this was something he never wanted you to experience. 

“Who’s there?” a man in black attire yelled from the statue, looking in your direction. The chanting stopped. 

Colby had a look of shock across his face, then sudden terror as he seen something near the statue that you didn’t; as soon as he gasped, the next thing you knew was running the opposite direction with him. 

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Colby loudly spoke right next to you as you ran; he made sure never to let go of your hand. 

“What did you see?” you yelled in response, trying to keep up with him when it came down to every single breath.

Colby didn’t respond, but he glanced back to see six masked silhouettes in the far distance; they did not run, they walked in unison. 

At this point of running for what felt like decades though it had only been an estimated 45 minutes, you could see what looked like the parking lot close ahead. You had tears in your eyes that just wouldn’t drop; your throat felt like it was closing more and more within each passing second. 

You and Colby finally made it to his car and looked back for anyone near you. No one else was to be seen. You jumped in and slammed the door, Colby then locking the car and doing nothing less than booking it. 

He quickly pulled out of the parking lot and started going far faster than he should have. You seen him glance towards you in concern, making sure you were safe. His fingertips tapped on the steering wheel due to anxiousness. 

“Colby, breathe, you’ve got me,” you reassuringly said to him with a small smile, though your voice came out with cracks and whines. 

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, this was such a bad idea,” he said to you in response, placing his right hand on your thigh whilst he continued driving. 

“I’ll be fine as soon as we get home, please just relax for me?” you asked sweetly. 

He nodded, his muscles untensing and his jaw unclenching. 

“What can I do to make this up to you, sweetheart?” he asked, feeling incredibly guilty for the situation he put you in. 

“You have nothing to make up to me love, but if we’re being honest the footage wouldn’t have been used anyway,” you said causing both of you to let out a light laugh, “so we could film another video tonight instead. A more laid-back one? Perhaps making a Halloween cake?” you excitedly smiled. 

“Anything for you, baby,” he sighed with relief, “but we have to watch horror movies tonight and I don’t make the rules, you gotta cuddle me,” Colby demanded. 

“Most definitely, pumpkin,” you replied lovingly.  

- fin. 

[redrobin-detective]

Side Effects of ghost powers

Hey all! I’m writing a DP fic called Side Effects exploring the physical and later mental/emotional impact of Danny initially getting his ghost powers. As an ICU stepdown nurse for 3 years, I wanted to view Danny’s accident through a slightly more realistic, medical lens. 

Note: I had to fudge a good amount because Danny really should have fucking died and there’s no getting around that.

I do recommend you read the fic first before reading this as there’s some spoilers. Or if you don’t care you can read on. So! The two factors we are looking at regarding the accident are: ecto-contamination secondary to electrocution. 

Electrocution

I was forced to downplay a lot of the severe symptoms of electrocution because, again, a bad enough shock will kill someone. My hand-wavey explanation is simply that the portal didn’t activate at a deadly voltage so he got a good shock but not enough to be fatal. I guess.

Muscle weakness/spasms: intermittent muscle spasms are common from shocks, muscles being activated by electricity and reacting to the lingering impulses. Danny’s is transient but quite annoying for a time. But his muscles are gonna be weak and achy af for days if not weeks after from the massive contractions caused by the shock and the after effects. Sensory issues: lots of things can cause nerve damage, including electrocution so Danny is experiencing some pretty severe neuropathy primarily manifesting with numbness and tingling throughout his body. His entire skin and peripheral nervous system got fried so while its mostly numb it’s also super sensitive for a bit of time causing massive pain and discomfort from your body tingling like a thousand bee stings. It’s worst in the hours after the accident but is something that never quite really goes back to normal both from the electrocution and his ghost half taking over and generally dulling his sense of touch.

Hearing/Vision loss: Like skin/nerves, your sensory organs in your eyes and ears would be affected by such a severe and allover electric shock. Danny has some blurred and occasionally double vision from his eyes not properly receiving/understanding input. Hearing loss is common following electricity given how delicate the inner ear is but I just give Danny some nasty tinnitus (ear ringing) for a bit. This inner ear problem also massively throws off his balance when he’s trying to move post accident. These factors are exacerbated by the ecto-contamination and mostly fade in the days following the accident before going away as his superhuman healing kicks in.

Heart Arrhythmia: an irregular heartbeat caused by the electrical impulses that control basal heartrate not coordinating they they should for a variety of reasons, in this case, massive electric shock. Danny would be somewhat aware of it, its not exactly painful exactly but you can just feel that your heart isn’t beating right. Secondary side effects are dizziness, chest pain, fatigue and shortness of breath. This resolves almost entirely when Danny stabilizes

Cognitive issues: Danny got his brains a little scrambled in addition to his molecules being rearranged. The first third of the story Danny is very clearly NOT thinking straight and Tucker/Sam should not have left him alone. Shocks can cause things like irrational emotional behaviors from hormone release along with memory loss and depression. He constantly waxes and wanes in mood and opinions on what to do in the story and never comes to a true decision that, damn lucky for him, worked out on its own.

Ecto-Contamination

Alright so Danny got massively shocked, sucks right but people live through that all the time. Ecto-contamination is more tricky (not only cause its made up and I had to think about what symptoms it would theoretically produce) but because the effects are more life threatening. It’s also irreversible, once he was contaminated it was only something that could be survived not cured. 

So I theorized that Danny got shocked by the accident and was slowly dying of ecto-contamination and was pretty much clinically dead for a brief moment there, the death was enough for the large quantity of ectoplasm in him to immediately coalesce into a ghost (Phantom). So Danny was mostly dead but not quite, I’ve coded and brought back enough people to know it can be reversed somewhat. Danny becomes Phantom but the sudden stable formation of the ectoplasm into what its supposed to be, a ghost, caused his body to stop fighting the ectoplasm as a foreign invader and become part of the self. His core finished forming in his chest and his body started back up again, his ghost safely nestled in his once again living body as he slowly comes to grips with his actual death experience. 

Nausea/Vomiting: I likened the idea of ecto-contamination to radiation poisoning, something that is essentially the antithesis to life. One of the first symptoms of radiation is n/v which is also why it’s one of the first overt symptoms Danny has. He was heavily electrocuted/irradiated and his body wants to expunge it all. As for the ectoplasm/blood he vomits, that’s the next section. 

Gastrointestinal (GI) Bleed: So I was a little mean here. When one vomits up blood (or in this case ectoplasm/blood mix) it has to come from somewhere and a lot of the times it’s a GI Bleed. These are nasty, they need to be either cauterized or surgically repaired not to mention replenishing the blood lost. Fanon says that ectoplasm is at least mildly corrosive to humans so it is here, as it’s bonding to him, it’s literally eating him very slowly from the inside out which is causing a great deal of his internal pain. It’s not enough to be immediately life threatening but would kill him eventually. He developed some nasty bleeding ulcers in his stomach which let in blood and ectoplasm which were expunged. Danny’s core formed overnight and began healing the damage it had previously been causing but Dan is still gonna be vomiting excess blood/ectoplasm not to mention having black, tarry stools for at least a few days afterwards.

Hypothermia/Tremors: Hypothermia is when the body hits 95F/35C which Danny is just above at the start of the chapter. Danny initially starts shaking really bad (rigors) but as his body temperature cools further his shaking slows and eventually stops, a sure sign that the body is rapidly losing the fight to hypothermia and will likely die soon without immediate intervention. This is caused not only by the ectoplasm but his ice core shakily starting to form inside of him. Once he fully turns half ghost his hypothermia doesn’t change but it just no longer negatively affects him (I say Danny hovers naturally around 96-95F/35-33C getting much colder as Phantom at baseline. His body still can be damaged by going too cold but that’s a whole other post.) 

Incoherency/Hallucinations: I mentioned in the electrocution section that Danny is more than a little addled and the contamination didn’t help in that regard. Not only is he not thinking clearly but he’s also getting a little delirious and seeing things. Common hallucinations I see are: someone in the room watching you, things crawling on the walls, creeping shadows, you’re in the wrong place. I think its a solid 50/50 as far as Danny straight up hallucinating but also becoming more aware of natural ectoplasm that hangs around in the atmosphere. (And before anyone asks, yes Clockwork did come and visit, Danny just doesn’t remember)

Pain: Being electrocuted, irradiated, being dissolved slowly on the inside is enough to cause massive amounts of pain. Danny is 14, he doesn’t understand true pain and probably underestimated how much it would hurt. Once it got bad, it was almost paralyzing so it got to the point where even when he wanted to call for help, he couldn’t move or think past the horrible pain of his every molecule slowly dying and rearranging itself.

Weakness/Fatigue: I don’t really have anything much to add for this section that hasn’t been said in the others. Just the combination of all of the above meant Danny is so incredibly weak and fatigued, this will be problematic in the days and weeks following the accident as his body heals from the stress put on it. Poor boy was probably just getting past the worst of his symptoms by the time of the Lunch lady attack one month in.

Ghost instinct: Going off the medical rant for a minute to go into another aspect of the contamination present in the story, the idea of ectoplasm adding inherent ghostiness to Danny. Its common fanon that all ghosts (through ectoplasm) have their own unique code and language that is just omnipresent and instinctive. Such a massive, body altering dose of ectoplasm saw those things start to leech into Danny even before he became half ghost. The biggest is his fear of being seen, majority of ghosts are completely invisible and don’t want to be seen by the living. As Danny’s suffering and literally dying, he can’t bring himself to confess to his loved ones for very understandable reasons but also this ghostly instinct in the back of his head telling him to hide and get away. Other instincts are a strong attraction to the portal/Ghost Zone, lowkey being able to sense living people around him and a bit of an emotional dampener when Phantom. 

[whumpinggrounds]

Aftermath

Part one will be coming in a few days, oops. I considered redacting the spoiler but...I did say I was gonna do this lol. So here y’all go - day 8 of @febuwhump, “no anesthesia”

Tagging @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @ocean-blue-whump, @redwingedwhump, @winedark-whump, @impalasexual, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpingmydarlings,

CW: pain!!!, electricity, lightning (lol), restraints, no anesthesia (duh), techno whump, mentions of burns, mentions of heart stopping, idk what else. T gets all fucked up.

When T wakes to pain and more pain, in a blank room full of machines he doesn’t recognize, he panics. There’s no rationale behind it, no careful internal adjustment to bring the organic and inorganic components in line. There’s a tube in his throat – stuck into a hole in his throat, not down through his mouth – and wires projecting straight from his chest. There are IVs and USBs alike plugged into his limbs. All of them, each and every one of them, is an unwelcome, unknown foreign intrusion. T responds in kind.

The discovery of restraints across his wrists, arms, legs, even his neck, stops him from tearing each cord out, heedless of consequence. It also makes T’s breathing pick up – for the first time he can remember, he can actually gasp for air, heave it in unevenly. Somewhere in the back of his head, that registers as a problem. His enhanced lungs aren’t controlling his breathing, and that…that means the lungs have failed. On a fundamental level, T knows that’s wrong.

On more fundamental level, T doesn’t care.

Muscles bulge and strain as he writhes in his bed. For now, panic holds off pain, but T can sense it, a looming overwhelming presence on the other side of adrenaline. That wave is going to hit him, and when it does, he won’t be able to move, so T fights hard now, while he can. The leather goes tight across his throat every time he lifts his head, and cuffs cut into his wrists, forearms, biceps. Every few inches, another strap cuts across his skin, and everywhere that leather meets flesh, T is rubbing his skin raw trying to escape. The straps are strong, and the metal arm is responding slowly, sluggishly, with a fraction of its real strength. If T could just use it properly. If T could just make it move…

The door flies open, and T goes suddenly, perfectly still. His heart is thrumming hard inside his chest. In a clatter of limbs, the new kid comes falling into the room, waving his hands, already talking.

“-have to stop!” he’s saying, and his voice sounds distant, watery in T’s ringing ears. “You have to stop fighting!  T, T, you’re going to hurt yourself, you’re going to hurt yourself, please.” Desperate brown eyes come up to meet T’s, face wide open and vulnerable with an emotion that T recognizes well as fear. Distantly, that makes T curious. With every inch of him strapped down, T wonders what the tech has to be afraid of.

Lifting his hands in front of him, as if in surrender, the new tech takes a tentative step toward T. Freddy, T’s brain supplies, minutes slower than it usually is. New tech’s name is Freddy. T isn’t supposed to call his handlers by their first names, he’s supposed to call them sir. Even the women on the team get a kick out of him calling them sir, and he’s never messed up, not once.

Today his brain is fried, broken, cooked inside his skull. Today, he speaks without thinking, and his voice sounds rough and cracked, full of emotion and utterly foreign to his ears. It whispers and whistles past the tube in his throat, comes out thready and high.

“Freddy? What happened?”

“Oh.” Freddy breathes the word, as if speaking too loudly will cause T to break. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry, T. I’m so sorry. You were…” He winces, visibly, now close enough to reach out, to touch T. He doesn’t, just hovers there, wide-eyed and worried. “You were…struck by…there was…lightning?”

All over his body, this truth resounds in T’s aching bones, his seared nerves. On the surface of his skin, he feels tight patches, taut with what must be scabs. Maybe scar tissue, depending on how long he’s been out. He’s breathing slower now, and his thoughts come to him more logically. Lightning. Lightning.

Lightning could really fuck him up. There must be fear on his face as he looks up at Freddy.

“Hey.” Freddy sits down on the bed next to him, the bed more like a table, hard and unforgiving. Freddy perches carefully on the edge, lays a hand on T’s arm. It’s so unfamiliar, so unexpected, that all T can do is stare, face blown open by shock and fear and pain. “Hey, you’re going to be okay, buddy. It’s going to be okay. We’ve got…we’ve got doctors here, and engineers, and…”

“What…what’s wrong with me?”

His voice is plaintive, shaky. T still doesn’t recognize it, really doesn’t recognize it. Some mechanism that controlled his tone must be gone, fried by the lightning strike. Many mechanisms that regulated his body must be gone, because he’s shaking, and he’s in pain all over, and he can’t control any of it, any of it. Nothing is regulated for him, turned off or turned down. His body runs wild, and T, along for the ride, looks up at Freddy with pleading eyes, as if the tech can make it stop.

Swallowing hard, Freddy visibly searches for words. “Well…well…a lot of, um, connections, uh…blew. In the arm. A lot of that’s…gone. Your lungs are…I mean, they’re okay. A lot of the electronics there, um, fried. But…but that’s not so bad. There’s a lot that was organic…The, the bones are okay. The blood, the organs. Wait, uh, wait, no, that’s not right, your heart…” he glances down at the wire disappearing into T’s chest, under his tank top, and then looks away, swallowing hard. With a sudden, sick feeling, T wonders what he would see if the shirt were removed.

“Your heart stopped,” Freddy says softly, and he squeezes T’s arm with a shaky hand. “Your heart…stopped. You were gone for…for three minutes, I think.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Freddy shakes his head. “You’re…it’s fine now. Or it will be. It was, um…a little…a little touch and go. With the heart. But we…we figured it out, we, um, think. We…we fixed it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

T keeps staring at Freddy, not really thinking about on purpose, not with any intention behind it. Freddy must see it as another plea – his face twists in something that looks like pain. “You have some burns,” he admits. “Pretty…pretty bad. Around…around your shoulder. Um…one leg, more than the other. Down your side.”

Blinking, trying to process, T manages one slow nod. As Freddy names each body part, the pain comes back, acknowledged, anew. He’s feeling kinds of pain he didn’t know existed, searing twisting itching agony that radiates from everywhere at once. He stares at Freddy, knowing his eyes are wide, his face is contorted, that no response is controlled, not at all, not in the slightest. Freddy’s eyes trace over the body, examining each feature as he names its affliction.

When Freddy is finished with a seemingly endless list of afflictions, his eyes come up slowly, reluctantly, to meet T’s. He winces when he gets there, and T wonders what’s on his face to make Freddy react like that.

“Freddy?”

T knows he should be saying sir, but he can’t right now, he just can’t. He’s still shaking, and it’s only making the pain worse, but he still can’t stop shaking. His body isn’t his own. His body isn’t even on his side. “Freddy?”

“Yeah?” Freddy’s hand has slid down T’s arm, is resting over the back of T’s hand. Gently, ever so gently, Freddy turns T’s hand over, and takes T’s hand in his.

T takes a ragged, unsteady breath. “It hurts.”

Dropping his eyes, Freddy nods. “I know, buddy. I know.”

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy

Bakugo x Reader , Dabi x Reader

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by "heroes" Now that she's out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words: 2738

Masterlist

************************************************************************

You tried and failed to lift your head. This should alarm you, but it was something you had unfortunately gotten used to over the past… how long had you been here? You couldn’t even say. Maybe a year, give or take? But it honestly felt like a lifetime. You could hardly remember your life before. Back when you had a life, friends, family, a promising future. Now you were nothing more than property to some secret fucked up government funded hell.

You spent most days in a drugged-out haze. They liked to remind you that it was your own fault. All you had to do was cooperate, now you had to face the consequences of your stubbornness. But those hazy days were by the far the best. Those days it was easy to let the darkness take you and dream about what your life would be like if you hadn’t ended up here. You can still see the soft smile of Todoroki as he helped you study. You could feel the warmth of Kirishima’s hugs. You could hear the quit mumbling of Midoriya as he scribbled in one of his many notebooks. You could smell the most intoxicating mix of smoke and caramel as you and Bakugo trained. You wondered what your friends where up to now. Did they miss you? Did they still think about you?

The other days though… they sucked. They were filled with needles and experiments. Always forcing you to use your quirk on some poor helpless person. Always trying to find a way to use your quirk without your permission.

Compliance was key. Just do what they ask, when they ask, and do it right. Any kind of mistake whether it was intentional or not was seen as insubordination. At first you tried to be sneaky about it, thinking that if anything they would just punish you. But you soon found out that they not only punished you, but the person you were meant to be using your quirk on. It was better for everyone to just submit.

You’ve always hated your quirk. People tended to avoid you, scared of what you had the potential to do. No one understood that just because you had the ability to do something, didn’t mean you were likely to do it. It wasn’t until you got to UA and finally made some friends that you started to appreciate you quirk.

They called you Siren… like the mythical creature. You could control and manipulate people using the five senses. If they looked you in the eyes you could see into their head, and their private thoughts. You could hypnotize them with just your voice. You could paralyze them if they tasted your blood. Your smell…. was quite the aphrodisiac. As for skin to skin contact, it helped you share and feel emotions and sometimes even pain.

None of that mattered if you didn’t activate your quirk though. You could live your life just like everyone else. You didn’t just walk around every day controlling people like puppets. It didn’t stop the fear that festered in the hearts of the public though. Your biggest mistake was deciding you wanted to be a hero. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you weren’t the monster they thought you were.

You could have lived your life off the radar. But once you took part in the sports festival there was no chance at that. Civilians complained about how you had a villains quirk, how you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets unsupervised, let alone be given a hero license.

So, when there was only one agency willing to give you a job after graduation you jumped on it. They told you, they planned to utilize you in most recon and interrogation missions. Which made perfect sense given your skill set. They were going to train you to be the perfect spy.

At first it was normal for you to be gone for weeks or months at a time, with no contact with your friends. They understood you had top secret stuff to handle and always looked forward to hearing your stories when you got back. But the longer you worked there, the sketchier the missions got. Tracking bad guys turned into tailing fellow heroes. Interrogating criminals turned into “persuading” politicians. The last straw though… they had asked you to start sleeping with targets. The ultimate honey pot.

You started to be more vocal about your disapproval. You should have known better.

Now this is your life. Strapped to a bed, drugged up, and used as they pleased. You almost always had on a blindfold and gag. Except for when you had to “work” you lived your life in darkness, you lived your life in silence, you lived your life in solitude.

Your neck itched and bled under your collar. The humiliating thing was what kept you under their control. It acted as a shock collar, a tracking device, and it also monitored and recorded all of your vitals. They have to keep you alive after all.

You heard the familiar buzz of the electric lock on your door, signaling that someone was about to walk in. You felt anxiety bubble up inside you. Just remember the rules. Just behave and you’ll be fine.

You could hear quick quiet footsteps step into the room and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After all the time you’ve spent here you had gotten really good at telling everyone apart by the sounds of their footsteps.

“Shit, what did they do to you?”

You felt tears well up and your hands began to shake. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if it sounded strained and emotional. It was Bakugo.

Warm hands pulled your blindfold off, quickly followed by your gag. Your hands jerked in their restraints as you tried to reach for him.

“Hey, its okay we’re here now. But you need to calm down. Your heart beats all over the place. They’ll know something’s up.” His hand smoothed your dirty hair out of your face. You could see the pain and disgust painted on his face.

You wanted to say something. To thank him. Anything. But you were in shock. You were also terrified this was a trick. What if they were testing you? So, you just stared at him with glossy eyes as he continued to free you.

He made quick work of the rest of your restraints, leaving only the heinous collar. He gave you a sympathetic look. “This is going to hurt, and I’m really sorry about that. But I have to get it off before we leave.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Are you ready?”

Without breaking eyes contact you nodded silently. This was the first time someone has willingly made eye contact with you in months. You could almost drown in his vermillion eyes.

His hands moved from your cheeks to the collar on your neck, “One… Two…” Without waiting for three, as impatient as ever, he set off several small explosions that busted the bulky metal collar to pieces, but not without burning a thick ring around your neck.

You winced in pain, but you still made no sound. It was like there was still some part of you that was scared to break the rules. To speak without permission. Before you could even start to think about how messed up you were, Bakugo was scooping you up. He sprinted through the door and was racing down the halls. You wondered why there were no alarms going off. This seemed to easy. This had to be a trap, or maybe a dream. You felt yourself start to shake in his arms.

One of his hands wound through your hair. “Hey it’s okay. We’re almost out. The others are waiting for us. I just need you to keep your shit together for a little while longer okay.”

Before you knew it, he was kicking a door down and all the sudden you were outside. You gasped as you felt the cold rain hit your skin. You blinked in surprise at how bright it was, despite the fact that the sun was hardly even up yet.

A van screeched to a halt in front of you and the door slid open just in time for Bakugo to jump in. “WE’RE GOOD! GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The door slammed shut and the Van lurched forward.

You were now sitting in Bakugo’s lap clinging to his shirt as silent tears slid down your cheeks. You could hear the voices of Todoroki and Kirishima coming from the front of the van, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. You just clung tighter to Bakugo and continued to sob.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word since I found her. I think she’s in shock.” His fingers tangled in your hair while the other hand rubbed circles on your back.

At some point you must have cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up you were in clean clothes, curled up on a soft couch.

You could hear voices coming from somewhere behind you.

“I know I don’t like it either, but we don’t really have any other options. We have no idea who’s on what side. Outside of the people here right now, who can we honestly say we trust enough to protect her?” You had never heard Midoriya sounds so rough and defeated. “She’s in no condition to look after herself and we can’t help. Not right now.”

You could hear pacing behind the couch, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they were doing to her. It was…. Sick a-and twisted. I say we take them down and ask questions later.” Bakugo only stuttered when he felt helpless, which wasn’t often.

“Bakugo you know we can’t do that. They may borderline evil, but officially on paper they are heroes. It’s a hero agency after all. If we attack that makes us villains, best case vigilantes. Both of which result in us ending up in Tartarus.”

“Okay and? You’re trying to hand her over to villains anyway!” You kept your eyes closed as Bakugo leaned over and pulled a blanket over you.

“I don’t know if I would consider my brother a villain. At least not anymore.” Todoroki sounded tired. “Ever since we… reunited… we’ve had a don’t ask don’t tell policy. But I keep tabs anyway. He’s still shady, but he’s not working with villains anymore. If anything, we have more in common now than before. He’s my brother but he’s also a dick. He doesn’t really care about heroes and villains anymore. He just doesn’t like people in general.”

You stiffened. Were they talking about Dabi? Why would they trust him? Wasn’t he one of the villains that kidnapped Bakugo?

“You say he doesn’t like people, so why do think he’ll even help?” Bakugo was making his way around to sit on the end of the couch, gently moving your feet into his lap. He seemed to calm down once his hand found your calf.

It was quite for a while before Todoroki sighed, “Because unlike the rest of you… my brother and I know what it feels like to be an experiment. He won’t let anything happen to her. Villain or hero, he doesn’t care. He has no rules or code of ethics to follow. He’s our best option here Bakugo and you know it.”

You couldn’t take this anymore. All these guys sitting around deciding your future as if you weren’t sitting right here.

You slowly sat up, pulling your legs away from Bakugo. You blinked as you looked around the small room. Todoroki and Midoriya were sitting as a large wooden table that was littered with files and paper.

You blushed when you realized everyone was looking at you now, yet the silence persisted. Were they waiting on you to say something? You cleared your throat and winced at how dry it was. “Oi! Get her some fucking water, would you?”

You nodded your head in thanks as Midoriya handed you a bottle of water before taking a seat on the floor in front of you. “Listen y/n. None of us can even begin to try and understand what you’ve been through the past few years. It might be a while before you are ready and that’s okay. But when you are, please know we are here to listen and help in any way we can. Any information you can give us on what happened, what they are doing there, will be helpful in making sure we take them down.”

You nodded as your grip tightened on the water bottle. They wanted information. But what information could you possibly have that could be helpful. You spent almost the entire time drugged, blind, and chained to a bed. Your heart began the thud against your chest at the memories.

Bakugo was quick to scoot over. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted you to know he was there. “Hey it’s okay. Like he said. No one’s asking you to say anything right now.”

Todoroki grabbed something off of the table in front of him before strolling over to hand it to you. “Here. I noticed you are having some difficulty speaking. Given what you’ve been through it’s not really a surprise. So, you can use this to get your thoughts out. Whether they be private or not. It might be good to just get things off of your chest.”

Again, you nodded as you took the leather-bound notebook from Todoroki. You flipped to the first page and traced the empty lines with you hand. You opened your mouth to say thank you but were shocked to find that you couldn’t make yourself do it. You hadn’t been allowed to speak in the labs. Not unless given permission, which was hardly ever.

You glanced around to the other men, gesturing with you hand that you needed something to write with. Of course, Midoriya, Mr. Takes notes on everything had several pencils in his pocket.

You wrote the following:

Thank you. For everything. I didn’t think anyone was coming for me. I don’t know why I can’t speak, but it’s probably because of the rules.

Bakugo read over your shoulder as you attempted to show the other two men. “Rules? What rules?”

You sighed and gripped your pencil tighter to the point of almost breaking.

I will not look anyone in the eyes without permission.

I will not speak unless spoken to.

I will not touch anything, or anyone without consent.

I will do as I am told without resistance.

I will remember this is the consequence of my actions.

You turned the notebook so they could see and you could feel the tension rising in the room. You almost jumped out of your skin when Todoroki’s phone chimed.

He quickly walked away to answer it, giving Midoriya a nervous look as he did.

You turned to look at the angry man sitting next to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his fists were clinched. Finally, his eyes left the notebook and met yours. “Hey I just… I just want you to know I’m sorry.” You gave him a confused look, but he pushed on not waiting for you to question him. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize something was wrong. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner…I- fuck- I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You went to put your hand on his shoulder but paused right before you made contact. He growled as he gripped you hand and put it on his shoulder for you. “You aren’t there anymore y/n. There’s no more rules.” His fingers found your chin as he guided you to look at him. Your eyes widened and you gulped. “I don’t know how much of that conversation you heard earlier. But I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll check in with you as often as I can. If Todoroki says we can trust him… then I guess we’ll just have to trust Todoroki.”

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile, but in all honesty it felt more like a grimace.

Todoroki walked back in shoving his phone in his pocket. “Okay he’s on his way. We have probably about fifteen minutes. Let’s get ready to move.”

[trickfootpike]

OKAYOKAYOKAY now that i've had a few nights to Ruminate here are way too many thoughts from 9/16's show -- fair warning that they aren't *super* coherent as a lot of this i just tried to loosely organize from dms i threw at folks night-of, but it is most of what i remember sticking out to me!

GENERAL THOUGHTS --

last saw the show in august of 2019 - back then i saw it up in the mezzanine, this time i was 7 rows back dead center in the middle of the orchestra. watching the show from the mezzanine feels like a god's eye view of the show while sitting up close in the orchestra is much more like being in the world of men, and how it hits in hadestown particularly is just nuts bc you really do feel like you're on the factory floor.

back in the London production i remember eva playing eurydice with more youth and hope to her, and when the show came to Broadway eurydice hardened. in a world with a pandemic eva seems to have actually shifted this back! Eurydice is still holding tightly onto Orpheus Knowing that the world is unlikely to be kind enough to let them have each other for long but she starts off less faithless than she used to, I suppose I would describe it? she's definitely played more open with others from the beginning rather than having it be something she has to really work towards!

WAIT FOR ME IS A TOTALLY DIFFERENT FEELING FROM THE ORCHESTRA THAN THE MEZZANINE AND NOT JUST THE LAMPS. the lamps really only swing out to over the first 2 rows, speaking very generously, anyway. what i remember being most impactful from last time was how the whole theater rumbled as the walls of the set split to reveal hadestown. what i couldn't see and afaik no boot's been able to pick up is the the set ALSO SPLITS AND STRETCHES OPEN AT THE TOP. that awning that covers the balcony lifts and the wall of hadestown is revealed to stretch floor to ceiling and it is just so much, so fucking much oh my god i could not stop hysterically blubbering to myself watching hadestown stretch open like it is absolutely here to devour you whole. it makes you feel the immensity of The Wall. I've linked ig videos of the set pre act 1 and post intermission to give like the best perspective on it i can and tried to film them so they were zoomed as closely as to what my eyes were seeing as I could, but here are also some pictures!

PRE ACT ONE

INTERMISSION

after our lady of the underground when eurydice comes back from hades' office and Persephone is finishing with her show, me being closer this time i was actually able to see amber's face during way down hadestown ii and flowers. and how she portrays seph's feelings re eurydice, it's like : genuine concern and watching over her when she first starts on the line, Quiet Seething and Jealous Rage as the fates' tattle "Hades put his hands on ya" that sticks for a While including the first half of flowers, but as soon as eurydice remembers the meadow her and Orpheus visited her heart just b r e a k s and you can see her wiping away tears. seph's just so caught in her own feelings of helplessness in hadestown. when hades tells her to stay out of him dealing with Orpheus all the fight just deflates out of her and the direct accusing look Orpheus gives her at the end of if it's true mixed with seeing his effect on the workers makes her physically rear back like she's gotten the fight slapped back into her

even with this audience who almost for sure has all seen ht before, there was still the loudest heartbroken gasp when orpheus turned. i know everyone calls this out but it still hit me hard that with a greater percentage of previous viewers in the audience it still hit us all like a fucking brick

and ofc. road to hell ii. it's a millions times more impactful than it already was what with the pandemic, making it through hard times and how they could be hard again but making the best of them even if it doesn't turn out well this time either. i was crying so hard last time but this time i was crying harder but also feeling like a huge weight was being like, very softly cradled in my chest to take some of the burden away

TOM'S HADES/HADES AND PERSEPHONE SPECIFIC THOUGHTS --

Tom's Hades whole tl;dr could be that Hades is a Performance. all those descriptions of him beign "jazzy" and "egodriven" are correct, but there is also this massive vibe he gives off that all his showmanship is there as a cover up for the very pessimistic man at the core of him. when him and persephone are getting along the jazziness is there for genuine playfulness with her, but apart from seph it is a purposeful exaggeration on hades' part to get Whatever it is that he wants. he is playing up aggression as king (see papers) and what he thinks as being suave (see hey little songbird) to maintain his throne and his marriage, and Epic III is the Destruction of that performance. Tom's Hades at the end of Epic III isn't trying to sell anyone anything, you just get to see the suddenly very scared and unsure heart of the man behind the performance of foreman and king. And oh boy is Tom's Hades at his heart unsure. He is so fucking pessimistic; back in Act 1 when Orpheus starts to sing Epic I he turns from Persephone even before she gets reminded of the world above and starts longing for it, because he already expects to see it coming and he doesn't turn back to her Ever Again, literally until he comes to get her in Way Down Hadestown. Not even when she gives him a kiss on the cheek goodbye. His Kiss, The Riot is him trying to figure out how the hell he's gonna be able to rebuild his performance after his whole kingdom saw through it, but he also ends it being so very certain that the deal he figures out for Orpheus Will end with Orpheus failing somehow. There is no doubt in this very pessimistic Hades that doubt will come in, whereas Patrick used the end of His Kiss The Riot almost like he was desperately trying to justify that his doubt came to him only in Persephone's absence

road to hell i: tom's hades loves cheering on the band so much he is Part Of The Problem that Hermes has to get to chill out and it makes so much sense for this jazzy dramatic motherfucker

balcony time (road to hell i until livin' it up on top): when they were upstairs playing dominoes they kept laying their tiles with these overexaggerated movements.. Like when they actually getting along they are so damn flirty and trying so hard to make each other smile and laugh and it is TOO CUTE

way down hadestown: Once Again "I missed ya" gives me no rest, mostly because Tom delivered it with this super coy and cocky grin and Amber immediately smiled back at him like Persephone couldn't help herself

chant i: is spent with him looking up proud into his creation while persephone is looking down with heartbreak and disgust seeing the workers as people in suffering and the ugliness of hadestown. as the song goes on he gets increasingly frustrated like a child who's super proud of the drawing he brought home from school that Persephone has nothing but terrible things to say about. when eurydice starts singing about her suffering seph throws out her arm and points to her like "see! See what you're doing!!" while hades is more in himself processing his disappointment, frustration, heartbreak, but over the next minute you start to see him Formulating A Plan as he watches eurydice. but he doesn't look entirely sold on going through with it until seph throws out her last verse in disgust. it was absolutely the straw that broke the camel's back.

hey little songbird: THO IT SOUNDS SO SEDUCTIVE ON AUDIO. OML DOES IT LEAN INTO EURYDICE'S "STRANGE MAN" DESCRIPTOR. HADES IS LIKE THE CREEPY SALESMAN ON THE CORNER WITH WATCHES AND A TRENCHCOAT. BUT HE'S SELLING HIS SHIT WELL, HE'S JUST ALSO A WEIRDO

Why We Build The Wall/"Behind Closed Doors": That followup on hades' threat when eurydice arrives in hadestown. as hades goes to the stairs he like not whacks, but definitely nudges seph's arm harder than Patrick does to get her attention. when he did she Startled and laid her hand over her arm where he'd tapped her like she was overwhelmed by just that touch........ but then she turns around and watches him take Eurydice up and when he opens his coat and she Realizes you see her whole body go slack. once eurydice goes past the office doors hades turns and lingers staring pointedly down at seph, for *seconds* whereas with patrick i remember it being more of a pointed glance. it drills home that hades is doing this specifically to spite seph and he wants her to know it. and you can see amber discreetly wipe her face before she turns back to "does anybody want a DRINK." there's less direct seduction between hades and eurydice but more explicit threat between hades and seph about eurydice

papers: actually isn't too much Bastärde as it is his Performance. HOWEVER, the way he directs the workers to beat Orpheus is chilling. Like patrick he hangs around, but he's watching until the last 10 seconds so it's way longer. And he makes like the smallest gestures with his hand to direct the workers to the different stages of beating Orpheus, fuck it was twisted

how long: how long actually starts with seph and hades seemingly coming to each other on a similar page - hades came out pensively fiddling with his wedding ring and Amber delivered "I know" like seph was already past the eurydice situation. this also could have been a product of time and seeing how actually little he did "seducing" eurydice lmao

chant ii: very much Hades Sees Orpheus As A Threat™️ (more on this further below) , also dare i say it but tom kills I CONDUCT THE ELECTRIC CITY

epic iii: oh man oh man. he looks so untouched until Orpheus starts the lalas and he goes from completely passive unimpressed face to like. his body unfolds on his stool and his hands go slack and he looked between Orpheus and Persephone when he asked where Orpheus had gotten his melody. he asked it a lot softer than I expected him too as well. a big part of the audience actually laughed when Hades sang his lala because Tom cracks his voice during it but it petered off into sniffling when they realized why and then we were all just crying together as persephone placed the flower in his vest.

lovers desire: SOME VERY CUTE STUFF. hades' performance is broken but tom's hades is still a Jazzy Jazzy Man at heart and they're like 100 times more playful with each other - they're both giggling and grinning their asses off while they dance together and give each other these like nudges to the next series of steps and it was adorable and I was discretely sobbing. they both played it like they knew how to do this dance with each other better than they knew anything, the little nudges were like..... them playing inside this dance they already knew so well? Like more overexaggeration to make each other laugh and just revel in this wonderful thing they've rediscovered- specifically I remember that Amber raised her skirt soooooo high when she was doing the curtsey and Tom was like waggling his eyebrows at her and adding extra flourishes with his hands and widening his eyes super big everytime he pulled off a move (the funniest ones were when they do like the two-step where they move one after another in sequence and he's copying her moves in reverse and oml it was just adorable). When Seph had the move where she pulls their linked arms over his head to tuck him into her I remember that was the one part where he wasn't doing this goofy act but his expression straight up melted and he looked so smitten. and when it's the last bit of the dance and he spins her across the stage, seph's face breaks open with tears his expression responds with like this mix of heartbreak and "ohhhhh no baby please don't cry" as he moved across the stage to quickly take her into his arms for the dip at the end

AFTER this when orphydice has finished promises and right before Orpheus turns to ask Hades if they can go, they come out of slow dancing to the side but are still super wrapped up in each other - seph wraps herself around one of his arms and presses herself super close and Tom leaned down with this little smile like Hades was gonna try and steal a quick kiss, but then he hears/sees out of the corner of his eye/senses or something Orpheus approaching and pulls himself up and formal to be the king. When he says I don't know and seph wrenches herself away from him to the other side of the stage to firmly stand behind Orphydice he gets this look of Extreme Frustration on that she's still not standing with him and these damn kids are still more important, bc even with character growth he still is a petty selfish bitch who does not like to share lmao, he's just getting that he Has To now

wait for me ii: Hades stays onstage by the microphone stand to the left to watch Hermes deliver his judgement to orphydice/seph/the workers and watching Tom during this was a Treat. this is the first time he's seeing how orphydice and esp Orpheus function when he's not involved to terrify them. they're so sweet and so good, and they have what looks like so much unwavering faith in each other unlike him and seph, maybe they really could... so when he delivers "i let them try" that last word is stretched with so much wonder. he's getting this first glimpse into feeling how everyone else felt when orpheus sang of how the world could be that isn't just focused in about how he feels about persephone, which always drives him - now he's having to deal with the Greater Implications and orpheus' seemingly unbreakable faith in a better world rocks him to his core. that certainty that orpheus would fail gets shaken as he watches them and when Seph asks him if he thinks they'll make it, his I Don't Know is 1/2 defensive and 1/2 actual uncertainty. he still hates to be wrong but he's wondering if his beliefs about doubt will turn out differently this time. he isn't optimistic about it by any means but orpheus, eurydice, and the workers' response to them both does give him pause

meanwhile in hades and persephone's section, on a personal level they deliver their lines to each other like they're a great deal more nervous about what next fall will bring than i've seen and heard before - something I'm thinking stems from hades' worldview being so suddenly shaken and seph too being a little more vulnerable?

MISC THOUGHTS

Tom seems to be leaning into Hades not having done anything with Eurydice other than tempt her down - once she's in Hadestown even during Why We Build The Wall he drops the salesman croon entirely and when he does rarely speak to her/about her it's commanding as a king who sees her just as another object under his possession, with very little interest in her for anything at all beyond that. he was just going after the goal of making sure Seph knew he had Options whether or not he actually pursued them

tom is super dedicated to how power-hungry hades is. I remember when I saw Patrick during chant ii he was playing hades as more affected by how much seph seemed to care about the workers now and desperately trying to get her attention back (even negatively), Tom was more consumed in seeing Orpheus as a threat because of how effectively he had turned his "children" on him. He knocks Seph down in those "shackle her from wrist to wrist" less as a personal petty attack to her like Patrick does and more like to try and destabilize her as someone backing Orpheus up. Tom's Hades perceives Orpheus as a Threat no matter how much he plays up his Performance as Nonchalant Jazzy King. he really emphasizes Hades' relationship to Orpheus whereas Patrick played more into his relationship with Eurydice, which makes so much sense what with Tom's Hades being a pettier more egotistical messy bitch obsessed with his kingdom and Patrick's Hades' obsession being his wife and Hadestown being like, this side-effect of being a god that he just couldn't help, he Had to build and strive for power whereas Tom's Hades reveled in it and wanted it. Instinct versus drive I guess. one of my buds put it super well as: "Patrick!Hades sees everything as a threat to his power Tom!Hades is so certain of his power that he can afford to be somewhat nonchalant but the fact that Orpheus alone is his main genuine threat is fucking brilliant"

and ok for now, that's what I've got! if anyone wants any clarification or wants to ask details about specific moments I didn't put in here feel free to shoot me an ask!

[mcmoth]

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

 He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

 

***

 

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

��Why did he even do that?

 

***

 

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

 

***

 

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

 

***

 

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

 

***

 

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

 

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

 

***

 

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, ��and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

[writertitan]

Wildflowers

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 2347

themes: reader pov + levi pov, day of wedding shenanigans, literally nothing but fluff, levi being a sentimental puddle of goo and not admitting it

requested by anon

As the sunlight tickles your face and wakes you, one hand reaches out like it normally does to find Levi. When you find emptiness, you frown for a moment, opening one eye to confirm he’s really not on his side of the bed like usual. It’s not until you see the small piece of paper on his pillow that it fully registers in your brain why he’s not there, and your heart swells suddenly as you sit up, a grin stretching across your face. 

You carefully pick up the piece of paper and look down at it, Levi’s neat handwriting scrawled in one simple sentence that sends your heart racing. 

See you at the altar. Don’t be late. 

Your engagement ring glints in the morning sun as you place the little note on your nightstand and get up to prepare for the most important day of your life. 

--

Why couldn’t he get it right? 

Levi huffs in frustration as he adjusts his tie for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s watching his reflection in the mirror, fingers fumbling with the fabric until he stills his movements at the sight of Erwin coming up behind him. 

“You look fine,” his friend chuckles, raising a thick brow. It’s silent for a moment, and then he speaks to Levi again. “Nervous?” 

“No,” Levi says, a little too quickly. 

He is nervous. 

Not because he’s having second thoughts, or because he’s unsure. In fact, he’s never felt so sure of a decision in his life, and that’s saying something for someone who already lives with no regrets. 

He’s nervous because he wants today to be perfect. Not just for his sake, but for you, too. 

This isn’t just the happiest day of his life, it’s the happiest day of yours, too. And Levi will be damned if he doesn’t make sure he doesn’t give that to you. 

There can’t be a hair out of place, there can’t be one mistake. But it’s already starting. He can’t get his tie right. It looks just a little crooked each time he adjusts it. 

Erwin chuckles again and moves to help Levi, adjusting his tie just so until he sees Levi glance in the mirror and visibly relax. He barely did anything, but he knows Levi’s just in his head.

“You look great,” he assures Levi, a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “The picture perfect groom, actually.” 

Levi rolls his eyes and hopes that his heart stops fluttering soon. 

Once Erwin’s gone to check on a few things, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the picture he swiped before leaving your shared home. It’s a photo of the two of you, your right cheek squished against his left one to get as close as possible for the photo that you took yourself. Unnecessary, really, but you did it to be cute. There’s a huge smile on your face and you’ve never looked so happy. Levi even has a hint of a smile quirking up his lips, but his real smile is in his eyes, bright and warm and looking straight into the camera. 

He stares at it for the longest time. It helps calm his nerves. He wants to see you that happy today, if not happier. 

When he puts the photo back in his pocket, he glances at his reflection in the mirror and groans in irritation. 

His tie’s fucked up again. 

--

Your mom and your best friend are running around you, finishing up the last few tasks before you have to get going. You’re pulling and tugging gently at your hair while you stare at yourself in the mirror, frowning to yourself. 

“What is it?” your best friend asks, coming up behind you. 

You glance at her through the mirror and sigh, then look back at yourself. 

“Do I look okay? Do you think my hair will stay in place?” 

Your friend laughs, and gives you a warm, knowing smile. 

“Nervous?” 

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. 

You are nervous. 

With another sigh, you turn to face her instead of gazing at her through the mirror, letting a shy smile peak out. 

“Okay, you got me,” you admit. “I just want everything about today to be perfect. Me included.” 

“Let me ask you this. If Levi came down wearing a burlap sack, would it bother you?” 

In all honesty, it wouldn’t. So you say so. 

“No. I just wanna marry him,” you whisper. 

“Exactly. And from what I gather, I don’t think Levi cares if you come walking down the aisle in a burlap sack with twigs in your hair. No matter what, it’ll be perfect, because it’s your wedding day,” your best friend reminds you. 

“Thanks,” you sigh, but this time it’s a pleased and relaxed sigh. 

She’s right. Today is already perfect, because today is your wedding day. And you’re marrying the love of your life. 

Your mother pops her head in, her eyes lit up with excitement. 

“Time to go!” 

--

Neither you or Levi wanted anything extravagant. Everything about your relationship was about enjoying the simple things in life and your engagement and wedding was no exception. 

Since the very first time you’d seriously begun discussing marriage, you’d dreamed of your wedding with Levi. Now, seeing it come to fruition exactly how you’d hoped, it took your breath away. 

The garden you were getting married in was blooming with flowers and vines and plants of all sorts, and the warm spring sun shone down on the little wooden altar on the other side of the garden, where you could make out Erwin’s hulking form and a familiar slender form before being whisked away to gather a few last things, including your bouquet. 

When Hange shoves a bouquet into your hands,  they give you a knowing grin and a little wink. 

“Don’t tell him I told you, but Levi picked those out himself,” they say, and your heart skips a beat as you stare down at the little bundle of flowers. 

You immediately know that most of them aren’t from the garden itself, but are a collection of small wildflowers in the surrounding area. Levi’s not exactly fond of flowers, but he once said he prefers wildflowers. You had agreed with him.

When Hange’s hand lifts to your hair, you look up at them again, puzzled. Hange shows you the little blue wildflower in their hand, smiling again. 

“Levi also picked out your something blue,” they explain. 

Your cheeks heat up as Hange nimbly secures the flower into your hair. 

And then you’re being guided back towards the little ceremony spot you’d picked out weeks ago with Levi. 

Instantly, your eyes meet the soft grey ones you fell in love with so long ago. It’s only been less than a day since you’d last been able to stare into that familiar gaze, but all day you’d craved the sight of him. As soon as Levi registers your face, his eyes soften the way they do when nobody else is around. It’s a look only reserved for you, and the fact that he feels safe and in love enough to show the small group of people how he looks at you in private, makes you nearly tear up. 

Everything else fades away and, although you know that you’ll be right next to him just moments from now, it feels like forever that you’re walking towards him. You have to silently remind yourself to keep a slow pace. 

But when Levi’s hand extends, reaching for you, you can’t help hurrying the last few steps so your hand can clasp in his and you can link your fingers together as you take your rightful place beside him. 

You’re still looking into his eyes. You’ve barely registered that there’s someone speaking, trying to marry you two together. 

The words are just aching to leave your mouth, though. 

I do. 

--

The ceremony is small and beautiful. It’s exactly the way Levi had wanted it, and he knows it’s exactly the way you wanted it, too. Just him, you, and the people closest to the two of you in the whole world. 

It’s such a small ceremony that it immediately blends into the little reception you’ve planned with him. 

Levi’s too busy kissing you to realize that there’s already a celebration taking place. The moment he’d been granted permission to kiss his bride (what an outdated speech), he seized the opportunity. 

He’s kissing his wife. His wife. His wife. 

He’s kissed you probably millions of times over the course of your relationship. There’s always magic in each kiss, but this one is powerful. Maybe the speech isn’t so outdated after all. Maybe there really is power in words. Because when Levi’s told to kiss his wife, there’s a shock of electricity that shoots from his head to his toes. 

When he pulls you away from you, it’s half his choice, half everyone else’s choice, because suddenly the small crowd you’ve invited to witness your marriage is collectively around the two of you to share hugs and congratulations. 

Levi pretends to be irritated, but his hand remains locked around yours and he squeezes it tenderly to let you know he’s happy, even though you know he’s happy. He shares a few soft smiles with his loved ones, but he never takes his eyes off you for more than two seconds. 

Beautiful. 

You’re absolutely beautiful. 

You’re always beautiful, but today, you’ve never looked more beautiful. Levi eyes the blue wildflower tucked away into your hair, the sight of making his heart go crazy in his chest, and then he eyes the bouquet of wildflowers he’d collected for you after making Hange swear not to reveal his secret. 

As everyone collectively starts moving towards the little cottage in the garden to have a small and quick reception dinner, Levi takes a moment to fall behind just enough to have a moment to himself. He takes out the identical blue wildflower in his pocket to inspect it. 

The two flowers - the one in your hair and the one in his pocket - had been growing together when he’d spotted them earlier. The prettiest ones in the field, if you asked him. 

Even though Levi was adamant that most wedding traditions were silly, he had remained steadfast in two of them, apparently. One being that he wanted to spend the day apart, to make the moment of joining together forever that much sweeter. And two...something blue. 

He knew that it was more of a tradition for the bride to uphold but he had seen those pretty blue flowers and instantly decided to twist the tradition a little to fit your love together. You had your something blue and he shared it with you. 

Levi tucks the flower back into his pocket gently before moving to be next to you again, his hand finding yours naturally. 

You look to him with a gaze full of love, and he offers you a smile.

“We’re married,” you whisper into his ear, making him shiver in the most delightful way. 

“Glad you understood what all that was about,” he teases back, but you just smile even wider, always knowing what he really means when he makes a sarcastic little quip like that. 

“I love you too,” you tell him. 

He loves you so much that it makes his heart swell almost painfully in his chest. But he’ll keep that to himself. 

--

The sunset is painting the sky purple and magenta and orange, and you’re tugging Levi along to go and watch the sunset together, away from the others. Not that they’d even notice; everyone’s had a little too much to drink, you included, and are just having a good time. 

“Just sit down,” you urge Levi, tugging him down underneath the little wooden altar you’d gotten married under just hours ago. The flowers and vines winding around the wood are still vibrant and not yet wilting, surprisingly, and sitting under it offers a fantastic view of the fuschia horizon, with hanging vines and flowers from the altar framing it to offer the most gorgeous sight. 

Even sitting there, watching the sky darken, hand reaching up so you can gently finger and tug at the flowers that frame your eyesight and give you such a spectacular view, such a spectacular memory to sear into your mind, there’s still something - someone - even more stunning. 

You turn to look at your husband, who is already looking at you. 

“You’re supposed to be watching the sunset,” you chide him, but the smile on your face erases any sort of playful irritation in your tone. 

“I’d rather look at my wife,” Levi says simply, so casually, and yet you can see the tips of his ears tinging pink. 

“Oh really?” you ask with a shy smile, gazing at him from under your lashes. 

“She’s the better view.” 

Now his voice is a whisper and he’s leaning in. 

You’re leaning in, too. 

It’s not the second, or third, or fourth kiss as husband and wife; you’ve been kissing Levi all day. You’ve already shared countless kisses as spouses. But this one marks the finality of your first day as two married souls. 

Once you pull away from the kiss, you move to sit between Levi’s legs. Your back rests comfortably against his sturdy chest. His arms wind around your middle. You smile to yourself and close your eyes when you feel his lips at your neck. 

You stay like that until the sun fully sinks beneath the horizon, and when the first stars start to twinkle their hellos is when your loved ones start calling out for you. 

“What are you two doing?! Nothing nasty, I hope!” Hange’s voice is the loudest of all, unfortunately. 

You laugh quietly as you slowly stand with Levi, his hand finding yours like always, and you lean in to kiss his cheek. 

“Let’s go back and start herding everyone home, husband.” 

At that, he actually chuckles. Levi’s soft grey eyes are a little brighter when he answers. 

“Okay, wife.” 

[aftokrvteira]

his hands (m)

pairing: eren yaeger/jaeger x fem!reader warnings: nsfw, fingering, weed, vagsex, explicit language. word count: 2.2 k

summary: eren’s your best friend and you’ve been in love with him since you met him. for the first time you agree to smoke weed with him and shit goes down. there’s some fluff too.

You cough, loudly and he bursts into a loud laugh. You try to hit him on the arm but it’s useless. Your eyes tear up while trying to gasp for some clean air.

“Stop laughing” you managed to say, trying to clear your throat. Your mouth tastes like smoke and your lungs feel heavy and burning. It was a bad idea but you just couldn’t say no to him. He was charming and funny and he always knew what to say to convince you. He smiled, taking the smoking pipe from your hand.

“Let me show you how it’s done” Eren placed it between his lips and lit it up, taking a deep breath, making the weed glow while burning. He let out the smoke through his nose after a few seconds. It looked easy... for him. How long he had been smoking? Two years now? “You wanna try again?” he offered the pipe to you once more. It wasn’t a pleasing sensation, to be honest and you could only taste ashes and smoke. You wanted to say no, but his eyes were so convincing...

You took it and placed it between your own lips, thinking about an indirect kiss. He was a gentleman and lit it up for you.

“Okay, so, while it burns, you have to take a deep breath. Hold it and then just breath it out. Easy peasy.” 

This time wasn’t so terrible. You wanted to cough but you managed to keep the smoke inside before letting it out all at once. Eren seemed pleased with the way you did it and patted you on the head, the way he always did, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy.

You’d been in love with him since you met him at that party, a few years ago. You two were freshmen and happened to sit at the same coach at the frat house, not knowing what to do or what to say. Eren asked you about your high school first and you told him the whole story, always oversharing but he didn’t seemed to mind. He was interested enough and you liked that. He talked to you about his last school, his friends and the fact that they were also in that college. He was waiting for them to arrive while you were there alone because you wanted to be more social.

“My face is tingling” you murmured. He poked your cheek and you couldn’t help but smile because it felt good. You noticed the fluffy rug against your skin in a way you never did before, as if your skin got a hundred times more sensitive.

“Thats okay” he said. You were both laying down on the rug of your room at the dorms, looking at the ceiling, with your arm and his brushing skins. “Now all you have to do is relax.”

Your whole body started tingling at once, from the tip of your toes to your face. It all felt...really nice. You could hear laughter and conversations coming from outside the building and it was like music. You brought your hands to your face, noticing the smell of your hand cream and smoke lingering on your fingers. Without thinking, you took his hand and did the same thing. His skin was soft and warm and it felt like silk against yours. His scent was a mixture of weed and laundry detergent, along with Eren’s own aroma. Something that you couldn’t describe but it was unforgettable.

“I always knew you had a hand kink” he said, taking you out of your thoughts. You blushed and let go of his hand. Eren laughed once again. “I’m not shaming you, tho, you can keep going.”

“Shut up” you murmured, placing your hands inside the pocket of your hoodie. You felt his head resting against your shoulder. He always did that and you loved it. You loved the sensation of his closeness to you, the smell of his hair, his warmth... It was the best part of being his best friend. That he was always close. “My mom would kill me if she knew I’m doing drugs with the school’s junkie...”

“Wow, I didn’t know I was the school junkie” he said “What about Connie?”

“He just looks like a junkie but he’s not baked 24/7 like someone I know” Eren shrugged, barely moving his head to look at you. He stared for a few moments “What?”

“Nothing. I just like to look at you. You’re really cute.”

You blushed, biting your lip and looking away. That wasn’t the first time he said something like that and even though you liked it, you knew he didn’t mean it in the way you wanted to and it broke your heart just a little bit. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one having feelings for him, just like those girls in teen movies. The difference was that, in the end, you wouldn’t end up with him. At least you got his friendship and it made everything have a bittersweet taste. You sighed, trying not to think about it and just enjoying the silence between you two. This moments were the ones you loved the most because there was nothing except you two, laying down together, looking at the ceiling of your dorm room.

“I love you”

His voice was soft but it still broke the silence. It sounded peaceful and real. And then, you got it. You sat up straight, looking at him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze was lost somewhere else. Did you heard him alright? Or was it just because of the weed? You didn’t dared to ask what he said because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself. Maybe your mind was playing games. You shook your head and hugged your legs against your chest. It sure was your imagination. There was no way he’d...

“Y/N” judging by they way he said your name you knew he wasn’t joking anymore. You looked at him and there was something about his eyes that sent shivers all over your body. Eren was right. Weed made everything feel...so different. You didn’t know what to do. And you froze in your place when you felt his hands on your cheeks, and your heart stopped completely once he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

It was electric. His mouth tasted like chocolate and weed and it was delicious. You didn’t understand what was going on, but the sensation was being so amazing that you just gave in, letting him caress your tongue with his, getting closer. You placed your hands on his chest and felt the fast beating of his heart. His fingers ran down to your lower back and it was as if he was touching your very nerves, going through the layers of fabric and skin. Something in the back of your hazed brain was panicking with the fact that you and Eren were making out but that something was quickly silenced once his mouth traveled down your neck, finding its way on the curve of your throat. A small whimper left your lips and you blushed even more, feeling how the blood rushed all the way to your face. Eren seemed to like that because he got closer, pressing his body against yours. Your knees were melting and your skin was about to catch on fire.

As if he had the same sensation he got rid of your hoodie with a swift movement. You didn’t had to think about it. His lips didn’t left enough room for thinking. He kissed you until you were out of breath. You didn’t even cared that you were only using your bra under the hoodie and a simple pair of shorts. You loved the fact that you could just be comfortable around Eren. You gasped when his hands cupped your breasts over the fabric, squeezing them. You loved the feeling because you’ve been dreaming about that since you met him at that party. Since you saw his hands rolling a joint you wanted him to touch you with the same delicacy and eagerness. He pushed you a little bit so  you could lay down again. You bit your lip to muffle the moan that wanted to escape your lips when he positioned himself all over you. Your eyes met his and it was like everything felt into place. His hair tickled your face when he leaned in closer to your face and you couldn’t help but run your fingers through the brown strands, letting his hair loose from the bun he always had. It felt amazing. Your hands caressed the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, his back and his face as you were admiring everything about him. Being this close was driving you crazy and your heart was pounding inside of your chest.

“Eren...” you whispered his name and the way it sounded felt like a declaration. He kissed you once again and the only reason he would stop was to gasp for air.

It was all being like a dream, like one of those dreams you used to have where he just appeared whispering all sorts of perverted things, things that he would do to you. You always woke up wet and confused and your solution for that was to finger yourself to get rid of the horniness. Just like those times, one of your hands automatically moved down and slid inside your shorts. With your middle and ring fingers you felt how wet you already were and you moaned against his lips, making him realize what you were doing. He stopped for a brief second and then grabbed your wrist, making you stop. You looked at him but he was half-smiling. His hand replaced yours and the way his fingers caressed your clit made you gasp. He collected your juices and slowly introduced one finger inside of you, making you close your legs. Eren let out a chuckle.

“You’re really cute...”

You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed but quickly forgot about it when he started to finger-fuck you, managing to rub your clit with his thumb and thrust his middle fingir in and out of you. Your moans got louder and for a moment you thought that maybe someone could hear you but you didn’t care. This was a fantasy. Maybe you were just hallucinating and you didn’t wanted it to stop. It was all you ever wanted.

“Take off your bra.” he asked and you obeyed, just pulling it up, showing him your breasts and your already hard nipples. He licked his lips before leaning so he could lick one of them, circling his tongue around it, making you a mess of moans and wetness. He sucked on your tits and took his time with them, as if it was something he just wanted to do from a long time.

You sighed when he stopped fingering you. He kneeled between your legs and you saw him pull down his pants and boxers, letting you see his boner. His cock was hard and glistening, with beads of precum covering the tip. You imagined that he was big, but not that big. You gulped and he smiled, noticing the wanting in your eyes. He took off your shorts and opened your legs, running his fingers along your slit, collecting your wetness and making you moan. With that same hand he jerked his dick, up and down, his gaze fixed on your pussy and the position you were. Those seconds felt like an eternity to you.

“Is it okay if we do it like this?” he asked. “I didn’t bring a condom”

You bit your lip for a second but then just nodded.

“As long as you pull out...”

That answer seemed to please him because as soon as you said it, he aligned his cock against your cunt and slowly slid it inside. You arched your back, tensing around his length, making him moan. It was better than you ever imagined. You could feel him inside of you, opening your insides so he could fit in your tight pussy. You wrapped your arms against his neck, closing your eyes and he started to thrust in and out of you, increasing the pace as he got used to the sensation.

“You have no idea of how bad I wanted you...” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “From the moment I...Oh, fuck...I saw you...” Eren’s balls slapped against your skin, making a delicious sound that matched perfectly with the rhythm of your sighs and moans. “I love you, y/n...”

You opened your eyes. His face was so close, covered in sweat, eyes closed shut. He was panting and you couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss, a deep kiss. You moved your hips against his, syncing the movements. This way you felt him go in deeper, stimulating your g-spot, driving you over the edge. You felt him twitch inside of you, just about to get there. You wrapped your legs around his waist and screamed his name when you cum. Just a few seconds after, he pulls out, cumming all over your belly with a husky moan. He’s panting and colapses right next to you. Both of your chests raise up and down, trying to recover your breath.

You feel his arm wrapping around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him until you rest against his chest. You can hear his heart pounding and you feel embarrassed and happy and tender.

“I love you too” you whisper and he hugs you tighter. 

“Can I spend the night?” he asks.

“Only if you take a shower with me.”

“Deal.”

[soulmate-game]

This is an alternate ending for my Bio!dad Joker / Bio!mom Harley AU. Or really, the timeline itself will be entirely different starting from the moment that Marinette’s plane lands in Gotham. If you haven’t read the original, you can do so here.

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette often hated how accurate her intuition tended to be. She had barely even stepped out of the airport before she had felt the prick of a needle in her neck and the sensation of being shoved into a small, dark space before her vision cut out.

Looks like her mom wasn’t able to hide her existence away as well as they thought.

And unfortunately for Marinette, her darling asshole of a father had apparently had ample time to plan his first meeting with her. If he had just used the much easier to acquire Chloroform on her, then Marinette likely would have woken up early enough to come up with a plan. Chloroform was unreliable and wore off fairly easily. But no, he had actually had the time to steal hospital grade anesthetic.

Which meant that Marinette woke up with her wrists zip-tied to heavy links of chain above her head, and her ankles connected to the chain below her with what felt like ten layers of duct tape.

Lovely.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, sleepyhead!” Those were the high-pitched, dramatic words she heard when she came back to consciousness. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know who the speaker was— she had watched enough videos online and not-so-legally obtained Asylum and Prison footage to immediately recognize the speech patterns and tone that was echoing around her.

Apparently keeping her eyes closed was not allowed, because it was only a few seconds later that Marinette felt a harsh slap sting her cheek and whip her face to the side. Oh, that would become a bruise without a doubt. Her teeth betrayed her, cutting into the inside of her mouth with the force of the hit. So, when Marinette opened her eyes to glare at the sperm donor responsible for half of her DNA, she aimed her bloody spit right at him. It landed on his shoe, which only a few seconds later slammed into her gut.

Marinette gasped for air even as the chain she was on swung violently, making her dizzy and upsetting her stomach. Too bad she didn’t have anything in there to throw up on him, she thought angrily. The chain links rattled loudly, ringing in her head alongside the electric pain of both of her newly forming bruises.

“Honestly, is that any way to treat your dear ol’ Daddy?” Joker cooed with false offense, one hand over his heart. Marinette glared at him as best as she could as she continued to sway in the open air, the chain she was tied to being the only thing keeping her from plunging straight down into a vat of sickly green, bubbling liquid.

Marinette didn’t need to be told what that liquid was. And joker knew that, the moment he saw her look down at that vat and saw the realization almost immediately cross her face. So instead of explaining, he laughed. Loud, high, and deranged.

“Good, good! That idiot Harley kept you educated, at least,” he said between psychotic chuckles. “Ah yes, and she somehow managed to choose the perfect name,” he glided over to her, as if he was some ethereal demon of chaos instead of a human. His paper-white hand reached out, grabbing her chin in a crushing grip and turning her face this way and that. Inspecting her as if she was a piece of china and not a living being. “So easy to adjust. Right now, you’re Marinette. Just like how, all those years ago, your mother stood here as Harleen. But just as she was dunked into acid and became my harlequin,” he stepped back and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders. He spun her like a top, making the metal chain creak and clink as it wound into a few weak coils and then released back out, trying to go straight again. It sent Marinette twirling through the air in a horrid half-spin, one-eighty degrees one way before sharply spinning to the other side. Joker laughed.

“Just like that, you’re gonna go from boring old Marinette,” he stuck out his tongue like a child, as if the mere taste of her name was bitter. “And you’ll be reborn as my new little Marionette. Aren’t you excited?!”

“Fuck you,” Marinette spat, even as she tried to blink and return her vision to normal. She was far too disoriented to even come up with a plan— but she was still coherent enough to register that the sky was dark outside the high windows of the factory she was apparently in. She had been missing for a few hours then, which meant that her mom and Momma Ivy would have called for help a long time ago. Maybe if she just stalled long enough, it would get there in time. “I’m not a puppet. Not for you, not for anybody!” She snarled.

Joker rolled his eyes, but his smile still widened. “Oh, that’s what they all say. In fact, your mother put up a good resistance there for a while, but her inner chaos couldn’t resist me. You’ll bend even easier, I have no doubt,” her ran his hand along her cheek in a motion that was so gentle that it felt foreign, wrong, to her coming from him. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to whiplash her, take all her hope away before dangling the option he wanted her to choose in front of her like a carrot on a stick.

Too bad he didn’t know her at all. She cringed away from his gentle touch, revolted by the mere feel of his skin on her’s.

“And your accent is a nice touch,” he cooed as if her reaction didn’t bother him at all. It probably didn’t. “Exotic. Just the thing I need to freshen up my usual act a bit, the Boston twang my old Harlequins had is just… stale by now, don’t you agree?”

Marinette clenched her jaw at the reminder that he had tried to pass off a cheap look-alike as her mom when she disappeared, back when she was pregnant with Marinette, to hide her baby from Joker. How he had discarded that woman like trash when Harley went back to him, only to replace her again when her mom left him for good.

No matter how badly Joker spoke of her mom, Marinette knew that Harley had been the only Harlequin of his to actually last. The only one he kept around, and there was a reason for that. Now, he was looking for another replacement. One that was more than a cheap knockoff, and he was hoping that a teenager with not only Harley’s genetics, but also his own, would be the exact kind of right-hand prop he wanted. An obedient little puppet of chaos, just for him.

But Marinette was nobody's toy. She had been used and taken advantage of enough back in Paris, she had spent her whole life struggling to escape the side effects of her parentage. To deal with the things she inherited.

The obsessiveness, the way she was so quick to get attached. She knew she inherited that from her mom. But there was also the rage, the anger that Marinette constantly had to stuff down. Hide below the surface before it hurt someone. Keep under a tight reign and hide away in the back of her mind, her own dirty little secret.

The constant reminder of just who her biological father was. Because that anger, that viciousness, could only have come from him.

She had spent her whole life trying to carve herself her own identity, to create beauty with the chaotic elements she got from her blood. And she couldn’t blame her mother, not really. Her mother at least did her best to help, and always leant an empathetic ear when Marinette needed it. But Joker?

Oh, she could, and would, blame him even long after he was dead and gone. Because he was the one who hurt her mother, he was the one who twisted her and drove her to feel unfit to be a parent. And sometimes, Marinette thought it would be better if Joker never existed. Sure, that meant she never would have been born. But wouldn’t that have been easier, too? To not ever have to experience the struggle that came with being his daughter, a title she never consented to?

But she couldn’t change the past. She was alive, and she would use her life to spite everything that the Joker stood for. That would be her revenge. He wanted a toy?

Joker had been monologuing, but Marinette drowned it all out as she kept her periphery vision on the windows above her. Shadows moved out there, with familiar bright yellows and shadowy blacks. The bats were there. She just needed to stall.

She opened her mouth. Joker pulled a lever.

Marinette dropped.

Wire whizzed through the air, knocking the breath out of Marinette as it wound around her torso. She was barely able to piece together what was happening; one of the bats shot a human-safe grapple to try and pull her away from the acid.

But the chain and her restraints were stronger, heavier, and just dragged the grapple down with her body.

The impact sent a large wave of sickly green liquid surging over the side of the vat, and Marinette was dragged from view underneath the surface.

It burned.

She distantly felt the tape around her ankles peel itself away from her skin, the combination of acid and wetness rendering it useless. She felt the chemicals burning at her, sending painful tingles across every last inch of her skin. It got in her mouth, she didn’t have any breath in her to hold and ended up swallowing some. It seared her throat and created a river of lava inside her. It hurt.

It hurt so bad, she just wanted out. Out. Out. Out!

Someone pull her out now!

The zip tie around her wrist loosened enough for her to pull herself free, right as something heavy slammed into the heavy metal bowl. The entire container sloshed, slamming to fall onto its side. Marinette’s body was pulled alongside the rush of liquid as it flowed out, and she was able to breathe air again. Sweet, cooling air.

And then she hacked up acid, spitting and spewing it in an attempt to purge every last drop she had accidentally ingested. Like a cat choking on a hairball, she coughed and hacked and her chest convulsed and contracted to try and help her. Her ribs ached, she figured that the grapple that had tried to save her had ended up fracturing or breaking a rib or two. But all she cared about was breathing and getting rid of the chemicals she had inhaled. She needed it out. All of it. Out. Out. Out of her!

“Try to take a deep breath,” a gruff voice commanded, soft but solid. Something stable for her to cling to. So she did as it asked, forcing herself to stop hacking and instead focus on inhaling. As slowly as she could. It was difficult, the first few breaths cut themselves off with more involuntary coughing, but the owner of the gruff voice stayed nearby. Repeated it’s request. “Deep breath. Steady, now. In. Out. Good.”

Marinette was just starting to calm down, just starting to claw herself out of the haze of panic and adrenaline, when that wretched laugh cut through the air again.

“There you are! Heheheheh! My cute little Marionette!”

Marinette froze. She could barely think, barely understand her own emotions. But she knew she was different now. She knew there was no way back, he had taken it from her. He had taken her normality, he had taken all of her years of hard work and burned them right in front of her.

He had won. The bats hadn’t been fast enough. But, if her foggy mind was correct, Batman was the one trying to bring her back to lucidity. Batman was the one trying to help her get air back in her lungs.

Not her so-called father.

If he wanted a toy, she’d be a haunted doll. She’d harass him, haunt him, until he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d come back, like a possessed porcelain doll refusing to be thrown away. She would make him regret ever awakening the monster that she had spent so long forcing down. Because she was her father’s daughter, yes. But she was also her mother’s daughter.

And most importantly, she was Marinette Quinzel-Isley. Her own damned person. The Chosen wielder of the Creation miraculous. And she would never bow down and be used by anyone, ever again.

Tikki’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind. Resounded even louder than Joker’s laughter;

“That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good.”

And wasn’t that everything Marinette had ever done? It was a part of her now. Like a tattoo she had inked into her very soul.

She took the chaos she was given, and turned it into something beautiful. And right now? Right now, the most beautiful thing she could think of was Joker’s face when she slammed her fist into it.

“Easy,” Batman repeated, but for a different reason now. Marinette’s lungs still stuttered a little, but her breathing was mostly under control. Now, he was saying it because Marinette was forcing herself to her feet. Her legs trembled under her, threatening to lay her out on the floor again. But she was every bit as stubborn as Joker, which made for a terrifying combination with her all-consuming fury. The acid had broken the mental chains Marinette had been using to hold it back, and now it burned fierce and bright in her eyes.

So Marinette kept herself up right, cognizant of Batman’s hand on her shoulder but ignoring it. She grit her teeth against the burning light of the room, everything suddenly too bright and colorful. Too vibrant. But it did little to distract her. She realized that one of her hands still gripped the heavy chain that had sent her drowning in the acid, and sent a snarl at her darling, jackass of a father as she whipped it out right towards him.

“Marinette!” Batman yelled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. But he didn’t pull her back, which spoke louder than any words he could have said to her right then. He wouldn’t save Joker from his daughter, he knew the man deserved at least this much pain. And sure enough, the metal links slammed right into Joker’s side, winding around him like a crushing whip.

But that was all Marinette had the strength to do. As soon as she saw Joker’s body hit the floor, writhing in agony and painfully loud cackles, her hand let go of the chain and her body tumbled down. Batman caught her.

“Red Hood, Nightwing, get Joker back to Arkham,” Batman’s order faded in and out of focus. Now that her most pressing desire was taken care of, the effects of the acid reared their ugly heads with renewed ferocity. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her thoughts echoed in her head like voices wrestling for supremacy. “Robin, Black Bat, stay on alert. Harley said that she’s incredibly trained,” he warned his partners. Marinette didn’t begrudge him, the only other two people who had survived being dunked into those chemicals hadn’t exactly treated him with kindness and pacifism. But she could barely focus on them anyway, too distracted by trying to reign in the chaos in her mind.

But Joker would never stay silent, even as he was dragged away in chains.

“Hehehahahahaha! Paper white, paper white!” He jeered cheerfully. “That’s my girl! Violent just like Papa!” Red hood knocked him out with a harsh punch to the side of his neck before he could say another word. But it was enough— enough for Marinette to gasp in realization.

Her skin. It was paper white, just like his. Not even Harley’s skin had been bleached like the Joker’s after her dip in the acid. That had always been makeup. Her mom had a healthy, peachy complexion like anyone else. A complexion Marinette had shared— until now. Now, she was unhealthily pale. Just like him.

A painful screech tore itself from her already raw throat, and Marinette’s fingernails immediately began to tear at her own skin. Red. Red was better than white— she didn’t want to look like him. She couldn’t. White was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

“Marinette! Stop!” Strong hands clamped around her wrists, pulling her hands away from herself even as she wriggled and tried to keep clawing at herself.

“No! No no no!” Marinette howled. “I don’t wanna look like him! I don’t wanna be like him!” She managed to get one hand free and immediately tried to tear away at her face. Batman was able to wrestle her arm away before she could do any damage besides a few angry red lines. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” She shook her head, not feeling as tears flung themselves off her cheeks.

“Okay,” Batman’s voice was solid again, soft and grumbly and stable. She grabbed at it again, drawn to anything that might help bring her stability. She needed his unflappable attitude right then, and he probably didn’t even realize how badly. “That’s good. But you don’t need to rip your skin off to do that, you know that right?”

Marinette hiccuped, finally sinking down to sob as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down over the chaos of deafening light and blinding sound that continued to jumble around inside her head. “He changed me,” she choked out. Batman nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He did.”

“Th-that f-fucking bastard,” Marinette managed a sad chuckle before devolving right back into sobs. “I wo-worked so h-hard. N-never hurt any-anybody. Never… never yelled. Ne-never hit… Not people who didn’t attack f-first.”

“I know. Your mom told me,” he confirmed calmly. Solid, tethering. Marinette swallowed another gulp of air, trying to calm down. But everything was too much.

“Mom!” She suddenly realized out loud, turning and grabbing at Batman’s chest, clinging to his uniform. She didn’t even care that she almost sliced herself on a batarang, she clung to him desperately with wide, crazed eyes. “G-get Mom and… and Ivy! They… they can help. They know—“ Marinette paused to breathe, then resumed. “Momma Ivy— she gave me—gave me a diluted… th-thingy, years ago, I can’t remember—“ Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to get her mind to calm down. To work.

“The serum she gave Harley?” He asked. “The one that made her immune to poisons, and gave her increased physical abilities?”

“That!” Marinette agreed frantically, nodding. “I was too— too little, to give the real thing, so she diluted it,” she swallowed her spit and winced when it burned her throat. “It… I think it’s helping with the—the—the—“

“The chemical’s effects?” Batman suddenly sounded like he was paying much more attention than before, his shoulders a little straighter at her explanation. “You think it’s slowing down or numbing what it did to your mom and Joker?” Marinette couldn’t talk anymore, it hurt too much. Everything hurt too much, so she just nodded. “Good. That’s good, Marinette. Robin! Get Harley and Ivy down here, now!”

That was when the voices started. Sometime during the ten minutes it took to get her Mom and Ivy to her, they had apparently been waiting nearby anxiously incase the Bats had needed backup, the voices had built from ominous whispers to devious shouts, ordering her to do things like slam her elbow into Batman’s throat or see what happened if she splashed Robin with some of the acid that was still on the ground.

Her body didn’t move. She kept herself carefully still, focusing on ignoring her impulse to listen to one of the voices. She was still lucid enough to know that she would regret it if she did any of that. That the Bats were more on her side than any of the voices or the Joker were. But it was growing painful, and Harley and Ivy walked in to Batman trying to keep Marinette from hitting her own head. She had devolved to trying to knock herself out to get the voices to be quiet.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Shut up, shut up, shut. Up!” She was clearly talking to herself, her eyes screwed shut as she continued to try and hit her head. Harley gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes watering at the sight. This was something she had hoped she would never see.

“Harls,” Ivy spoke softly, putting a gentle arm around her wife’s back in support. It hurt Ivy to see Marinette in so much agony, but she knew it pained Harley even more. And much more personally. “Come on. We can help.”

“Y-you’re right,” Harley agreed shakily, taking a deep breath to try and compose herself before they both approached their daughter. Batman didn’t let go of Marinette, but did lean out of the way to give them access to her.

“Honeycake?” Harley called out softly, a little unsure how the chemicals were affecting her baby’s personality right then. The first few days were going to be the worst, and she knew that. The Dunk never took it easy on it’s victims. Marinette gasped, stopping her muttering and raising her head to look at Harley with wide eyes.

“Momma?”

Harley had to swallow heavily to shove back the sob that wanted to bubble up out of her. She had to be strong for her baby. She couldn’t break yet. But Marinette hadn’t called her Momma since she was little, now she called Pamela ‘Momma Ivy’ and her just ‘Mom’.

“It’s me, sugarplum,” she assured her daughter, kneeling down and cupping one of Marinette’s cheeks in her palm. And that was when she noticed it, and couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. But Marinette’s senses were so sensitive that she noticed it right away, and stiffened.

“Wh-what is it?” She grew frantic when Harley didn’t immediately respond, only winced in sympathy. Marinette knew that wasn’t good. “Mom? What is it? What did he do? What else did he do to me?”

“Darling,” Harley started, licking her lips nervously. “My sweet baby girl, your right eye… it’s green now, sugar.”

Marinette’s world froze. She tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and disbelieving. “No,” she somehow managed to breathe. “No, mom, I have your eyes. Your blue eyes. I love your eyes,” Her voice steadily got more and more panicked as she went on, not wanting to accept what her mother was clearly seeing. She watched as Harley’s face broke a little, a few tears escaping before the older woman could stop them. Marinette shook her head again, slipping her tiny wrist out of Batman’s hold and raising it to her eye. “No. It’s one of his tricks. He—he must have slipped a contact in my eye when I was passed out, that’s— that’s— that’s all—“ but her fingertip met her normal eye. No contact to be felt. Marinette’s hand fell into her lap limply. The room was absolutely silent as everyone gave her a few seconds to process just how much she had been changed, entirely against her will. She opened and closed her mouth, not sure whether she wanted to yell or curse or cry. Instead, her voice just came out in a very tiny, broken:

“...fuck.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had gone mostly mute. She would say a word here or there, but for the most part she was doing a good impression of a vegetable. She stayed silent, as still as possible, and just stared at the ceiling of her hospital room.

She had been like that for the past two weeks they had been monitoring her in the Acid’s aftermath. Her ribs, which had turned out to only be bruised thankfully enough, had healed. Her cheek and torso were healed up too, only the barest hint of sickly yellow to show as a reminder of Joker’s hits on her. Sometimes the cameras would catch her talking to seemingly empty air, only for a nurse to rush in and see that Marinette had gone silent yet again.

Tikki was doing her best to help. She had been separated from Marinette, but Pamela had found Marinette’s purse and returned it— and subsequently Tikki— when they had gotten her to the hospital. She was the only person Marinette regularly spoke to, because Marinette knew Tikki understood. Tikki had been around since the Big Bang, she had seen worse things than a little insanity. Tikki had always been there to help her feel at ease with her mind and body. She shared a piece of Tikki’s soul, even, according to the tiny god.

But talking to anyone else was too hard. Too scary. She still had those damned voices at war in her mind, trying to convince her to do things that made her lock her joints and keep her body absolutely still before she acted on any of the coaxes. Possibilities she had never considered before came startlingly easy to her mind now— like how it would only take two seconds to tear her IV out and stab it into her nurse’s eye. How she could use her blanket to strangle Momma Ivy, or how she could fake jumping out the window and Harley wouldn’t waste a second trying to save her.

They were horrible thoughts. Intrusive, ugly, and far too loud. She didn’t want to act on any of them, but sometimes she found her fingers twitching only a second before she could follow through on one.

She spent a lot of time meditating, because of it. Which is why most people thought she was ignoring them. She didn’t mean to, she just needed to meditate. It was like her brain was a giant room filled with filing cabinets that held her thoughts and emotions. Her whole life, Marinette had carefully kept this room alphabetized, organized, and neat. Every file in its correct drawer. Until Joker had come along, and ripped the entire place apart. Tore certain files in half, broke her cabinets, ruined her filing system. And now she had to put the room back together, one drawer and piece of paper at a time.

That’s what the meditation was doing. She was getting reacquainted with herself. Learning what had changed in her mind and trying to adjust. She couldn’t be the old Marinette anymore, but she’d be damned if she let the Joker turn her into someone ugly like him.

So she needed time.

One day, towards the end of those two weeks, she got a visitor slipping through her window. Considering her room was on the tenth floor, she had it pretty narrowed down as to who it could be. Batman had visited her every night, a silent shadow in the corner, but he had already left for the day so it couldn’t be him. None of the other bats had dropped by after the second day.

She turned her head to see that that was now changed; Red Hood sat on her windowsill with one leg inside the room and the other bent on the sill itself. He looked the very picture of comfort despite being a stiff wind (or quick shove— no, bad brain) away from falling to his death. And then Hood took off his helmet, which was ugly enough to inspire some of the more violent suggestions in her brain and make them seem appealing.

“Ya know. Red Hood used to be what Joker called himself,” were the first words out of the vigilante’s mouth. Marinette’s eyebrows pulled down, and it was clear she was confused (and a little angry) at what he told her. He grinned, his eyes still hidden by the domino mask on his face. “Eh. The bastard killed me, ya know. I was the second Robin, a lifetime ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, and the violent voices dimmed and seemed to grow muffled. Marinette couldn’t quite understand what they were trying to tell her anymore, which made her figure that she had better pay attention to what Hood had to say. She licked her dry lips, and spoke softly. Her throat was still damaged from the acid, so she couldn’t speak very loudly yet.

“Then how are you… you know, here?”

The man chuckled. “Another group of assholes happens to have a magic pit in their basement. It’s a glowing green lake, ten different types of bad news. But it brings people back to life, and they dunked me in it without even caring for a second if I even wanted to come back.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed all on their own. It seemed to sink into her brain all at once, a simple:

Oh. He gets it.

“I guess the water doesn’t take it easy on your brain, either?” She hazarded an educated guess. He laughed, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I went off the deep end for a while, and killed a lotta people. They deserved it at least, but I don’t like how violent I was back then. Before I learned how to cope. Attacked people who were innocent. Red Robin almost died when I attacked him, back then, when he was just Robin.”

“Then why’d you keep calling yourself Red Hood?” She asked, tilting her head. He finally turned his head to look straight at her instead of just staring out the window. His grin widened, but it was lopsided. The grin of someone who was healed from some serious shit, but knew that it would always ache. A bittersweet expression.

“Cuz he doesn’t own that name. I made it into something that stands for at least a little good. Something that scares the assholes who don’t care about killing or abusing innocent people. Hell, some people take comfort in the name Red Hood now. And you know what that means?”

Marinette shook her head, and his grin widened into a shark-like smile.

“It means I stole it from him. The name Red Hood. He’ll never use it again, and now it stands for the opposite of anything he’d agree with. You can do that too, you know. Find something to steal from him, or use something he gave you, and make it your own.”

“Turn the chaos into something good,” Marinette said dreamily, clearly quoting someone. Red Hood nodded.

“Exactly. It’s not gonna be easy, but you got the choice here. You ain’t going back to who you used to be, but you can take the victory away from him.”

“... make him regret ever dunking me in that stupid vat,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as they filled with determination for the first time since her body hit the acid. “He wants a puppet, an obedient little doll, I’ll give him Annabel.”

“There ya go,” The vigilante slid off the windowsill and approached her bed, holding out his hand for a shake. “I can help you get to that. What do ya say?”

Marinette was silent for a long minute, staring straight into his masked eyes. And then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I got one question, Red Hood.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about black cats?”

—*—*—*—*—*

This took four hours, holy hell. I’m actually happy with how this turned out. What do you guys think? I even got to max length on Tumblr 😂

[marvelslut16]

Oblivious

Prompt number: 18 “you don’t see it?”

Fandom: Saturday night live? Pete Davidson?

Paring: Pete Davidson x reader 

Rating: T

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: An asshole cheater. Mentions of Ariana Grande (yes that’s a warning- don’t come for me). Swearing. Mentions of slight sexting- just mentions boobs nothing graphic. Mentions rehab. Slightly angsty ends fluffy.

A/N: So I broke my one rule and wrote for an actual person. Pete Davidson is precious and doesn’t deserve the hate he gets. I was also almost hella basic because I was so close to titling this the king of Staten Island. Anywho, the cheating scum part of this story happened to me and I immediately thought Pete would never do this to me- so I wrote this lmao. I think my love for the Knicks seeped into this story a bit. 

You had been talking to a guy for close to three months now. You thought he was charming, and sweet, and he was built like a god! You’re friends were a little weary, none more than Pete, when you admitted you hadn’t met up with the man yet. Their faces would go from being happy for you to pitting you instantly. But you knew you weren’t being catfished, you video called with Henry multiple times a week. While Henry wasn’t your first choice, he never would be, you were starting to see a future with him. 

But that vision went to shit with one simple text. You had gotten a new bra, maroon and lacy, and boy did it make the girls look good! Feeling a little flirty in your new bra, you texted a picture to Henry to be a little tease while he was at work. Almost instantly you got a text back, and it read; ‘shit baby, you’re tits are way better than my girlfriends!’ with multiple heart eye and drooling emojis to follow. 

You had never felt more embarrassed in your life! And that’s saying something considering Pete makes jokes about you on SNL and in his standup routines, all approved by you beforehand of course. You had met Pete years ago, while he was scrawnier than he is now, had a lot less tattoos, and right when he was just starting SNL. You had bumped into him on the sidewalk while trying to catch a cab in the pouring rain, you expected to be yelled at with a thick New York accent for what felt like the millionth time that day, but it never came. Instead Pete hailed the cab for you but not before exchanging numbers and promising to show you around since you had just moved to the city for college. 

After showing you around the next day, you were surprised when he continued to text you for the next month. To pay him back for his generosity you took him to see a Knicks game, lucky for you your dormmate had a fight with her boyfriend so she sold the tickets to you for dirt cheap. The seats weren’t great, all the way up in the nosebleed section, but you were in Madison Square Garden watching the Knicks! Pete was pleasantly surprised by you when you could name the players and you actually knew how the game was played, unlike girls he had dated. Of course before you left the arena you had to splurge and got yourself a Carmelo Anthony jersey! 

Many years and Knicks games later you’re still friends with Pete. You’d call him your best friend, but you know Colson is his even if he claims it’s you when you’ve asked in the past. You’d be by Pete’s side every time he admitted himself into rehab- making sure you were there to pick him up when he got out. You had been there to pick up the pieces after Ariana- hell you were picking them up when they were still together. You were beside him every time he got bullied off his social media by stupid haters or little Ariana stans after they broke up. He made sure to be at your graduation, and he was there to rant to when you had a bad day at work. Pete was there to hold your hand when you got your first tattoo, which he wanted to pick out for you but you refused. Pete was there to pick up your pieces when a guy hurt you, like right now. 

You’re in his basement, curled into his right side, his right arm slung securely over your shoulder, his fingertips making soothing trails up and down your arm. You had convinced him to watch an old episode of SNL- before he was on it, but new enough that Kate McKinnon and Bill Hader were on it together. You snuggle further into his warm side and let out a content sigh. 

“You were too good for him, (Y/N/N),” Pete finally brings up the elephant in the room. You had hoped that watching an episode of SNL would put the ‘you deserve better than him, he’s just scum,’ talk Pete gives you every time you go through a break up.

“If I was too good for him, then I’d still be with him,” you murmur a line from the movie clueless into his baby pink sweatshirt covered chest. 

“None of these guys deserved you, (Y/N/N),” Pete says sternly, you roll your eyes not in the mood for him to tell you how amazing you are but not make a move on you, yet again.

“Pete, stop,” you pull away from his chest, his arm falling off you as you scoot to the front of the cushion. “I really don’t want to have this conversation again, no matter how many times you tell me I still won’t believe you. I should get going, don’t want to miss the last ferry back to the city.”

“(Y/N), please, wait,” Pete’s skinny fingers wrap around your wrist as you stand and go to walk towards the door. “We just ordered pizza, just stay the night.”

“I can’t Pete,” you whisper, staring down at your sock covered feet, you had gotten Pete to take better care of his hardwood floors by convincing him to have a no shoe policy. “Give some pizza to your mom and your sister.”

“You’re off tomorrow, you originally planned on staying,” if you didn’t know any better you’d say his voice was laced with hurt and disappointment. “Why won’t you stay now?”

“I can’t keep doing this Pete,” loud laughing coming from the studio audience on the now forgotten episode of SNL only seems to be mocking you and your feelings. “Every time you tell me how amazing I am and you don’t- it’s just hard to believe when no one seems to agree with the sentiment.” 

“You don’t see it?” his voice is soft, he stands from his seat, getting momentarily stuck in the blanket that was draped over your laps. “You really don’t see it,” this time it’s not a question, it’s a statement. 

“See what Pete?” he lets go of your wrist to spin you around to face him. 

“That I’m in love with you,” his eyes shine in sincerity, but they aren’t what you’re focusing on. “That I have been since that first Knicks game!”

“You don’t love me,” your voice shakes as you stare at the heart that was once Ariana’s bunny ears peaking out above his left ear. You reach up and gently trace your finger over the heart. “You’ve dated models, and movie stars. You were engaged to Ariana, even after you knew she didn’t want us to be friends. Because she didn’t trust me. You didn’t love me Pete, you chose her, and yet I was still there to pick up the pieces after you ignored me for months, because I love you. Because I didn’t care how much I was hurting, I knew I had to be there to make you feel better, to be able to see your smile again.”

“I was settling for Ariana!” he grabs your cheeks so you can’t look away. “I thought I could get her to warm up to you, I’ve never wanted you out of my life (Y/N)! You were with Eric at the time, it hurt like hell to see you that happy with someone that wasn’t me! So I proposed to Ariana because Eric bragged that he had a ring for you! But then you guys broke up and I couldn’t just break up with her right after I proposed.”

“Eric did propose, I said no and broke it off,” you smile sadly. “He, like Ariana, didn’t want us to spend time together, so I dumped him. All of the guys eventually realize they’re second to you, so they either break up with me or ask me not to see you anymore. And I was selfish every single time, I hurt them so I could be happy with you in my life.” 

“Fine, you want the truth?” Pete asks, and you nod. “It wasn’t the Knicks game. I knew I wanted to date you that night. But the first time I knew I loved you was when you came with my mom to pick me up from rehab the first time after we were. You didn’t run far away from me, you still wanted to be around me and you put up with my shit. Everyone leaves when I go to rehab, they think I’m too much to handle.”

“Well I don’t! I never have Pete!” you’re crying by now. 

“I know! Fuck, you’re too damn perfect for me (Y/N). I convinced myself for so long you were too good for me, that you couldn’t love me,” you don’t know how to verbally respond, so you do the first thing that comes to your mind. 

You grab the back of Pete’s neck and pull him into a kiss, it’s all teeth and tongue. The passion sends jolts of electricity through your body, a wave of giddiness rolls over you as you realize that this is really happening. You’re really kissing Pete, he really loves you too. As the kiss continues it becomes slower and more gentle, both of you want this feeling to last as long as it can. When you finally pull back, lungs burning and desperately in need of air, the feeling of his lips linger on yours. 

“I do love you, (Y/N/N). There’s never really been anyone else,” he caresses your cheek and gently brushes his lips on your forehead. 

“I love you too Pete,” you lean in for a peck, which he quickly deepens. You pull away giggling, “so much.”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[butterflyinthewell]

Raditz headcanons!

(Warning: some nsfw text ahead! Scroll to the second picture to avoid it.)

The funny stuff:

Raditz fucks. He calls himself a slut because he fucks often and he’s good at it.

He is happy to suck dick, eat pussy and eat ass for money. He’s not picky as long as the presented part is clean.

He’s proudly bisexual.

His dick is huge. Monstrous.

He loves to land on a planet he’s going to decimate and shmooze, go to bars, get drunk, say he’ll let them live if the sex is good, fuck whoever offers and kill everyone there anyway.

He rawed Zarbon’s brains out because Zarbon said he doubted Saiyajins could fuck. Zarbon still refuses to admit it’s the best dick he ever got in his life. All Raditz has to do is grab at his own crotch around Zarbon and that pretty jerk gets all flustered.

Raditz loves to be naked. He’s immodest and an exhibitionist, so he only wears clothes because he gets tired of people yelling at him to put some on.

He’s that guy who will eat the most disgusting food item or food mixture you put in front of him just to gross out everyone watching. Ice cream with toothpaste? Pop tarts with ketchup on them? Something alive and wiggly? Sure, he’ll eat it without flinching and watch you squirm.

He’s an expert troll. No, he’s a god-tier troll.

Once, he pranked the Ginyu Force by making Guldo stink. Guldo has no sense of smell, so Raditz smeared rotten meat all over the inside of his armor once while the little guy was in the showers. It took a week to figure the stink out, but nobody knew Raditz did it.

He can do a pretty good impression of Zarbon’s voice, so he once got a bunch of troops outside of Freeza’s room under “orders from Zarbon”. He got caught for that one and got his ass beat, but he’ll say it was worth it.

He draws things on the back of Nappa’s bald head while Nappa is asleep. Usually faces, but once or twice it was a dick or butt crack.

Once, he sent a dick pic to Freeza’s scouter during a debriefing and made the little bastard choke on his wine.

Another time, he got a dick pic onto the debriefing display and it ruined the whole meeting because everybody started yelling at each other. Raditz sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yep, he showed the entire Freeza Force a picture of his enormous fully erect dick and he’d do it again.

And another time, he played the audio of Zarbon moaning and gasping all over Freeza’s ship, and Zarbon couldn’t do anything about it because it would mean confessing to letting Raditz fuck his brains out. Zarbon likes to project this image that he’s chaste and above such base desires, so being reminded of the time he had with Raditz embarrasses him so so sooooo much.

He jacked off into Freeza’s wine once. Freeza took a drink, spat it out and killed the guy who brought the wine. Nappa and Vegeta were in on this one, so the three of them snickered about it for months.

He taught Vegeta how to kiss by making out with him. It sorta broke his heart a little when Vegeta later said he wasn’t interested in him that way, cuz he had a bit of a crush on the Saiyajin prince.

Raditz might act cold and uncaring, but he has a big soft spot for kids. He wants to settle down and have some of his own someday. Unfortunately, life under Freeza doesn’t give him that opportunity. Plus, he’s a little afraid to for the genetic reasons about to be mentioned below.

The serious stuff:

Raditz’s biggest struggle is his epilepsy.

He was born with a rare gene mutation called a Naeb deletion (or Naeb syndrome) that kills most Saiyajin babies before their second birthday. (It’s pronounced “naw-EEB”.)

There are four Naeb genes in the average Saiyajin, or seizure suppressor genes. All four have to be present or a Saiyajin comes out with Naeb syndrome. Raditz is missing two of these genes.

Some Saiyajins carry an extra (fifth) Naeb gene-- a mutation-- that causes these deletions in children. If only one parent has that gene, the chances of a kid with Naeb syndrome are fifty-fifty. If both parents have the mutation, all their kids come out with it and it's usually fatal. Bardock had an extra Naeb gene, but Gine didn't. That's why Raditz has seizures and Goku doesn’t.

Every Saiyajin with Naeb syndrome is missing their last set of molars, has two extra ribs, has denser than average bones and extremely long hair. Their brain development is also faster than average, which can mean it grows faster than the skull around it. Sometimes the skull doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up with the brain, so the brain is crushed.

Structurally, Raditz’s brain has all the parts it’s supposed to, but they’re in slightly different places. He has less cerebrospinal fluid than average, his corpus callosum looks like a ring from the side and his lateral ventricles are smaller because his brain had to fold in on itself more to fit inside his skull. There’s a spot in his parietal lobe that’s pressed right up against the inside of his skull, and his meninges and a few millimeters of cerebrospinal fluid are the only thing that stops his brain from lacerating itself. That spot is always spiking with abnormal electrical activity. It’s like a match striking over and over. His brain doesn’t like being so squished in his skull, so sometimes it misfires when that “match” strikes and you get a flame, which is a seizure.

Raditz has a few different seizure types depending on which parts of his brain react to the constant “striking” activity and some of his seizures have a few triggers.

Doctors call Raditz’s epilepsy “mild”, but Raditz disagrees and considers it severe because he’s the one affected by it and not them.

He’s tried many different medications and none work. Surgery isn’t an option because Saiyajins don’t tolerate brain surgery very well and the chances of developing new seizure sources outweigh the benefits.

His scouter records and logs his seizures. He gets the time of the seizure, the length of the seizure and a video of the environment he was in. (If something flashes, the flashing is removed.)

Flashing lights can trigger seizures. His scouter has special polarized glass that counter flashes whenever someone’s ki flashes, so he just sees a solid color in that eye. Blocking one eye helps prevent the electrical excitation in his brain that turns into seizures. This doesn’t work if he’s exposed to flashing lights for longer than sixty seconds though. This is meant to give him time to turn away or cover his other eye.

He can’t go anywhere with strobes because of his seizures. Bars are okay since most don’t have strobes, but nightclubs are inaccessible.

Focal aware seizures are his most common seizure type, and he can have hundreds of these a day. They’re twenty seconds long. You can’t tell he’s having one unless you know what to look for, which is a faint quiver in his eyelids when he blinks. Sometimes he closes his eyes until the worst part of it is over.

It’s hard for him to describe how these seizures feel. They start as a little tingling at the tip of his thumb that spreads to his wrist. It’s a very annoying sensation. Then he gets sudden vertigo like someone yanks the ground sideways. During that vertigo he perceives everything as being way too close and too real. He gets a strong sense of doom. That’s the worst part. Then it’s over. The tingling stops, his senses return to normal and his heart rate slows.

He learned to compensate for the vertigo, so he can still fly and fight while having a focal aware seizure and nobody would know the difference.

Atonic seizures aren’t his most devastating seizures, but they’re the only seizure that embarrasses him to have in public. His muscles suddenly lose tone and he blacks out for a split second. If he’s walking or standing, he falls headfirst to the ground. If he’s sitting, he slumps. If he’s flying, he loses altitude for a second or two.

His atonic seizures happen when he doesn’t get enough sleep. They tend to come in clusters of two or three in a row. They can mess with his memory, causing him to lose a few minutes or be confused about where he is. If he’s in the middle of a conversation, he might forget what was being talked about, but reminding him gets him back on track.

Tonic clonic seizures are Raditz’s most devastating seizures. These are the big bad seizures that can be triggered by flashing lights. He can have them spontaneously, too, and averages about one or two a week.

Spontaneous ones start with his usual tingly focal aware seizures. He knows it’s going to generalize if the tingle continues up his arm instead of fading away. The second the tingle reaches his neck, he goes. His eyes roll back, he gets stiff, he shakes and he’s down for awhile.

Induced seizures give him no warning other than a sudden, extremely intense pain in the back of his skull. Induced seizures are worse than spontaneous ones because they’re more violent and last longer.

Some of his other weird TC triggers are going into or coming down from an oozaru transformation, getting dehydrated, not eating enough, being awakened out of delta wave sleep and stimulants like caffeine.

Regardless of how a TC started, he loses several hours of memory and doesn’t get it all back. His worst seizure wiped out a month of his life and he never regained those memories.

If he just ate, he will puke as he enters the tonic phase of the seizure. This is a huge choking hazard for him. He doesn’t care if he pees or poops himself during a seizure, but vomiting is really bad. If he just ate a huge meal and feels a TC coming, he’ll stick his finger down his throat and get the puking done before the seizure hits.

He almost always wets or soils himself during the clonic phase unless he just went to the bathroom before he had it.

If he powers up as a TC starts, his power rises uncontrollably until the tonic phase progresses into the clonic phase, then he releases massive ki waves that destroy everything around him. He hits power levels he can’t reach while conscious and in control of his ki, but this is dangerous because he could power up until he explodes and there’s no way to stop it.

His instinct when he realizes a seizure is generalizing is to either finish a fight quickly or power down and go hide to have the seizure because he knows he’s vulnerable during and after.

The worst seizure of his life was caused by Captain Ginyu. He goaded Raditz into attacking without his scouter and flickered a ki ball right in his face. Raditz went down. The Ginyu Force kicked him around while he was on the ground seizing. Nappa lured them into a fight to stop the unfair beating and Vegeta dragged Raditz away to finish the seizure. It was awful because Raditz threw up and soiled himself and the Ginyu Force made sure he got covered in all of it.

Raditz doesn’t remember this and neither Vegeta nor Nappa told him what really happened.

Post-ictal Raditz will remove anything on his body that feels bad, so he often ends up naked. He won’t recognize friend or foe and isn’t going to react kindly to being crowded.

If he’s alone, he’s likely to sit staring at the ceiling or sky until he collapses into sleep.

His scouter shows him a picture of his attack ball if he’s on a mission and that’s enough incentive for him to go find it even while too confused to tell someone his own name.

After his post-seizure sleep, he wakes up kinda giddy and hyperactive as his unsettled brain chemistry tries to restore balance. He will be sore as hell, too, usually that’s how he knows he had a seizure.

Nappa and Vegeta have seen so many seizures. They take bets on whether Raditz will pee, poop or do both. Then they’ll flip him on his side and wait it out. Barring emergency retreats, they don’t let him leave an area until he can identify a scouter by name.

Yep, seizures messed up some of his slutty sexual escapades. Usually by killing whoever he was trying to fuck since the violent convulsions hurt other people and his immediate environment more than they hurt him.

And finally…

The loss of planet Vegeta isn’t something Raditz likes to talk about. He was on a scouter to scouter call with someone there when it happened and all he heard was a bunch of screaming. He still can’t handle listening to recorded audio of screaming people because it reminds him of hearing his planet die.