#and right freaking now I’m still half dead

[lieutenant-amuel]

I have such ambitious plans for the new year.

I want to write at least one more chapter of WBTL.

[rosierin]

and that's on period | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n) is on day two of her period. her morning starts with atsumu asking the dumbest questions known to man and ends with a nap on the couch

requested by an anon!! <3

a/n; this is unfortunately based off a real conversation i've had with some friends

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

(Y/n) woke up in pain.

There was a special kind of betrayal that came from her own uterus.

Like, sure. Go ahead. Shed the lining or whatever. Do your thing. But did it really have to involve fainting? Back pain? The rage? She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t voted for this. She hadn’t even seen it coming. And now, here she was, curled up like a dead shrimp under two blankets, silently swearing vengeance upon Eve.

Day Two. The worst day. The bloodbath. The hunger. The irrational anger toward any minor inconvenience. She was fighting for her life.

One eye cracked open. The soft morning light streaming through her window mocked her. Birds chirped outside like they were in a Studio Ghibli film. Someone in the house was playing music. Probably Osamu—he was always the first one up. Freak.

The heating pad had gone lukewarm. Her lower back was staging a coup. The cramps felt like Satan himself was clawing out of her intestines with a pitchfork made of molten lava and rusty needles.

And yet… she had to rise.

Not out of strength. Not out of bravery. Out of one, tragic truth: she was so hungry.

With the grace of a tranquilized sloth, she rolled out of bed and groaned. Every step toward the door was a choice. A war. A scene. The hallway was too bright. The stairs? Fuck the stairs. By the time she dragged herself into the kitchen, she looked like a background character in a zombie apocalypse—half-dead, feet dragging, blank stare, no will to live.

And the audacity? The actual audacity?

They were all already there.

Osamu stood at the stove like some domestic anime dad, flipping something in a pan with way too much cheer for someone who willingly woke up 8:47 a.m. Atsumu was at the table, shovelling food into his mouth like he’d just discovered taste buds. And Suna. Suna. Somehow finished with breakfast and was scrolling on his phone like he hadn’t just committed the ultimate betrayal by being awake before her.

He took one look at her. Looked back down.

“You look awful.”

(Y/n) blinked at him. Considered violence. Narrowed her eyes.

“Watch your mouth, Rintarou,” she said flatly, voice still raspy from sleep. “I’m not in the mood.”

Suna blinked once. Tilted his head slightly. Raised a single eyebrow. Oh? it said.

Yeah—'oh'. Her face said back.

Atsumu snorted into his food.

Osamu looked up from the stove, genuinely concerned. “Uh-oh,” he muttered. “She used yer full name. Better watch it."

“I don’t mean to be that guy,” Suna said, chewing on the end of his spoon, “but… are you on your period?”

She didn’t even sit down—just collapsed into the nearest chair, dragging it out like a forklift with no brakes. The legs screeched against the tiles in protest. Her spine might have dislocated. She rested her forehead dramatically against the table.

“Yes,” she muttered like a curse.

“Damn,” Osamu said softly, pouring miso soup into a bowl and setting it in front of her with lowkey reverence, like he was offering a sacrifice to an ancient god. “Back pain?”

“Mhm.”

“Cramps?”

She let out the weakest “yeah” known to man.

“Faintin'?”

“Not yet. Don’t jinx it.”

Atsumu, completely lacking any kind of survival instincts, poked her side with the handle of his spoon. “C'mon, it can't be that bad."

(Y/n) lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Try me, Miya.”

Suna didn’t even look up. “If I were you, I’d stop while I’m still breathing.”

There was a short silence after that. Not a tense one, but still a kind that could either end in forgiveness or a fork to the neck.

(Y/n) closed her eyes. Debated taking a nap right there on the kitchen table.

She actually felt somewhat at peace. In fact, she could already feel sleep trying to pull her into its warm embrace…

Only for Atsumu to open his mouth.

Classic.

“…Can't ya hold it in? You know, like pee?”

Her eyes opened. Slowly. Like they didn’t want to witness what was happening.

Suna’s spoon clinked softly against his bowl.

Osamu turned off the stove.

How he’d asked that—with the confidence of a man who had never once known humility—she had no bloody (hah, get it?) idea.

(Y/n) slowly lifted her head from the table to look at him. Her expression was that of a disappointed teacher who knew her student had failed without even opening the exam.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Atsumu frowned, genuinely offended. “What? ’M just askin’! God forbid a guy wants to learn about the female anatomy.”

“You’ve spent plenty of time learning about the female anatomy.”

Her voice was dry enough to peel paint.

Suna sniggered. Even Osamu huffed a laugh, turning back to his pan with the tiniest smirk.

Atsumu leaned back, draping one arm over the back of his chair, the other lifting in a lazy shrug. “Touché.”

(Y/n) almost growled.

First, because of Atsumu's sly little smirk. Second, because her cramps were flaring again, a sharp jab low in her abdomen, and she pressed her palm against the spot like she could will it into submission. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. Not while these three were talking like a panel of underqualified doctors.

Suna glanced up, judgement written all over his face. “Did you skip sex ed or something? Pretty sure they teach this stuff in high school.”

“Fuck sex ed,” Atsumu grumbled, sitting up straighter. “That didn’t teach us shit. They just—okay, they told us periods happened once a month and showed us how to put a condom on a banana. What was I supposed to learn from that?”

He was getting defensive now, which was rich coming from the guy who had just confused menstruation with bladder control.

Suna just stared at him and droned, “Pretty sure that’s not all they taught.”

“Might as well have been,” Atsumu groused. “Anyway. How long does it last? A week, right? Are ya bleedin’ that whole time?”

(Y/n) yawned into her sleeve. The movement made her wince. Her lower back felt like it had been kneaded by a truck.

“More or less,” she mumbled. “Some people less, some people more. Depends on each person, I guess.”

“That’s so long,” he said, genuinely horrified. “That’s like… seven days.”

“I know how long a week is, Atsumu.”

“Hey, I’m empathisin’ here!” he insisted, like he was somehow doing her a favour. “If yer gonna be all pale and crabby and fainty once a month, I wanna be informed.”

“Did you just say ‘fainty’?” she asked, snorting despite herself.

Suna also snorted. “He did. Stupid and illiterate."

(Y/n) bit back a grin. It tried to creep up anyway, tugging at the corner of her mouth despite her cramps and general state of doom.

Across the table, Atsumu looked one second away from dumping the rest of Suna’s miso soup in his lap. His eye twitched. His grip on his chopsticks tightened. But then—miraculously—he exhaled, rolled his eyes, and moved on like the bigger person. Or at least, a slightly less dramatic one.

He leaned in again, weirdly serious, resting his elbows on the table like this was a press conference.

“Okay, but is it true that chocolate helps? Or is that just a myth?”

“Not a myth,” Osamu said before she could even open her mouth. He was gathering their empty plates now, calm and competent, the only twin with functioning brain cells, apparently.

(Y/n) nodded faintly, her cheek pressed to the table again. “Mhmm. Chocolate has magnesium, and magnesium helps cramps or whatever.”

She sounded exhausted. She was exhausted. Just sitting upright was work, and she's pretty sure her soup had gone lukewarm.

Suna shook his head, grave. “Atsumu, I’m being dead serious. How have you managed to live this long?”

“Quit treatin’ me like I’m stupid!” Atsumu snapped. “Is it really that weird for a guy to not know every single detail about periods?”

Suna and Osamu responded in the flattest unison possible:

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

(Y/n) didn’t even lift her head. Just pinched the bridge of her nose with a quiet wince. “You asked me if I could hold it in like pee.”

“Alright, alright—I get it, ya can’t.” He clicked his tongue, shoved the rest of his omelette in his mouth and bit out, “remind me to never ask you guys a question again.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the resigned little laugh that slipped out. God, this was so dumb.

“Plus,” Atsumu added, gesturing toward Suna with his chopsticks like he was pointing out Exhibit A, “he has a sister! 'Course he knows about this stuff.”

Suna raised a brow. "So? You’ve had girlfriends before.”

Atsumu huffed, speaking between mouthfuls. “And? Believe it or not, periods are rarely a topic that come up over dinner.”

Osamu muttered under his breath, disbelieving, “You’ve taken girls to dinner?”

(Y/n) scoffed, practically sneered. “Yeah. If by ‘dinner’ he means treating them to a takeout. As aftercare, probably.”

Atsumu turned to glare at her. “First callin’ me dumb, and now yer slut shamin’? I can't catch a break around 'ere."

“If the shoe fits, pretty boy.”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “Y’know, usually I wouldn’t mind that insult, but now…”

(Y/n) arched a brow.

He wisely shut his mouth.

Osamu, mercifully, set a plate of tamagoyaki in front of her with a chuckle. “Eat first,” he said gently, like speaking to a wounded animal. “Murder him later.”

(Y/n) sighed and picked up her chopsticks, her body aching in about six different places.

It was stupid. It was ridiculous. They were idiots.

Well—Atsumu was an idiot.

And yet—somewhere under the cramps and the fog and the hormonal death wish—she felt a teensy bit better.

She didn’t say anything about it. Just ate in quiet, measured bites, letting the chatter around her hum like white noise.

Breakfast eventually fizzled out.

The conversation shifted—something about a failed group project Suna was in and Osamu’s new beef with the washing machine—but (y/n) stopped listening somewhere around her third bite of tamagoyaki. The fog in her brain was thick, and now that she was full and slightly less homicidal, the urge to melt into the couch was overwhelming.

Her body ached in quiet, pulsing waves. Her cramps had dulled into a background throb, and her limbs felt too heavy to carry around anymore. She sat there, cheek resting against her knuckles, listening to the boys bicker like background static.

And for once, she didn’t mind the noise.

There was something weirdly… safe about it all. The way none of them flinched. The way no one had made it weird. No awkward silences. No eye rolls or "TMI"s or other terms she’d grown used to from guy friends in the past. Just chit-chat. Sass. A little idiocy. And a lot of miso.

It was...comforting.

She didn’t say anything, just picked up her bowl, rinsed it quietly, and slipped out of the kitchen. She could still hear them talking behind her as she shuffled to the living room—the scrape of chairs, Osamu sighing about the state of the sink, and Suna muttering something about group chats and late assignments.

The couch greeted her like a long-lost lover. She curled up against the cushions and sighed—body sore, brain mushy, warmth spreading across her spine like syrup.

A few moments later, footsteps padded into the room. She didn’t look up. Just hummed in vague acknowledgment.

“Didn’t think you’d make it more than ten minutes before crashin’,” Atsumu said casually, plopping down beside her with a dramatic exhale like he was the one in agony.

(Y/n) said nothing. Just shifted slightly… and let her head fall into his lap.

She felt him flinch. Just a tiny, startled twitch beneath her ear. Not enough to move her, but enough to make her smirk.

“Well this is new,” he muttered.

She didn’t bother opening her eyes. “What is?”

“You,” he said. “One minute yer prickly and murderous. The next yer all cuddly.”

She yawned. “That also comes with being on your period. Make the most of it.”

He huffed a laugh, and she could hear the smirk in his voice when he replied, “don't hafta tell me twice."

She didn’t have the energy to sass him back. She was too warm. Too tired. Too settled.

Then—gently, almost cautiously—his fingers threaded through her hair.

Oh.

Oh.

Yes.

Hell to the yes.

The softest, most docile sigh slipped past her lips like a fully tamed animal. His hand moved again, slow and rhythmic, combing through her strands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She could feel sleep dragging her under, heavy and blissful and sweet.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled.

“Bossy,” he said, a smile in his voice.

(Y/n) creaked one eye open and mustered the weakest glare known to man.

Atsumu chuckled. “Kiddin’. Go to sleep.”

He pushed her hair back from her forehead with an easy sweep of his fingers, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Yep. Fully domesticated.

Sleep took her quietly, tucked into the warmth of his lap, with his fingers still in her hair and the distant sound of dishes clinking somewhere behind her.

[oceantornadoo]

marry me. (simon riley x f!reader)

simon riley is a dick, slight dacryphilia, over usage of “oh.”, reader does not understand this man is obsessed, marital abuse joke (he’s a dick)

—

“simon, would you ever,” deep breath, “ever want to get married?”

you focused your gaze on your hands, clenching and unclenching. deep breaths, in and out. you’d rehearsed the question for days, phrasing and everything. “doesn’t have to be with me of course, but maybejustingeneral?”

simon almost laughed, would have if explaining the story to anyone else. his sweet little dove, all moisturized in prim pajamas, springing marriage on him right as he got into bed. asking, almost pleading, as if you hadn’t been his since that first glance, that first brush of skin against gloved hands. but, you had asked about getting married in general, and well, he had to answer the exact question at hand.

“no.”

oh. well, some part of you had expected that. and of course, the legalities of you marrying a dead man had to be considered. you weren’t even sure if you two were official either, so the question must have freaked him out. you mentally deleted the wedding pinterest board in the back of your head, clearing white flowers from your vision. so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice simon turn on the bedside lamp, sitting up straight.

“not in general.” he liked watching you squirm, golden light spilling around the room, encircling you like a halo. simon could have sworn there were tears forming in your eyes, the thought so compelling he felt himself get half-hard. your lover waited patiently, spine made of steel as he watched you go through options mentally, contingency plan after plan. he didn’t want to marry you, so now what?

“well simon, i really do care for you but i can’t not -“ he cut you off. “said in general. ‘fore you. i’d marry you.” oh. oh. he cracked a smirk, full with idiocy. you turned behind you, grabbed your pillow, and whacked him in the face. (he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to fall over).

“‘s that for? thought you wanted to marry me, dove. tha’s practically marital abuse.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh, throat still choked up from almost breaking up with him two seconds ago. you shook your head, watching your reflections in the mirror instead. “it’s not a joke, si. can’t just say that shit with a laugh.” well. guess you didn’t find it as funny as he did. how absolutely absurd it was to imagine simon not marrying you, not claiming you in every way possible with a ring on your finger, a change in name, and maybe a baby in a few years. of course you were going to be his wife. what other option was there?

“c’me here.” he dragged you into his lap, strong hands encircling your waist and pulling you into him with ease. you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, suddenly annoyed at your earlier reaction, all tears and feelings in the face of his smirk. “marriage is important to me, ok? i’m just sensitive about it.” he kissed your forehead, then rested his chin on top of it as you tried to burrow deeper into his skin. his hands were still at your waist, rubbing small circles, lulling you into a sense of calm. “‘m dead serious, dove. jus’ caught me off guard you felt the need t’ ask.” what did that mean? had he already been planning on marrying you? why was this stupid stupid man incapable of communication? instead of asking all these extremely pertinent questions, you settled for a quiet “oh.” he huffed at your lack of words. “bought a ring a month after we met if we’re bein’ honest.” oh. you were moving, simon’s hands readjusting to cradle your face, focusing your gaze on him. “i’ll do whatever flowers an’ cultural shit you want. the whole nine yards. y’ve been mine since that first smile, dove. whatever you need to make it official, ‘m here. laughed cuz in my mind, it already is. make sense?” you nodded, still not trusting your words. his face, stony as ever, gave no other answers. simon gave you a quick peck, then reached over to turn the lamp off.

“go’on. time to sleep, wife.”

oh.

—

i’m such an oh. truther. sorry for the over usage lol

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Part 12 CW: blood, past trauma and experimentation

Jason could almost go to sleep. He wouldn’t, not when he was the only Bat in the apartment, but it would be so easy to. Danny made a really good weighted blanket.

It seemed once the kid got over touching someone, he basically became a koala. Cass and Danny had spent the morning wrapped around each other on the couch. Cass was playing one of her weird clicking games and Danny, blue bear in his lap, was scrolling through articles on the tablet that Tim had brought him the other day.

Now, though, Cass was out on a snack run and Danny had slowly slumped over until he was laying across Jason. It wasn’t minded. Jason could admit he still had some trouble with touch himself, but it was easy to be there for Danny like this.

The problem was, Jason needed to get back to Crime Alley for at least a few nights. He was already past when Red Hood should have made an appearance. It he didn’t go back soon, rumors were going to start that he was dead. Again.

Jason waited for Danny to start searching for a new article to read to ask, “Are you alright with meeting someone soon?”

He didn’t expect Danny to tense like he did.

“Robin?”

“No, Dandelion,” Jason said, stroking Danny’s white hair. “N talked with Robin and he knows not to stop by like that without warning. We’ll have him over when you’re comfortable but not before.”

“Okay. Sorry. I don’t mean to…”

“None of that. He freaked you out,” Jason said. “I know he didn’t mean to, and from our guess it’s not his fault how he feels like to you, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. It’s okay to set boundaries.”

“He… doesn’t feel weird to you?”

Jason sighed. “No. I guess I don’t sense it. I didn’t know you had died until you told me.”

“Oh.” Danny’s voice was small and quiet.

“But I knew that I had died— the others know it’s too,” Jason was quick to add. “It’s alright that you died. No one will think differently of you.”

“They might. It’s… you’re different than me, I guess.”

“I don’t know, because I don’t know what happened to you, but I actually hope so. The way I came back wasn’t pleasant.” Jason had to take a breath before he continued. “I was murdered by a rogue in town called the Joker. I woke up… we’re still not sure when exactly, but somewhere about half a year later. I didn’t have any of my memories, but I still had most of my injuries.

“I was picked up by some people you might hear us refer to— the League of Assassins. They put me back together about a year after my death by tossing me in something called the Lazarus Pits. Those things come with a price though, one that I’m still paying. Coming back was… hard, in a lot of ways.”

“Oh,” Danny said. He clung a little to Jason’s shirt, like he wanted to make sure Jason was still there. It was a feeling Jason understood all too well. “I, um, don’t think I’ve ever stayed really dead for more than a minute or two. At least not like… not like you were.”

Jason rested his hand on Danny’s back, feeling him breath. Feeling him… feeling him not breathe.

“…Danny?”

Danny clung tighter to Jason’s shirt. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Are you… somewhat dead right now?”

“Yes.”

Just one word. A simple answer.

“Okay. That’s— okay. I’m glad there’s a reason that you’re not breathing,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to the top of Danny’s head as he tried to calm his own pounding heart.

“I think B.B. knows. I usually… it’s habit to breath but sometimes I forget and—”

“She’s good at noticing things.” Jason would have to talk with her. “But that goes to what I said, right? None of the others will thinking of you differently.”

“Even if…”

“Even if anything.”

Danny sat up and Jason resisted the urge to reach for him. It took him a moment longer to release Jason’s shirt. Jason sat up slowly and waited for Danny to get the words out he was obviously working on.

“Can I show you?”

“Course.” Jason braced himself for anything.

“It might be bright, close your eyes.”

The flash still shown through Jason’s eyelids.

“Oh.” Danny’s voice wavered horribly. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Danny?” Jason was reaching forward even as he opened his eyes.

It was good he did.

He had to catch Danny as he wavered dangerously. Danny’s who hair was black. Who’s eyes were blue. Who looked all the more like Bruce’s son. Who was bleeding red.

-

“Jesus and Mother Mary,” Dick cursed, resting his forehead against his wrist’s.

Cass came over and peeled the bloody gloves off for him. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Dick wheezed.

“Badly.”

Jason barked out a laugh at that. It was unstable in a way that reminded the room of worse days.

The door banged open and they all jolted, everyone but Cass, who was better than that, and Danny who was still out cold.

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Tim rambled. “Is he stable?”

“Yes,” Cass answered. Her voice was calm, but but Duke could see the way that she fidgeted. For anyone else it wouldn’t be called fidgeting, but the way that she untied and retied and untied the trash bag in his visions told Dick otherwise.

Cass was as worried as the rest of them.

“Signal?” Tim asked. He came into the room, tablet already pulled up to record everything.

“Hard for me to say,” Duke said with a little shrug. He wished he could say, but he was still trying to understand what he was seeing. “The guy is… he’s like no one I’ve ever seen before. But I think he’s getting stronger.”

“That’s— holy fuck.” Tim paused as he finally got a look at Danny.

“Really looks like the old man like this, doesn’t he?” Jason asked. He was trying to hide how his hands were trembling by keeping his arms crossed. Everyone in the room let him pretend.

Duke sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the one Danny collapsed on like that. It was bad enough being the third one there as he swung over from his patrol. The cuts had still been appearing on Danny’s skin, ripping him apart like he was nothing.

He didn’t look much better all bandaged up.

“I think the cuts were ones he must have sustained before changing forms before he even met us,” Duke reasoned. “They… felt old.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “So the whole time they were there just waiting to bleed?”

Jason laughed again. “Waiting for him to be alive again.”

Slowly, Dick dropped his hands and looked up at Jason. “Jay?”

Okay, so they were at the point of forgetting cape-names now. That was a great sign.

Confusingly, Jason looked to Cass, who actually fidgeted.

“He doesn’t breathe. He does, not always. His heart beats, not always. It is like he…,” she twisted her hand as if trying to grab onto the right word. “Like he relaxes and forgets.”

Well that was weird. Dick nodded to the monitor that he had helped hook up. “He’s breathing right now and the monitor says his heartbeat is hella slow, but steady.”

“This is his alive form, I think. More alive form,” Jason said with a shrug. “His other form is his more dead form. He said he’s never stayed ‘really dead’ like I was. I think ‘really’ was the important word in that. He stressed it like it was… a technically or some shit.”

“Or a loophole,” Tim said. He was watching Danny with his head tilted just slightly to the right.

It was a pose that had Duke straightening up in attention. “What do you see that I can’t?”

Tim glanced at him and then back down at Danny. “The scars don’t match.”

“Ti—Red, please just say it,” Dick pleaded, exhaustion hanging on his words.

“Sorry, I was. I mean, the scars he has now don’t exactly match the scars he had in his— what are we calling it? Dead form?”

Jason flinched.

Dick’s eyes flicked from Jason to Tim. “Let’s go with… ghost. Undead, you know?”

Tim continued on valiantly. “His scars don’t match with what he had in his ghost form. There are a few like around his neck that I think are one-to-one and a lot of them are in the same place from what I can see and might be the same? I’d have to take photos and compare. But… he has more in this living form, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, right, so that’s a thing,” Jason said. He slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was squatting. He hung his head between his knee and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck.

Duke could see Jason passing out with enough probability that he slipped out of the room to grab some sour candy for Jason and an icepack for the back of his neck. Being honest with himself, Duke could use the moment out of the room. It was a lot to deal with.

Man, someone would have to do something about the bloody couch too… Dick sighed and took the time to send a message to Babs about it as well as an update. Knowing her she had a list of all the furniture in all the safe houses and could get a slipcover ordered on same day delivery. At least he hoped so. Everyone was taking this pretty hard and they didn’t need the reminder.

Duke figured the bad reaction was pretty fair though, they had thought that Danny was getting better and now his healing was going to be set back. Dick would be guilty because he hadn’t been here, Jason going through his issues about kids and violence and death, and Cass already counted Danny as family. She was never good when family was hurt. It was even worse that Danny should have been safe, he was under their watch.

Duke set the pack of candy and ice pack down next to Jason’s foot, close enough that he should be able to feel the cold, and backed up to his corner. It was best not to touch right then. He wasn’t afraid of Jason ever hurting him purposefully, but he was also very aware for Jason it might not always be purposeful.

Cass joined him, leaning against his side, and Duke wrapped an arm around her. Tim was tapping away on his tablet, mostly muttering to himself, but Dick had gotten up to peer over his shoulder.

Jason tore open the packet of candies and popped one in his mouth.

They’d be okay.

It would take work, but they were Bats. They were stubborn.

Dukes wrist buzzed. The tracking number for slipcover flashed across his hud. It would be there by 9 pm.

They’d be okay.

-

Everything hurt. Everything ached all the way down through his skin and muscled and bones. His breath caught in his chest, ragged and frayed like his lungs were full of shattered glass.

He tried not to make a noise.

He tried to stay quiet.

They would notice him if he made a noise. He couldn’t take any more attention. He didn’t think he’d survive more attention. God, that thought was almost enough to kill him. Once he would have done anything for his parents attention and now—

There was a hand in his hair. It was gentle.

Oh, he was crying.

“…going to be okay. We have you, Dandelion, and we’re not letting them touch you ever again. The two Reds will make sure it can never happen again. Once you’re better they’ll take a little road trip.”

That was… that wasn’t… a sob broke through Danny’s lips and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try.

He wasn’t there.

He could make noises.

He was safe.

“Danny? Hey, are you awake.”

Danny nodded as much as he could manage.

“Hey there,” Nightwing said, voice so kind that it just made Danny cry harder. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Danny shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay, thank you for answering me Danny. How’s the pain? Um, squeeze my hand once if it’s okay, twice if it’s really bad.”

Danny squeezed it three times.

“Really, really bad, huh? Okay. Okay… we can give you some pain meds through your IV. We have you on a saline drip because you looked really bad. We didn’t want to give you any meds without your consent though. Are you alright with some pain medication? Once for yes, twice for no.”

One squeeze.

“Okay, let me go—”

Danny clung to Nightwing’s hand a tightly at he could. His breath stuttered around the glass.

“Not leaving, Dandelion. I’m going to text Red Robin, okay? He’s in the living room. Hood and B.B are out… running an errand. They’ll be back soon. I’ll text Red and he’ll bring the pain meds.”

Danny nodded. Nightwing shifted around, but didn’t let go of Danny’s hand. The breathing calmed, got easier. Danny let out a slow breath.

“Hey Danny,” a new voice said. “The medication will make you feel fuzzy and maybe disoriented. You’ll probably sleep a lot. We don’t want you to wake up panicked. Is there anything we can do to help you know you’re here with us and safe?”

“Bear,” Danny croaked. He wet his lips and tried to continue. “Smells that aren’t… Touch. Warmth.”

“Red will get your teddy bear as soon as the meds are hooked up and we’ll work on the other things. One of us will always be here with you,” Nightwing said.

Danny squeezed his hand again.

“Okay. We won’t leave you alone, Danny, we’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay.”

Danny trusted that.

It was surprising.

He didn’t think he could trust anymore, but Danny trusted that, trusted them.

The warmth of that thought followed him back into the black.

---

AN: This all Danny's fault, not mine! He decided to reveal his form early and then... welp.....

...Stay delightful, darlings?

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[hoe-days]

OKAY HERE WE GO

Y’all this is 3+ years of not writing fanfiction and pent up thoughts I am so sorry

(Also mind any spelling or grammar mistakes I am on 30 minutes of sleep and it’s 2AM)

(Senku x Smart! F! Reader SMUT)

——————

‘Frustrated’

‘Unfocused’

‘Pent up’

‘Math.’

‘Math…?’

‘That’s right. I need to focus.’ But how could she focus on this equation like this. She’s been pent up for ages. There’s not really any time for intimacy when you’re building the new world.

(Y/N) sighs as she puts her mind back on the equation before her. The team is on the brink of a break through, she can’t falter now.

Wrong.

“Huh?”

“That’s wrong.” She turns her body to look over at her lover. Senku gazes at their makeshift chalk board with his head tilted to the side.

“Not like you to make that kind of mistake. Pulled an all nighter?”

“No- Well, yes. I did, but that’s not what’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Senku watches as she corrects her mistake, getting any little detail wrong can crumble everything. They both know that. But they’ve been working nonstop since they broke free of the stone, their efficiency doubled once they found each other in the stone world.

She puts her chalk down, rubbing her aching eyes. “I’m gonna call it a night. Can’t utilize my brain if it’s half dead.” Senku nods, understanding the feeling.

“T’s cool. I’ll take over,” He assures. She gives him a small kiss to the cheek before leaving the lab, heading to her sleeping quarters.

———

“Left over materials are a life saver. Had just enough Methyl Chloride to create a mold…”

(Y/N) smiles at her little “side project”. She carefully places the small motor into the silicone tube she made.

“First vibrator of the stone age. Hilarious.”

She chuckles to herself as she delicately adjusts the wiring.

“Done!”, She allows the hot glue she whipped up to cool before testing out her creation, she twists the dial and it hums to life.

“Science my love thou hast never failed me.”

She stands to go over to her cot when she hears shuffling outside the door. There’s a shadow at the door. Shit.

She scrambles to turn off the machine and lock it back away in the small chest she made for it.

The door opens just as she locks the latch.

“You’re still awake?”, Senku stands in the doorway, holding some papers.

“Yeah, I was just working on a side project.”

Senku raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Like what.”

She averts her gaze. “Confidential.”

“Ya. Okay.” He chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

She slides the chest under her cot and walks over to him. “Need something?”

“Just wanted you to double check me.

“You’re a smart, grown ass man.”

“And?”

She shoots him a teasing smile as they both sit on her bed, checking over his calculations together. It may seem odd, but it’s their love language.

———

Sadly, (Y/N) fell asleep midway through their calculation session, she never even got to try her toy, how tragic. The next day comes and she’s more irritable than before.

Senku had a sneaking suspicion something was going on. He wants to get to the bottom of it immediately, whatever is happening is hindering their progress.

While walking to check on (Y/N) during her break from working he catches her right as she’s storming out of her room in a huff, heading towards a loud crash a little ways away. It’s always something.

Before he can follow he hears something curious from their room. Buzzing. Senku’s curiosity gets the best of him as he peaks in, immediately spotting the toy on the cot

“Oh. So that’s what this is all about.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Guess I haven’t been the most attentive boyfriend, huh. Let’s nip this in the bud then.”

He smirks as he turns off the toy, tucking it away in his pocket before leaving the room.

——

(This next part is absolutely freaked out. You were warned)

Panic.

“No, no, no, this is NOT happening.”

She can’t find it. This is awful. Did it roll under something? She frantically opens the drawers at her makeshift desk.

Senku watches from the door, an evil smirk painting his face as (Y/N) searches for her toy, her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. He chuckles, enjoying the the scene before him. "Looking for this?" he asks teasingly, holding up the vibrator and letting it buzz loudly in his hand.

(Y/N) freezes, her face burning with humiliation as she slowly turns to face Senku. "Give that back to me," she demands, trying to snatch it from his grasp. But Senku quickly moves it out of her reach, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Not so fast," he chuckles, backing away and examining the object with intrigue. “Interesting side project.”

(Y/N) crosses her arms, glaring at him as she tries to maintain some semblance of dignity despite her mortification. "It's not what you think," she snaps. "…Okay maybe it is. I just... I needed a release, okay? And there aren't exactly sex shops in the stone age."

Senku's grin widens, and he takes a step closer to her, one hand still holding the vibrator behind his back while the other reaches out to trail his fingers along her arm. "I’m a bit offended you didn’t come to me directly, but I can’t say I don’t find that innovative mind of yours exhilarating," he murmurs. "

“You are really annoying, you know that-”

Senku silences her with a searing kiss, his lips claiming hers with a passion that steals her breath away as he walks her back against the desk. She melts into him, their bodies molding into each other as the vibrator begins to buzz softly against her inner thigh. (Y/N) gasps into his mouth, her hips jerking slightly at the unexpected sensation.

Emboldened, Senku slides the toy higher, rubbing it along the damp fabric covering her most intimate area. He swallows her whimpers and moans, his tongue delving deep to taste her as he grinds his semi hard cock against her.

Without breaking the kiss, Senku pushes her papers and tools aside to a safe distance as (Y/N) stands on her toes to get up onto the desk. Senku pushes her thighs apart to step between them. His hand slides underneath her dress, caressing her thighs.

"Let's see what this thing can really do," Senku hums, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and tugging them down. (Y/N) lifts her hips, allowing him to strip them off completely and toss them aside. She shudders at the cool air, Senku doesn’t give her any time to relish the feeling though. He presses the vibrator directly onto her clit.

(Y/N) cries out, her head falling back and her fingers searching for anything to grab behind her on the desk. "Ah! Senku, fuck! It's too much!"

“Too much? You’re the one that gave it so much power. I’d figured you could handle it.”

He leans down, kissing the petrification marks on her skin as he applies a bit more pressure.

“Stop being a dick..” Her fingers curl around the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly as she fights the urge to push him away.

“There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m far too invested in this experiment to waste even a millimeter of a breath on it.” He shoots her his signature shit eating grin before sliding his free hand between her legs, pushing two fingers into her.

She moans out, rocking her hips along with the motion of his fingers. She’s so close. The build up is intense. Just as she reaches her peak-

Nothing.

“Senku what the fuck?” Senku doesn’t say a word as he adjusts his clothes, swiftly pulling his aching cock out. “I’ve got all the data I need on that experiment. I’ve got to give you a participation reward.”

With one hard thrust, he sheaths himself inside her, burying his length deep into her wet heat. (Y/N) throws her head back with a cry of ecstasy, her walls clenching and fluttering around him as he fills and stretches her. The vibrator falls forgotten from Senku's hand, buzzing around somewhere on the floor.

Senku starts to move, pulling out until just the tip remains before slamming back in, setting a hard and fast pace. The desk creaks and shakes beneath them with the force of his thrusts, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. He leans down to capture (Y/N)'s lips in a passionate kiss, her moans and his groans and (sorta pathetic) whimpers mixing together like a melody.

(Y/N) meets his thrusts eagerly, wrapping her legs around his waist and using the leverage to pull him deeper with each pump of his Senku gasps, breaking their kiss and burying his face into her neck.

He can feel his stamina waning, his breath coming in ragged pants against (Y/N)'s neck. He's not built for such intense physical exertion, and his muscles burn with the effort of holding himself up and thrusting into (Y/N) so vigorously.

With a grunt, Senku suddenly pulls out and sits back on the chair that sat in front of the desk, his chest heaving.

(Y/N), knowing all too well about his stamina(or lack there of), wastes no time in straddling Senku's lap. She positions herself above him, reaching down to grip his shaft and line it up with her entrance. With a sensual roll of her hips, she sinks down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion.

They both groan at the sensation, She starts to move, rolling and grinding her hips in slow circles as she gets used to the new position. Senku lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You’ve made me throw all logic out the window.”

(Y/N) is confused for a moment, but recalls a conversation from a while back. Senku expressed his hesitance for unprotected sex, that’s the last thing they needed in the stone world. But here he is, his lust, his needs overpowered his mind for once.

(Y/N) rocks her hips faster, chasing her own release. She leans in closely to his ear, mustering up all she can to speak.

“I got you, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

Senku nearly came right then, she’s going to be the death of him.

(Y/N) shifts her position, allowing him to hit that special spot inside her with every thrust. Her fingers claw at his chest, leaving red marks in their wake as her body is consumed by pleasure. She can feel that familiar knot forming, tightening and tightening until it finally snaps. The motion of her hips falters, jerking sporadically as she rides out her orgasm.

Senku holds on tightly his head thrown back, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The feel of her clenching around him nearly being too much to handle.

Once she’s come down from her high, (Y/N) pushes her self up weakly. She stands, wobbly legged and all before lowering herself to her knees, massaging his balls as she takes him into her mouth.

Senku can’t even muster up a witty remark, no tease or quip leaves his lips, all he can do is grip onto the back of her head, weakly thrusting up into her mouth as he chases his own release.

All it takes is one touch. One motion of her free hand against an area of his side she knows is sensitive. That’s all it takes for him to spill into her mouth.

She stares up at him with hazy, half lidded eyes as she swallows all he has to offer. Senku’s body spasms and twitches as he reaches his high, instinctively pushing her head away, the feeling being too much for him.

(Y/N) sits back on her knees and pants, attempting to catch her breath.

“I feel better now.”

——————

[mariistic]

WARM ENOUGH (IN YOUR EMBRACE)

mari ibarra × fem!reader

synopsis: in the dead of winter, two girls find fleeting warmth in each other’s arms. With the cold closing in and time running out, what they share might not be enough to survive—but it’s enough to remember.

warnings: fluff, calm before the storm lol aka before she dies, she isn't dead guys I was kidding, I'm still in denial, tapped into my emotions a little too much

The snow creaks like bones beneath your back, and your whole body aches from the cold—but Mari is pressed against you, her face buried in the hollow between your neck and shoulder, and that’s the only thing keeping you here. Keeping you sane.

Your shelter isn’t a cabin anymore. It’s a half-collapsed tarp pulled over branches, dug into the snow like a shallow grave. It smells like wet wool, rotting meat, and burnt wood from the fire you keep failing to start right. You lost feeling in your toes days ago.

Mari trembles against you constantly. She’s been doing that more and more—shaking like a leaf even when the wind’s not howling. Her fingers are raw. Her lips have split down the middle.

But she’s still Mari.

Sharp-tongued, stubborn Mari. The girl who called everyone a freak the first week out here, who used to braid her hair even after the crash, who kissed you once behind a tree and said, “Don’t fall in love with me. I’ll die before we get out of here.”

She’s always had a little dramatic flair. You never thought she’d be right.

Now she shifts closer to you in the dark, pressing her forehead against your temple, her breath fogging in the cold air.

“You’re warm,” she mumbles, like it’s a prayer or an accusation.

You hum softly. “You always say that.”

“I mean it. You’re like… heat. Even now. Even here.”

You don’t speak right away. You just press your hand to the small of her back, trying to share whatever warmth your body still has left.

“I think about spring sometimes,” you whisper. “Just stupid things. Like wet grass. Sunlight on my legs. Your hair, y'know, not frozen.”

Mari lets out a breathy laugh. “I think about socks. Clean socks for once. And orange juice. The kind with pulp.”

“You hate pulp.”

“I hate pulp,” she agrees. “But I’d drink it now.”

She goes quiet again. Her voice is smaller when she speaks next.

“Do you think anyone’s looking for us anymore?”

You hesitate. Then lie. “Yes.”

Mari doesn’t buy it, but she nods anyway. She turns her face toward yours. Her nose is pink from cold, her eyes shiny and tired.

“You’re the only reason I’m still here,” she says.

The words are so soft they might’ve been stolen by the wind, but you catch them. You hold them close, like fire.

You touch her cheek with your half-numb fingers. “Then don’t go. Not yet.”

Mari leans forward and kisses you. Not desperate. Not rushed. Just real. Cold lips, warm heart. Like she’s trying to freeze time right here in this half-dug shelter before the snow swallows everything.

When she pulls away, her voice is steady. “Promise me something?”

You nod.

“When I’m gone…” Her eyes don’t flinch. “Remember this part. Not the other shit. Not what we did. Just this. You and me.”

You close your eyes, feel the weight of her breath.

“I will.”

And even if you never see spring again, this moment—this one—will stay with you like heat.

[p1astr81]

you’re the one that I want - op81

synopsis: when Oscar joined the spring musical, you swore you hated him for it. Because you did. Didn’t you?

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: misogynistic comments, idk if there’s any more

wc: 5k

an: the grease scenes described are based on the movie, not the Broadway musical!!. not proofread

This wasn’t Oscar’s field.

This wasn’t him.

He didn’t belong here.

You knew it, everyone in the regular rotation of cast knew it. It was like an insult to you all, using the spring musical as a form of punishment. He was only here because he lost a bet.

He didn’t actually care about any of it. It was highly infuriating.

This year, the director chose to put on Grease. Getting the role of Sandy would be the highlight of your entire high school career. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you didn’t get it.

You were freaking out backstage, your friend trying to calm you down. Oscar walked by you, being called on stage for his audition.

And when he sung, it temporarily shocked you out of your nerves.

Because he was good.

The guy who missed half the year for some races, could sing. Like, really sing.

So it didn’t really come as a surprise that when the cast list was posted, his name was imprinted across from Danny Zuko.

Right under yours, across from Sandy Olsson.

He was your counterpart.

The first rehearsal was hell. Oscar didn’t know a single theater term and it was causing confusion all across the stage. And he was terrible at acting. Even worse, he was shit at dancing.

“It’s like dancing with a mannequin.” You confessed to your friend after that first rehearsal. “There’s no emotion to it, and he’s fully awkward the whole time.” You huffed, shaking your head and shrugging on your jacket.

Your friend shrugged. “Maybe he just needs to get used to it? I mean, it’s his first show.”

Hating to give him the befit of the doubt, you rolled your eyes. “For my sake, I hope that’s the case.”

It wasn’t the case. Two weeks later and he was still hopeless on his feet. He needed help, and lost of it, because he was starting to make you look bad.

Your director pulled the both of you aside before rehearsal. “Your stage chemistry is out the window. No one is believing you two are in love, let alone even like each other.” She sighed. “I’m not asking you to be best friends. I’m just asking you to pretend. For just two hours.”

You spoke before Oscar. “Okay, we’ll fix it.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled a heavy breath.

During rehearsal, you’d ran through the entire prom scene and recorded it. The video sat in front of you now, in a cafe, paused so you could critique it. “You have to make this look natural. Look, you’re making me look like a dead body.” You complained. “You’ve gotta lean into it.” You continued, trying to demonstrate what you mean with your own body.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Sorry I’m not broadway trained.” A fake apology, which only annoyed you more.

“Don’t get all defensive. I’m trying to help!” You huffed. “You just need to try to act, and it doesn’t even look like you’re doing that.” You looked him over in judgement.

Oscar stiffened, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t even ask for your help.”

Trying to compose yourself, you stared at the ceiling, a deep inhale through your nose. You slammed the laptop shut. “You’re making the both of us look bad. I’m trying to put on a perfect show and you’re making that impossible.” You huffed, standing with your laptop in hand. “Why didn’t you just fail your audition on purpose? Then you wouldn’t be here.”

Oscar ignored your question. “Your Australian accent is shit, by the way.”

You scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You replied, generous amounts of sarcasm. Your frustration had reached boiling point and it carried your steps out to your car at a rapid pace. Once the door was shut, you let out a silent scream.

Can’t damage those vocal cords.

Frustration was packed full in the air. You attempted to keep it inside, but when Oscar kept stepping on your toes and handling you like a sack of potatoes, you just broke.

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” You whisper shouted. It was only you two in the hallway, having taken him out during your 5 minute break.

Oscar got defensive again. “No! Why must everything be about you?”

“Because you couldn’t give less of a fuck about this!” Your hand shot out, giving his shoulder a rough shove. He flinched back, a look that silently questioned your audacity. “It’s just a pastime for you.” You eyed him over in pure disgust and resentment.

A harsh reply sat on the tip of Oscar’s tongue. He wouldn’t let it slip past his lips, for it was too personal an attack.

“Why don’t you just quit?” You asked.

“Oh, I bet you’d love that, JJ taking my role.” Oops. Guess it slipped.

Your jaw clenched, and then your body went rigid when a voice came from behind you. “Ah, what’s going on here?” Smooth, low, teasing.

JJ. Your ex boyfriend. He cheated on you four times. One of which being with your former best friend. How you missed it that many times, you didn’t know, but it humiliated you to no end.

Oscar caught every micro-expression of yours. The way your eye twitched. The slight deepening of your brows. The heavy swallow that rippled your throat as it went down right before you turned around.

“Nothing. We’ll be back in a moment.” Your voice was cold, filled with more resentment than you’d shown Oscar.

JJ grinned. “Okay,” and then he winked. “Lookin good in that dress. Yellow’s your color.”

It made you sick to your stomach, and Oscar could see it when you turned back to him in the way your face twisted.

“‘M sorry. For the… what I said. It wasn’t right.” He apologized, earning a very shocked expression from you.

You shook your head, smoothing your hands over your yellow costume dress. “It’s fine.” It was inhumane, how fast you could compose yourself. “I guess our five minutes is up.” You muttered, slipping back into the auditorium.

“I don’t know what to do. He’s so… I don’t know.” You sighed, slumping farther in your seat. “It’s been a month of rehearsals and he still looks so unnatural when dancing.” You sighed. “His acting has gotten better, at least.”

Your friend twisted in her chair, sliding her completed worksheet over to you so you could copy it. You were hopeless at physics. “Why don’t you help him then?” She raised a brow.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, your eyes finding the back of his head across the classroom.

She sighed. “We don’t have rehearsal today so just ask him to come over and then you can help him. One on one.”

You bit your cheek and huffed. “Can’t you do it?”

“No. I don’t know his scenes. And you’re his dancing partner. And! You’re the one complaining.”

You threw your head back in annoyance.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much. He’s a nice guy.” She insisted.

A bitter laugh. “Maybe to you.” You shook your head. He apologized for what he said about JJ, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t still a low blow. “But he doesn’t care about this. It’s all a joke to him.” You repeated the words you’ve said plenty of times lately. The repetition didn’t make it any less true.

“Maybe, but you’ve also been staring at him for the past two minutes.”

You hadn’t even realized, but once she pointed it out, you straitened up. Eyes now trained on your shoes. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”

She didn’t expect you to get up right then, and cross the room to occupy the empty seat beside Oscar.

He turned to you, unimpressed but slightly raised his brows in a silent question.

“Okay so look,” you started. Oscar turned his body towards you. “I’ve been shitting on you for your dancing lately, but I haven’t tried to help. So, do you want to come over after school so I could help?”

“Uh…” he thought it over. He was meant to go to the track after school. His bunny teeth peeked by his lips. “Yeah I’ll just need your address.” He smiled. He supposed he could go to the track another day.

Your hand hit the desk. “Great.”

You expected to lose your patience with him quickly, but an hour in and you still weren’t miserable. An even bigger shock, you were enjoying yourself.

Maybe telling him to loosen up wasn’t the best idea. You tried to run through the prom scene again. When he was meant to flip you upside down in his arms, his grip wasn’t firm enough and you went tumbling down.

You stayed on the floor, holding onto your stomach as you tumbled through a fit of laughter. You pointed a finger up at him. “I did not mean that loose!”

Holding up his hands, Oscar chuckled. “Hey, you said loose so i delivered loose.” He held a hand to you. Your hand slipped into his palm and he hoisted you to your feet.

And then he took you by surprise, spinning you on your feet and dipping you in his arms. He handled you like you were as light as a sheet of paper.

You were stunned into silence, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Figured I’d finish the dance.”

You swallowed, gaze analyzing the details of his hazel eyes. “Uhuh.” You nodded absentmindedly. And then, “you’re leaning.” You pointed out, voice soft and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Equally soft. Equally hesitant.

Something lingered in the air, a shift from how it felt during rehearsals prior. Still heavy, but a different kind of heavy. Like the feeling of being watched rather than like having ten pounds resting on your shoulders.

The moments stretched, gazes locked on each other’s while he held you in that dip.

Until you cleared your throat and stood up. “Uh, how about we—uhm—dinner. Check on dinner? I think my mom is making pasta.” You stumbled, failing to ignore how your heart collided with your rib cage, over and over again. It was the dancing, you told yourself, the dancing is making my heart race not him.

“Yeah. Yeah.” You failed to notice the dark crimson color of Oscar’s cheeks.

The following day in physics, Oscar caught your eye as he filed into the room. He smiled, reserved. You returned the smile, equally as reserved.

“What the hell was that?” Your friend demanded.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide.

Her eyes darted from you to Oscar. “That- you just smiled at each other.” You struggled to find an excuse, and your friend filled your silence. “What the hell happened last night?” Her tone demanded an answer.

“Nothing! Well,” you sighed, she urged you with an impatient expression. “I don’t know. I actually enjoyed myself last night. Like, we weren’t arguing. We were laughing, even.” You shook your head.

“Aw you’ve found your Danny.” She teased, poking you in the arm.

You slapped her hand away. “Did not! He just wasn’t totally insufferable yesterday.” You muttered, leaning your head on your head.

She wasn’t so convinced.

And rehearsal didn’t help to convince her either. Every scene you ran together, it was clear you were enjoying yourself—unlike the previous weeks of rehearsal.

She kept an ear out for your conversations, too.

“You picked that up fast. You’re dancing like a pro now.” You told Oscar between sips of water.

He shrugged. “Guess I’ve got a pretty good teacher.”

She watched as you rolled your eyes while you failed to hold back a smile. The back of your hand hit his chest in response before walking off in her direction.

Interesting.

“So is he not totally insufferable today either?” She teased, a brow raised in suspicion. “Or are you method acting?”

You shook your head. “Shove another twinkie in it, Jan.”

“From the beginning! Let’s run it!” Your director clapped her hands.

Oscar reluctantly placed his hands on your waist.

“I’m going back to Australia, I might never see you again.” You recited.

Oscar shook his head. “Don’t- don’t talk that way, San.” His hands momentarily tightened their grip on your hips. His eyes flicked repeatedly between your eyes and your lips, like he didn’t know which to focus on.

Oh. You hadn’t practiced that. But maybe he was taking your advice. Maybe he was trying to improve his writing.

You continued anyway, taking a step closer to him. “But it’s true! I’ve just had the best summer of my life and now I have to go away.” You sighed, bowing your head. “It isn’t fair.”

Just as in the movie, Oscar slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You both paused, very aware of the next move.

“We don’t have all day!” Your director impatiently commented, earning chuckles from the rest of the cast.

Oscar hesitated a second more before leaning forward. His lips on yours were soft, still reluctant as he led the kiss.

Your lips tingled, along with the tips of your fingers. And your brain felt light. It was strange. No stage kiss had ever done this to you before.

“Okay! Okay, stop!” Your director huffed. You took a big step back from Oscar, refusing to meet his eyes. “Oscar! This is supposed to be passionate! I want more fire! More desperation! Like you’re trying to devour her face! Like she’s the air you need to breathe and you’d just been drowning for a whole minute!”

You took a glance at Oscar, and couldn’t help but chuckle at his stunned expression and rosy cheeks. “I can do that.” He muttered.

“Great! Start from ‘it isn’t fair’.”

You turned back to Oscar, offering him a small, encouraging smile before getting serious. “It isn’t fair,” you repeated.

Once more, he brought his finger to your chin, inclining your head to face him. You caught the slight shake in his exhaled breath before he dove down.

And wow did he take the devouring part very serious.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close while he stole the air out of your lungs. It was a full make-out.

As scripted, you pulled away. “Danny don’t spoil it,” you were breathless, naturally, without even trying.

“I’m not spoiling it Sandy, it’s only making it better.” He held onto your arms, your hands planted on his shoulders. His eyes searched yours.

“Danny, is this the end?” You cocked your head to the side the slightest bit.

Oscar shook his head and laughed, an uncharacteristically cocky laugh for him. “Of course not.” He grinned. “It’s only the beginning.”

A beat. And then. “Brilliant!” Your director clapped her hands. You and Oscar stepped apart. “Wow! Just, wow! The chemistry!” She slot herself between you two, a hand on each of your shoulders. “God I was really convinced you were actually Sandy and Danny.” She looked between you two. “Amazing, truly amazing.” She shook her head in disbelief.

Then she turned to the collective. “I think that’s a good note to leave off on! Good night to you all.”

When she was no longer within earshot, you turned to oscar. “Not bad for a rookie.” You shrugged.

“Not bad? Cmon you’re not giving me enough credit.” He said, a level of flirtation unlike him.

“Are you trying method acting now?”

Oscar cocked his head to the side in question.

“You’re being flirty.” You pointed out. Oscar was stunned, brows shot up. The pink flush of his cheeks darkened.

He laughed nervously. “With you? I would never.”

You hummed. “Still flirting.” You sung, walking off. A broken argument followed you, though it didn’t make much sense.

“You have him all flustered.” Your friend muttered. You shook your head. “I wasn’t trying, but it was quite easy.” You shrugged, glancing back at him over your shoulder. He was still sporting a soft, pink glow on his cheeks.

Your friend missed school today, conveniently a lab day in physics.

“You can work with Piastri.” Your teacher dismissed, waving in his general direction. You contemplated protesting, but knowing it would be of no use, you didn’t.

Oscars hair flopped as he whipped around to look at you. “Well don’t look so annoyed.” He laughed.

You gave a sarcastic smile. “I’m dreadful at physics, fair warning.” You sighed, occupying the seat next to him. Your knees were nearly touching.

“It’s alright. It’s my best subject.” He shrugged.

You propped your head up on your hand, settling in for an hour of boredom. “What are we doing again? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Oscar chuckled. “And you wonder why you aren’t good a physics.”

You scoffed, feigning offense.

“We’re building a car out of candy.”

You raised your brows. “Ah good! This is your area of expertise!” The back of your hand made contact with his bicep.

His eyes glanced from his arm, to your hand, to your face, before his gaze dropped to the table. “Uh, yeah.” He muttered, fidgeting with a piece of paper.

“Okay so, how are we building this then?”

Oscar perked up, searching the materials table with his eyes. “Could you grab a rice crispy, a few pretzel sticks, and a few… chocolate striped cookies?”

You raised a brow. “Am I your maid now?”

Blinking, Oscar’s brain stuttered for a reply. “Well, I’m the one doing this car aren’t I?”

Humming, you stood, silently collecting his requested items. “You made a good point.” You shrugged.

He cocked his head, brows shot up in surprise. “Is that a compliment?”

A hand of yours waved through the air. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Ooh, that’s a difficult request.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

A soft smile, Oscar started working. You stood by, eyeing the way he expertly manipulated the candy in a way that he saw fit to make the quickest car.

It took him all of 20 minutes to construct it, leaving the both of you with an extra 20 minutes to do whatever.

Conscious mind absent, you started to hum you’re the one that I want, while drawing on the table with chalk markers. Not loud enough to disturb everyone around you, but certainly loud enough that Oscar could hear. To mess with you, he started to hum along.

Only when you heard him was when you recognized you were singing yourself.

Routinely, out of instinct, you started dancing in your seat. Oscar followed your lead.

“Okay, okay. Save it for drama practice.” Your teacher shook his head at the both of you.

You and Oscar paused before simultaneously chuckling. Even though you tried to hide it, it was quite obvious, as you both folded in half in the other’s direction.

As the class neared it’s end, you tested the cars. Yours and Oscar’s won by a large margin. “Your nerdy-ness came in handy.” You shoved his shoulder while you walked out of class together.

“Oh I’m nerdy? How long have you been doing theatre again?”

You pursed your lips. He got you there. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight.” You broke off from him with another shove to his shoulder.

The first night of tech week, you organized a get together at a restaurant after rehearsal. Of course, the cast and crew thought they were comedians. They left two open seats, right in the middle of the table. One for you. One for Oscar.

When you walked in, you took a pause before taking your seat beside your friend. “You did this, didn’t you?” You asked her. She shrugged innocently.

When Oscar arrived, he did the same. Pausing before taking his seat. “Just had to leave a seat open for me, did you?” He teased.

You sarcastically laughed. “No. They all did this.” You replied, gesturing to the cast and crew sitting around you both.

“Mmm, meddling pricks.” He muttered. Only you caught it, responding with a hidden chuckle.

The waitress came, taking your drinks and food orders.

“So how are you feeling about your first show?” You asked Oscar, grinning.

The corner of his mouth quirked up for just a second in deep thought. “Bit nervy, honestly.”

Your attention remained on him. “Better or worse than before a race?” It was a teasing question, but also sort of… genuine.

“You care about my nerdy hobbies now?” He teased right back.

A scoff. “Fine, I won’t ask you about your favorite thing on this planet.” A dramatic rebuttal, all things considering.

He stayed silent for a moment, before answering, “definitely worse. A trillion times worse.”

You tilted your head, an expression that communicated shock. “Really?”

“It’s just not what I know, you know? It’s all new to me, it’s not like I can just think on my feet like on the track. If I mess up, well I don’t think I can save it.” He shrugged.

The frown that pulled on your lips wasn’t purposeful. “Aw, that was very vulnerable.”

He shook his head. “I’m never speaking to you again.”

You chuckled, laying a hand on his arm as you leaned into him. “No but seriously, if you mess up, don’t worry. I’ll improv and make it look purposeful.” You leaned back in your chair. “It’s honestly the least I can do after you just saved my physics grade.”

It was Oscar’s turn to laugh now.

Two weeks ago, he would’ve avoided saying a single word to you. But now, he was rambling about his racing, just to keep you talking to him. Perhaps it was the fact that you were the only person he was familiar with. Or—more likely—something deeper.

And you entertained him. Laughing at the appropriate times, adding input when you saw fit. He talked so passionately about racing. You’d never admit it, but it was sort of… endearing.

Jesus, what was happening to you? You should be disgusted at the prospect of sitting near him. Should’ve demanded your friend swap seats with you. You definitely should not have been so engaged in the conversation, clinging on to every word he spoke.

And then Oscar called your name, dragging you from your own thoughts. “Hm?” You hummed, sitting up straighter.

And then a plate was placed in front of Oscar, and he slid it over to you. Your food. “Oh, thanks.” You muttered.

And then he leaned into you, swaying your body while saying, “you know, if I was boring you, you could have said something.”

Instead of replying, you stole a fry from his plate.

“Hey! You have your own food!” He pointed to your plate of pretzel bites.

You acted as if that was new information. “Oh, my bad! Would you like it back? I can-“

Predicting the direction of the conversation, he put a hand up to stop you, a grimace on his face. “No. No. You can keep it.”

For good measure, you stole another. In response, he stole a pretzel bite. And you carried on the rest of dinner like that, sharing your food without a formal agreement to.

Just before opening night, the whole cast turned up at your house. It was a Grease watch party.

The large group crowded into the theater room in your basement.

Like the the restaurant, you and Oscar ended up next to each other. Unlike at the restaurant, it was fully your choice.

He would make comments in your ear throughout. Just stupid comments to make you laugh. And you did laugh, like a total fool.

During ‘Sandy’, he turned to you to make another comment, only to see you sleeping on his shoulder. He didn’t even notice the weight of your head until he saw it with his eyes.

He became stiff out of fear that moving would wake you.

And right before ‘you’re the one that I want’, someone in the back of the room called the both of your names. “Cmon get up there! Give us a live performance!” They joked. The rest of the cast joined in on trying to urge the both of you.

You shifted in your sleep and fear spiked up Oscar’s spine. “Guys, she’s asleep.” He dismissed in a hushed yell.

“Aw!” Someone cooed, and then a flash went off. “I’m so saving that as blackmail.” It was your friend, giggling at the scene.

And then a water bottle was tossed at your head. A hand of yours slowly made its way to your head. You sat up with a groan. “Now she’s not!” JJ laughed.

Oscar twisted around, glaring holes into the very man who threw the bottle at you. “What the hell is your problem?”

Hushed whispers fell upon the room. No one had ever seen Oscar speak to someone like that.

JJ laughed. “Ah, cmon, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Not when it’s your head being bashed in.” You grumbled, still trying to soothe the spot with your hand.

Oscar only noticed just then that his arm was around your waist. When it got there, he wasn’t sure.

JJ smirked. “Y’know Piastri, if you wanna get her to bed, all you have to do is ask nicely.” His chuckle was evil.

And it made Oscar’s stomach churn. You beat him to a reply. “Get out of my house. Right now.”

“Come on! I’m just joking!” JJ threw his arms out, looking around for at least one person on his side. There wasn’t a single one.

You stood, Oscar’s hand sliding from your waist. “Get out!” Your voice was irregularly shrill, your jaw clenched.

When he didn’t move, you took a fist full of his shirt, shoving him towards the door. “Out!” You ordered once more.

The rest of the cast watched the scene unfold, horrified. The movie was still playing in the back, providing an ironic soundtrack.

Oscar followed you up the stairs despite the protests from your friend.

“Tell me, what do you see in him, baby?” JJ asked.

“You have no right to call me that.” You seethed.

He ignored you. “Cmon, baby, just tell me. Is it his lame hobby of racing?”

“I don’t see anything in him beyond a friend!”

JJ laughed. “Oh he definitely wants a little bit more than friends, just not a commitment, though.”

“You don’t know what he wants! Not everyone is like you!”

JJ made eye contact with Oscar, who stood a distance behind you. He laughed bitterly. “Call me when you get bored of him, sweetheart.” He reached out to touch your face and you flinched away. He left at that, being sure to slam your front door.

“Oh my god!” Your voice broke in frustration. You took a deep breath before turning around. Eyes landing on Oscar, you jumped. “Oh, hi.” You muttered, trying to move past him.

He caught your arm. And then you noticed the movement of his feet. Jazz square stepping. And then the music from downstairs reached your ears. You’re the one that I want. And then he started singing, too.

“You’re an idiot.” You shook your head, chuckling. But joined him. Now you were secluded in the foyer of your house, singing and dancing together out of your own will, not because you had to.

Even when the song stopped, Oscar continued to hold you close. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, out of breath. You gulped before nodding. “Is this all for show?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?” You asked in a whisper.

His eyes lingered on your lips, his mouth agape while he tried to conjure the words in a way that conveyed him emotions. “I don’t feel like I’m playing a part anymore.” He confessed. “I don’t… it doesn’t feel like I’m faking this anymore.”

You stuttered, searching his eyes.

“If it’s not the same for you just don’t say anything. Spare me some dignity.” He tried to laugh. It just came out as a shaky breath.

You hesitated only a moment before your fingers threaded through the strands of his hair and you pulled him down. His lips met yours, and god was the feeling electrifying.

Months of buildup to this moment sparked between you, released by the acknowledgment of your long suppressed feelings. He deepened the kiss, drawing your body closer to his. His hands mirrored yours, slipping between the strands of your hair to keep you in place. It quickly evolved into a heated make-out.

You signed into it, and he laughed into your mouth. “I hate you.” You muttered, and he swallowed the sentiment. “Mh, evidently.”

“Wow. Looks like you really hate each other.” Your friend deadpanned.

You jumped apart. The entire cast was now standing in your foyer. You could die of embarrassment.

“Movie’s over.” She informed.

“Yeah, thanks. Gathered that.” You mumbled, your face now red hot. It couldn’t have been worse than the deep shade of red that colored Oscar’s entire face.

“At least their chemistry will be good now.” Someone quipped.

You hid your face in your hands. “Oh, god. Everyone get out.” Your words were muffled in your hands, but they got the point. Each one shuffled out the door, but not without sharing more one-off, witty comments.

Opening night had just finished, and Oscar didn’t make a single mistake. You were out in the cafeteria, receiving praise left and right when a woman came up to you. A large, pretty bouquet occupied her hands.

“This is for you, honey.” She said, handing it over.

“Oh! Thank you.” You we’re confused. You’d never seen this woman in your life. But you accepted the flowers.

And then Oscar came up to you, not noticing you at first. “Mum, can we get ice cream on the way home?”

You felt your body go cold. “Mum?” You glanced between the two of them. That’s when Oscar finally noticed your presence, and his eyes went wide.

You hadn’t even been dating for a day and you’re already meeting his parents!

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Nicole, Oscar’s mother.” You shook her outstretched hand. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you for months! I knew you were going to be excellent!”

Her words eased your worries, now focusing on a shiny new piece of blackmail. “Months, you say?” You asked her, but your eyes were on Oscar, who was now hidden behind his hand.

[meteor752]

Epic the musical side story where Hades and Persephone get really invested in the story during The underworld saga, sorta small talk about the strange man for the next couple of years, and then freak the fuck out in the audience during god games when they find out not only is the guy still alive, he’s managed to piss off like half the pantheon

Just

“Hey babe?”

“Yeah Perse?”

“There’s like, a bunch of mortals here”

“Mortals? What, how?”

“Idk, they’re like, on some ship”

“Huh. Should I call Thanatos, have him take care of it, or should we just wait it out”

“Call Thanatos, best to rid the garden of any pests before they manage to kill your flowers”

“Pfft, alright. I’ll be right back”

“Okay- wait. A bunch of the dead are singing to him”

“What?”

“Yeah like a bunch. Who are they?”

“Uhh, most of them drowned, a few killed by a cyclops. One broke his neck?”

“They’re singing about a cyclops, about how he let one live or something”

“Probably one of Poseidons. Should I still call Thanatos?”

“No wait, I wanna see where this goes.”

“Alright.”

“An infant, what infant?”

“Maybe the cyclops?”

“OH NEW GUY! He seems important!”

“Also a cyclops victim. They seem close, what do you think friend or lover?”

“They’re Greek, it’s probably both”

“I don’t know how he managed it, but this guy brought down like, the entire vibe of the entire underworld. That shouldn’t be possible”

“Yeah. Oh who’s this lady now?”

“Suicide by drowning. Not sure. Maybe a relative”

“Yeah may-THATS HIS MOM”

“OH MY GODS. OH HE DIDNT KNOW OH LORD”

“Hooooooly fuck, what a way to find out”

““Here in the underworld the past is always close behind”. Think we should make that a slogan?”

“Then we’d have to credit him and stuff tho”

“Yeahhhh. Well, seems like this guy is sticking around for a few hours. Should I grab some popcorn?”

“Yeah I’ll grab the fainting couches”

~~~

“Okay what’s happening now?”

“He just stated speaking to Tiresias”

“Tiresias? He went all the way to the underworld to speak with a prophet?”

“Well he is quite good”

“Wait did Tiresias just reject him?”

“I think so? Oh wait predictions”

“Past romance, sacrifice, betrayal, and some final battle? Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Dunno, but he’s not going home that’s for sure”

“Palace? He must be a king of some kind then”

“Do we know the names of any mortal kings”

“Nope, so that didn’t help at-wait his wife is doing what”

“Ohhh, that must be rough, hearing it from a prophet”

“Okay this chanting is getting intense. I think I heard the word Scylla”

“I heard lightning bolt”

“That doesn’t bode well”

~~~

“He’s just, sitting there”

“Is he done? Should we-oh. No okay new song, let’s see what’s going on”

“Man this guy has it rough. Should we like, do something?”

“I mean, I’m not really the “bless the mortals” type of god. I mean I let a guy borrow my helm once, and I haven’t seen it since. I should probably check up on that actually”

“Yeahhh. They killed a friend of the cyclops?”

“That explains all the cyclops victims”

““Witch turn men to pigs”, you think that’s Circe?”

“Sounds like he-WHAT WAS THAT THIRD ONE”

“You don’t think-?”

““God comes down and makes a fleet drown”, I am most definitely sure!”

“Damn. Wait wooden horse? Oh, I know who this guy is!”

“Really?”

“Yeah he’s one of Athenas warriors! Ody something. Odyssen? Odyssa? Whatever, I remember the horse thing was a big deal when it happened, Ares was pissed, Hermes spread the word to all of mount Olympus”

“One of Athenas eh? Interesting. Oh yeah, the god was definitely Poseidon”

“How are you sure?”

“That line he just sung, “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves”, Posy is always fucking saying that crap”

“500 men? Damn”

“Penelope, presumably the wife. Don’t know about the other guy tho”

“Either a son, brother, or lover. Or maybe just a friend I dunno”

“Another infant? What the fuck is wrong with this guy, pulling a fucking Hera”

“Gotta appreciate the determination of him”

“Yeah, but I think we’ll see him here again soon. If he’s pissed of Poseidon, and soon to be Zeus if Tiresias is to be believed, I don’t think he’ll get much further when he gets out of here”

“So we are letting him go”

“Yeah. Partly because I want to see what happens next. When he gets here we’ll ask him to tell the full story, from beginning to end”

“Alrighty then”

~~~

“I swear if I get dragged out of the underworld for one of Zeus’ little games one more time this year I might actually start a war”

“Mum keeps staring at me…fuck she’s probably gonna try and talk after this, fuck meeeeee”

“We can escape in the middle of it, no one will know”

“Oh she’ll know. Do you know what this is about like, at all?”

“No, but I think Hermes might launch into the fourth dimension if he keeps vibrating like that in his seat”

“Yeesh”

“Hmm, odd. I don’t see Posy anywhere”

“Maybe he’s competing?”

“Nah, he always declines when Zeus asks, he hates it”

“Why were you not invited?”

“Dunno, probably has nothing to do with me”

“Oh it’s starting, it’s starting”

“Athena’s challenging eh? Interesting”

“Would love to know what any of this is about”

“Mortal lover? Demi-god child? Those are the usual subject”

“Yeah but that’s not Athenas thing. Probably something to do with one of her “warriors” or whatever”

“Apollo, of course. Always has to be apart of these things”

“The drama queen”

“Truly”

“Hephasteus and Aphrodite? That’s a little awkward”

“Weird lineup so far- fucking Ares? Yeah shes not winning this one, sibling spite is stronger than any argument she can give”

“Why would all three of them be included. I can feel the tension from here. I’m uncomfortable”

“And Hera? Yeah no she’s loosing for sure, Hera like not care less about any mortal, unless they’ve offended her”

“She might be convinced, just to spite Zeus?”

“That just sounds unhealthy on so many levels”

“Alright let’s see what this is about”

“Hold up, Ody?”

“Oh my gods. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well he was one of her warriors. Was he not?”

“I can’t believe he’s still trying to get home. It’s been like ten years, how the fuck”

“Well, if he pissed off Poseidon then he probably has something to do with it, the pissy bastard”

“Killed sirens. Why would you do that, so unnecessary”

“Sacrifice??? What the fuck is this man up to????”

“Didn’t we have a few Scylla sacrifices a few years back. Think that was him?”

“Holy shit we did. Yeah, Posy stays away from Scylla to the best of his ability, travelling in her domain to avoid him is not a bad idea”

“‘Phro is mad that his mum died? Girl you are grasping at straws, even more than the previous two”

“Hold up, why the fuck was I not invited?! He traveled through my domain, disturbed my souls, he even woke up Cerberus with his monster wailing, I should be apart of this!”

“I mean it’s a bit weak”

“I have more grounds to be down there than fucking Apollo. Like sirens? Come on man”

“Oh ‘Phro refused huh? Only got two, that’s kinda weak coming from Athena, she usually gets at least four”

“Is that cheating? Her quick thought thing. That cheating?”

“Are there any actual rules?”

“Just, try to win, I guess”

“Oh Ares turn. Wait she lost Aphrodite, this should be over”

“I think this is more of a personal thing. Like I said, sibling spite”

“Oh yeah, Scylla! Fuck this guy is getting around”

“Oh damn, that pissed her off”

“Guessing that the guy other that Penelope, Telemewhatever was his child then”

“Oh wait they yielded?? Huh, never thought that would happen”

“And, Heras turn”

“Yeah like I said she does not give a fuck. But it was a good run”

“Yeah, keeping her four out of five streak”

“Wait what the fuck was that”

“She- she actually yielded?”

“And for not cheating! Man I love this guy, I can’t wait for him to die”

“Only you babe. Wait holy fuck she won?”

“Oh Zeus won’t like- oh, just like I said. He’s pissed”

“Is he gonna kill her?”

“If he does I’ll just resurrect her probably. She deserves a better end, even if she is annoying”

“Well, should we go then?”

“Yeah I have some paperwork to- do I hear boss music?”

“OH SHES STILL ALIVE!!”

“She took a lightning bolt to the face and lived, holy fuck. Gotta respect it”

“I think, she’s actually convincing him? Never thought I’d see the day”

“Well, she’s his favourite child. I think if Ares tried something similar he’d just get struck by another lightning bolt”

“Well, that was fun. When I come back up for spring I’ll have to check with Hermes more about the details of what’s live, actually going on with this Ody dude”

“Yeah. Wanna stop for applebees before we head on down?”

“Yeah, but let’s go now cause mum is heading like right for me and I don’t wanna deal with that until another few months”

This was dumb lol

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main part 7

Masterpost

dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.

Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.

Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.

Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.

“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 

“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.

Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 

“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.

“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.

“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”

There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.

“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 

Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 

“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.

“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 

“How urgent is this?”

Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.

“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”

[psformybss]

Dialed In

series masterlist

based on part 2 of this ask (except tumblr hates me and wouldn’t let me answer it like normal so it’s just a screenshot lol)

warnings: soft!drew, prank call, cast chaos, elle phone it in,

an: i loved this idea so much, i creating interviews lol but seriously tho i’ve been watching elle phone it in interviews lately and the obx cast should do one like it would be so chaotic.

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

There was a dangerous sort of silence hovering over the Outer Banks cast table, the kind that only meant one thing: someone was about to do something ridiculous. Again.

“Alright,” Madison announced, plucking the next prompt card like she was holding court, “this one says: Call someone you love and tell them you’re thinking about them. No context allowed.”

A symphony of ooooohs followed.

Chase immediately leaned over the table. “Starkey. You already know what to do.”

“Yeah,” Carlacia grinned. “No escape. Call your wife.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “What if I was thinking about my dog?”

Austin waved him off. “No one’s buying that. Call Y/N.”

Madelyn smirked. “You know she’s going to freak out if you go full dramatic with it. That’s what makes it perfect.”

JD handed him the phone like it was a live grenade. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s see the sparks.”

Drew exhaled, exaggerated and dramatic, and took the phone. “Y’all are gonna get me roasted.”

“Worth it,” Madison said, already leaning in.

He scrolled to Wifey in his contacts, heart emoji and all, and tapped her name. The camera zoomed in as the ringing started.

Once.

Twice.

Click.

“Hey babe,” her voice came through, a little out of breath, like she’d just run down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

The cast immediately leaned forward like a pack of vultures with popcorn.

“Yeah,” Drew said, soft, serious. “Just… thinking about you. Wanted to say I love you.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Wait—what? Are you okay?”

“I love you,” he repeated, voice almost too tender. “That’s it.”

Now she was suspicious. “Okay, who died?”

Madelyn slapped the table. JD covered his mouth, trying not to cackle.

“No one,” Drew said calmly. “Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. That’s all.”

A beat.

“…Are you drunk?”

Drew blinked. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Exactly. So you’re either drunk, lying, or being held hostage. Say ‘banana’ if you need help.”

Chase was wheezing. Carlacia had to duck behind JD to hide her laugh.

“Nope,” Drew said, still a stone wall of calm. “I’m totally fine. Just feeling grateful for my wife.”

Another beat. Then—

“Okay,” she said slowly, “I’m calling your sister. Something is up.”

“Alright, alright,” Drew finally broke, laughing as he glanced around the table. “I have to tell you something.”

“Knew it!” she shot back. “What is going on?”

“I’m filming that ‘Phone It In’ interview with ELLE right now,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re on speaker. Everyone’s listening. Say hi.”

There was silence. Then—

“You’re DEAD.”

The table exploded. Full chaos. Madison was crying laughing. Austin fell back in his chair. JD banged the table like a game show buzzer.

“I knew it,” she said again, voice somehow half-scandalized and half-giggling. “You had that soft serial killer tone you do when you’re trying to be romantic on camera.”

“She handled that so well,” Carlacia beamed into the mic. “Wife of the year.”

Drew was still laughing, phone to his ear. “I’m sorry, babe. I had to. They made me.”

“No you didn’t,” she said, but she was laughing now too. “I literally thought you were dying or you’d joined a cult.”

Madelyn leaned into the mic. “Y/N, we love you. Thanks for not hanging up.”

“She’s a champ,” Chase agreed. “10/10 prank victim. Elite wife energy.”

“Okay,” she said, dryly. “But when it’s my turn to prank you, I’m going big.”

Drew raised a brow. “Define ‘big.’”

“I’m not telling you. That’s part of the fear.”

He grinned. “Fair.”

“Love you,” she added.

“Love you more,” he said, hanging up before she could threaten him again.

The table roared.

“Bro,” JD said, pointing at him, “you just gave her a trust issue in HD.”

“She’ll forgive me,” Drew said, sliding the phone across the table like nothing happened. “Eventually.”

Madison shook her head. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

And somewhere, across town, Y/N stood in the middle of the living room, phone still in her hand, jaw slightly dropped.

He called her—on camera—for ELLE Magazine. Without a single warning. No heads-up, no “hey, by the way, you might be on speaker with half the Outer Banks cast and the internet watching.”

She stared at the screen like it had betrayed her.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, scrolling Instagram just in time to see a behind-the-scenes clip already going up on Madison’s story. “He really did it. He really did that.”

And the worst part?

He sounded so damn sincere. Like he hadn’t just ambushed her for content. Like he meant it.

She dropped onto the couch with a sigh, still shaking her head.

“Next time,” she mumbled to herself, “he better text first.”

[iwriteiguessandiloveit]

I'll Sleep when i'm Dead

Toon!Beetlejuice x reader

i'll sleep when i'm Dead

Chamomile tea by your bedside. Noise machine you brought up from the basement. A small night light casting shadows around the room. All used in some form or another, and still your eyes were glued open; Thinking of both everything and nothing at the same time. The tick-tock of the clock rang out in your otherwise silent room. Speaking of the clock, what time was it anyway? You turned your head to read the digital clock on your dresser- and made eye contact with two large, grey rimmed eyes. 

You screamed- ‘AUGH!’

After the adrenaline rush had subsided, you knew who the strange eyes belonged to. Beetlejuice, your boyfriend. Who also happens to be a ghost.

He rolled through the air, shaking with fits of laughter. ‘Oh, you should've seen your face! Priceless!’ You rolled your eyes and shunted the covers over to the edge of the bed and stepped over to your dresser. Goosebumps prickled along your arms in the chilly air. ‘BJ! What are you doing here? It’s kinda creepy, spying on me like that.’ 

The mirror’s border creaked as he rested his full weight on it. ‘Aw, c’mon! Can’t I just wanna see my favorite breather?’ 

‘That still doesn't make it any less creepy.’ You murmured. Well, creepy or not, you could take advantage of the situation. Anything’s better than being alone with your thoughts at 3 Am. ‘But since we’re both up…’ With a triple recitation of his moniker; As he was shoved by an invisible force out of the mirror and into reality; He crash landed upside down on the floor. Stars circled around his head and his eyes whirled in their sockets. ‘Y-ya really gotta warn me before ya do that…’ You helped him up, but your giggles were interrupted with a large yawn.

 Beej raised an eyebrow. ‘You look tired, babes. Why aren't-cha in bed?’ Upon remembering your predicament, your shoulders sagged. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. ‘Can’t. Not for lack of trying, I just have so much on my mind right now, like I have a science test tomorrow and notes for history and I have to wake up 30 minutes earlier because I have to pick up my prescription before they send it back and i’ve been trying to go to bed for 3 and a half hours now-’ You were interrupted by Beetlejuice, who shoved a grimy finger to your lips. ‘Ahp-bup-bup, no need to freak out. I’m gonna help you!’ Your eyebrows quirked skeptically, but before, you could express your doubt in that idea he exclaimed-

‘I got an idea! Lemme serenade you to sleep!’ He thrust his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out a full size accordion, complete with handles and a black and white paint job. He started playing a few painfully off-key base notes. ‘Any requests?’ Remembering the last time he tried to play something for you and all the apology notes you had to write to the neighbors, you pushed the accordion down a few inches. 

‘No-thanks, sweet of you but I don’t think it’ll help.’ 

‘You never want to hear my songs.’ He grumbled. But his face lightened up after a moment and exclaimed, ‘I know what’ll help-’ 

With a snap of his fingers, your world exploded into neon stripes. Your room spun away to be replaced by a 80s-esque dance studio, the backdrop a mix of zigzags and bright colors, fuzzing your vision up. In the middle of the room, BJ was dressed in neon green arm and leg warmers with neon purple bodysuit; And hands on his hips in a sassy gesture.

Well this is a sight you’d take to the neitherworld. 

‘Alright babes! Put your hands up and stretch up high! Let's tire those muscles out!’ His feet moved rapidly, spinning like a ballerina and stomping to an invisible beat. Bewildered, you tried to recreate whatever in the world he’s doing but you kept tripping, eventually landing flat on your ass. ‘Beej, take me HOME!’ You cried. He turned to you, huffing and puffing with the effort of his improv-ed dancing. ‘Aw, just when I was having fun…’ He lamented. But as you requested, he snapped again and your room reappeared before you. You steadied yourself on the headboard of the bed. You tugged off and flung the neon pink headband you only just realized you had on when your gaze shifted to Beetlejuice.

He looked a little hurt. Eyes darting away from you, fiddling with his tie. You hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, you were just so tired that you didn't have the sense of humor for his shenanigans in you. He was genuinely trying to help, after all. 

‘BJ…’ You started. ‘Yeah?’ He perked up.

You plopped on the edge of your bed, sagging as the fatigue returned at your lack of motion. ‘I’m sorry I was so harsh. I just… Honestly, the best thing you can do right now is just cuddle me. Silently. Please?’ 

He nodded vigorously, and suddenly his mouth was a zipper and fastened itself closed  with a ‘swiipp’. ‘’Mhmph-hmm!’ He mumbled; His voice, obviously, obstructed by the zipper. 

No matter the state you were in, this goofy ghost always managed to make you laugh.

‘Heh, c’mere.’ You stretched your arms out toward him and he readily dove into your embrace.

The soft chill of his arms was a welcome feeling. You pulled up the covers to both your shoulders, while his hand came up to stroke your hair. Like the clingy specter he is, he wrapped his arms and legs around your waist and clutched you like a parasite. It restricted your breathing a bit, but one look at his adorable face snuggling into your neck had you melting. You didn't have the heart to make him move. 

(1 hour later)

BJ

You're so beautiful. Well, you’re always beautiful, but especially now. It’s been TORTURE just sittin’ here not talking or anything! But I guess if you can sleep it's worth it… now just let me-oops, didn't mean to bump your nose there, Sorry, Y/N. Pleaseee stay asleep-there we go. *smack* free access for forehead kisses. Love ya, babes. Nighty-night.

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

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

can you tell I had fun with this one?

RS has the privilege of calling the 80s dance studio setting her own idea~

Credit where it's due: L and RS, who beta read and gave me suggestions (and a lot of laughs)

@accidentalnh2cl, this is for you! I hope you like it!

And off we go! I'll get started on the next one tomorrow.

luv y'all!

-Rea ❤

[ghouldump]

Preview of The Miseducation of Vampire Lestat

Sweet, sweet, sweet, each kiss held more passion than the previous. Your warm flesh made him feel less undead as you lay against his chest. Your heart ached, closing your eyes, missing the seconds of his beautiful face.

“Your father is here…along with the police,” he paused, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek.

“They’ll go away,” you smiled, going to kiss his lips, but he held your cheek, before sitting up.

“You have to go, ma belle,” he said, reaching for a cigarette out of the pack.

“Why? I don't want to leave,” you whined, pulling the sheet to cover your bare breast.

“It will cause too many issues for us both if you stay, the sun is out,” he said, as he lit the cigarettes, inhaling the smoke.

“If I leave, they won't let me see you again,” you said, frowning.

“I’ll come get you, but you have to leave with them,” he reassured.

“Tonight?” you asked, he couldn't help but smirk, he had made you this way.

“Tomorrow night,” he spoke, as you nodded in agreement.

Sighing, you laid back in the bed, a pout on your lips, as Lestat stared down at you. Why couldn't they let you be?

“Go on, get dressed, Chèrie,” he said.

Sighing again, you dramatically sat up, moving to change into the clothes that had been scattered across the suite. Lestat sat quietly, smoking, while he enjoyed the show.

Examining your appearance in the mirror, once more, you glanced at him. The sadness was still evident in your eyes, as you moved to straddle his lap.

“I don't want to leave you”

“I know,” he said, his free hand going around your waist, to comfort you.

“I’ll miss you”

“I already miss you,” he winked, pecking your lips, before sending you off to go down to the lobby.

He wanted you to stay, but he couldn't risk more than he already had. You were ready to abandon it all, the money, your life, and fame for him. You thought you could handle the baggage that came with the dark gift, but he didn't feel like it was the right time.

He was on the hit list of too many ancient vampires to make a new fledgling — he was still trying to look out for Louis. However, there wasn't a doubt in his mind, that when the timing felt suitable, you would be turned. You consumed his thoughts, just as he had done to you, and you would be the most exceptional companion.

Exiting the elevator, you didn't make it far before your father took large steps, pulling you close to examine you. Turning your head, and pulling up your sleeves, he seemed to be checking for any markings.

“He didn't bite you, did he?” he asked.

“No Daddy, I’m fine,” you grumbled.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Did I not tell you to stay away from him? You had your father and I worried sick,” your manager yelled.

“I know, I’m sorry Dad,” you said, catching him by surprise. He was puzzled, unsure if he needed to continue his role as your manager or your father. He and his husband had been beyond worried, their daughter missing for two days, not answering the phone, and now here you were being nonchalant.

“Alright, gentlemen, technically we can't proceed with any real charges because your daughter is legally an adult unless it was a kidnapping-

“I came here on my own,” you blurted out.

“Please Dad, just let it go, I won't see him again,” you cried out. A few people were watching from the lobby, confused and excited about seeing a permanent A-lister.

“No-

“Roman, she said she won't see him again”

“She was missing for two and a half days, we thought she was somewhere dead, Elliot,” you watched as your fathers argued.

“I promise, I won’t see him again, it was my idea to come here, he didn't even know I was coming,” you lied, crossing your legs, as you stood in between them.

“Fine, but don't think you're let off easy, you have come too far to throw it all away for some freak of nature”

“Roman, that's enough”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, we won't continue with any charges,” he sighed, rubbing his temples trying to calm down.

“You're okay, you all have a nice evening,” the officer said before he left the three of you. As soon as he was gone, it was like a storm cloud hovered over your father, as he faced you.

“You are on lockdown, and I don't want to hear that you are an adult. As long as I am still your manager, and you are still under my roof, you follow my rules, let's go,” he ordered, as you nodded, doing the walk of shame ahead of them.

“You need to calm down, honey, we got her back, you’ll raise your blood pressure,” was the last thing you heard before the AirPods were shoved into your ears, trying to drown out any and every sound.

Your fathers hated Lestat and there seemed to be no amount of talking or proving that could be done to change their opinion. He wasn't good enough, outside of his freakish nature, for their mortal daughter.

The entire drive you listened to Lestat’s discography, taking in every lyric and instrument. Even when he acted as if he hated humans, he was incredibly intentional with his music to them. Spending time with him, you realized how very few knew him, the real him. How truly spontaneous he was, how he loved harder than ever imagined, how lonely he was, and how sensitive he could be. Just the thought of him made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t have run up to your room any quicker to get away from your father’s nagging. Locking the door, you went straight to take a shower. He’d leave you alone now, but if not tonight, then tomorrow Roman would have some serious rules around the house. He had always been more protective and strict, while Elliot trusted his baby girl and was more carefree. Leaving the steaming bathroom, you changed into the soft pajamas, climbing into bed, your journal in hand.

You make me patient, you make me kind

I’ve learned to be selfish, to take what is mine

Though we may suffer, I’ll envy them not

And endure until it happens

Cause he’s all that I’ve got, I tell him

Tell him I need him

Tell him I love him

And it’ll be alright

Your writing looked like chicken scratch, as you wiped the tears from your eyes. Your parents didn't want you together, your team, your label, it seemed like they were all against you. As much as you loved him, it was beginning to lead to an end.

Looking out the nearby window, you smiled thinking of the amount of memories you’ve created with him. Falling asleep, it couldn't have been more than a few hours, as you woke up to nightfall. The security alarm went off before it suddenly stopped. Sitting up, you faced the door, as the lock turned before the door opened.

Gasping, you stood up, as Lestat stood in the doorway. Rushing over, you wrapped your arms around him, as you jumped into embrace.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your eyes searching his face.

“You asked me to come tonight,” he grinned. Smashing your lips into his, you moaned, as he walked over to the bed, laying you down. Breaking the kiss, he hovered over you, taking in your ethereal beauty.

“My fathers don't want me to see you anymore,” you told him, a single tear escaping your eye.

“It is good that you’ve always been the rebellious type,” he joked, but your face remained unchanged.

“Turn me, please, we can be together, no one could try to separate-

“It isn't time,” he told you, watching as your eyes went down to your fidgeting fingers.

“Right, sorry”

“Not even the sun or the moon could keep me too far away from you, you are mine, as I am yours, Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“I love you”

“I love you too,” you said, just as he leaned down, kissing your lips. Hours of being tense vanished within a moment of being embraced in his arms.

“The door,” you said in between kisses, stopping as the door slowly shut and locked on its own. His gifts never failed to amaze you.

Reaching to unbutton your pajama top, you could see his fangs, visible in his mouth. Holding his jaw, you threw your head back, as he kissed along your neck. Your fingers run through the blonde tresses, biting back your moan.

“When it is time, I will make you into my companion,” he told you.

“I trust you,” you said, wincing for a moment, as the fangs plunged into your neck.

You would wait, wait until Lestat was ready to share the dark gift. He felt it wasn't time, and his withholding showed how much he cared for your well-being. You would wait, being content with now, cherishing every moment with him. Your dearest Lestat.

[melrodrigo]

A little scorpion goes a long way - W.A.

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You bring back an old friend.

Warnings: ooc wednesday, R being a simp

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I’m bored, here’s a little Wednesday oneshot like promised!

Learning at Nevermore Academy had its perks and downsides, but one of your favorite things about the school was how little they cared about students’s powers.

You had no face? You’re just another student at Nevermore. You’re a freak emo girl? Doesn’t matter. You could revive things from the dead? Who cares?

You; were apart of the latter group. It’s not that you were so powerful to the point you could bring actual human beings to life, but enough to save a dying plant or two. Only, anytime you did it, there would always be ass-kicking consequences.

You’d always have a terrible headache and a killer cold after. Skin all colorless, resembling the look of a character from a Tim Burton movie.

When you had first met your now girlfriend of 11 months Wednesday Addams, she had shared a heartfelt story about her pet scorpion, Nero, and how he had gotten killed by some idiot normie kids.

It was heartbreaking. You swore then and there that as soon as you got the chance you’d try and find the scorpion and bring it back to life.

It also just so happened that yours and Wednesday’s one year anniversary was coming up, pegging the perfect opportunity for such a gift.

It was really hard to try and discreetly ask Wednesday where she had buried her pet scorpion without sounding suspicious.

So you didn’t.

Instead, you called up her father. It wasn’t any less scary, since he was still an Addams, and the father of your girlfriend, but at least you knew he was a bit softer than the rest of the family.

“Hellomr.addamscouldipleaseaskyouifyoyreawarewherewednesdayburiedherpetscorpionforagift?” You stumbled out, completely unintelligible.

“Hello? Who is this?” Came his booming voice from the other side of the phone.

A long paused sounded, you trying to calm down and wipe your sweaty palms against Wednesday’s sheets.

“Hey Mr.Addams, it’s YN. Would you happen to know where Wednesday buried her pet scorpion all those years ago? I need it for a gift im making her.” You said, as slowly as you could, but it still came out as a bit of a ramble.

He barked out a laugh, and your face flushed bright red. You thanked the lords that you decided to do this on the phone instead of in real life.

“Of course darling, it’s right in our backyard. Would you like me to send it to you? Me and Morticia need an idea for date night anyway. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with grave digging!”

You let out a relieved sigh and a slight chuckle, shaking your head at the Addams Family antics.

“Yes, that would be amazing, thank you Mr. Addams.” You breathe in relief.

“Please, call me Gomez.”

There was a pause of uncertainty on your end before answering, “Of course….Mr.Gomez.”

A sound uncanny to a door swinging open had you turning around hurriedly, and hanging up before Mr. Gomez could even utter another word.

Wednesday stood there, looking unbothered; eyes half lidded until they locked with yours.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look like that?” She asked, eyes narrowed. You smiled a little at her tone, because it wasn’t one of annoyance, but rather of worry. Maybe you were turning her a bit soft after all.

You smile shyly, striding up to Wednesday but stopping just short in front of her, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.

When she didn’t, and in fact, leaned a little closer; you closed the distance and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“I’m amazing.” You breathed against her cheek, lips moving toward her neck.

She titled it up a bit, giving you more access to wander around as you please. Rigid hands found your waist, and she squeezed them slightly.

You pull away grinning.

“Oh no, you’re not getting it yet. Plus, tomorrow’s our anniversary, don’t you want it to be extra romantic?” You teased.

She let out a huff and crossed her arms, clearly displeased.

“I dont see what difference one day has.” She mumbled under her breath, still staring you down.

“As romantic as that is, I have to go.” You tell her, squeezing her finger once. All she does is give you a curt nod and returns to her desk.

-

A thing you learned later that day was that Gomez Addams was a man of his word. Not even a couple hours later, a package had arrived for you.

Inside the little shoe box was a photo of the couple grave digging, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen them; and the corpse of a certain infamous scorpion.

“Nero! Ha!“ You exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement. You inspected the little scorpion, it was tiny enough; should be no sweat to bring it back.

You were extremely wrong.

Considering the thing was dead for almost 10 years; it took an absurd amount of energy out of you.

God if you thought bringing plants back to life was hard, this thing was something you’ve never seen before. Strong and vicious, shooting a sharp pain through you as you connected the back of the scorpion to the palm of your hand.

At one point you seriously thought you were going to pass out. Sweat formed at your face and your vision was starting to get a little blurry.

And to add salt to the wound, the moment the scorpion was brought back, it decided to jump the person who had so graciously brought it back to life.

Leaving multiple scars on the side of your neck, before you could wrestle it away from you and into the pet box you had bought the week before.

Holy shit. I need a rest.

With your vision blurred and head pounding a million miles per second, you collapsed onto the bed, letting the world encompass you in a dark black haze.

-

You’re awaken the next day by an uninterested looking Wednesday, (that might just be how she always looks) hovering over you in the bed. You roll over in the bed to get a better view of her.

“Oh hey, Wends.” You greeted, trying to get up and talk to the girl properly, but letting out a groan as you clutched the side of your stomach in pain.

You pulled the sheets down to check your side, looking for the cause of your pain. What greeted you was a huge dark blue bruise that spread from the top of your rib cage to your waist.

“Huh. That’s weird.” You mumble.

You didn’t notice Wednesday’s eyes widening at the sight, since you were a bit busy poking at the wound.

She quickly slapped your hand away, and pushed you back down into the bed. Silencing you with a press of her pointer finger on your lips.

“Don’t move.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Wednesday move so quick, even back when she was looking for the hyde all those months ago. You stared at her in awe as she rummaged through your belongings, and pulled out a first aid kit.

Nevermore had employed one in every students dorm, seeing as to there were plenty of mini medical emergencies that would occur on a daily basis.

“Thing. Go get my Magical Beings 101 textbook. It’s located on my desk.”

Thing quickly hurried off, no doubt due to the harsh tone Wednesday used.

“I’m fine, Wends. Really. I’ll be up and running in a couple days.” You said as you reached over, trying to stroke her hand.

Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away, but instead gripped it tighter. She was silent for a moment, no sound except for your heavy breathing.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I know you used your powers YN. What I can’t seem to figure out is what for. Why are you so ill?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

And if you thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger, you were wrong. The way Wednesday was looking at you, all worried glances and intense eyes, you think you could pass away right then and there.

She cared.

As you tried to get up, ignoring the way Wednesday surged forward to stop you, quickly pushing you back into the bed. You didn’t put up much of a fight.

“This is gonna suck, and I wanted to save it for a more romantic setting, but I don’t think I’m leaving bed today.” You stated, while Wednesday was still eyeing you like you would get up again.

“Could you pass me the box under my desk Wends? But you have to promise to close your eyes.” You murmur, bat your eyes at her.

At that Wednesday rolled her eyes, and you were a little relieved to see a familiar Wednesday expression.

“And why is that?” She inquired.

Um.

“My brain is too meshed to come up with an excuse. It’s for our anniversary, but please don’t look, I wanna see your reaction.” You admitted, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

With a huff, Wednesday moved to your desk and closed her eyes, which took a while for her to actually find the box and bring it out.

“Over here.” You say, in case your voice would help her sense of direction better.

“I’m dating an imbecile who thinks I’m an imbecile.” Wednesday mutters under her breath, not aware that you had heard.

Wednesday walks over and stops in front of you, as you pat the surface on the bed next to you.

She gets the hint, and after some reluctance sits down and waits peacefully.

It’s a little domestic, and your heart starts beating faster.

You take the box from her hands and try your best to cover the clear part, then look over to Wednesday.

“Okay, you can open them now.” You say.

Wednesday’s eyes are flicked open in an instant, her peaceful face turning back into her usual resting glare.

She squints at the box, and tilts her head. You push it forward on the bed a little, gesturing for her to open the lid.

She does, and when she peers inside, her eyes widen. She dips her hand in the box and whispers, “Nero, flip.”

When the scorpion walks up to her and does a little turn of it’s body, you guess it could be called a flip, Wednesday gasps.

“It is you.” She says, sounding star struck.

And then as if just remembering you were there, she looks at you, with more emotion than you’ve ever seen before.

You feel your knees get a little week, even though you haven’t even been standing. Wednesday looks in awe.

“Happy Anniversary Wends. I didn’t know where I could find Nero so I called up your dad, I hope that’s oka-“

You’re cut off by Wednesday engulfing you in a fierce hug, and she would never admit it, but you swear you felt something damp on your shoulder.

You let the moment be, don’t tease her about it. Caressing her back a little as she leans just slightly into you.

“You’re an idiot.” She whispers, and you shiver at the sensation of her lips on your bare skin.

“Yeah I know, but you love me.” You say with a cheeky grin.

Wednesday doesn’t say anything back,but you don’t mind. Words had never been her way of expressing love, and having her here, teary eyed and smiling; albeit a tiny smile, was confirmation enough she felt the same.

You didn’t end up getting to do the things on your list for your anniversary, but in a way, what you ended up with was much better.

The rest of the day was spent with Wednesday in your arms, and a tiny scorpion in hers.

It was getting sort of uncomfortable, the position you were in, but you didn’t dare move away.

When Enid had walked in, looking for her disappearing roommate, and spotted you two asleep in each other’s arms. She bit back a squeal and snapped a quick photo on her phone.

You later asked for the photo and set it as your lockscreen.

It was a real pain bringing Nero back, but considering everything, you would definitely do it again.

[mediumgayitalian]

He’s not looking at her when he walks in, just barely before the last second of the bell.

She’s looking at him, though.

“Lee Fletcher?”

Lee whips his head up, pausing at his seat. The woman has the greenest eyes he’s ever seen — unnaturally so, like pools of chlorophyll — and they lock onto him like the scope of a crossbow.

“Uh. Yeah.” There’s a click as the door closes. Lee swallows, sliding slowly into his desk, keeping his hand, as surreptitiously as he can, down low by his thigh, just out of view. “You the sub?”

Cody sneers from beside him. “You having another episode, freak? Mrs. Cobb has been here all semester.”

Lee glances over at — Mrs. Cobb. She watches him carefully, strange eyes carefully blank, scared hands still and stiff on the arms of her chair. He has been in this Calculus II class for seven months now. He has never seen her once.

Cody hasn’t either.

But Cody’s a fuckin’ dumbass.

“Right,” Lee says lightly. “I’ll up to dosage to three batteries a night. Can always count on you, Codster.”

Cody scowls deeper, kicking over Lee’s backpack. His books go flying across the front of the classroom, papers fluttering about like butterfly wings. “Whatever, tardo.”

“Language,” says Mrs. Cobb. Her voice is low, gravelly; like Lee would expect for someone her age, only there’s an undertone to it, a smoothness he’s never head before. Like the rustling of leaves in the breeze right before you fall asleep. She watches him, again, eyes the only thing that track him, rest of her as stiff as a branch. “If everyone is ready, we’ll get right to it.”

Without waiting for input, and completely ignoring the group of kids gossiping away in the corner, she wheels towards the blackboard and starts writing. It does not take long for the few students awake to lose interest. She doesn’t seem to care.

“You have a desk, Lee Fletcher.”

Lee blinks, coming back to himself; his books have been gathered and his backpack has been zipped. His knees ache, and there are at least four spitballs in his head.

Mrs. Cobb pauses, tilting her head to the side.

“It’s a challenge in the classroom, isn’t it?”

Lee curls a hand around the strap of his backpack.

“What is?”

“The ADHD.” She taps her stick of chalk, tap, tap, snap. “Useful out in the world, though, I bet. Makes you quick.”

There is no reason for her to know about that. Even if she has been his teacher this whole time — and Lee knows she hasn’t, even though he cannot recall who she’s replaced — the school does not have the information. Lee knows. He filled out the forms.

He gives up on pretence.

“Who the hell are you?“

“Your teacher.” She wheels around, thick eyebrow raised. “And your elder, so I’ll thank you not to speak to me that way.”

Lee’s mind races. She is human-sized — Lastrogonians can’t hide that. Neither can cyclops. An empousa would never in a million years choose an elderly form, and they’re concrete brick of a school is nowhere near so much as a sprout for her to be a dryad, even one of the nicer ones. If it was a minotaur, he’d already be dead.

He fuckin’ knew he shoulda read more in his Ancient Zoology: An Alpha to Omega Guide on Ancient Creatures book. Stopping at P was a mistake.

“I know you’re not human.” He unzips, as quietly as he can, blindly ruffling through the smallest pocket. “You’re not fooling me, I’m not —”

The background sounds of the school go white. Lee faintly, in the back of his tongue, tastes copper.

Mrs. Cobb reacts half a second before he does.

“Everybody down!”

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for resplendeo; Billy and Damian and the whole soulmate thing.

Batman pulls his cowl back up, because he’s Bruce Wayne and people would recognize him if he didn’t, and Billy flees as adult-ly as possible back to the meeting room. Everyone else is still there, including a very clearly tense Robin, and Billy has absolutely no idea what to say. 

“Um, so–” he tries to start, and Robin immediately bristles and draws himself up to his full height. 

“Silence!” he snaps, baring his teeth at him. “I want nothing to do with you. I have nothing to do with you.” 

“I mean, that’s not actually true?” Billy says, trying not to wince. “Like the soulmate thing is definitely a thing. If you don’t want me around, I understand, just first can I try to–” 

“I do not want you! You are superfluous!” Robin snarls, and, well, at least Billy knows why he’s picking the specific insults he’s picking this time. Though he doesn’t really know why Robin is so convinced of that even thinking that they’re familial soulmates. What’s wrong with having more family members? 

Like, ones who aren’t asshole uncles who’ll steal your inheritance and leave you homeless and destitute on the street just for kicks, he means. Obviously. 

Maybe Robin’s had an asshole uncle or two in his family. Billy can understand that. But also, like . . . that’s really not what’s happening here, so . . . he really needs to figure out how to, like, spin this or something. Or . . . something. 

“I would really like to talk to you first,” Billy says. “Like–just if you let me–” 

“No!” Robin snaps, clenching his fists as his shoulders stiffen. “You are unnecessary and I want nothing to do with you! I have a father, and he is neither dead nor derelict in his duties and I have no desire for–Father, I want nothing to do with him, don’t give me to some other–I am your son and I don’t want a different father!” 

“Oh,” Batman says quietly, and Billy cringes in guilt. Oh. Okay. 

He really, really didn’t mean to make Robin feel like his dad wouldn’t want him just because he had a soulmate. 

Shit. 

Batman opens his mouth and starts to say something, but the speed of Mercury and also guilt gets there first. 

“Please don’t freak out, I promise I’m not your dad,” Billy says with another cringe, half-covering his face with a hand, and Robin–pauses, and frowns.

“Wait, what?” Green Lantern says with a frown of his own. “You said you were the kid’s soulmate.” 

“I mean . . .” Billy winces, then drags his hand down his face. “I am? Just, uh–right, okay, so I maybe kind of joined the Justice League under pretenses that in a certain light might appear to be false and I am so sorry for how weird I have made . . . literally all of this, pretty much, pretty much everything ever? Also, um. Shazam.” 

The lightning hits in a blinding flash. Captain Marvel disappears. 

Everyone says absolutely nothing. A whole lot of nothing. 

Then Green Arrow falls out of his seat. 

“Marvel,” Flash says, just staring at Billy. “What the actual, literal, entire fuck.” 

“What the hell, Cap?!” Green Lantern yells. Billy, since he’s now not incapable of acting like a sassy little bastard with a heart of brass at best, just shrugs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

“Should you guys be swearing in front of the children like that?” he asks skeptically. Green Lantern makes a strangled noise. Green Arrow manages to fall out of his seat again without actually having successfully gotten back into it. 

“Is this your true form?” Wonder Woman asks, looking perplexed. Billy shrugs. Black Canary puts her face in her hands. 

“You–you are grounded, Mister,” she says. 

“No I’m not,” Billy says, making a face at her. “You can’t ground me, my parents are too dead for you to tell on me, and I’ll just Captain Marvel myself away if you try and stick me back in foster care. So there.”

Black Canary keeps her face in her hands and makes a very pained sound, for some reason. Superman looks very, very stressed out. 

Robin just tilts his head, looking much less upset than before. So that’s something, Billy figures. Like, that was what he was going for here, with ‘fessing up to this and all. He really was not intending to confess to this before Robin happened. 

“I see,” Robin says after a moment, narrowing his eyes assessingly as he looks Billy over. Billy resists the stupid urge to straighten his hoodie. “So you are a romantic soulmate to me, not a familial one. And you are also a nigh-unstoppable force of magic in possession of incredible godly powers.” 

“I . . . technically, I guess?” Billy says, not sure how to take that. 

“But you are also a literal twelve year-old,” Robin says, his eyes narrowing a little more. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Billy says with a grimace. Robin frowns. 

“I really don’t know how I feel about this,” he says.