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[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Off-Duty - Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Summary: 1k words. Jack comes into the Pitt on his day off with no intention of working. One of his little guests has an affinity for raising his father’s blood pressure and adding to his gray hair. Part 2, Hung The Stars here!

Warnings: unnecessarily long sentences, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth fluff. Poking fun at the U.S. military industrial complex (specifically the Marines). Whitaker catching strays.

a/n: Allow me to contribute to the Girl Dad Abbot Agenda. I gave him fraternal twins here, but his new baby is also a girl. So. The Abbot household will be 3-2 girls-boys because feminism. Divider credit!

If looks could kill, Whitaker would be a dead man.

The med student was approaching the provider dictation desk, about to sit down in a padded rolling chair for the first time all shift when Doctor Abbot firmly gripped the back of the chair seconds before Whitaker could reach for it.

“Oh, uh, sir- I was just gonna sit down and do some charting,” the med student explained in a rush with his perpetual terrified ghost of a Victorian child look.

“You can stand.” Dr. Abbot deadpanned, snatching the chair and whisking it towards the peds ED room.

“Wha-” Whitaker stood, mouth slightly parted. The kid was intelligent and had come into his own throughout his emergency medicine rotation, but some things and some people still never ceased to shock him. He watched through the glass door as Dr. Abbot got far closer to a woman, whom he assumed was the peds patient’s mother, than was professionally necessary.

The woman came into full view, displaying the swell of her belly. The student raised his eyebrows. It was a bold move, even for Dr. Abbot. He estimated the woman to be at the end of her second trimester, if not well into her third.

A toddler bounced from behind the woman and quickly attached herself to Abbot’s leg (the flesh one, anyway). The attending smiled—perhaps for the first time in recorded human history, thought Whitaker—before picking up the child and propping her up on his hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The mother turned to Abbot and smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips while he massaged her lower back with his free hands. His wedding band stuck out against the woman’s lighter shirt. Ah. The wife. A moan that definitely wasn’t appropriate for the workplace escaped the woman, seemingly unknowingly, leaving Abbot with a subtle smirk on his face.

Jack guided his wife into the comfortable chair he’d commandeered. Whitaker envied the relief on her face. The lumbar support cushion and ergonomic design could’ve made him cry. His body was aching for relief after hours on his feet, but he conceded that the woman needed it more than he did.

With a barely audible whimper, the med student went back to his original task. He’s startled when a foldable plastic chair, the ones that are typically kept in patient rooms for guests, unceremoniously clatters down next to him, brought over by none other than the stoic night shift attending.

“My wife said she’s sorry for stealing your seat. I’m not.” Dr. Abbot provided no further context before heading straight back to the room he came from. Some of the surrounding ED staff caught wind of the interaction and glanced up at the status board.

PEDS RM 1. 3 YRS 5 MOS MALE J. ABBOT. FOREIGN BODY INGESTION

Understanding hums sounded out before everyone went back to work.

It was rare to see Jack in anything other than black scrubs at the hospital. Today, he was in full Dad mode. The pink glitter nail polish on his fingers matched his daughter’s. His white New Balance sneakers and cargo shorts allowed a clear view of his prosthetic, which his son had decorated with dinosaur stickers. If you looked close enough, you could see a small apple sauce stain on his shirt.

You relaxed further into the chair and closed your eyes once Jack came back to witness your daughter Ellie toddling around the exam room. At 30 weeks pregnant, rest and comfort were becoming increasingly difficult to come by, especially when raising 3-year-old twins.

Dr. Collins caught Jack sitting at the end of the gurney with his son when she waltzed in, tailed by Matteo.

“What brings you all in today? It’s a pleasure to see the Abbot family. Some members more than others…” Heather teased, making a show out of whispering to Jack’s wife and tickling Ellie.

“Jacob here ate some crayons. Maybe some other stuff too. I want imaging of the GI tract to rule out any other foreign bodies or obstructions,” Jack rattled off, never taking his eyes off his son. The doctor’s leathered, weathered hand dwarfed his son’s small leg. Jack had a tough time letting go of his kids, especially when they were hurt or sick.

“Maybe he’s got a future career in the Marines,” Matteo joked.

“Watch it.” Jack warned with an even glare. The intense look on his face didn’t last long; his wife’s giggle brought a small smile to his face as he glanced toward her. 

You winced when the baby delivered a particularly strong jab to your ribs. Jack’s smile quickly turned to concern before you shook your head to reassure him and ran a hand over your bump. Collins and Matteo didn’t miss the silent communication between the couple.

It made sense for the two of you. You were so in sync—always had been. The Pitt staff rarely got to see Jack’s wife, which you supposed was a good thing. Jack tried to keep his personal and professional life separate, but he’d become known for loving you and your little family so much. He would take your calls in the middle of a shift, routinely add more photos of his family to his locker, and occasionally show up to work with glittery nail polish if he forgot to remove it before clocking in.

Doctor Collins high-fived little Jacob, who was the spitting image of his father, after he tolerated the physical exam.

“No guarding or tenderness. Bowel sounds are hypoactive but present. Has he been NPO otherwise?” The physician glanced between the parents.

“We had breakfast around 8,” you supplied, exhaling when you got another sharp kick straight to the bladder.

“Alright. I’ll put in the imaging orders. Radiology will come and grab you guys soon,” Dr. Collins waved goodbye to the toddlers. 

Matteo kept a stash of stickers in his scrub pocket for the kiddos that came into the Pitt. Jacob gladly accepted one and promptly stuck it on Jack’s prosthetic. Matteo blinked a couple of times, watching the exchange. 

Jack was unfazed. His children seldom went a day without leaving their mark on him. If painted nails and a decorated prosthetic leg made them happy and preserved their innocence, he was happy to be a canvas.

The racecar was a fun addition to the dinosaurs anyway.

a/n: Please let me know what you think! Reblogs & comments keep me motivated <3

Companion piece: Hung The Stars

master list | post notifications @thesewordsxupdates

[cocastyle]

I See You Pt. 2

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4.1k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — and here is part two for you all <3 I’m so overwhelmed and astounded by the love i received on the first part that i had to write this ASAP. i forgot how much i enjoyed writing these silly little fics and how much they help when life just feels so crazy.

some special news is that i officially have decided to make this a four part series!! so be on the lookout for the final two parts and let me know what other characters you would like to see me write for as i get back into the swing of things :)

Part One Part Two

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Y/N L/N was used to being alone.

After the Blip, that was all she had ever known, all she had ever allowed herself to know, because that was what she deserved.

After all, she had single handedly ruined everything in her life and everyone else's all because of a moment of hesitation. It was her fault that half of the universe had disappeared and that she had lost control of her powers and killed so many people the year following. It was her fault that her friends and family had died and that she hadn't been there to bring everyone back or to prevent Tony from sacrificing himself for something she had done.

She deserved to be alone. All she ever did was screw up everything she touched and get the people she cared about killed.

Tony. Natasha. Steve. May.

Anyone who had ever cared about her was gone. May had been the last one to care about her, having helped raised the girl from the moment she moved in across the hall after her parents divorced. She had been there for both of her parents' deaths, always keeping her from succumbing too hard into the darkness even when she wanted to do nothing other than give up.

It was May's death that had been the final nail to the coffin, sending the girl spiraling further into herself than she had ever gone before. She hadn't known how to stop it and, if she were honest with herself, a part of hadn't wanted to anyways. She just continued to let the darkness consume her, the last of her light dimming to nothing but the dull flicker of a candle as it reached the end of its life.

When she had first entered the void, she thought that was it. That reliving all of her regrets and worst memories would be the reason her light finally snuffed out. A part of her welcomed it, was ready for it all to end.

But then there he was.

Bob.

And for the first time in such a very long time, her light had shone just a little bit brighter.

There was finally someone else just like her, someone who understood her in a way that she barely understood herself. Someone who saw her.

In that single conversation she had allowed herself to see a future, one that wasn't filled with loneliness, but with understanding. A future where she had someone else's back and they had hers. A future where she didn't have to go through it alone because she wouldn't be alone. She would have Bob.

But now even he was leaving her. Running further into his own nightmare just to keep the darkness away and save her from himself.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out, the panic raking through her body so quickly that the only thing she could think to do was to lunge for the boy as he broke through the wall of her nightmare and into the next room.

The darkness let out a roar of anger at both of their actions and a force hit her so hard that it sent her slamming into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Y/N let out a groan of pain as she struggled to push herself onto her feet, but by the time she was up again, the wall had sealed itself up and she was left trapped in the same memory as before, forced to watch as she attacked Tony over and over again.

"No," she muttered, scrambling helplessly over to the part of the wall that Bob had just gone through. "No, no, no, no. Bob!" Her fingernails were against at the wall, her hands turning a blinding white as her powers tried to grab any sort of footing that it could.

If she could just get through, she could save him. She could protect him from this all consuming darkness that she had been trapped within for so long.

She had barely made a dent before her hands suddenly fell through the wall as though it weren't even there to begin with, then hardening just as quickly so it could latch onto her. Her breathing grew ragged as she tried to pull her hands out, her eyes glowing white as she attempted to break free.

But she knew that she couldn't escape. This wasn't an accident after all. This was a retaliation for what she had done.

Y/N continued to try and pull her hands out, but the room merely spun around until she was dangling mid air. It was then that the wall began to pull back from her hands in a tauntingly slow sort of way while the floor disappeared from below her and turned into a swirl of shadows. The girl's eyes widened slightly and she desperately tried to keep a grip onto anything that she could, but her hands slipped out from the wall before she could even blink and she found herself in a free fall.

"No!" she cried out, but it was too late. The room seemed to melt away as she fell, darkness surrounding her until there was nothing but the endless void.

Y/N screamed out in anger, but was silenced when her body slammed against the ground that she hadn't even realized was there.

Her whole body was reeling from the pain, a loud ringing in her ears as she laid there and tried to catch the breath that had been knocked from her lungs. It took a minute but she finally attempted to sit up, her eyes still unable to focus on anything due to the darkness that surrounded her.

It seemed she had been right about the retaliation and if the feeling that someone or something was watching her was not enough to convince her then she wasn't sure what else would.

Bob may have saved her from being killed in that moment, but he hadn't kept the darkness away, hadn't kept Void away.

She could feel him watching her, could hear the soft whisper of thoughts that echoed around in his head. She couldn't hear what the whispers were saying. Every time she reached out to listen, it was like Void was pulling back. But she could feel what he was thinking, knew that he was curious more than anything.

Y/N ignored him, instead letting her eyes flicker around the room and hesitating on a small light coming from a little ways away. She pulled herself up onto her feet and slowly walked forward, squinting against the brightness as she grew closer.

It was only when she was right in front of the light that she realized what it truly was. Her memory.

It was different than the others. Instead of standing in the middle of the scene, it was like she was watching it from the screen of her phone and every time she tried to get closer to see it better, the memory moved further away. Y/N finally stopped trying to get closer in favor of looking to see what the memory was.

Her past self was standing by the Statue of Liberty, covered in grime and sweat with a cut on her face so deep that it made her subconsciously reach up to her own face and touch the scar that was in the same place on her temple.

A boy stood before her or at least she was pretty sure he was a boy. He was so blurry that it was hard to make out anything but his figure and the brown hair on top of his head. The type of blurry that made her rub at her eyes to try and make the scene clearer, but all it did was make him even blurrier.

Who was that?

Her eyes flickered over the scene and she frowned slightly, not even remembering what this memory was.

No sound came from the memory, but Y/N could see her mouth moving, could see the tears that were rolling down her face as she shook her head at the boy and seemed to be begging him to stay. The boy's body moved as though he were saying something back, his body language one of pain and sorrow as he attempted to console her. He pressed his forehead to hers and Y/N felt the faint ghost of a touch against her skin.

She didn't even realize she was crying until the tears were rolling down her face. She gently touched her face in surprise, suddenly overwhelmed by a sadness that she felt deep within her bones.

The boy pulled away and Y/N watched as her past self crumbled to the ground in despair. Y/N's heart ached at the sight. It felt as though someone was pressing down on her lungs and the room suddenly felt way smaller than it had been before.

The grief that washed over her told her enough to know that no matter who this boy was, he had meant a lot to her and she had lost him. Just like everyone else.

Why didn't she remember this?

"Interesting what the mind forgets, but the body remembers," a voice said from behind her. Y/N tensed slightly, her eyes not leaving the scene as she watched the boy walk away from her before the memory started all over again.

That feeling of loss was indescribable and for a moment, Y/N wondered if this was the He that Tony had been talking about, but she didn't let herself dwell on the thought long. Whatever this memory was, it was nothing but that — a memory.

Bob was what was happening right now and he needed her.

Y/N steadied her breath and turned around. She let out a soft gasp of surprise as she came face to face with Void, not expecting him to have gotten so close without making the hint of a sound.

He was nothing but the shadow of a man, darkness incarnate with two glowing white pupils that stared intensely at her.

"What is this?" she muttered.

"It's your memory," Void stated.

"I don't understand," she replied, shaking her head slightly.

Void tsked and let out a sigh of disappointment before as he leaned closer, what should've been his nose only inches away from her own.

"I don't get it," he admitted after a moment of ignoring what the girl had said.

"Don't get what?"

"What it is that's so special about you," he answered. "This is the first time someone has ever been able to make him feel something and. . .it's just you? Y/N L/N? The one who got half the universe killed and then tried to find herself at the bottom of a bottle? You're. . .nothing."

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly, but she held herself together as she asked through gritted teeth, "Where is he? Where is Bob?"

Void chuckled darkly at that, finally pulling away from the girl as he took a step back as if to get a good look at her. "I guess you are pretty in a way. I'll give Bob that much," he muttered. "And there is that same darkness within you. Don't act so surprised. Of course I know it's there. What did you say before? Like calls to like?"

Y/N tensed slightly, her face paling as she realized that it Void had been with them the whole time. That he was always with them. She stilled at that thought, but didn't let it cross her mind again in case he managed to see inside her head.

Instead she tried to clear her mind of his taunting words and let her powers slowly reach out in attempt to worm their way into his mind. She was met with nothing but a dark force that quickly cut her off.

Void chuckled darkly, "It's cute that you think that was going to work."

"Was worth a shot," Y/N muttered and attempted a half hearted shrug, doing everything within her power to appear as uninterested as she could despite the ice crawling up her veins under his gaze and the feel of his powers gently caressing her own.

"Hoping to find where Bob is?" Void asked, his voice a bit mocking. "He left you, remember? He left you just like everyone else. Why would you want to find him? He's probably forgotten about you by now anyways. He told you about that, didn't he? The blanks in his memory? That's all you'll ever be to him."

Y/N didn't grant him the dignity of a response to that, instead turning her gaze back towards the memory. She felt his annoyance almost instantly, but with it came the slight flicker of the shields around his mind. It was so brief that she almost hadn't sensed it.

Almost.

Y/N glanced back towards Void, titling her head slightly as she said, "I might've been trying with the intention of finding Bob, but I got to say I'm way more curious to know why you're really here." Void was quiet and she took that as her sign to continue. "I guess I was hoping I would be able to see what made you so curious. I wanted to—"

"What? Read my thoughts?" he interrupted.

"Yes," she admitted. "But, now that I think about it, I don't need to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking. You're already telling me plenty just by being here to check on me."

"And what would that be?" Void asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"That you're scared."

Void was on her in a second, his hand grabbing hold of her face painfully as he lifted her in the air. She struggled in his grasp and the white of his eyes grew brighter as he stared at her, all the amusement gone and having been replaced by the anger flooding his senses. It was only then that he faltered, that he slipped up and let his emotions get the best of him. The defenses around his mind flickered and Y/N took advantage.

She was in his head before Void knew what was happening and the moment he felt her powers wrap around him, he was instantly back in control and shut her out.

But it was only that mere second that Y/N had needed, a second to be able to glimpse just where Bob was hiding and to lock onto his presence within this maze they were in.

"Got him," she smirked and Void's grip on her face tightened before he threw her to the ground.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice nonchalant despite the rage radiating off of him. Y/N pulled herself back up into a sitting position. She would not show him weakness. "There's no way you'll get out of here. No one has ever—"

Void stopped sharply, the two pricks of white that were his eyes disappearing for a small second as he blinked, surprise replacing his fury.

"No one has ever what?" Y/N asked, but she already had a sneaking suspicion of what had caught his attention. Someone had broken through these nightmares and they were coming for him.

Void titled his head slightly as he gazed off in the distance before he quickly snapped his eyes back towards Y/N. "Doesn't matter," he finally said. "Enjoy this new room of yours. Took me a while to work my way into your brain the way you've been trying to do my own. This particular memory is one I especially enjoy. So much pain and regret. Funny that you don't remember it." He shrugged slightly as though the thought already bored him. "Oh, well. Your mind might not remember, but I know your heart does." Void lazily waved his hand in the air. "The body remembers what the mind forgets and what not."

And with that, he was gone, having disappeared within the shadows between one second and the next.

But Y/N had all she needed now. She stood up and closed her eyes, allowing her powers to focus on nothing but Bob and that flash of light within him that glowed just like her own which had only grown brighter since the moment she met him.

She smiled softly at the sight of it and her body began to glow as her powers lashed out against the darkness of the room, the nightmare dissolving as it were nothing.

I see you, Bob. I'm coming.

- - -

Something was wrong.

Bob had thought he was finally taking control the moment he had started attacking Void, but this feeling creeping up on him as he threw punch after punch? It wasn't right. Something was wrong and it wasn't just the situation he was talking about.

Something was wrong with him.

But he couldn’t stop, not even when the rest of the Thunderbolts yelled after him as the room pulled them further and further away. Not even when he felt that familiar tug growing closer and closer.

Even when he felt her enter the room, he still couldn’t stop. It was like the darkness had sunk its claws into him and wouldn’t let go. All he could do was punch and punch and punch and nothing could stop it.

She was behind him now, her powers having tossed aside every single thing thrown in her direction like it was nothing but an annoyance. The team was yelling out something, shock in some of their voices probably due to the sight of the girl, but Bob couldn’t process any of it.

Y/N knelt down beside him, her powers reaching out and gently brushing against the edges of his mind. He knew she saw it, all that pain and loneliness that swirled within him. He felt her own call out to him, that same tug from earlier pulling hard against his heart.

Bob wanted to look at her, to end all of this and just hold her and apologize for leaving her like he had. He thought he had been doing the right thing, but none of this was right. The only time he felt okay had been when he was with her, but now he was afraid he was too far gone.

He wanted to scream for her to help, but even his mind was a storm of a million thoughts that he wasn’t even sure she would’ve heard him if he had tried. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he punched Void and he felt the kiss of a touch brush it away before her arms were wrapping around him, her body a steady weight against his own.

Bob threw another punch, but it was slower this time, Y/N’s embrace grounding him enough to start to realize where he was once again. He threw a few more punches as she whispered, “I’m here. I’m here.”

Her voice was shaky and he felt her own tears against his face as she held him and it was enough to have his fist pause in the air. Void titled his head as he looked at the boy, but Bob had turned his attention to Y/N, to her warmth, to the feel of her breath against his neck and the distant smell of lavender in her hair.

“I’m here,” she whispered again and Bob swallowed thickly. She gently brushed the back of his neck with her thumb and he softened against her, tears filling his eyes.

Words failed him so he sent the thought out to her instead, a question in his tone as he said, You found me.

I’ll always find you, she answered.

Bob’s hands dropped to his side at that, still clenched into fists but no longer punching Void. Y/N shifted so she put herself between the two and Bob leaned into her touch, shaking slightly as the darkness stopped at his shoulders.

“If you can't fight it, what makes you think he can?” the void taunted her, but Y/N ignored him as she dug her face into the crook of Bob’s neck.

“I’m here,” she assured him. “I’m here.”

"No!" the void cried out. "She doesn't understand. She doesn't get it. No one ever will. You're nothing."

Y/N held onto Bob tighter in that moment and Bob knew she was thinking of all the times she had probably said those words to herself. She moved her head so that their foreheads were pressed against one another and she shook her head slightly as she said, “Don’t listen to him. You’re not nothing, Bob. You’re. . .you’re everything.”

Bob cried at those words and he felt Y/N lift a hand up and heard the screeching of metal before he found himself being tackled by the Thunderbolts who all were quick to pull him into their embrace. He felt Yelena hug him from behind, her head resting against the side of his own. He felt John hold his clenched fist against his chest, his grip strong as he held the boy. He felt Ava, Alexei, and Bucky and the fierceness of their hold on him. The tears wouldn’t stop falling and a soft cry left his lips as they all held him as if they loved him, as if he mattered.

Void narrowed his eyes at Bob, his voice coming out rough as he said, “There will always be just us.”

“We’re here. You’re not alone,” Yelena whispered and Bob let out a sob as he let himself feel the embrace that was wrapped around him from all of his friends.

His friends.

Those two words felt so foreign to him, but it was enough to have him stop fighting against them.

You’re not alone, Y/N’s voice repeated into his head, the boy squeezing his eyes shut as his hand shakily reached up to rest against her neck and pressing her closer to him. I see you, Bob. I see you.

“He’s nothing. He’s always going to be nothing,” Void hissed and Bob winced at his words. Y/N shifted slightly, her lips pressing a soft kiss against his forehead before she pulled away.

Bob opened his eyes, hesitating slightly as he saw her turn to Void and stare down at him with sadness in her eyes. To his surprise, she reached out and gently touched the side of Void’s face, the darkness coming to an abrupt halt. The way he didn’t lash out at her told Bob that he was just as surprised as he was.

Void recoiled slightly as if her touch burned, but Y/N moved with him, her hand a steady presence against his cheek as she said, “I see you.” Both Bob and Void stilled at those words and the weight of what she was truly saying.

“I see all of you,” she whispered, her eyes flickering back to Bob who could only stare at the girl wide eyed. Tears were streaming down his face as the others held onto him and it was in that moment that he felt something break within him.

He couldn’t stop the sobs that were racking his body as he felt the darkness slowly release its hold on him enough that he knew they had won even if just for now.

He wasn’t alone.

The room began to melt away, the darkness receding as they all began to fall back.

Bob looked to the girl in a slight panic, knowing that they were about to escape and that he had no clue when he would see her again. He had so much he wanted to say to her. What if he forgot? What if this became another blank in his memory and he never saw her again?

He opened his mouth to call for her, but she already knew what he was thinking.

Don’t worry, Bob. We will see each other again, her voice whispered in his head with the gentleness of an ocean breeze in the early morning. Her eyes never left his own even as he felt his friends pulling him back.

She leaned forward, her fingers gently brushing the hair from his face before lingering against his cheek.

Bob softened slightly under her touch and neither of them broke eye contact as the Thunderbolts pulled him back and they broke free of the hold Void had placed on them all, their bodies falling back onto the streets of Manhattan while Y/N’s voice whispered a promise into his mind and straight to his heart.

I’ll find you.

[jammyjamster]

@2uselemon asked 4 a list of each event so here it is

The Buried

Arthur’s claustrophobia in the Larson estate mines, him falling down holes, prison pits, the bedrock, this is self explanatory

The Corruption

Horig’s curse mainly, but i’m gonna get a bit character analysis-y (which im not very good at); i think arthur isnt able to maintain relationships well, he’s either too much or too little. he craves human contact, to love and be loved, but he doesnt know how (ie orphaned at a young age, aromantic (not canon but come on) in the 1930s, bella and faroe). that’s what causes him to be deeply codependent with John, to lash out at him but not want him to leave. kinda silly how he’s friends with a fractured entity of a god who stole his eyes and killed his only friend and yet says that he loves him. also ‘you call it madness (but i call it love)’ fits well here

The Dark

Larson’s estate is back again, with the monster that stabbed Arthur. also that pit with that other monster back in season 2. ALSO the fact that he isnt able 2 see

The Desolation

The lighter, fire-roe, but also the complete loss. he has lost everything, all of his closest friends, his eyes and his mind. very desolation-coded to me

The End

Life is loss, everyone around him dying, the fact that HE keeps dying. i mean you can disregard the losing everyone around him and assign that as desolation, but you cant deny that the fact that he has legitimately died OVER and OVER again makes him somewhat End coded

The Eye

Entity took his eyes. he wants to know everything (especially season 1). eyes play a big theme. cmon.

The Flesh

Now THIS was hard to assign, but our lord and saviour The Wager saves us with the ‘its just a body’ with antoine. wooden pinky can also work, but that scene really sells it for me

i forgoy about mr faust,, forgive me…. forgive me…. i forgot about mr faust,,,….

The Hunt

my guy keeps getting hunted by gods and monsters what do you want me to say just listen to the podcast

The Lonely

The bedrock. thats it. also i view The Lonely and The Corruption really close to each other, so just look above for the yearning for love yet not receiving it. oh and the lighthouse i consider that pretty Lonely core

The Slaughter

season 3

The Spiral

The Madness episode, and the dream sequence with Scratch comes first to mind. but literally every episode counts

The Stranger

THIS is a hard one, but if we’re going for the more popularly characterised The Stranger, then i guess?? The King in Yellow’s dancers? they were always very Stranger core to me. But with the lesser utilised characterisation, Arthur being afraid of the unknown also fits.

The Vast

This was the hardest to choose, but after some discussion i feel this somewhat fits. while Arthur 100% doesn’t feel insignificant, the feeling of falling, and the desert in the dreamlands is somewhat Good Enough. i’m still unsure about this however so pls rb/comment if you have any suggestions

edit: I FORGOT ABOUT ARTHUR BEING DEPRESSED ABOUT HIS CHOICES NOT MATTERING IN THE HOTEL EPISODE i think that counts as fear of insignificance

The Web

he’s a massive liar, all of his choices are manipulated by the patreons, being manipulated by John, he can never catch a break. just listen to The Suspects/the castle arc and you’ll see how Web coded he is

THATS ALL god my hand hurts

regarding whether arthur would be able to cause the eyepocalypse

[husbandjoel]

daddy daycare | tommy miller

3 times tommy miller put himself out there +1 time it got him a date.

pairing: au single!dad tommy miller x daycare assistant fem!oc - oc is referred to as sugar.

trigger warning: bad language, bad flirting, oc is a massive flirt!! obvious intentions, age gap (oc is younger but not a questionable younger), kissing, family loss, grieving and death. sexual themes but no smut, tommy is an ass man through and through, a bit of a spit kink briefly mentioned - word for word the scene in sinners ifykyk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: this is not proofread thoroughly!! love u maria but i had to kill u off for the plot. mwah u can come back as soon as i post this. this is still set in jackson post!outbreak. i personally froth at the mouth at the idea of single dad, tommy miller trying to get back out there after the love of his life passed away

gif credit: @optional

Grief was immeasurable. There was no limitations to the pain felt in your bones when you presumed you had defeated the steep hill to overcoming the emotions of losing someone close in your life. It lurked in corners, in the distance and crept up on you unexpectedly, disorientating your composure for awhile to mourn the emptiness and refusal to acknowledge that the sound of the person's voice would slowly be forgotten the less you heard it.

Grief found Tommy Miller under dirty diapers, burp cloths and spit up on every single shoulder of his button downs.

Maria Miller had passed away unexpectedly two months after giving birth to their son, Benjamin Miller. Leaving no time for Tommy Miller to process her death as he was fully fledged to navigating through newfound fatherhood — Benjamin counted on him.

        Sometimes, he'd find himself sucking in a sharp breath when Benjamin opened his eyes after sleeping peacefully in Tommy's arms. Maria Miller staring right back at him; making his shoulders shake, cheeks wet from tears as he allowed Benjamin to grab onto his finger with his minuscule hand.

        His face crazed, as he bounced his screaming baby, speaking to his brother over the wails, "You think I should cut a hole in my top an' stick the bottle through? So, he thinks it's a breast?"

        Joel Miller shook his head, large hands offering to take the baby who quietened down as he hushed him against his chest.

        "He can feel your anxiety, Tommy." Joel informed, "It's OK to feel that, jus' don't think he needs fed every time he cries. I found that out real quick with Sarah."

        Tommy felt like a failure. He had boasted about his helping hand when Sarah Miller was a babe. Assuring Maria, whilst her belly swelled through the seasons, that he had parenting locked in and he had every confidence that he would know exactly what to do in every situation.

        He was the opposite of what he had said.

        He had no idea what he was doing.

        With time, and a few silent meltdowns at three in the morning as Benjamin Miller cried, Tommy started to get the hang of being a single parent. With each month, came a new hurdle, one he had to adapt to quickly with the help of his older brother Joel with some experience with children under his belt.

Before he could settle into the so-called 'newborn bubble' everyone had spoken about, Tommy blinked and Benjamin Miller was a walking, comprehensible — to a certain degree — two and a half year old. A carefree boy, who knew only the bounds of the Jackson Commune and smiled like his mother when he felt the pure innocence of joy.

They were a team. And Tommy adored him. Despite the extra grey hairs that had sprouted in his wake.

Taking the time to mingle back into the community, Tommy had found the itch to get back on Patrol. Joel and him had, had an in depth debate about the gravity of Tommy leaving his two year old toddler behind the safety of the walls in search of trouble. Softened over the years, Joel had a surprising approach of disagreement to Tommy's stance. Suggesting it'd be best to withhold from a risky job and stick to the mundane jobs to save Benjamin from becoming an orphan.

Without question, Tommy Miller — naturally — went against his brother's advice and he was ordered Patrol duty the week after their talk.

        "Don't come cryin' to me in the afterlife when Maria smacks you round the head." Joel had said with crossed arms and a gruffer tone than his usual.

        "Yeah, yeah." Tommy waved his comment off, "Don't you worry, your little head. Benjamin is signed up for the daycare on Main Street when I'm on the job."

The Crayon Commanders, it was called. A little cheesed out in the name, but it was the only Daycare in town despite the growing population of children being introduced back into the civilisation the Jackson Commune had built.

Tommy had no doubt in the capability of Ms. Maeve, the teacher in charge and her capable team of assistants.

        The first introduction was albeit brief but changed the trajectory of Tommy Miller’s lone wolf mentality.

He found himself frantically banging on the door for the Crayon Commanders glass panelled door — one he had actually fitted alongside Joel — the bitter air catching his breath, his gloved hand pulling at Benjamin's as the kid tried to run off to a nearby puddle.

        "C'mon, c'mon." He mumbled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Quick to peer round the side to check for any teacher in the playground, Tommy kissed his teeth when he returned to the front door. His prayers being answered as he squinted to see a body approaching.

        He saw her eyes first. Behind large framed glasses, the darkest shade of brown and wide from worry, the woman unlocked the door, pushing it open; her pretty lips parted enough to catch a glimpse of her teeth as she stared between Tommy and his son.

Holy shit. She was an angel.

        "Mr. Miller?" How the hell she knew his name and he didn't even recognise her face was a topic for another time. Her voice laced with worry as she pulled at the cardigan that had slipped down her bare shoulder, skin nipped by the Wyoming winter.

        "'M sorry, ma'am. I really hate to ask this of y'all, but you see, I've been unexpectedly called on duty for this mornin's patrol." Tommy gestured to the walls of their Commune, "I'd ask my brother to take Benji here but—"

She waved a hand to stop him.

"You wanna split the waffles with me for breakfast, Benji?"

"Sip." The toddler states. "Sip, Sugar."

"Yep. I got syrup." Sugar hummed and took Benjamin in by his shoulders. She met Tommy's glazed eyes as Benjamin did a celebratory bounce. "I'll take good care of him."

"Thank you, baby. Thank you from the bottom of my heart." Tommy patted his chest.

When Tommy returned to collect Benjamin, Joel had mentioned he wanted to see his nephew and tagged along. The towns babies bottle-necked as they poured out the front door, flat footed as they raced to the open embrace of their caregivers.

The two brothers craned their necks to find Benjamin. The daycare wasn't exactly teeming with hundreds of kids as of yet, people had been too fearful and headstrong to bring a kid to raise up in a world where the Outbreak had taken the simplicity of their uncomplicated lives before. Jackson Hole, Wyoming was slowly changing that. So, when Benjamin didn't rush out, in true brotherly fashion: their brows furrowed in unison.

Hand tugged, Sugar exited the Daycare with Benjamin Miller pulling at her, incoherent but she presumed 'Joel-Joel' was the brooding salt and pepper haired male standing shoulder to shoulder with Benjamin's father. Jackson Commune was relatively small, but she hadn't acquainted everybody in the town.

Little hand slipping from her grasp, he took off into his father's arms, before reaching one arm over and pulling at his uncle's neck to bring him in for the family hug.

It warmed her heart.

Her hands clasped, she respected Benjamin's wishes to introduce herself to his uncle, regardless of the intimate moment between family members that she was encroaching on by watching so closely. As they pulled back — Joel tickling his nephew's armpit — all eyes went to her.

Without missing a beat, Sugar leant forward, hand extended, "You must be the infamous Joel-Joel." She stepped back once Joel shook her hand, "Benjamin dotes on you. The both of you, actually."

"I am his favourite uncle." Joel affirmed.

Tommy drawled, "You're his only uncle." He looked toward Sugar, eyes crinkling as she picked up on the humour, "Thank you again for takin' him in so early. I know y'all are busy here at the Daycare with all these terrors runnin' round your ankles."

"It's nothing, really." Sugar waved him off, "Benjamin is my favourite — we keep that to ourselves, though."

The blood pumped through Tommy's chest as he blinked at Sugar leaning forward to give his son a low-five in which he aced with accuracy. He swallowed hard enough, he thought he might've swallowed his tongue. Eyes drifting to Joel, he noticed his brother side-eyeing him from his peripheral, not missing the slight quirk at the corner of Joel's lips.

He hated his brother sometimes.

Adjusting Benjamin on his hip, a grunt escaping his lips in the process, Tommy spoke freely, "Well. I jus' think you might be our favourite too."

There was a glint in her eye when he said that.

Chin tucked into her shoulder, she verbalised her gratitude, "You flatter me, Mr. Miller."

"Tommy—Please."

Joel felt sick watching them.

"Tommy." His name sounded so sweet on her tongue. He had to snap out of it. She continued, "Well, I'll be heading in. It was nice to meet you Mr. Miller—" She was referring to Joel who grunted in return, "Show your dad the drawing you did when you get home, Benji!"

She waved them off, turning on her heel, not missing the toddler that ran full force into her leg to give her a hug before running off again. Tommy watched her figure sway, eyes caught drifting south on her.

Joel was quick to clear his throat.

Tommy began to walk with Benjamin still in his arms, "What?" He asked when his brother shook his head in dismay.

"You're a dog, Tommy Miller."

        The second occasion that Tommy Miller bumped into the Daycare Assistant, Sugar, was on his way for a briefing before the morning patrol. OK, it wasn't by coincidence that he happened to be in the right place at the right time for them to cross paths again. Tommy partially knew of the schedule she ran on, fleeting glances of her entering the Crayon Commanders building prior to open at the exact same time every morning.

        Their last encounter had left him craving just a little bit more. Fearful it may come into a full Sugar-addiction, Tommy hesitated time and time again when his morning patrol aligned with her routine mornings. Often pacing in the snow before trudging away feeling rather sheepish as he muttered self-depreciation under his breath.

The thought of dating again after Maria Miller, the love of his life, had been such a far off concept that hadn't crossed his mind. She was his soulmate, bonded for life with the evidence of their devotion to each other in the form of Benjamin Miller.

        But, what he was doing wasn't exclusively dating. Right?

        He was familiarising himself with Benjamin's Daycare Assistant that he hadn't met prior to his drop-offs and pick-ups. 

        And, there he was, snow kicked beneath his boots as he slowed down past the one colourful building in all of Main Street. A one story building, but it stuck out like a sore thumb with its vast array of colours.

        He saw her first.

        Boxes stacked so high that Sugar had to peer round the side to mind her step, she struggled to keep them balanced as she walked across the street. Blatant that she had overestimated her skills in balancing and co-ordinating steps in the snow, Sugar swore at herself, a few paintbrushes and glue sticks for their Arts and Crafts day, falling from the opened box at the top.

        Being the man who couldn't rest until his — as Joel had mocked — Help-O-Meter was fulfilled, Tommy rushed over, gloved hands dipped in the snow to pick up the runaway items. Plus, it gave him the conviction to finally speak to her.

"Oh!" Sugar twisted her head to see Tommy Miller picking up her pieces, "Gosh, you don't have to do that. I would've just come back out."

Tommy shook his head, "Now that just wouldn't be so gentleman of me."

Sugar smiled, "Well, consider you the upmost gentleman I've met. Thank you, Mr. Miller."

"I thought we weren't on formalities—I got them, baby." Tommy feigned hurt in his Southern drawl, as he took the boxes from Sugar.

"Slip of the tongue. I mean, my name isn't even Sugar — the kids just call me that." Sugar explained as she fumbled in her pocket for the keys to the door, mumbling an apology for making Tommy wait with the boxes, "I'm the one that gives them treats at Snack Time. Suppose it's easier for two year olds to say that than my name." She spoke her name out and Tommy raised his brows.

A pretty name for a pretty woman.

        "Well, I'd like to think they call you Sugar for more reasons than the sweet treats you give 'em." The door unlocked and he gestured for her to go in out of the cold first. Eyes drifting downward as she walked by him.

        "It's definitely the sweet treats." Sugar insisted. The back of her neck felt hot at the obvious compliment Tommy Miller threw her way. Sugar thrived on praise.

        She turned back to face him, a knowing smirk gracing her lips as she caught the end part of Tommy's eyes flitting upward to her face. Hands out, she took one box off of the stack, placing it down on her desk, the motion signalling Tommy to do the same with the three others.

"Thank you, again." Sugar jutted a hip out as she huffed a breath, hands on her waist.

"Anytime." Tommy pulled the edges of his gloves to readjust them back onto his fingers, "I'll be takin' leave. Got Patrol this mornin'."

"Oh, then all the more reason for you to have just walked on by. I apologise if I've made you late!" She wasn't really, she was glad — but she had to remain somewhat professional.

"Nonsense. I was gonna make myself late anyway, wanted to speak to you n' all." He was an honest man, with honest intentions. Tommy clicked his tongue, "Well—Have a good day with them terrors."

Sugar followed him to the front door, "I'll see you around, Tommy."

"I'll make sure of it."

The third time was out of office hours.

After Tommy bid farewell after their brief meeting at the dawn of the day, he spent the rest of the day internally crucifying himself the longer he thought about his actions. He still wore his wedding band from the day that he and Maria swore themselves to each other. The gold caught his eye in the bright winter sun, taking it as a sign from Maria that he needed to reel himself back in.

He deserved to be happy. Tommy wouldn't deny himself the emotion. But, he was sure he could find pockets of happiness in other aspects of his life, rather than chatting up Benjamin's gorgeous Daycare Assistant.

        Hypothetically, he was still a married man.

        From then on, Tommy avoided Sugar like the plague, or rather, the Cordyceps virus. Before he could get roped in, if he saw her, he'd simply turn in the other direction. And, during Drop-Off and Pick-Ups, there was no such thing as dillydallying in the hopes he could see her; maybe catch her perfumed skin that had sent him reeling.

        Tommy Miller was dedicated to his son. And, in turn, that meant to his deceased wife. The last thing he wanted to do, was disappoint her with his sloppy actions toward another woman.

After some monotonous construction work, Tommy and Joel hit the Tipsy Bison, — Benjamin in Jesse's company for a few hours —their backs ached as they sat on the barstools, waving Seth down for a dram to aid the dull ache. Neither brothers were as agile as they once were.

Sarah Miller would've reminded them of that.

A couple of whiskies in, Joel had retired for the night, mentioning that he was going to try make amends with Ellie Williams on the way back.

The drams not touching the sides for Tommy, he ordered up another, nodding at Seth as he took a large sip; kissing his teeth as it burned his throat on the way down. He sat, clinking the half empty glass, his mind elsewhere.

"Mr Miller." It came out so silky from her lips. It got Tommy's ears perking at the tone, his posture straightening as he turned his head to see Sugar smiling back at him. Fuck. "Can I sit?"

For a mere moment, he thought she meant his lap. She looked at the empty barstool that Joel once occupied and Tommy swallowed, nodding with his hand out to help her up. Her expression gleeful as she took her hand away from his calloused one, body turned to the bar as she watched Seth stalk back and forth, tending to all customers.

It may have been the whiskey hitting him all at once, but Tommy's self-control fell short when he held his gaze on her side-profile. Brown eyes drifting down every feature he could see from the side, his eyes dropping lower to her figure that was perched upon the cushioned stool. Her bra strap had fallen down her shoulder, and he couldn't help himself licking his lips as he watched her thumb and forefinger drag the red strap back up, a soft 'snap' against her supple skin close to her décolletage.

Her soft looking lips pressed against the glass that Seth had given her ordered beverage in, a trickle of condensation dripping down her chin, sliding down the length of her neck before she took a napkin and dabbed it away.

If Tommy could've bit down on his knuckles he would've.

So, he settled for taking his hand and rubbing it against the stubble of his face.

"Busy with work?" Sugar asked after a few minutes of silence. She didn't seem hurt by his avoidance, then again, his only intentions that she had seen were some shameless flirting.

"You could say that." Tommy shrugged. Man, he needed another drink. "How 'bout you, baby?" He waved Seth down.

Sugar hummed into her drink, "No rest for the wicked." She paused, "I love my job, though."

        Tommy chuckled, "I can tell. Don't you worry."

They continued to talk for two drinks on Sugar's behalf, Tommy quick to flash his vouchers to Seth to pay. She was sweet on him, tactile when conversing, her eyes feigned innocence to her act as she pulled at the cherry stem from her drink, with her mouth.

Having to bite the inside of his cheek, Tommy narrowed his eyes at her, talking with his expression for her to behave with her flirtations.

Once finished and a little more tipsy but nothing she couldn't handle, Sugar called it quits with the drink; Tommy quick to offer to walk her home since it was dark. The Jackson Commune wasn't distrustful, but that didn't stop Tommy from maintaining obvious protection.

Arm linked in Tommy's, they walked the empty streets in silence. Sugar staring up at the bright stars, her face showing peaceful content in that moment as she swayed lightly from the buzz from the alcohol in her system. Hands in his denim jacket pockets, Tommy scuffed the stones from beneath his feet, blowing hot air out of his mouth to watch the cold snatch it into a little fog cloud.

        He fell into it so easily with Sugar and that doomed feeling crept up the back of his neck — quick to push it down until alone.

        "Say," He started in ordinance to distract himself, "D'ya think you could ask Ms. Maeve to write down a summary of anythin' Benji had been shown and learnt when I'm off on a longer Patrol? With him sometimes stayin' with Joel, that old man can't remember half the things Benji shows him. . . I wanna be as involved as I can be with his learnin'."

        "Oh, sure. I could even tell you, verbatim. As the assistant in the toddler room, I have to know the daily schedule for the kids." She halted at a home, presumably hers, the porch dimly lit. "Please, just ask at any time."

        Tommy felt like he could fall in love with her. That sick feeling in his stomach that he was told were damn 'butterflies' but he chose to call them moths, as it felt like they were eating away at his stomach. His lungs expanding to take in a deep breath, something so simple about her passion for the kids made it harder for him to stick to his word about finding pockets of happiness in other aspects of life rather than love.

        Because, he had already found it. He'd be greedy to ask for it again.

        Ignoring the pit forming in his stomach, Tommy shifted on his feet as Sugar continued to gloat about the toddlers in Crayon Commanders.

        "You free this Sunday?" He asked.

        Sugar nodded, "Sure. That's the best time as I'll have the fresh schedule for that week."

        "No, baby." Tommy let out a hearty laugh, "I meant for the New Years' Dance."

        Sugar's face lit up.

        "You're saving a dance for me, Mr. Miller?"

        "I will if you stop that formalities." Tommy pointed a finger at her sternly, feeling his cheeks hot.

        Sugar showed a smile, acting coy as she waved a hand at him, "OK—OK. Stop flirtin' with me. I'd love to go with you, Tommy."

"Alrigh'. Goodnight, sweetheart." He might've followed that with a kiss if he didn't have a shred of impulse control. Sugar bid him goodnight and stalked down the short pathway to her front door — Tommy's eyes going to where they had been going each time Sugar walked away from him.

He was starting to think Joel Miller was right about him.

+1

        As punctual as ever, Tommy Miller arrived at Sugar's doorstep in his best button down and jeans accessorised with his favourite buckle. Hair washed away sweat and residue from the afternoon Patrol, he rid his hands of any bloodshed and replaced them with a bouquet of flowers for his date. He had knocked thrice on her door, looking back onto the street to admire the construction work he had done on the house across from hers. He didn't recall fixing Sugar's house, but that thought soon distanced from his mind when the front door creaked open to reveal the warmth of the glow within.

        Sugar had the door opened wide, her glasses pushed the bridge of her nose as she grinned at Tommy Miller with flowers in his hand. Flowers just for her.

        "Don't you look dapper." She complimented in a teasing tone and Tommy looked down at his attire and back up — it was hard to wear nice clothes after the Outbreak. Nevertheless, he made an effort and Sugar's heart swelled for him.

In a simple long-sleeved grey tee and jeans, herself, Tommy thought she looked damn near perfect. If not better than perfect.

Floundering like a fish out of water, Tommy coughed, and handed Sugar the flowers.

"I didn't get you anything." Sugar tutted.

Tommy huffed a laugh, "You're givin' me your time and that's as good as it'll get for me."

"Your mama raised you sweet, huh?" Sugar sung. She couldn't help grin from ear to ear before telling Tommy to wait whilst she grabbed a vase and stuck the flowers in. She took his arm that he offered when she returned, the pair spoke effortlessly, finding more in common than anticipated.

        He held the door to the Church open, the warm lights brightening her glowing features, the scene reflective in her glasses. Heads turned to welcome them, Tommy noticing his brother mingling, their eyes met and Joel gave him a subtle nod.

        The dance came into full swing after Tommy and Sugar retrieved some drinks, fingers picked at the variety of food brought in for the potluck. They had resided in a corner of the Church, knees knocked together as their feet tapped to the music.

"You know some line dancin'?" Tommy asked over the music.

Sugar shook her head, "No, it looks pretty simple to me though." She looked back to Tommy who was already looking at her, "Why? Are you going to ask me to dance?"

"If it so pleases you, my lady."

Hand slipped into his, Sugar stood.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He tried his damn best to teach Sugar some two-step line dancing moves but turns out, some people were just born with two left feet. She wobbled, stepped on Tommy's pinky toe a handful of times and forgot the dance, leaving Tommy with deep laughter lines next to his eyes.

"OK. How 'bout we just dance together." Tommy insisted after the heel of Sugar's foot met his pinky-toe for the fifth time. Not awaiting an answer, Tommy pulled her in by her waist, positioning them both to dance, "I've got you, baby."

Sugar giggled — making Tommy swoon — as she followed Tommy's lead around the dance floor.

Their closeness furthered as the band began to string out a slow-paced song, Sugar smiled against Tommy's chest as she leant her head to listen to the thrum of his heart. It thumped quickly against her eardrum and she closed her eyes, feeling content at where they were. Tommy, chin rested atop her head, started to see the groups of eyes on them whilst they swayed on the dance floor. Mouths leaning to ears to share a whisper, Tommy swallowed at the idea that they were speaking about him.

Perhaps they also thought he was doing a disservice to his late wife who built the Jackson Commune from the ground up.

        Then came her touch. Warmth spread across his skin wherever she touched, fingertips rubbing across the fabric of his flannel making him look down at her. It pulled him from the inner turmoil, the clouded presumptions cleared as she smoothed the deep wrinkle of worry between his brows.

“Whatever you think they are thinking, they’re not, Tommy.” She read him like a book. On their first date, of all.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled close to her, a frown capturing his features once again. “Jus’ don’t want them thinkin’ I’m a lousy father. A son without a mother and I’m here dancin’.”

Sugar acknowledged his concern, “Well—Imagine what they think about the Daycare Assistant getting all cosy with Tommy Miller. I bet I’m a real floozy in their eyes if it ever crossed their mind that you’re a lousy father.”

“You are far from a floozy, Sugar.”

“Then it’s even.” Sugar squeezed his hand, “You’re not a lousy father if I’m not a floozy.”

“Touché.”

“I mean it.” She was serious, the most serious her tone had been. “You’re as present as a widowed-father can be. Trust me. Very few parents ask for a weekly round-up of their kids’ schedule so they can transition it into the days they spend at home with them. Does that shout lousy to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Sugar triumphed as Tommy dropped his hand to the small of her back, “Then don’t let me hear you say it again.”

Tommy pulled an expression of hilarity at her sternness. It had taken him by surprise how effortlessly she whipped her usual kind and tender personality for a combative one to put Tommy Miller and his self-deprecation in place. He found it incredibly attractive, alongside the subtle praise that came with her chastising.

His body felt hot when he stared at her. Like, really stared at her. A beaming vision of true womanhood. Strong-headed and confident in the knowledge of what she wanted: which was Tommy Miller.

He dipped his head so his lips ghosted the shell of her ear, “Wanna take leave?”

“For the second time, Tommy Miller—” Sugar released herself from his grip, her eyelids heavy and Tommy was not born a fool to her antics, she began to saunter away, finger curling in an ushering motion, “I’d thought you would never ask.”

Bonus:

Their first kiss had depth to it. His large palms trailed over ever aspect of her body before they settled on her hips, a low hum coming from the back of his throat as she leant into his touch, chest pressed to his for closeness. Tommy couldn't help prevent a smug smile appear as they continued their kiss, Sugar pausing it for a moment to raise a brow at his smile.

"Are you going smug on me, Mr. Miller?" She hushed her tone, fingers threaded at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tommy shook his head, between pecks he mumbled, "I told you to stop calling me Mr. Miller."

"Yes—" Sugar agreed, slender index finger against Tommy's lips to stop him from kissing her lips off. In turn, he pressed a gentle kiss to it. "—But, I've seen the way it makes you blush."

This had Tommy chuckling, finger removed from his mouth, he resumed their kiss, hands sliding to the meat of her thighs, quick to hike her up around his waist as she squealed into his mouth.

Her house was considerably smaller than Tommy's — she notably didn't have a husband and kids — and it took nothing but three strides across the room before Tommy turned on the spot and planted himself on her couch; Sugar remained atop his lap, their kiss not broken.

He could feel his heart stammering as her softer hands rubbed at his chest. Tommy Miller was in tranquillity, hands rested and occasionally squeezing at Sugar's backside, the shorts of her pyjamas she had changed into upon their arrival at her home, had ridden up in her position so he could feel the crease where her cheek met her thighs.

        Actions halted, the two pulled apart, still close enough to feel their quickened breaths.

        Tommy blinked at the sight of Sugar, his thumb coming to swipe the corner of her mouth where spit was trickling down.

        "You droolin', baby?" He asked, his thumb moving back over her swollen lips where she parted them to take his thumb in; teeth nipped at the skin which took Tommy by surprise.

        She smiled as he removed his thumb with a 'pop', nodding to his question. "Yeah—You want some?"

    A beat not going a miss, Tommy Miller eagerly nodded, a primitive grunt leaving his mouth as he manoeuvred the pair, his back hitting the cushions of the base of the couch.

        Thanking his lucky stars for the patrol member that he took shift from.

[pollkien]

MABLUNG PROPAGANDA:

His name sounds like a weed joke

Marchwarden. Aprilwarden. Idk. But he is the chief warden of Thingol

Retrieved the Silmaril from Carcharoth’s belly <3

“Then Mablung took a knife and ripped up the belly of the Wolf; and within he was wellnigh all consumed as with a fire, but the hand of Beren that held the jewel was yet incorrupt. But when Mablung reached forth to touch it, the hand was no more, and the Silmaril lay there unveiled, and the light of it filled the shadows of the forest all about them. Then quickly and in fear Mablung took it and set it in Beren’s living hand” he touched it!!

One of the two messengers from Thingol at the Mereth Aderthad

Mablung of the Heavy Hand… why is his hand heavy

“Unwilling to have no part in the battle, Thingol gave leave to Mablung to join the great assault on Morgoth so long as he did not serve the House of the Fëanor; as such he joined himself to the host of Fingon” damn

Told Saeros to not be racist.

Also guarded Morwen. And did other things. Like be a normal guy. I don’t know i’m so tired

Died defending Thingol like the good guy he is

GOTHMOG PROPAGANDA:

Unrelated but I will say I do not like that image. Sorry Ted Nasmith but you certainly always make… interesting choices in your art

Everyone talks up Sauron as this super cool underling of Morgoth but like. No one ever talks about Gothmog?? He did so many things! He mortally wounded Fëanor, he killed Fingon AND captured Húrin, AND killed Ecthelion (while dying at the same time but still)

Also he is Mr. Lord of Balrogs which I think is neat :)

So cool that some guy/orc(?) in the third age took the name Gothmog

Not many descriptions of him in the book alas

But he is high captain of Morgoth too

And also Balrogs in general are just supremely cool. Go fuck that monster

“Sauron, Morgoth's chief agent, played a more domestic role compared to Gothmog’s front-line role” lmfaooooooo

[kkurami]

END OF THE WORLD ☆ shitty best friend

SYNOPSIS. y/n’s high school relationship ends in heartbreak, and it takes her months to move on. now, in her third year of university and completely removed from any ties to her past, she releases a cover to “intro (end of the world) - extended” by ariana grande. however, this cover ends up catching the attention of her 3-year long first boyfriend, who refuses to leave japan until y/n gets back together with him.

the ride from the airport was silent. iwaizumi tried to seem normal on the surface, but the nerves that had been building up for the entirety of the 13 hour flight had finally manifested in his gut. he couldn’t shake the uneasiness he felt, nor the burning stare oikawa was sending his way.

iwaizumi always found himself to be relatively levelheaded. straying away from that didn’t often lead to good outcomes.

of course, they were only in this situation because of iwaizumi’s impulsiveness.

“seriously man, you need to get a grip.” oikawa said, his eyes forward. his hands were gripping the steering wheel as if he were trying to hold himself back from hitting someone. he was. “what are you going to do know that you know she’s taken?”

“kill myself.” iwaizumi said in 100% truthfulness. he’d never felt more ashamed than he did in that moment.

“maybe you should’ve kept more in touch with people from high school. after all, everyone knows they’re dating.” oikawa said. “you know bokuto, atsumu, and the shrimp from karasuno? they’re all apart of her friend group with sakusa.”

iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “seriously?”

oikawa hummed in agreement, letting out a sigh afterwards. “yeah. after we graduated and you went to california, y/n started hanging out with us less and less. it makes sense, since we still talked to you. but then she met those four and…. yeah. she’s close with the rest of the team.”

unsure if he even wanted to know the answer, iwaizumi braced himself. “um, when did her and sakusa start dating?”

“hm, i want to say towards the end of our freshman year of uni?”

iwaizumi frowned at this. he was still in love with y/n, clinging onto a relationship that ended years ago, when y/n herself had moved on in a matter of months.

he flew across the globe for a girl who wasn’t even single, with the assumption that she still had feelings for him. how conceited could he get?

as if he could read his mind, oikawa smirked. “you’re so conceited, iwa-chan.”

iwaizumi just grumbled, speaking incoherently about how he wanted to ‘pummel oikawa into the ground’. hearing this, oikawa just chuckled. he then turned his head to get a good look at the man next to him, taking in his best friend after not seeing him for years. despite the circumstance, oikawa was excited to see him.

“california did you good, huh iwa-chan? maybe my fangirls will finally notice you.” oikawa had a shitty look on his face, one that iwaizumi was all too familiar with. it was the face that he was always provoked to punch back in high school.

things were a lot simpler back then, when his friend group was all together and he was dating the love of his life.

“i see you’re still the same as ever, shittykawa.” iwaizumi responded, rolling his eyes.

“you know i prioritize consistency.”

before oikawa could start to laugh, he was interrupted by iwaizumi punching him on the shoulder. hard. he let out a small ‘ow’. “yeah, i didn’t miss that….” he mumbled while rubbing his shoulder.

it was silent again for a moment, both men just enjoying the ambiance of night. despite the stress of the situation, it felt nice to be in each other’s presence again. between all the bullying and bickering, oikawa and iwaizumi understood each other when no one else would.

suddenly, oikawa clicked his tongue. “i don’t want to do this, because i respect y/n and her relationship, but i can help you with one thing.”

maybe there was a way after all.

fun facts !

☆ iwaizumi has not been back home ever since he graduated high school

☆ the guys offered their extra room for iwaizumi to stay in the meantime since his parents don’t know he’s back home and he’s too scared to face mama iwaizumi

☆ the whole flight all he could think about was seeing y/n again— but after finding out she’s dating sakusa it’s the last thing he wants

☆ oikawa feels bad for plotting but he also doesn’t want iwaizumi’s trip to be for nothing

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

authors note. i almost made iwaoi kiss at the end of this chapter than i remembered its not an iwaoi fic😞

taglist. @muhwaa @hoori @nscuit @loveyislost @buckturd @ladycarat @90s-belladonna @iv-vee @wordsofelie @evilari111 @chemiru @lavendulai @akaashislovee @valentoshi @sexylexy12 @yosuk-e @reidsworld @aloha-mommy69 @bspoju @anngelllla @nifflermini @matcha-kitty13 @iloveiwaizumihajime

[whirlpool-blogs]

who are the smartest hockey players in your mind right now? whether that’s in an academic sense or hockey sense or both

hmm academic achievement is pretty straightforward, you could google which guys have college degrees and there’s some interesting stuff! in terms of hockey iq, all of these guys are pros. if anyone didn’t have genuinely elite, pro-level hockey sense, they’d get killed on the boards out there in a second.

but honestly my favorite kind of Smart is guy who understands how to play a complete game, and I am nawwwt talking academics or hockey. there’s a whole other game out there to be played - and won - and some guys understand that better than most!! and for that, the current leaderboard in my opinion:

#1 will smith hockey

#2 jack hughes

#3 nate bastian!!!

#1 Currently leading - Will Smith hockey

WSH is still new to the scene so who can say how long he can keep this intangible point streak going BUT:

every guy he rotated in and out of the sleepover room ended up surviving the trade deadline (he’d clearly clocked who would be worth investing into)

has endeared himself to not just every single teammate but is also allegedly quite beloved by the equipment guys and rink staff

plays along well with all the sharks social media tiktok trends, etc. he has excellent camera awareness, for example, some guys simply looked down at their end of year ‘awards’ but Will immediately made sure to face the certificate to the camera. (is aware of camera views on the ice, too)

has managed to remain a mystery to the dating gossip sphere, k-pop idol style

some good stuff in this post, namely the notetaking parts and preparing for the animal question in the draft

and of course, has made the highly talented but also windshield-punching future of the franchise entirely indebted to him in ways beyond mortal comprehension. what are you gonna do, send wsh down to the AHL? and leave his unhinged attack dog mack c out there to argue with teammates in practice and have meltdowns by himself on the bench? no way. wsh stays up, and everyone stays happy.

#2 Jack Hughes - perennially good, but has also fumbled a couple plays

part of it is just classic middle child ability to play both sides without ever actually committing to either, but that boy had everrrry single NTDP classmate eating out of his sweaty little palm (voted captain by unanimous vote!). he understands how to sprinkle sugar, jusssst right!

I do find it interesting when he accidentally overplays his hand. It perfectly mirrors his on-ice flaw of when he tries to do too much and then his game falls apart (as noted by hockey scouts & Sheldon Keefe alike). BUT I think the flops are important because unlike his subtle plays that might go entirely unnoticed, these give us a little more insight into how he does it - or at least, tries to set it up.

famously got the devils to draft his special little guy’s special little guy (trevor z’s billet brother) but then moynihan turned out to be basically nothing to the devils in the end (see: his Elite Prospects page)

tried to use 4 Nations as his and quinn’s personal olympics campaign (kept emphasizing how sooooo young he and quinn were, which was a complete turnaround from how he usually describes quinn as mature/experienced, or even himself as unphased/seen it all. kept referring to himself as an ‘01 birth year, and auston and eichel as ‘97s to really drive the point home!! god, you don’t want those old men born in the 1900s do you, USA hockey? I’m good for two, maybe even threeee Olympic cycles!) unfortunately quinn was too injured to play and jack flopped at 4 Nations

#3 Nate Bastian

Fourth line grinder (literally called the ‘Meat Line’) Nathan Bastian? yes, and I’m not even kidding. here’s the thing. there are four audiences for a pro athlete:

1. Your coach(ing staff) & GM

2. Your teammates

3. Sports reporters/PR Team

4. General audience / fans

When I say Nate Bastian plays a complete game, I do mean complete - he has a FULL SWEEP of all four audiences.

First Audience: he understands what role coaches see him as, and commits to it. doesn’t oversell himself. takes hits and gives hits without complaint.

Second Audience: top players automatically rank high in team social hierarchy, but less skilled players have to work for it. nate CLEARLY plays a great locker room game, to the point that he sits next to jack (and you knowww locker room seating has a ton of unspoken politics behind it) and is universally loved by his teammates.

Third Audience: this guy is so loved by Jersey beat reporters that they sought him out to interview while he was literally playing for a different team! the PR team sent him to the VMAs! also in this 2019 axe throwing video the producers/video editors clearly like him, even though he’s just another no-name grinder: they start the video with him, setting him up as the audience surrogate. they keep his self name-drop in the final edit, while literal jack hughes is in the video and HIS name is never said out loud. they kept in his funniest bits and edited out whatever was likely more boring filler commentary. (side note: you can also see Nate’s Second Audience work was already at play, because little pre-rookie Jack was already very aware and intrigued by Nate). By having video editors who love him, surely now you can see how that sways the…

Fourth Audience: how can you not love a guy that the coach commends! how can you not love a guy that his teammates adore! and how can you not love a guy who always gets the best possible edit from the producers! he’s literally made a clean sweep. all while just “being himself” seemingly effortlessly….

and that, my friends, is called playing smart.

[thevalleyisjolly]

I think it's painfully realistic that Cassian wants to stop fighting, and I don't think it undermines the truth of his arc in Season 1. Season 1 showed how an ordinary person becomes radicalized, how the injustices Cassian suffers drives him to honestly commit himself to the Rebellion. And then Season 2 shows the continual toll that rebellion takes. He has to leave his loved ones behind, again and again, and in his absence they are no less at risk. They suffer and they die. He's mistrusted and challenged by the people on his own side. He's seriously injured with lasting wounds that affect his ability to live his life. He witnesses atrocities and is himself forced to kill or be killed. Anyone going through just one of those things, no matter how much they believe in the rightness of their cause, would find it difficult to go on. Anyone could and would despair, yearn for end.

Yes, some people are able to fight on through solely the strength of their convictions, and yes, for people who are able to do that, it's frustrating, even insulting, when others constantly speak of quitting. But not everyone can do that. Not everyone is able to fight forever without a shred of doubt, a shred of exhaustion. And for Cassian, who has been fighting since he was six years old, I don't think wanting to stop shows a weak will or lack of conviction at all. It's anyone's natural response to a struggle that often seems impossible. You can wholeheartedly commit to a cause and still experience complete burnout.

I don't argue with interpretations that see Cassian as being forced to stay with the Rebellion solely because Bix leaves, there's textual evidence to understand the scene that way, but I would like to gently propose another view of the characters. Especially through Arc 3, Cassian has been looking for ways to stop - though not at the cost of the mission, he'll finish the mission first. On the flip side, Bix has been trying to stay involved, looking for purpose. The weapons that Luthen passes on to her for analysis, wanting to go with Cassian on assignments, building relationships with the other people on Yavin. By the end of Arc 3, Cassian is fully exhausted and Bix is fully awake. She feels the presence of a great narrative beyond any one person.

Yes, she leaves, and Cassian can no longer use their life together as a reason to stop. But was Cassian ever actually going to stop? He looked at a crushed security droid and his thought wasn't to leave it there but to go through the considerable extra effort of bringing it back to the Rebellion, see what could be done with it. He told Kleya that the Senate was his last mission- literal hours after surviving a massacre and seeing Wilmon stand his ground with the Ghor and refuse to flee, Wilmon who was only on Ghorman in the first place because Luthen put him there. And it's not as if Cassian can't fly a ship and isn't willing to leave the base without waiting for permission. We literally see him in Episode 7 defying Draven and leaving Yavin at a moment's notice. There is nothing actually stopping him from going after Bix, spending the rest of his life searching for her- and he doesn't. He listens to her message and he ultimately stays.

For all his talk of stopping, he never goes through with it. He could. It's clear that Luthen no longer has as much control over his operatives, Cassian has not yet sworn allegiance to the Alliance, and he has the means and the ability to leave and go after Bix if he really, truly wanted to quit. But he doesn't. And combined with everything he's been through, it makes for a narrative of hope amidst pain and difficulty. The constant struggle has worn him out, traumatized him, he doubts whether he has anything more left to give...and after all that, he still goes on, all the way to Scarif. And particularly now, I think that can be just as meaningful a story as that of someone who is always able to fight on tirelessly against fascism without a moment of fear or doubt.

[writingdevil]

Oh lord you're activating my STP hyperfix again oughhh how dare you,,,

I come to you, you blacksmith of words, and offer you Stubborn and Paranoid,,, and then I scuttle away :3€

(A BLACKSMITH OF WORDS?? THAT'S SO NICE AND SUCH A COOL THING TO BE CALLED!! CAN I USE THAT??/j. I'm glad that I can infect other people with my hyperfixation, so that we can all be in these woods together. I wasn't sure whether you wanted this to be a ship or not so I left it up to interpretation. Anyway, enjoy!)

"Hello?"

Go away.

"Is anyone out here?"

Please leave. Please leave.

"Para? Are you here?"

They were following him. They were hurting him.

"Para?"

They were getting closer and closer and closer-

"Oi! There you are!"

Paranoid let a frightened yell out, scrambling out of the bush that he had been hiding behind.

The world spun, a dark and imposing blur in front of him, and Paranoid knew they were here to kill him, that's why they had been following him all day.

"Paranoid! It's me, Stubborn!"

Paranoid choked on a gasp, pressing himself against a tree as he struggled to control his fear and anxiety, having to blink many times before his vision focused again.

His eyes and throat stung, but he managed to focus enough on the voice before him to realise that yes, it was Stubborn in front of him. But that didn't make him feel better one bit.

"Para? What's going on?" Stubborn asked, annoyance on his face and in his voice. "You just freaked out and ran out into the woods. What's wrong?"

"Go- away," Paranoid gritted out, but Stubborn just crossed his arms and said, "Can't do that, especially when you've got everyone else worried about you."

A pang of guilt did come through Paranoid in that moment, before it was immediately overtaken by his fear.

What else was he supposed to do? Let those eyes follow him and lead him to danger? No. No, no, no, no- he was not going to die this way, not after everything he's been through.

Stubborn tried beckoning him forward. "Look, let's just go back inside where you can't hurt yourself even more."

Paranoid shook his head, curling up into a ball. "No. I can't."

Stubborn sighed in exasperation. "Why not?"

"Because they're in the house!"

Stubborn gave him a look that made a spark of fury ignite within him, looking at him as if Paranoid was the problem.

"There is nothing in the house-"

"Yes there is!" Paranoid exclaimed in protest, wrapping his arms around himself. "The eyes keep staring at me in there! I can't go back! I can't take them watching me!"

He needed a moment to try and get his breathing under control, all the while Stubborn was just standing there, giving him a frustrated and conflicted look.

Eventually, when Paranoid was sure that he could talk again, he lowered his gaze to look at his trembling hands, to try and ignore Stubborn's judgemental glare.

The silence would've been comforting, would've helped Paranoid clear his head, but with Stubborn here, that couldn't happen.

Stubborn let a heavy sigh out. "Look, I'm not leaving without you, so you need to listen to me. There are no fucking eyes in the house."

Paranoid whimpered, and he almost missed the wince that Stubborn made at that sound. Paranoid was on the verge of tears at this point. He hated this. He hated his feelings. He hated his mind.

He especially hated the way Stubborn was staring at him-with nothing but pity.

Stubborn continued, his gravelly voice as soft as he could make it, "You're just seeing things-"

But that broke the moment immediately.

"I am not seeing things!" he screamed in Stubborn's face, claws digging into his skin so hard that they were probably cutting him, but he didn't care. "I am not crazy! No matter how much you think I am!"

Stubborn genuinely looked taken aback at his outburst, face frozen in shock, but all Paranoid could focus on was trying not to cry in this moment, mumbling, "I'm not crazy," over and over again to himself.

That went on for so long that Paranoid was starting to believe that he had made Stubborn up as well, until he heard him sigh.

"...Sorry," Stubborn muttered, crouching down in front of Paranoid, and if Paranoid wasn't in the middle of a breakdown, he would've commented on the rare look of guilt on Stubborn's face.

"I'm still not planning on ditching you here. I still need to bring you home."

Paranoid whimpered,squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes of blocking out all the horror that constantly surrounds him. "But the eyes are in there."

"Then I'll protect you."

Paranoid froze, then opened his eyes.

Stubborn was holding his arms out to him, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "I'll make sure that nothing comes near you or hurts you. Everyone will be there to protect you as well in the house."

"Are you sure?" Paranoid asked, his body already leaning forward towards Stubborn's warm and inviting arms.

"Yeah," Stubborn assured with a nod of his head. "What? You think people like Hero and Hunted are gonna let anything bad happen to you?"

That was true. Despite the fear still consuming Paranoid's mind, he knew that that was real. His flock's love was real.

He cautiously looked into Stubborn's eyes- warm, and solid, a determined glint in them that slowly pierced through the fear within him, letting him know for a single moment-Stubborn was safe.

Paranoid took a deep breath, and then reached out towards Stubborn. Stubborn allowed Paranoid to move closer to him, right up until Paranoid's fingers grazed his wrist, and suddenly he let a shuddering gasp out and desperately crawled into Stubborn's arms, who had no problem with immediately scooping Paranoid up, holding him close to his chest.

"I've got you, I'm here," Stubborn whispered, hugging Paranoid protectively, putting a hand over the back of his head, and Paranoid shoved his face into Stubborn's chest, breathing in his comforting scent, feeling his trembling already lessen.

Stubborn stood there for a few minutes, just shushing and rocking Paranoid back and forth, until Paranoid felt all the tension leave his body, safe in Stubborn's arms.

"That's it, you're safe with me," Stubborn whispered, and then began the walk back home, and Paranoid sighed in relief, not feeling any eyes on him at all in that moment, not with Stubborn there to protect him.

[vroomvroomwee]

I'm a huge fan of radiostatic

The show hints they have a complicated past together, but you also said in a previous post that it doesn't look like Vox is pining for Alastor in stayed gone. How do you think their actual relationship will play out in the show ?

Well, I think the hints we are seeing of their past friendship are veritable and not our delusional shipper little minds grasping for straws. Whatever happens in season two it definitely will be emotionally heavy. At least for Vox, and dare I say I think it'll also be for Alastor.

Because, objectively speaking, Alastor doesn't really... have any friends. Mimzy uses him, and I think Alastor knows the hotel is apprehensive of him and keeps him at a distance as a colleague. Which only really leaves Rosie (who's also an overlord, but I doubt she's someone who would Alastor would die for or who he would die for) and Niffty (who's probably his thrall and can't be his equal as long as she is). And Alastor is a very extroverted guy. The only times his reputation as a stone-cold, heartless murderer is alluded to are what OTHER people say of him. Meanwhile, the people who know Alastor, aren't... that afraid of him. On a more intimate level, Alastor is very approachable and easy to talk to. He NEEDS friends. He NEEDS verbal communication, which is why I think his fallout with Vox hit him hard, no matter whose fault it was.

Now, Vox is clearly still pissed, and so is Alastor despite being able to hide it better. To me Stayed Gone borders somewhere between mortal enemies and exes who are biting at each other. And I don't think Vox is the pining sort based on his actions during ep 2 which I covered in this post:

(I think this might be the post i question. I'm adding it as a screenshot because tumblr was lagging on the link function)

I also found another post @moodooivy that really nails Alastor’s behaviour:

Personally (now this is just my opinion) I think Vivienne will continue the trend of "best friends suffered a brutal accident that was neither of their fault and got estranged then they hated each other for years only to reconcile and become best friends again in the end" that she did with Blitz and Fizz. I think a scene between Vox and Alastor is inevitable at this point. And I think it won't just be an emotional reconciliation.

The show has a limited amount of time at its disposal. And in any other instance, such an emotionally charged scene would have enough time to be fleshed out, to focus on the characters and their thoughts. But, Hazbin doesn't have that time. So, I think during that reconciliation SOMETHING important will be said (whether it's Alastor’s true intentions for the hotel or that he has always planned to betray them, Alastor’s dealer whoever it is had some hand in their split up and is planning something devious, Vox professing how much Alastor meant to him and how much he cared about him etc. etc. Or perhaps that he's never cared at all, and vise versa. Maybe they figure out Valentino somehow meddled with their relationship, or smth). It will be violent and intense, maybe a big fight where one nearly kills the other or an outside interference stops them, before it eventually subsides since these two can't keep a straight head around each other. And it's gonna happen in the last few episodes because either they both come out alive and well, which is bad news for everyone else since together they would be a massive powerhouse, or one of them dies - and the death of a fan favorite is impactful which would mean the writers would want to leave it near the end, right before season 3.

This is all me theorising though!! I love hearing predictions about season 2 and I'd love to talk about this in the comments and hear what you and others think 💜💜

[umm-the-thing]

(MY VERSION OF) THE STAR SANSES HAVE ANOTHER TEAM MEMBER, JUST TRYNA FIGURE OUT WHO IT SHOULD BE (cross switches back and forth between teams like a weirdo)

This is meant to be their heights btw

Random stupid fun facts

Dust HATES. HATESHATESHATES. TOOTHPICKS, IF HE SEES YOU USING ONE YOURE FUCKING TOAST. (Someone totally doesn't keep putting toothpicks in his room every time he leaves)

nightmare is older than dream by literally 14.8 seconds and brags about it a LOT. And he's not like canon noot (who I know barely anything about, still) because he's actually nice most of the time (to his team)

Dream acts a lot older and more mature than noot, and he knows that noot is mostly a pacifist, but also knowing that he isn't always a pacifist when he's away from his team is why they fight, also dream is just like, REALLY. strong

Killer absolutely hates how sticky and how much his liquid DT stains, and he has mood swings. Like. A lot. One minute he's flirting with someone random and the next he's having a mental breakdown and then wanting to kill everyone, he also can feel emotions, as long as he's not stage 3-4 he's mostly stable, even though he has trouble controlling it

Blue/swap enjoys spending time with the bad sanses and actually goes over somewhat often when the rest of his team are busy, and he gives horror cooking lessons knowing that he's usually the main cook unless dust is helping him (dust is just a natural chef)

Cross switches back and forth, as I said earlier, #1 it's funny to see the opposite teams reaction when he switches, especially if he does it in the middle of battle and #2 he can't tell half the time if something he wants is actually what HE (or they) wants and not Xchara

Ink knows where you live. (/SILLY) Ink is capable of feeling emotions without his vials sometimes, mostly things such as comfort and the kinda feeling you get when someone is dangerous/ off (I can't remember the name) or just when they're really strong emotions

Horror can cook awesome meals sometimes. Other times he burns down the whole castle, and he's been with the heart sanses so long, he usually forgets about his au

The "bad" sanses in my au are actually the "heart" sanses (cuz they're heart themed) who I sometimes call the bad sanses (mostly on accident), and they all do monthly therapy or if there's been a lot of conflict between them recently

(I WAS GONNA DO ERROR BUT HE ISN'T UP THERE YET)

[six-eyed-samurai]

I had an idea for a bonten oneshot where the bonten members try to strike a deal with a reader who has the same role as Kuro the information broker from gachiakuta!

You don't have to it if you don't want! Take your time! I love your posts!

<3

SUMMARY: Bonten gets a little more than they bargained for. A/N: SORRY IM SO LATE I've actually thought about this idea a lot and how could I not add Kuro's iconic car chase >:) Ironically I love cars and racing but I'm ready to throw up the moment my dad speeds over a bump... WARNINGS: Reader highkey a lil shit here

🌸How'd the old saying go again? If you make a deal with the devil, be prepared to lose your soul, wasn't it?

🌸The situation Bonten’s found themselves in was exactly like that, except you look nothing like a devil and they'd probably lose everything but their souls and this was less like a deal and more of a one sided battle when all the odds were NOT in their favour.

🌸You've got that kind of glib coyness about you, a pretty person's absolute faith in everyone's helpless chivalry - if not because of it and your importance to their current problem, Sanzu would've probably murdered you on the spot for making them all wait so long for you to show up. Your apologies are about as real as the flowers in the meeting room's vase, but everyone grits their teeth and accepts it. You're annoying to deal with, oh so very manipulative and mysterious and does “straight answer with a reasonable price” just not exist in your book?

🌸But you're a pretty thing, and even if you sweetly threaten the Haitani brothers with your knowledge of their addresses, bank account passwords and what they ate for breakfast they're going to try and flirt with you anyway.

🌸“Don't piss off the information broker.” Mikey's words always went in one ear and out the other when it came to you. Then again you love toying with their buttons, so whose fault is it really?

🌸It sounds so wrong to say but Ran has no shame in saying his type is someone who hates him, wriggling his eyebrows in your direction suggestively. You occasionally behave like all those gushy-giggly girls from the clubs, true, but at least you've got bite, not falling all over yourself to climb into his bed. You're a goddamn expensive tease, Rindou would grumble as you somehow managed to manipulate him into playing cards and gambling everything in his wallet away, AGAIN - the info you've given better be good, if this is the price.

🌸Koko probably hates you the most. Your smile, directed at him, is wide and you absolutely know that. It's probably because he's the one handling finances and dealing with you was like handling a vacuum that just. Won't. Stop. Sucking up all their money and ruining the budget! Every time he's forced to settle your payment, he's in his own personal hell. Why make his life easy by naming a simple price and payment, when you could demand he buy you a new car and cover all expenses that come with it, petrol, repairs, insurance?

“Why can't we just give you thirty thousand for this?” Koko groaned and rubbed his temples. One tiny slip of paper from you cost him several grey hairs and out the window the budget goes again.“It won't kill you to be straightforward, will it?”

“It'll kill me to be boring.” You lean forward and pat his cheek condescendingly.

You're lucky you're the best in the information business. The only thing Koko can grudgingly like about you is that you're efficient and you're never wrong.

🌸Kakucho isn't that fond of you either. You're too wily and cunning for his liking, always with some double agenda with your demands. Or maybe he doesn't like you because he once was unlucky enough to be assigned to take you out on your latest shopping spree and you ditched him the moment some thugs showed up, leaving him flailing while trying to protect all the bags you'd make him carry.

“Hey, hey, don't be mad, I'm sure your boss will be even madder if he found out I got in a, ah, little scuffle and bumped my head, therefore losing your insider information on Harashima Corporations, wouldn't he?”

🌸Ironically you like him the most. Probably because Kakucho is Kakucho and he's reluctantly the nicest to you. Not that being your favourite is fun - you're always requesting him whenever you show up with that irritating little wave and a sing-song “Morning, Kaku-chan ~” The ruder he is to you (which isn't much; it's Kakucho, what did you expect?) the more you'll just wipe a “tear” from your eye and chuckle to yourself..

He's not sure how to feel about you, honestly, because on one hand you save them a lot of trouble with your info…but is playing your ridiculous games worth it?

🌸Funny enough Sanzu tolerates you the most and yours and his interactions are by far the most peaceful, most cordial. Perhaps it's because he's crazy and murderous enough that even you're a little wary of playing around with him, especially after the little incident when you'd called him “Rosie” on your first meeting. You learnt to watch your mouth (and your hands) after that around him, even in more often than not you fail.

🌸Or perhaps it's because Mikey finds you useful, useful enough to keep you around and call you to Bonten's aid constantly, so by extension Sanzu finds you useful and so he won't decapitate you - whatever pleases Mikey, right? (You fixed the haircare trauma he suffered after Baji, even unintentionally, that’s why.)

🌸He’s actually fun to be around though sometimes! You, him and the Haitani brothers, on the occasional day you all share a brain cell (or you manipulate them all into sharing it with you) are a new source of fear for Tokyo’s underworld…and a headache for the rest of the executives.

🌸But right now, you’re a headache for all the executives. For a few measly documents, you want a what?!

“Are you deaf? I thought I was pretty clear, hmm.” The audacity of you, even checking your nails at a time like this! “I said, if you want the info, race me. If you win, I’ll give it to you and our next deal will be a hundred per cent free of charge.”

“And if we lose?”

“Well, you can start by giving me VIP access to all your clubs.” Your smile is angelic; your wink at the Haitani brothers was anything but innocent. “So? Race, no race?”

🌸Unfortunately yes race.

🌸They can’t legally say it out loud, per se, but they’re actually…pretty hyped up about a motorcycle race. It’s been so long since they’ve had any fun, what did you expect?? Except Koko. Koko declared he’d washed his hands of this affair, but apparently he had snitched after all - Mikey showed up right as it was about to start, deadpan as ever and demanding to know what the hell was going on?

You clap your hands, a little celebratory “yay”. “Mikey! Glad you could join us - had a feeling Koko might rat us out, or you might’ve noticed I pulled a couple strings to get them to close off this road.”

He stops short in front of your bike. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t blame them, they’re only upholding their end of the deal if you all want those documents.” Tantalizingly you produce a USB drive from your pocket and wave it around carelessly. “Want to race? I’m afraid only one of you can though. I’m not that arrogant.”

“…you know I could just get those documents from you another way, right?” It’s matter of fact, the way he says it. You know it’s true. He could simply put a gun to your head, throw you in jail, torture you, et cetera et cetera. But he won’t and you know it.

“You could try. But too bad this thing will die with me if anything should happen - and who else will do your dirty work for you in the future?”

“…fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way!” You patted his head condescendingly. “I’ll explain the rules now-”

“But you’re racing against me.”

Well. Things just took an interesting turn.

🌸One look is enough to silence the protests from Sanzu and Kakucho, to quieten the grumblings from the Haitani brothers; but maybe it was for the best. Reluctantly they moved away from their own bikes and let their boss examine them to pick one, heading off to the sidelines under your direction - “No, no, Ran, you can’t stand there, stand here.” Mikey was the invincible Mikey after all. In what universe could he possibly lose to you, especially in a biking race? You’d be an idiot to try-

🌸(Except…you’re not an idiot. You already guessed Koko ratted them out. You would’ve known Mikey would show up…could you have guessed he’d join too? What’s your game here?)

🌸“It’s very simple, Mikey! All Bonten has to do is stand on the finish line before me, or else the drive stays with me and I get VIP benefits to every single club you own for free.” You clap and secure on your helmet, flashing him one last cheeky grin. “Think you can do that?”

“Ready, set, go!”

🌸Mikey should’ve known from the start racing with you would never have been that straightforward - doing anything on your turf and terms never was. You were fast in your own right, and in any other circumstances Mikey might’ve been able to overtake you.

🌸But nooooo. You just had to make things harder by conveniently forgetting to mention the obstacles in place; pedestrians were still around to avoid and gawk, and you had decided to use the road with the most potholes in all of Tokyo, little shit that you are. You’ve got the upper hand here, already aware about all the things you’ve set on his path and easily dodging and swerving, even turning back to give him a little wave.

🌸Yet, this is the most fun Mikey’s had in a while…he’s almost forgotten the feeling. (What feeling? This feeling, just like when they were all younger and freer and just running around Tokyo on their old bikes, thinking Toman was their whole world, before anyone had di-)

🌸Then, incredibly, impossibly -

“…you won. You - you won.”

🌸At this point you’ve got the whole Bonten ready to get on their knees and start the worship because holy sweet mother of god you beat Mikey. Mikey. MIKEY. They probably would too, if everyone wasn’t too busy gaping like you like a couple of goldfish, something you’re quick to point out with a cheeky, tongue-out expression that could rival Koko’s. “Hey, close your mouths before a fly builds a nest.”

“And I didn’t win. I said first to stand on the finishing line wins, didn’t I?” Your grin widens. “Check your feet~”

“What-”

Oh. You minx. You had Ran standing on the finishing line before the race even started.

“HEY -” Hello?! You won the race? What is this roundabout loophole?!

Aaand you’re off, motorbike revving and leaving them in the dust like the badass mystery that you are, USB drive neatly thrown into the air and caught by a shell-shocked Mikey. “Ta! I had fun, I look forward to our next deal!”

🌸…god, what a pain in the ass you are to make deals with. A regular devil indeed.

BONUS:

“-cheeky, tongue-out expression that could rival Koko’s-”

The white-haired Bonten executive sneezed violently in his office, grabbing a tissue hastily. What the…did someone mention his name? The dumbass author who can’t end this oneshot properly probably…Holy shit. What was this sudden chill he felt down his spine? There was nothing in the office - why did everything feel so scary suddenly?!

“-motorbike revving and leaving them in the dust-”

“JESUS, STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL!”

I’m sorry.

[lucydixon]

Øystein has a crush on you, Headcanons

This GIF of baby Øystein is so cute 😭 Just a few things I thought of <3

I’m gonna start this off by saying that I don’t think this man has ever had an actual girlfriend. 

Dead set on maintaining his ‘evil’ reputation, Øystein would act aloof and almost standoffish towards you, especially if you were hanging out in a group.

He would stare. A lot. But he’d be very aware of everyone else’s gaze to ensure nobody caught him, including you.

He would definitely ‘show off’ whenever he could. A lot of the time, this would come off as annoying and rude. It would feel like he was constantly trying to one-up you and making comments about anything you consider an achievement, acting unimpressed. I think this kind of behaviour has absolutely fucked things up for him with past crushes.

He wouldn’t do a thing about his crush for the longest time. He’d be trying to figure out if you like him back. I think he’d be super careful about it and wouldn’t even consider making a move unless he was 100% sure that his feelings were reciprocated. He’s low-key scared of rejection, even though he’d try to play it off like he didn’t care. He’d be crushed. 

If you found yourselves alone, he’d be softer and even a little flirtatious. We all know that Øystein really cares about what people think of him, so he would try and make sure that you saw more than just the asshole who seemingly ignored you most of the time. 

The real flirting would come when he’s drinking or on a high after being on stage. On these occasions, he’d be a little touchy and would be blatant with his staring. It would always be accompanied by a little smirk or a suggestive look. 

As he warmed up to you, you would see little flashes of the real Øystein beneath the Euronymous front he liked to put up. He would start making excuses to be around you. The two of you would split off from the others at parties or gigs, sipping beers while having muttered conversations in the corner of a crowded room. 

I think he'd be really good at talking you down when you're upset, especially when it's just the two of you.

He would get so unbelievably jealous whenever he saw other men sniffing around you, especially if it was one of his friends. His jaw would clench, and he’d glare at anyone who went near you, especially if you looked happy to be talking to/hanging out with them, even if it wasn’t in a romantic way. He would for sure be a dick about it too and make passive agressive comments to you for at least an hour after the fact. If you even think about calling him jealous, be prepared for him to get very defensive and lash out at you. 

I think when he does lash out, he goes in for the kill and will say something really mean. It's so much easier for him to just push you away than it is to just deal with his feelings, but then, if you do start to pull away, he’d scramble to apologize, especially if he starts to think that you’re actually gonna leave. 

This man is never going to tell you how he feels on his own unless he's shit faced. You’re gonna have to pull it out of him and make the first move. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[tvfangirladdict]

I'm with you on all of this. I understand that Athena is the one who's going to be affected by this the most and there will be more time to address the others moving forward, but I wasn't expecting his funeral episode to be about her working a case and everyone else showing up so little. Eddie and Ravi only had like 2 lines, and Chim is really the only other one that we see experiencing grief(authentically admittedly. Him going the anger route is realistic even if it's sad to see).

I feel like they already robbed us of so much surrounding Bobby's death, that they keep doing so moving forward. If it's a creative decision so you can put your characters through a situation they haven't faced before, why are you skipping the most important parts? I've seen a lot of main character deaths in television and none of them have been handled like this with an ensemble cast.

Eddie gone, not even in the episode, finding out over the phone and not showing up until 2 weeks later on the day of the funeral and then only has like 2 lines and he's already seemingly moved into the acceptance phase. (Could change moving forward, but i doubt they'll give him much focus if the last 3 episodes were any indication)

The others all find out alone from strangers(except Buck who walked away without being able to really say anything to Bobby, and Bobby was forced to rush his last words to him. This will Haunt me. What do you mean his dad was dying and he had to turn his back and walk away without having any time to tell Bobby what he meant to him.)

We immediately skipped the fallout of his death. 2 weeks passed? Idk that I've ever seen them do that except when the fbi faked Booth's death in Bones. They did a time jump after Mark and Lexi's deaths on Grey's but you could feel that they were all very much still in the depths of grief, battling anger and denial, not just sadness and acceptance that I felt from Hen, Buck, Eddie, and Ravi.

What the fuck was the point of having Bobby haunt Athena if she didn't get to say goodbye to him? That bugs me. He was there, and just gone, and then she accepts his death from accepting this little boy is actually dead alongside the mother. That's it? No wave from Bobby standing off to the side at the cemetery? No last goodbye conversation from them where he fades away? Unless they're gonna keep him around as a ghost it made no sense to me to not hive closure to that.

Was I the only one expecting someone we know to give the eulogy? That was a scene that should have killed us but I felt nothing, because it didn't carry the same weight as it would have if it'd been given by someone who loved Bobby. In CSI, Grissom got up to speak at Warrick's funeral and it was absolutely soul crushing to see him breaks and lose his words when he's usually so stoic. But no one from his family or the 118 got up to say anything? Missed opportunity number 1837281737

There's probably more but I'll leave this one here. It's not that Bobby died(okay, it is a lot of it) but it's everything surrounding his death that makes me mad.

ok im back on my shit so hear me out for ONE SECOND. lower ur tomatoes for a bit, you can boo me at the end

the last alarm isnt horrible. its bad, yes but not atrociously horrible. if it were a longer than 40minutes episode, it wouldn't have been this bad. sure, killing off a main character is a shit kove in the first place but making his funeral episode about a b plot turned a plot is worse.

its missing a lot is scene, the off-screenification for this one is WILD. imagine instead of shit hot pile of garbage we got a longer episode. lets say we cant undo the actual problem (killing off bobby) but we could've gotten(and tbf i feel like writing fics about these myself):

athena's case about the dead kid to reflect HER grief (not ours btw, which was probably the main idea of it anyway but it came across at a jab at us). it wasnt bad by itself but very poorly executed.

chim's regrets and anger, actually see him on that run. how he got on that roof. show us that scene where he called for bobby's body to be released. i just know he DIDN'T keep it together.

buck's therapy sessions that turned him into this non-buck like figure that this episode portrayed. or even better he'd internalise it and NOT go to therapy at all and thats how he gets so robotic. he's shoving everything deep inside.

eddie's shock. we already didnt get a scene with him finding out, so at least, if he's THIS LATE to LA, WHY is he this late. no money? problems with his parents? chris? he's moving in slowmotion, hes devastated for not being there yet talks about scones.

ravi was ready to become a criminal for them. its his first funeral like this, he's trying to keep it together by asking eddie about the funerals he attented. extend that fuckass scene.

hen is so... weirdly uplifted. fine, but why? for someone who almost nearly died too, whose captain died she acts weird. could've given us a scene where she goes the "live for the one that saved u"

geralt wouldn't have been this bad if he had less screen time. he was also hurting, he tried to make them not feel better but understand he's not there to replace bobby. EVER. so by expanding everyone else's screentime, his wouldn't be so annoying.

the last alarm had bad writing because of all the scenes that are missing. its everything happening off screen that makes it shit. bc if you expand it, it would solve some problems.

i liked it bc i filled in scenes in my head when i watched it live but im pretty sure i cant rewatch it or my rating would go significantly lower.

you can get ur tomatoes now. also i did ramble a lot and might repeated myself but im not rereading this is emotional rant typing not prose

[snail-day]

Can We Prep?

TW: Lovedrunk! Suguru x Reader, Mentions of SatoSugu, Double penetration (w/ toy), Unprotected sex, Creampie, Size kink, somno-adjacent (reader sleepy aftercare), Aftercare, Praise kink, Soft Yandere Themes, Sugu a little insecure. MDNI WC: 1.7k a/n: okay I really need to clean my house now, I literally started this earlier this morning and then stopped. Then came back. and now I reallyyyy need to prep my house for guests. Enjoy <3

Now, Suguru wasn’t expecting you to shyly come up to him early in the morning, fidgeting with your fingers while he scrolled through his phone just after Satoru left.

Wasn’t expecting you to bite your lip, fiddle with the hem of Satoru’s shirt you were wearing, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet. His first thought is immediate and irrational: What’s wrong? What happened? Did Satoru do something? Who do I have to kill?

His phone long forgotten as it drops to the bed as his hand instinctively comes up to cradle your face, tilting it toward him, making sure you’re actually looking at him. “Your words, please?” he murmurs, already trying to quiet the panic in his chest. Because the truth is - he’s so scared sometimes. Scared that this dream is too good to last. That you’ll choose Satoru. That you’ll wake up and realize you don’t want them both. Don’t want him.

But then you kiss the pad of his thumb as it brushes your lips and mumble under your breath, “Do you think I can take both of you?”

And his brain promptly shuts down.

Like, blue screen, buffering circle, full system reboot. Both of them. You want them both. His sweet, shy girl, asking him so bravely, trusting him first. His heart fucking stutters in his chest.

He barely manages to drop his hands to your waist and press his forehead against your chest, letting out a long breath because you’re too much.

You came to him. Not Satoru. Him.

Because you know Satoru wouldn’t prep you right. Wouldn’t go slow. Suguru would have to stand behind him the whole time and tell him what to do - like always. But now? With you all flushed and fidgety and asking him first?

God, he doesn’t even try to hide the soft little laugh that escapes him, low and warm against your chest. He looks up at your pout, the flushed stain on your cheeks. It must’ve taken everything in you to come ask him. You trust him that much.

Of course he says yes. Of course he’s going to prep you. Tells you you can stop anytime. That he’ll take care of everything.

Because the idea of hurting you? Unthinkable. But the idea of them both being in you? Holy fuck.

It doesn't take long for him to get you on you’re on your stomach. Face down, legs parted, ass up. And he thinks this might actually kill him. Sure, him and Satoru have thought of this before. But didn't want to pressure their girl over it.

You’re already so wet, so soft for him, as he laps the last of your cum from his lips and lifts the blue dildo - almost identical to Satoru’s size, and watches the toy slide into you. He can’t help but press a hand to your tummy, splaying his fingers outwards, holding you there as his long hair falls over his shoulder. Whispers soothing little praises as he works the toy in and out in slow, deep strokes.

His chest aches. Literally hurts with how much he adores you. How cute those sounds you make are.

When he pauses, murmuring “Back it up for me,” and sees your hips roll obediently, working yourself deeper onto the toy? His heart squeezes so tight he’s not even sure he can breathe.

You’re working so hard. For him. His pretty girl.

And when the lewd squelching sounds start, the lube and cum dripping onto the sheets below, his cock is already leaking. He doesn’t even try to hide how desperate he is as he lines himself up behind you, cock flushed and twitching.

Pressing the thick dark tip inside, careful and slow, whispering, “We can stop anytime, just say the word, okay?” But he already knows you won’t. You’re clinging to the sheets, gasping as he inches in.

And he’s falling apart.

She’s letting me in. She wants me. She’s trusting me with this. Oh my god, I’m going to fucking die.

“Fuck - fuck - you’re doing so good, baby,” he groans as his pretty eyes squeeze shut, barely managing to bottom out before reaching for his phone with one trembling hand. Lifts the dildo just a bit to frame the shot - his cock and the toy both buried inside your soaked cunt - and sends the video with shaking fingers.

Our girl wants us to fill her up. Hurry home <3 Be safe. We love you.

Then he tosses the phone like it’s nothing, already focused entirely on you again. Because his thoughts are spinning fast now.

Now, his first worry is: he’s going to cum. His second worry is: do you even have space for it?

He strokes his thumb along the rim of your other hole, feeling your walls tighten around him as he rocks his hips a little deeper, his mind already spiraling. You're taking it so well. You're perfect.

He’s holding your belly like it’ll keep him connected. Like if he lets go, he’ll float away. That soft squish of skin, the bulge where he and the toy both stretch you open - it’s almost too much for him. The sight of it all. The sound of you gasping. The feel of your cunt gripping him so tightly like you never want to let go.

And then he’s moaning, biting your shoulder gently as he cums. Long and deep, his whole body trembling as he fills you to the brim. He doesn’t move. Can’t. Just breathes through it, forehead pressed to your shoulder, muttering, “Such a good - fuck - good - girl. Love you. C’mon, tell me you love me too,” he pants in short bursts. Suguru isn’t the type to beg, but in moments like this? He pleads as he spills inside you. Waits for your cunt to stop fluttering around him as you cum. Listens to your babbled I love yous through the haze.

“You okay?” he whispers against your skin, kissing the dip of your spine. “Still doing good, sweetheart?” Another kiss. Then a third. “Too much? Tell me, please.”

You nod sleepily, letting out a soft sound, and he exhales shakily - relief and adoration curling in his chest. He waits a beat. Then asks again. Feeling your legs shake less as his palm grazes across them.

“Still okay? You need water? A snack? Do you want me to pull out now, or do you need a minute? Take your time, baby, no rush - just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

He’s already brushing your hair back, peppering your shoulders and neck with the softest kisses like he can’t help himself. And he really can’t. He’s not thinking straight. All he can do is touch you. Kiss you. Hold you. Because he loves you so fucking much it’s making him lightheaded.

Once you give him the okay. A small little nudge. He pulls out slowly - so slowly - hand on your lower back, the other bracing your hip, whispering, “Easy, easy, baby… I got you,” as if your body might fall apart without him holding it together.

And when the toy slips free with a wet pop, his breath catches. You flinch just the slightest bit and he’s already bending down, voice tender and panicked all at once - “Did that hurt? Hey, hey, look at me. You okay, pretty girl?”

You nudge him again to continue, a small whine that he's being too much which he releases an airy laugh. His heart is still pounding. Not from the sex, not entirely, it’s from the trust. From how warm you feel. From the way you whispered “Do you think I can take both of you?” like it wasn’t the thing that just restructured his brain chemistry forever.

He presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, then your lower back, then between your shoulder blades, murmuring “Good girl” between each one, believing that if he says it enough times, maybe you’ll understand how much you mean to him.

“Gonna clean you up, love. Warm rag, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

His hands tremble slightly as he leaves your side - just for a second, just a second, stay right there, baby - and returns with a soft, damp cloth. It’s not even hot anymore, but he tests it on the inside of his wrist like you might bruise if it’s a degree too warm.

Every wipe comes with a whisper.

“You did so well for me, baby.” “Still with me? Want some water?” “I know, I know - it’s a lot. You were so brave.” “I’ll make you breakfast after this. Whatever you want. Okay?”

When he wipes between your legs, he's practically holding his breath, voice breaking around the edges.

“Hurts at all? Tell me, please. I need to know. Want you feeling good, not sore - shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone so deep - ”

You have to grab his wrist to get him to calm down, which only makes him melt harder. He exhales a laugh, quiet and shaky, before leaning down to nuzzle against your cheek.

“I just… fuck, I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much it’s stupid. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You’re still blinking through the haze of afterglow and overstimulation, and he can’t stop brushing your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your expression. “Hey, baby - still okay? Still feeling good?”

You nod, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” he whispers again. “You have to tell me if anything hurts, okay? Or if it’s too much. Or if you feel funny. Or cold. Or if you want a bath. Do you want a bath? I’ll run one. I’ll add bubbles. Epsom salt. Rose petals if we have them.”

“You’re rambling,” you murmur, voice small, and it makes him smile like a lovesick idiot.

“I know,” he says, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “I’m just so in love with you, that’s all.”

He doesn’t even try to play it cool.

When he finally wraps you up in a clean shirt - his shirt, because it smells like him and he likes the idea of you covered in his scent - he tucks you into his lap on the couch, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he can fuse your hearts together if he holds you close enough.

"You warm enough?" "Want a snack?" "Want me to braid your hair while you rest?" "You okay, sweet girl? Still feeling good?"

Every five seconds. He’s hopeless. Disgustingly in love. His fingers brush over your thighs, your tummy, your shoulders, checking for signs of soreness, massaging the base of your spine as you curl up into him.

And then, quietly, “Hey. You really meant it, right? You really want… both of us?”

You hum, eyes fluttering as you rest your cheek against his chest. “Mhm. I want you, Suguru.”

His throat gets tight. His arms tighten around you. Watching you pick a show on the screen as he continues peppering you in kisses.

Just a man in love.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Every time I watch the cold open of Memorial and B'Elanna tells Tom about how she ASSEMBLED a 50's television set from SCRATCH just to surprise him (there's no reason beyond that - just an incredibly sweet and thoughtful gesture) and replicated popcorn for him to eat while he watches and Tom says "They didn't have remote controls in the 50's ♥ Also where's my beer?" I contemplate murder ESPECIALLY because B'Elanna responds cheerfully to it - GIRL!!! LEAVE HIM!!!!!! IS HE SUPPOSED TO BE CHARMING IN THIS SCENE????