#like is Ever giving him therapy? no he has Brain Chip or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Not Alone

heartwitchhouse request: Hey uh.. can I get Logan introducing Thomas to neurodivergent communities online?

Sure you can, babe! Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: none

Warnings: also...none? there’s some discussion on having anxiety, depresion, and ADHD with some self-doubt but it’s not that bad

Word Count: 2899

It’s just a little off.

It’s not like it’s some big obvious thing that his parents immediately took notice of. It’s not something his doctor noted on his sheet and made sure to talk about. It’s not even something one of his teachers gently pulled him aside for.

It’s just…not quite right.

He knows that his classmates don’t struggle to stare at the board or their work for like…three minutes at a time, but he also knows one of his classmates who can’t do it for three seconds. He knows the others don’t lapse into gray hazes where doing literally anything feels like an insurmountable force, but he also knows the kids that can’t even come to school on certain days.

He knows people who are better, but he also knows people who are worse.

He has good days. Great days. Great weeks, even. It’s just…sometimes he’ll have a bad day and he can’t help but look at everybody else who’s having a worse day.

And here’s the thing. He knows how to work through it.

He can put his head down and just get things done. It doesn’t matter that he can’t focus for more than three minutes, he’ll do the work he can in those three minutes and then move onto something else. Maybe he’ll get to cycle back and pick it up again later. He can shake his head to clear it and squint at his work again, just to finish this one page through the haze. He can make it.

But it’s just that; making it.

He can’t deny the way the polite smile from his teachers settles heavily in the pit of his stomach saying that yeah, he did fine, but he could’ve done better. The way the list of things he needs to do gets checked off by just the bare minimum, something he’s going to have to redo in just a few days, makes his hands itch. The insecurities over all the things he could have done, could have done better, all the things he’s missed, pile up in his brain until he has to shove them all away just to breathe on bad days. But doesn’t everyone struggle with insecurity now and then? This is normal, right?

Or is it just a little off?

“Oh, I’m sure you’d feel better if you just exercised more! Get yourself a workout schedule, there’s no better free therapy!”

Running makes his chest feel like it’s going to explode. His arms and legs ache after the first round of whatever ‘beginner’ program he decides to try once. The gray haze only flourishes, steady as ever on bad days.

“Just focus on your studies, I’m sure once you’ve got more structure in your life it’ll help you feel better, sweetie.”

Work pounds into his head and he gets it done. All the things he could’ve done better stay there too, bold and bright on the page next to red slashes of ink. He puts his head down and goes, goes, goes. That doesn’t help the bad days, it just pushes them off. Then they get worse.

“Maybe you just need to go outside more often, sunlight can do wonders for you!”

Listen. He and the sun have an agreement. The sun doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like the sun. It’s better if they just…stay out of each other’s way. He could do without the achy headaches the bright light gives him.

“Are you sure you’re drinking enough water? Are you eating the right stuff?”

His budget quickly becomes strained with the amount of ‘healthy food’ he’s supposed to buy. The piles of ‘proper ingredients’ sit in his cabinet, unused, taunting him with how difficult it’ll be to figure out how to eat them. The guilt over not using them worries at his throat as he’s forced to toss them out as they go bad. He gets raised eyebrows from everyone with how often he has to go to the bathroom. The ensuing doctor’s visit is one he’d rather not repeat any time soon, even though at that point it’s just…you know those days where you’re like ‘this might as well happen? Adult life is already so goddamn weird?’

“At least you can get out of bed most days. You seemed fine yesterday!”

…yesterday was yesterday. And just because he got out of bed doesn’t mean anything. It wasn’t really a conscious choice, he just…had to do it.

“You’re not nearly as bad as—“

You know, it doesn’t really matter who they put at the end of that. The point is he’s not as bad as other people. So he doesn’t get the support that they get.

He doesn’t get the polite nods from professors when he needs an extension. He doesn’t get the medication prescribed to him for something that he shouldn’t need because he’s ‘healthy.’ When he finally tries therapy, the therapist compliments him on how easily he’s able to hold a conversation, maintain eye contact, and asks him if he’s tried keeping a diary.

During the nights when he can’t sleep, when the blankets feel way too rough, like sleeping on sandpaper that rubs persistently at his skin, he tosses and turns and thinks…would it be better if…

Would it be better if it were worse?

If it were more obvious, if he actually had depression, anxiety, ADHD, something with a name that people could recognize, or even just the freedom to say he had something…would that be better?

He doesn’t cry every day. He can still feel things most of the time. He eats. He drinks water. He sleeps. He goes outside. He doesn’t get high or drink or do anything to try and numb the pain or escape it. He doesn’t have suicidal thoughts.

But it still feels like he’s not quite right.

If he were worse…people would be more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be accused of milking anything for attention. He wouldn’t get scolded for making light of other people’s problems. He wouldn’t be faking it. Is he faking it? Is he blowing it up out of proportion?

Is it really as bad as he thinks it is?

He finds the perfect metaphor almost by accident. He’s over at a friend’s house one day and they’re in the kitchen, getting hot chocolate to drink before starting their movie night. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a mug with flowers all over it. As he turns to give it to his friend, he notices a chip in the rim.

“Oh, oh gosh, I, um, I’m sorry—“

“What? What’s wrong?” His friend takes the mug from his stuttering hands and squints at it. Her brow smooths out and she laughs. “Oh, are you worried about the chip?”

“…yeah. I don’t—I don’t think I did it?”

“You didn’t,” she says easily, filling it with hot milk, “it’s always been like that.”

“Oh, okay.” The black fuzzy things buzzing about his head settle at that as he leans back against the counter, ready to accept the mug of hot chocolate. It’s warm, pleasantly so, sending a rush of contentment up his arms as he cups his palms around it. “Where’s yours?”

“I’m almost done!”

He looks back down at the hot chocolate, shimmering brown with the kitchen light’s reflection. Tilting his head, he examines the chip in the ceramic. It’s not that big, barely noticeable, but there’s a sharp edge on the inside. He’ll have to be careful he doesn’t drink from that side. Wouldn’t do to burn his tongue and accidentally cut his lip.

“Alright! I’m ready, let’s—ah!”

Her yelp startles him out of whatever hot-chocolate-drinking-planning haze he’d been in, only to see his friend staring at the floor with her hands over her mouth.

“Hey, whoa, are you okay? What happened?”

“I, um—“ oh, no, she sounds so upset, let’s help her!— “I dropped my mug.”

Sure enough, as he hustles around the counter, he sees the broken mug, lying on the floor, hot chocolate spilling mockingly from the remains. He sets his mug—carefully!—on the counter, looking around for the paper towels.

“Did you get hurt?”

“What?” Her gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “No, no, it’s just…that was my favorite mug.”

A horrible sadness settles in his chest as he looks at her and he gently knocks their elbows. “It looks like it’s still got some pretty big pieces, we could…maybe we could fix it?”

“You came over here to watch movies, not to fix my mug.”

“We can do both, can’t we?”

So there they end up, with the lights on, newspaper spread on the floor, hot glue gun, superglue, carefully piecing together broken ceramic as Finding Nemo plays in the background. By the time the seagulls are all racing around the screen, frantically yelling ‘mine!’ they’ve set the now-fixed mug gingerly on the counter, out of harm’s way, and cleaned up all the spilled hot chocolate. As the night creeps on, their eyes growing heavier and heavier, they make it through Mulan, The Princess and the Frog, and The Nightmare Before Christmas. Just before they start The Black Cauldron, his friend gently taps the side of the mug.

“…I think it’s fixed!”

“Wait, really? That was fast!”

“Dude, it was like…at least six hours ago.”

“Is that how fast superglue sets?”

“Have you never used superglue before?”

“Hey!”

The sight of his friend with her favorite mug cradled in her lap makes him smile as he turns his attention back to the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her talking softly to herself, saying how she promises to be more careful next time, how she’s so happy the mug is fixed, it’ll be better now, stronger this time. And yet she still cradles the cracked, seamed thing with the same tenderness she did when they first picked up the pieces.

He looks back down at the chipped mug in his lap. The chip is so small. It’s barely noticeable. It doesn’t make the mug leak or anything. The mug still works as a mug.

He runs his thumb over the rim, feeling just the slightest pressure when he runs over the chip. If he tried to drink from that side, it would hurt.

She’s had this mug for…years?

He looks back over at the mug in his friend’s lap.

The broken mug gets fixed.

The chipped mug stays chipped forever.

“Thomas?”

Thomas blinks, looking up from his lap to see Logan standing next to him. Logan adjusts his tie.

“You took a moment to respond.”

“Sorry. Did we, uh, are we late for something? Did I miss a deadline?”

There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it expression that flitters across Logan’s face. Then he adjusts his glasses and it’s gone. Thomas frowns.

“…you okay, bud? What was that?”

“What was what, Thomas?”

“You, uh, you made a face.”

“I have a face, Thomas, we all have faces.”

“But you made an expression.”

“…I believe I am…incapable of not making an expression.”

“Logan,” Thomas sighs, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

Well, he certainly takes him by surprise at any rate. Logan glances around—is he worried the others are going to show up?—and adjusts his glasses again.

“I suppose I was…perturbed,” he settles on finally, “that your immediate assumption when I appeared was that I was going to…reprimand you in some way.”

Oh. “Jeez, um, sorry, Logan, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Logan waves him off. “It’s quite alright.”

“But…no, it’s not.” Thomas shakes his head. “You…we gotta talk about this…more, but that’s not the only thing you’re important for. You know that, right?”

…well, Logan’s certainly making a face now. It’s the same one he made after Remus first appeared, after Thomas called him ‘cool.’ After a moment of savoring Logan looking a little flustered, he prompts him gently.

“Did you wanna talk about something?”

“Right,” Logan says quickly, shaking himself, “do you remember our conversation about neurodivergent communities?”

Right. They’d been talking about trying to find therapists during COVID and how it would be difficult since, y’know…going outside is more than kind of a no-no. Virgil had brought up how it’s almost impossible to get a good read on whether or not a therapist would be appropriate for them without a proper appointment, which…kind of led to everyone agreeing that maybe it would be better to try just the texting one first. Logan had mentioned trying to find a group of people to talk to, not just a single person, until Janus said something about not knowing how to navigate something like that.

Not one of their more productive conversations.

“Since your desire to try and see a therapist seems to have stagnated,” Logan says as Thomas nods, “I have found an alternative solution that I believe might be more suited to your current approach to your mental health problems.”

“I don’t—Logan, I don’t have—“

The look Logan levels at him is enough to get him to shush.

“What’s the solution?”

“One of the main obstacles for finding a therapist or seeking help in a group setting was an unawareness of how to properly navigate those dynamics, correct?” Thomas nods. “Then it seems that a solution would be to simply find a group where you do understand the dynamics, yes?”

“…how do I do that?” Thomas scruffs a hand through his hair. “I—look, I…I get that I should talk to someone, we made that clear but it’s just—I don’t—“

Logan waits patiently, his head tilted slightly, as Thomas struggles for words.

“…it’s not that bad,” Thomas says lamely.

“But we’ve established that—“

“I know, I know,” Thomas groans, burying his head in his hands, “but it’s just like—I don’t think I belong there.”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t that for people who have it worse?”

There must be some note of hysteria in that last word because Logan blinks and eases himself down onto the couch next to him, folding his hands in his lap and waiting patiently. When it’s clear Thomas isn’t going to be able to make words go for a while, he clears his throat.

“You don’t want to join a space in which you are not welcome, correct?”

Thomas nods miserably.

“This idea that you will not be welcome stems from the idea that your problems are not…severe enough?”

“Aren’t they?”

“Why must they be more severe for you to seek help?”

“I don’t know, I just—what if they think I’m faking?”

“Are you?”

That’s the kicker, isn’t it? When Thomas looks helplessly at Logan, uncertainty probably written plainly all over his face, Logan tilts his head.

“If you have to ask whether or not you’re faking,” he says in a soft voice Thomas rarely hears, “it’s almost certain that you are not.”

Thomas just nods dumbly.

“Mental illnesses can manifest in a variety of ways,” Logan continues in that same soft voice—and anyone who says Logan doesn’t understand emotion can get out—“and you do not have to fulfill a certain standard of ‘bad’ in order to seek help.”

“But then how do I find people to—who will—who are gonna—“

“…understand?”

“Yeah.”

Logan’s mouth quirks up. “When was the last time you were on Tumblr?”

Thomas blinks. “Excuse me? Also don’t you know that?”

“I do.” Logan gestures to Thomas’s phone. “You wanted a space where you understand how to interact with people and where talking about these types of things will not be a drastic breach of boundaries, yes?”

“…yeah?”

“You would be surprised at the amount of neurodivergent communities online.”

“So why’re you asking me about Tumblr?” The second it comes out of his mouth Thomas’s eyes widen. “Logan—“

“I am not suggesting that be your only source of help, by any means,” Logan says quickly, “but it might serve as a good starting point. You know what is to be expected from Tumblr—relatively speaking,” he corrects when Thomas makes a face, “and it will help you see that, despite what you may think, you’re not alone.”

Logan stands, giving Thomas one last look before he sinks out.

“…and you don’t have to be grateful it isn’t worse, Thomas.”

Thomas looks down at his phone. He opens the app and types something into the search bar.

Logan was right. People…people talk about stuff on Tumblr. Admittedly, it’s Tumblr, so it’s an absolute hellsite, but there is something a little reassuring about being able to just…word vomit into a post and see other people doing the same.

Friendly reminder that people’s symptoms are gonna manifest in different ways and you’re not allowed to judge someone who experiences something different than you

REMINDED THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO GRATEFUL THAT THINGS AREN’T WORSE WE DO NOT PLAY THE PAIN OLYMPICS IN THIS HOUSE

You’re not alone.

He’s still gonna have to figure out how to find a therapist. He’s still gonna have to figure out how to talk about this kind of stuff.

But for now, he can sit here and scroll and realize that there are words he can use to describe these things and it finally might start feeling right.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @marshmallow-fluffy @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thefingergunsgirl @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @such-a-dumbass

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know ^_^

#sanders sides #character thomas #logan sanders #dragonbabbles #fic

191 notes · View notes

cockasinthebird · 5 years ago

Text

I dreamt last night that Billy and Steve were both hospitalized after the event at Starcourt

Steve in Urgent Care, being watched closely by the government to ensure that the Russians hasn't fitted him with any odd devices like maybe a tracker or some kind of mind control chip, and of course to ensure that whatever drug he was on earlier doesn't have any serious side effects, but he's fine, really, and this is all too annoying to deal with, he just wants five minutes alone

Billy is in the ICU, barely alive, rarely awake, drifting in and out of consciousness, doctors and machines everywhere, some people in lab coats followed closely by big guards. It would be so easy for this to be the end of him; he could just give up now and drift away, finally a way out that isn't really his fault in the end, so maybe he can go out like a hero, being remembered for having saved El and Max and everyone else in the world practically

But then he sees Steve, dressed in his own hospital gown, hair a limp mess, face bloodied, but... smiling. Billy can't talk, can't smile, for he's got a tube going down his throat, hair shaved off and an ugly scar where the scientists and doctors got a good look at his brain to see the after effects of having been “mind flayed”, whatever the fuck that means, and his entire body aches near constantly - the morphine doing a shit job

Steve mumbles something about just wanting to see how he’s doing, talks about himself too, how he’s fine and just wants to go home, but they’re keeping him here because it’s easier to keep an eye on him that way, and Steve might not be as dumb as Billy thought once

And Steve sits down on a chair he’s pulled up next to Billy’s bed, and turns on the tv

They watch Jeopardy together, at 3am, Steve getting almost all the answers wrong as he guesses along, and Billy wants to laugh, but doesn’t feel like he’s physically capable of even that

The next day Steve shows up again three times; breakfast, lunch, dinner. Sometimes he talks, sometimes he just eats in silence, but Billy doesn’t really care either way, he’s just happy he’s not alone

Steve mentions that Max really wants to visit, but she’s not allowed to, some big brutes in suits stand guard and keeps everyone away. Neither of them really know why they allow Steve to visit, but they’re not going to complain about it

Sometimes Steve shows up at night, turns on the tv and leans against Billy’s bed. He looks exhausted, bags heavy under his eyes, no glow to his usually somewhat cheery expressions, and Billy wants to ask what’s wrong, but the tube remains in the way, and neither of them talk

Eventually Steve falls asleep, head on his arms that rest crossed near Billy’s legs. And he doesn’t wake up till a nurse at 5am asks him kindly to go back to his own room and get some rest there

After about two weeks, give or take, Billy can’t tell time anymore, Steve shows up in a set of fresh clothes that Dustin and his mom brought, because he’s being discharged from the Hospital, and promises to come visit as often as he can, but he’s not allowed to drive yet after… everything that has happened, but he will be back

And he visits several times a week at first, Billy never doubted it, but as Steve returns to the real world out there, he shows up less and less. Every time he does visit he apologises profusely, and talks about his “normal life” and how everything is - how everyone is doing, and he asks Billy how he’s doing, but all he can do is nod

Not that he’d tell the truth if he could

The day comes when Billy finally gets the tube removed, and although he hasn’t spoken in nearly two months, hoarsely he asks for them to call for Steve and have him come visit

And Steve smiles big when he sees Billy doing the same, which is an odd experience for the both of them, because whatever hatred they had for each other got knocked down a notch when Billy sacrificed himself, and through the last month or so it has almost grown to friendship

After that Steve visits far more regularly, always with food that definitely isn’t a part of a healthy diet, but it tastes fucking amazing compared to the hospital food

They talk and talk and laugh, watch tv, read magazines, eat. Steve tried to get Billy to play some board games with him but hell no he’s not doing that. It all almost feels normal

What could have been- what should have been

When Billy starts physical therapy, he feels his self hatred amp it up by a thousand, because he used to be strong, be the fucking King around Hawkins, but months of being hospitalised and sewn together and only getting up to shower has made him nearly dwindle away

His tan has started to fade, muscles weak and useless, everything just feels sore constantly, and most movement of the legs feel dull and weirdly impossible, and as he has thought so many times during this process, he should have just died. They should have let him

But… Steve’s there, here, always present, shows up for every session he has with the physical therapist without fail. And Steve’s no less stronger than he was before all of this happened; he supports all of Billy without as much as a trembling muscle, and Billy hates him for it, yet he also… loves him for it, and perhaps that’s scarier than anything else that has happened this year

Or ever

Steve’s present too on the days Billy sees a psychiatrist, not that he wants to see one because he’s not insane or mentally disturbed or- he just doesn’t need help, doesn’t want help really, doesn’t want to be seen as weak, or weaker than he obviously is

But Steve explains that he’s seeing a shrink, too, and shares without restraint his own meetings, as they sit and eat junk food on Billy’s bed after his latest appointment, and honestly Billy doesn’t feel as pathetic or weak when Steve talks about going through the same thing, kinda

Time passes, Steve visits near daily, which is weird because doesn’t he have a job at the video store now? He sometimes talks about that girl Robin, but even half a year later nothing has happened between them, and Billy is oddly relieved at that

He’s come to terms with his unrequited feelings for Steve, feelings that he now knows he’s had from the moment he saw him in that parking lot, what feels like ten years ago now. All that anger came from wanting what he couldn’t have, and now it has simmered down to sadness, depressed to know that one day Steve will find a lucky girl and then Billy will become a second choice, or probably a third if he has to fight Robin for Steve’s attention, too… maybe fourth, what with Dustin and the gang

And he truly believes he can live with that, even if it does make him want to cry, which he rarely did before, but everything has changed now

He’s changed

For the better or worse, he can't quite tell, but now he can make Steve smile and laugh, so he can convince himself it's all for the better

Eventually, after almost a year in therapy and being basically a test subject, he's released on two conditions

1, he has to stay in Hawkins, no leaving it unless escorted by assigned guards

2, he has to "voluntarily" show up two times a week for tests and check ups

And there's a moment where he doesn't want to leave

Not because of those two conditions, because that'd be better than being hospitalised for the rest of your life, right?

But because he's not sure where his life is going, where his place is in this world anymore

Neil won't take him back, but even if that was an actual option, he'd have chosen the uncomfortable hospital bed instead

He can't go back to school, or rather he's not allowed to, and he can't go back to being a lifeguard, not with all these scars and a general inability to fucking swim

At least here at the hospital he's got some semblance of purpose in life, although it isn't much of a way to live

When he mentions it to Steve he's depressed, downtrodden, completely and utterly destroyed, because there's no place for him anymore anywhere, he'll forever be caught in the limbo of Hawkins

But Steve- he… He places his hand on top of Billy's, warm and soft and grounding, and as he smiles so softly, so lovingly, he says "There's a place for you in my life"

And suddenly nothing else matters than that, than there, here, in Steve's life

In Steve's hand

#Harringrove #My Writing #fluffy fluff fluff #Angst #kinda #enough for me to tag it #in my dream Steve had an IV drip #but that felt too dramatic tbh

128 notes · View notes

shakespeareanwannabe · 5 years ago

Text

Strange Comforts

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x OC

Summary: A sequel to ‘Protective Instincts’ and a prequel to ‘Best Laid Plans’ (I wish I could link them here but I’m still figuring that stuff out). With T-minus 10 weeks to go before the baby arrives, Pope discovers that it’s the little things in life that bring the most comfort. *This one’s not based off clarke’s wonderful headcanons, but it’s set in the same universe so that’s where the credit goes!*

Warnings: Pregnancy fic, swearing, references to smut, references PTSD, references to therapy

A/N: Hi everyone! This is part three of who-knows-how-many of my Dad!Pope series. I’m still looking for a series title, and I’m trying to figure out how to create a masterlist for this so I can put them in order for y’all. I hope you enjoy! I loved reading your comments for the last two! Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments!

***

“…and, unless someone else wants to share, I think we’ll wrap up for today,” the kind-eyed therapist addressed the group of veterans, shooting a small glance towards Pope out of the corner of his eye.

True to his word, Santiago had been attending group therapy sessions for the last six months, his first session taking place exactly a week after Bex had told him the good news. Will had highly recommended this therapist, having gone to see him himself when his fiancée had left him, and hoped he could shed some light on Pope’s issues so that he wouldn’t walk out on his pregnant girlfriend next time things got hard.

And Pope had been attending the sessions. Listening to what other veterans said, the issues they were going through, it helped. Sure, both Frankie and Will had been fairly vocal about the problems they ran into while trying to adjust to civilian life, and Pope knew that Tom had had massive difficulties when they forced him to retire, and Benny’s issues were plain to see even if he didn’t talk about them, but those were his friends, his brothers, his family. They had all seen the same shit, so, clearly, they would have similar issues. But hearing random strangers, Marines, and Rangers, Navy and Military and Air Force men and women speak about seeing IEDs everywhere, and drinking to forget, and panicking at the sight of blood was…strangely comforting. The only problem was that Pope could never bring himself to speak.

He wanted to. God knew he wanted to. He needed to be okay. For Bex and the baby, for Frankie and Charlie and Mateo, for Benny and Will, for Molly and the girls, and, most importantly, for himself. So he could stop feeling like a major fuck up in every aspect of his life, so he could feel deserving of the life he had inexplicably been blessed with. But whenever he would try to open his mouth, he froze. How could he possibly talk about the shit he had done in the name of freedom? Was there a way to talk about his instincts shutting his emotions down without coming across as a cold-hearted bastard? Why did his tongue stop working whenever he tried to talk about how deathly afraid he was of screwing up this baby’s life, Bex’s life, their life together as a family? How deathly afraid he was that he had already screwed up Frankie’s, Will’s, and Benny’s lives? How he had nightmares of when Tom had died?

Santiago used to think he was a brave man, but now he felt like a coward. He could face down armed sicarios and terrorists without batting an eye, but he couldn’t talk about his emotions to save his family. It was complete and utter bullshit in his mind.

“Alright everyone, I’ll see you next week,” the therapist dismissed the group and Pope shot to his feet, beelining towards the coffee station.

Everyone else stood around talking, chatting about their daily lives or the weather or whatever, but Pope focused on mixing his coffee. He used to take it black, but then Bex started teasing him that only psychopaths took their coffee black, so he started mixing milk and sugar in instead. He liked it, but he needed it to be perfect.

“You actually drink this swill?” the therapist came up behind him and chuckled.

Pope cracked a smile. “I’ve had worse.”

“Haven’t we all,” he murmured. “Question Mark.”

Santiago shook his hand. “Pope.”

“You’re Ironhead’s friend, right?” Pope nodded. “Damn…he’s told me some of the crap you guys have been through. Sounds like holy hell.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Shit, man. No wonder you don’t talk during these meetings.”

Pope felt himself flush. “I mean…you know…”

“Hey, it’s fine. This is a no pressure situation. You just had me curious is all. Either you get people who don’t stop talking, or people who never talk in these sessions. But you…you always look like you want to talk but think better of it.”

Pope shrugged. “It’s like you said. Holy hell. Got used to not talking about the bad stuff.”

“So, what changed?”

Pope smiled softly, his eyes taking on a far-off look. “My girl’s pregnant.”

“Congratulations, man,” Question Mark slapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks…” Pope shook his head slowly, sadly. “I almost screwed it up. Hell, I’m half convinced that I did, and this is all a dream. But when she told me…”

Question Mark was already nodding. “All of your training went haywire? Started imagining the worst?”

Pope cocked his eyebrow grimly. “Basically.”

The therapist nodded understandingly. “I get that. Same thing happened to me when my wife got pregnant with our third. Despite the other two being great kids, something about my last tour made me think that I’d screw the pooch with the new one. Checked myself into a hotel for a few days and drank myself silly until my brother-in-law showed up and told me that my kids were asking about me. That sobered me up pretty quick.”

Pope grinned grimly. “It was my buddy Catfish for me. Called me and reamed me out, and if Ironhead has told you anything about Fish, you know that he’s not the type at all. But it shook me enough to get my ass back to my house and beg for her forgiveness.”

“But you still sometimes think it’s all a dream?”

“I always thought guys like me don’t get the happy ending.” Pope sipped his coffee and shrugged. “But I’ll take it and run with it. She’s the best thing in my life. I’m not gonna let her down again.”

Question Mark smiled and dug into his pocket, pulling out first his wallet, then his card from his wallet. “Listen, Pope. I know how it can feel trying to talk to a room full of strangers. It sucks sometimes. If you ever want to chat, just one on one, give me a call. I’d be happy to help.”

Pope sucked in a deep breath and took the card. “Yeah, man. That would be great. Thank you.”

“No worries, man. Just, do me a favour?” Pope nodded. “Remember that you deserve this, okay?”

With a final clap on the shoulder, Question Mark moved away and began chatting with another member of the group.

Pope guzzled down the rest of his coffee and threw out the cup, heading home after a successful session.

***

Bex giggled to herself at the soft sounds of cursing and arguing emanating from the spare bedroom as she stirred the pitcher of lemonade.

Frankie, Benny and Will had come over to help Pope put together the furniture for the nursery and, based on the echoes she was hearing, it was not going particularly well. She had abandoned her rocking chair in favour of making the team refreshments after Benny had let loose a string of impressive swear words in two different languages. At approximately 30 weeks pregnant, laughing as hard as she did while listening to Ben swear himself blue in the face just made her have to pee, so she dismissed herself knowing that if she didn’t she would have to endure a lifetime of teasing.

“Just a sec!” she called out as the doorbell rang.

Slow and steady footsteps descended the stairs as a call of “I got it, babe!” echoed down the hall. Rebecca came around the corner with her tray of lemonade and potato chips as Pope handed over a few crisp twenty-dollar bills to the pizza delivery guy.

“Thanks man, you have a good day,” he smiled as he closed the door.

“Mmm, what’d you get?” she inhaled deeply. She’d gotten pretty lucky with the cravings so far, but she would not deny that pizza sounded pretty damn good.

“Got us a meat lovers, got you a pepperoni and pineapple since I know you’ve been on a sweet and salty kick lately.” Pope opened the smaller box to reveal the steaming, cheesy pizza and Bex felt her mouth begin to water.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” she asked, placing her tray of snacks on top of the pizza boxes Pope was holding out to her.

He smirked at her, his eyes drifting up and down her body slowly. “You told me several times this morning, but I’ll never stop you from saying it again.”

Rebecca felt herself flush at the memory. Those second trimester hormones had hit her hard and seemed to be lasting a good long while, and Pope was certainly not complaining. His girl was stunning. She was always stunning to him, but that primal part of his brain told him that she was even more stunning when she had a belly full of his baby. Her bump was prominent, her tits were bigger and more sensitive, her skin was glowing, and that alpha male voice inside his brain crowed every time he woke up to her beautiful face and growing belly that it was all because of him. He had knocked her up and, thank God, she had decided that she loved him enough to want to raise a family with him. She was achy and uncomfortable, but she loved him and wanted his kid, and that meant more to him than he could ever say. Luckily, with the influx of hormones the past few months, he had been able to show her instead.

He watched as she slowly climbed the stairs, taking care to stay a few steps behind her just in case.

“How’s it going up here anyway?”

Pope groaned. “I don’t get it, baby. I can field strip any gun you put in my hands blindfolded. All of us can. How the fuck is this stuff beating us?”

Bex giggled softly as she entered the nursery and absorbed the scene in front of her. What she wouldn’t give for her phone right now so she could take a picture. Benny sat in the middle of the floor, looking like he was about to cry; crib pieces scattered around him. Will was leaning against the wall with a tired hand over his eyes, a half-assembled dresser beside him. Frankie was sitting in her abandoned rocking chair, cap pulled low over his eyes. He looked like he could be asleep, if only his leg wasn’t bouncing up and down anxiously.

“Soups on, fellas,” Pope announced, prompting the team to abandon their projects for paper plates piled high with pizza slices and tall glasses of lemonade.

Bex smiled fondly at her family as Pope, Benny and Will sat against the far wall underneath the bay window, the three men examining the assembly directions for the crib like they were preparing for a siege.

Frankie held out his hand to offer her the rocking chair but she shook her head. “If I sit in that thing any longer, I feel like I’m gonna turn into a grandmother instead of a mom.”

Frankie cracked a small smile. “Fair enough…” he scanned the room quickly before meeting her eyes again. “Do you want me to go grab a chair from the kitchen?”

Again, she shook her head. “The floor is good, Frankie.”

“You sure? I can—”

“As long as you promise to help me up when I inevitably need to pee, I’m positive,” she chuckled.

“You got it, kid,” Frankie held her hands to help her gently lower herself onto the hardwood floor before throwing himself down beside her. “How ya feeling?”

Bex shrugged as she bit into her deliciously sweet and salty slice of pizza. “You know, I’m actually alright. I know I’ve gotten pretty lucky, but I thought this whole pregnancy thing would be a lot tougher.”

Frankie nodded kindly as he chewed on his own slice. “I remember how Charlie was when she was pregnant with Mateo,” he reminisced. “Couldn’t sleep more than ten minutes at a time, constantly had to pee, had to wear these ugly compression socks. She handled it like a champ for the first 30 or so weeks, but by the time he was finally ready to make his entrance, we were both ready for her not to be pregnant anymore.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that,” she murmured. When Frankie had raced over to calm her down after Pope had left, one of the first things he said was that he and Charlie would be there for them, no matter what. And they had been. Charlie in particular had been Bex’s lifeline. She had been so kind and understanding, helping Bex get set up with an OB/GYN, lending her pregnancy and parenting books, and just letting her bitch and cry whenever she needed a female shoulder to cry on. “She said she got to a point where she would’ve given anything to just get Mateo out.”

Frankie nodded. “Oh yeah,” he sighed. “The week before he was born, she was not sleeping. Her emotions were all over the place, she wasn’t hungry, she couldn’t sit still, and she would get angry at me for the littlest things. It got to the point where I didn’t recognize her anymore, you know? Like, where did the woman I love go?”

Bex reached over and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “That must’ve been tough.”

Frankie shrugged. “Like I said, she handled it like a champ. And I sure as shit wasn’t about to complain when she was in labor for the better part of three days.”

Bex whistled lowly. “Three days…Jesus…”

“I’m sure it won’t be that way for you,” he backtracked quickly, playing with the back of his cap as he ducked his head. “I dunno the statistics or anything but…”

“Hey, hey, Frankie, chill. It’s okay.” She pulled his hand away from his hat and ran her hand up and down his arm. “You feeling okay, Frankie? You seem…on edge.”

Frankie looked across the room at his brothers, deeply entrenched in the assembly directions, before sighing. “She’s pregnant again,” he whispered.

A bright smile crossed her face. “What? Oh my god, congratulations!” She reached out and wrapped her arms as best she could around his shoulders.

“Thanks…” he sighed.

“Do you…did you not want another baby?” she asked, confused at his dismal attitude. Frankie had been the one to talk Pope off the cliff, telling him how great fatherhood could be. And it was clear through his interactions with Mateo that he was an amazing father. He was one of those dads who flourished under the responsibilities of parenthood, who saw taking care of their child as a joy and a privilege, not as a job or as babysitting. If there was one thing Rebecca knew for sure, it was that Francisco Morales was a family man through and through, so she was a little surprised at the dread in her friend’s eyes. She had expected Frankie to be more…enthusiastic about having a second baby.

“Of course, I do, Bex, I just…” Frankie groaned, doffing his cap for a moment to run a stressed hand through his hair before redonning it. “I’m making jack shit right now at work, and Mateo is almost three, and the pregnancy was so rough on Charlie last time…I just…I can’t let my family down.”

Charlie shuffled herself closer and wrapped her arm around Frankie, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. “You won’t…” she murmured softly. “Yeah, this kid was unexpected but you and I both know your wife. She wouldn’t be having a second kid if she didn’t want one. Plus, you both know what to expect now. Hopefully she’ll have an easier time this go around, but you also know the signs and what kinds of questions to ask. And yeah, Mateo is young, but that’s okay. You guys can start teaching him responsibility early and, if they both end up being too much, call Benny to take Mateo.” Frankie cocked his eyebrow and Bex laughed. “Well, I was gonna say call Santi, but we’re gonna be a little busy ourselves. Benny’s energy can match a three-year-old easily though.” Frankie chuckled and wrapped his arm around his best friend’s girl. “As for money,” Bex shrugged. “I know Santi could use some help managing the security firm. He wanted you to partner with him anyway, and he’s still holding out hope that you’ll join him, so why not?”

Frankie nodded slowly. “I could help him out a couple of days a week and still teach flying lessons. Yeah, that could work. I’ll talk with him and see what he says.”

Bex chuckled as she shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not gonna be much of a conversation, Frankie, trust me. He’s been hoping you’ll take him up on his offer. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s missed working with you.”

Frankie smiled softly as he watched Pope grab Benny in a headlock while Will shook his head slowly. “Yeah, I missed him too.”

Bex shifted again and Frankie stood, gently helping her stand, recognizing the signs immediately. The two watched the MMA fighter and the security firm director wrestle on the floor for a minute before Will was able to separate them.

Bex turned to Frankie and smiled. “If you really missed him, can you do me a favour?”

“Anything for you, kid,” he smiled back at her.

“Stop fucking around and help them build the damn furniture please. I know you put together all of Mateo’s furniture on your own, so please, put them out of their misery.”

Frankie’s loud bark of laughter startled everyone. He wrapped his arm around Bex and gave her a quick squeeze. “Sure thing, kid. Hey, idiotas! Let’s get moving. We want this stuff ready before the baby’s first birthday, okay?”

***

Pope sighed contentedly as the golden rays of the setting sun illuminated the dust particles dancing in the air. These moments were quickly turning into his favourite nightly ritual.

The radio droned lowly as he sat in bed, dressed in a pair of shorts, with Bex sitting reclined against his chest. He had just finished applying coco butter to her skin, and now his hands were resting gently on her belly, waiting for their kid to make their presence known.

Bex took a deep breath, allowing the air to escape through her lips as she cuddled further down into bed, resting her head just above her boyfriend’s heart. She loved these moments too, when it was just the two of them. No museum breathing down her neck, no art classes to teach, no security emergencies calling him away from her. Just the two of them, bonding with the baby that was nestled safely within her.

Sometimes, Santiago would talk to the baby when they sat like this. He’d tell stories about his childhood, about their relationship, about the kid’s future aunts and uncles. Sometimes, he would play classical music on his phone and direct the speaker towards her belly. Sometimes, he would talk to her, sharing his thoughts and fears, tell her about the things that he wanted to do with their kid when they were old enough. Most of the time, he would just hold her in silence and wait for the kid to kick or roll inside of her so he could feel it.

“The nursery looks really nice, babe,” she mumbled drowsily, wincing slightly as her skin bulged out against Pope’s palm, the outline of a tiny foot appearing for a brief second.

“That’s all you, sweetheart,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as he soothed his hands up and down her swollen stomach. “The Hundred Acre Woods theme is stunning.”

Originally, Rebecca had wanted a jungle theme for the nursery, but Pope had borderline begged her to do something else, literally anything else, that wouldn’t remind him of crouching in the Colombian jungles next to Tom the day before everything went to shit. So, he hadn’t complained when she announced that she was going to Disney-fy the kid’s room with a mural of the Hundred Acre Woods and all of Christopher Robin’s friends.

“I made it pretty, you made it functional,” she yawned, shifting slightly to lie on her side, her left arm wrapping around his side as she nuzzled into his chest.

Pope snorted. “Yeah, once you convinced Frankie to stop being a prick.”

Under Frankie’s direction, all of the furniture was put together in less than an hour. The solid oak crib, dresser/changing table, shelving unit and rocking chair pulled the room together nicely, and the white bassinet sat in the corner of their bedroom, waiting to be put to use.

Rebecca smiled sleepily. “Not my fault you three didn’t notice that the one dad in the group was sitting around twiddling his thumbs.”

Pope grinned down at her. “We make a pretty good team, huh baby?”

She lifted her droopy eyes to him for a moment and smiled brightly at him. “Forever and always, my love.” She ran a gentle hand over her belly and sighed happily. “You’re stuck with me now.”

It suddenly struck Santiago how badly he wanted that to be true. What wouldn’t he give to wake up next to this beautiful woman every day? To be allowed to love her and spend as much time in her presence as possible? To raise their child together and be a family? To grow old with her by his side?

He ghosted his hand down her side and gently picked up her left hand, running his thumb over the knuckle of her ring finger as she drifted off to sleep.

“Not yet I’m not, mi amor,” he whispered. “But I want to be. If you’ll have me.”

He gently shifted them down the mattress, curling up behind her and resting his hands lovingly on her belly as he settled in to sleep, taking comfort in the knowledge that everyone he loved was safe in his arms that night.

Tags list (open): @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @eternallyvenus, @rae-rae-patcha

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #fanfiction #oscar issac #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #dad!pope

63 notes · View notes

whileyoursleeping · 5 years ago

Text

Grand Gestures

Prompt: we know buck was for grand gestures while he was in a relationship with Abby i.e. the hot air balloon what if he tried something similar with Eddie and Christopher either before or after they were dating and maybe he doesn't even realize it until someone asks him didn't he try doing that before and looking back maybe he has been doing some sorta date like outings with the Diaz boys huh like swan boat rides and mini golf then on a different day watching the sunset or like a picnic too lol

first things first: i’m sorry this took so long. secondly: this prompt got absolutely and wildly out of hand

-------------------------------

The thing is, when he's not working, Buck's got about ten brain cells and they're evenly divided up between researching random facts, working out, and loving his friends.

So he doesn't think things through. It's endearing, right? Mostly? At least after he cooled his jets a little and got out of his Buck 1.0 phase, he thinks it might've become endearing. His fire family joke about him being a golden retriever more times than he cares to count and he'd never admit it but they're probably right.

So he doesn't think about it when he starts taking the Diaz boys places.

He and Eddie have had a rough shift. It's sort of a rough shift in a line of weirdly rough shifts and they're both beaten down, and when Buck picks Chris up from school one day and Chris says, "Bucky, why is Daddy sad?" Buck immediately has to fix it.

He plans a day feeding giraffes at a zoo. Normally his go-to is the pier, but, well, that seems like tempting fate.

"I'm coming over," he announces to Eddie, early on a Saturday morning.

"Okay," Eddie's voice comes, sleepily. "Will you make pancakes?"

Buck's heart swells. He couldn't ever say no. Just thinking about Christopher's face lighting up at the surprise makes him want to drive faster.

When he gets to the Diaz residence, he lets himself in and immediately busies himself in the kitchen, making pancakes. For all Eddie is an amazing firefighter and dad, he's really bad at cooking, and the only reason there are even ingredients around is because Buck leaves them here.

When Christopher stumbles into the room ten minutes later, his face lights up. "Buck, Buck!" he cries, and Buck grins as he leans down and suddenly has an armful of eight year old.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Dad didn't say you were coming! DADDY, BUCK'S HERE!"

Kid has a set of pipes, and Buck almost winces at the volume. "Chris, can you set the table?" he asks.

"Yes!" Chris heads for the drawers and begins laying out plates and cutlery, just as Eddie wanders into the room, shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants that have been cannibalised into shorts. He looks surprised to find himself in the kitchen.

"You're actually making pancakes," he says, amazed. "Dios te amo, Buck."

Buck flushes, unsure if he's feeling suddenly flustered because of Eddie speaking Spanish to him or because Eddie isn't wearing a shirt. "Yeah," he mumbles shyly. "You asked."

Eddie smiles, and it's a little soft and sleepy around the edges, and for a moment Buck feels the weight of the last few shifts lift from his shoulders, and like they've gone back to real normal after the lawsuit. "Gracias a dios por ti," he says.

Does Eddie know what Spanish does to him? It isn't fair either way.

They sit down for pancakes, and Buck immediately sets to cutting Chris's into pieces so Eddie can focus on eating. He's losing the hunted expression he's worn for the last few days, and Buck's proud of himself for that at least.

"So," Eddie yawns, after they've sent Christopher to get dressed. "Not that I mind, but why're you here?"

Despite Eddie's words, and how warm and kind he's been this morning, Buck feels a little anxious suddenly about overstepping his boundaries. "Um," he says. "Well I - I can go if it's not a good time-"

"Buck," Eddie says, gently, and reaches across the table to grab his forearm. "I like having you here. So what's going on?"

Bolstered a little by Eddie's words, Buck smiles. "It's a surprise," he says. "But you should get dressed."

Eddie doesn't like giving up control, Buck knows, but the man only shrugs as he gets up from the table and heads towards his bedroom. While he's gone, Buck takes the dishes to the sink and gets a headstart on them. His mama might not have taught him much, but one thing he did learn is that it's rude to leave dishes in someone else's sink.

"Buck," Eddie's voice says. "You cooked."

"I don't mind," Buck says, mouth drying as he turns to find Eddie in the doorway, wearing a pair of light blue jeans that hug his legs and the white henley he once had on when dragging Buck out of bed. "Um, you look nice."

Eddie's smile only widens. "So do you."

Whatever weird moment they're having, it's shattered when Chris yells, "I'm ready, I'm ready!" and leaves his bedroom on crutches, moving with speed only a motivated eight-year-old has.

~*~

If Buck is a little distracted on the way to the zoo, it's only because he's thinking about how excited Christopher will be, and not because he's analysing hit outfit choice after Eddie's comment.

When they pull up, Eddie's looking out the windshield at the gates with an unreadable expression. "Too much?" Buck asks nervously, as Christopher whoops with glee in the backseat.

"He's wanted to come for ages," Eddie says quietly. "How'd you know?"

"I didn't," Buck admits, "I guessed, but it's been a rough week so I figured something fun would be nice."

That expression doesn't leave Eddie's face, leaving Buck feeling a little nervous as they unpack Chris from the backseat. Eddie ends up with his backpack, as Christopher proclaims his desire to ride on Buck's shoulders his time.

The kid isn't heavy, and it's not like Buck hasn't ever carried him. Still, it's a cool day and his crushed leg aches a little, which Eddie seems to realise as they walk through the park, with Christopher pointing out all the animals to them.

"Your leg okay?" Eddie asks.

Buck thought he was better at covering the limp by now. Apparently not. Eddie was there during his recovery, and Buck's worked really hard at not limping even when he is in pain, but the added weight on his shoulders makes it hard.

"It's okay," Buck says.

"If he's too heavy-"

"He's not," Buck rushes to say, squeezing Chris's shins where they sit around his chest. The kid is holding onto his collar with one hand, the other pointing and waving. "He's not too heavy."

"Okay," Eddie says, slowly, "but I'm buying lunch."

They sit down in the restaurant to eat overpriced fish and chips, and Christopher and Buck trade facts about the animals and ponder which ones would make the coolest hybrids. "Did you know you can make Pokemon hybrids?" Christopher asks.

"No way, can you?"

"Yeah! I'll show you!"

Buck willingly passes over his phone, and he and Chris spend most of lunch giggling over the strange combinations they can make. Eddie watches on, eating quietly, only ever interrupting to ask them a question.

Just past twelve, Buck herds them out to the giraffe enclosure. "Wanna see the giraffes?" he asks Chris.

"Yeah! They're tall like you!"

He laughs, and says, "how 'Bout really up close?"

His heart swells too big for his chest at the shout of joy Christopher gives, and he spends the next half hour feeling like he'll choke on it while they feed the giraffes, with Christopher taking to the baby one in particular. By the time they leave, it's past two, and Chris - who's been awake since seven - has fallen asleep in Buck's arms.

Buck straps him into his seat as Eddie loads the car up with everything from the zoo's gift shop and the photos they took feeding the giraffes. When both car doors close, it's quiet for a moment.

"Thank you," Eddie says quietly.

"I hope I didn't overstep," Buck says quickly. "Maybe it was something you two wanted to do together-"

"I've wanted to bring him for ages," Eddie sighs, "only between physical therapy, rent, bills, Carla, and everything else, I haven't had the time or the money. You didn't overstep."

Buck relaxes a little, feels warm. "Glad I could help."

~*~

Chris is still sleeping when they get to Eddie's, and Buck's the one tasked with bringing everything in while Eddie tucks him into bed. It's early, but there's no harm in letting the kid get some extra sleep, especially when he still occasionally has nightmares about the tsunami.

It's an exhaustion Buck can relate to.

He brings everything in, putting things on the table quietly before going back to shut up his truck. He's limping again - slow walking, especially with an eight year old on his shoulders most of the day, seems to cause his injury to flare up more than almost anything else.

"You okay, Buck?"

He smiles at Eddie. "I'm okay."

"Be honest," Eddie says, in his patented Dad Voice. "I can see you limping."

Eddie's concern feels foreign, especially after the lawsuit and the admittedly still strained relationship they share at times. Buck doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, and is content just being able to be back in Eddie's life. It's still weird, but he's happy.

"Uh," Buck says. "It hurts a little sometimes. When it's cold. Today was just lots of walking, that's all. I'll down some Tylenol and I'll be okay."

"How about you stay?" Eddie asks. "Rest up before heading home. I'll find you some Tylenol."

Buck - who hasn't felt this wanted for a long time - can't even argue.

~*~

The next time they have a rough call, Buck plans a day out on a river boat. The time after that is a beach picnic, and after that, mini golf.

Every time something really bad happens on a call, Buck rushes to fix it. It's after one of these calls, when he's only halfway out of his fire kit and already looking up fun places to be in winter in L.A, that Hen says,

"Back at it with grand gestures, Buckaroo?"

He looks up, blinks. "What?"

She looks almost sympathetic. "The grand gestures?" she asks. "Didn't you already try this with Abby, baby?"

"Abby?" Buck feels about ten steps behind. "Grand gestures?"

Hen is like a mom slash sister to him, and she patiently explains, "The hot air balloon you organised for Abby when her mom was sick? Isn't that why you're taking Eddie and Christopher out on all these dates?"

Dates? Abby? Eddie? Hen's drawn a parallel between Eddie and Abby? Dates?

"Oh fuck," Buck says.

"He didn't know," Chim says, who's just entered the room. "Way to break it to him, Hen."

"I've been wooing Eddie," he realises aloud, a sense of panic creeping up on him.

"Wooing?" Chimney asks.

"Yes you have, Buck," Hen replies patiently.

"When did I start doing that?!"

"I think it was the Ferris wheel," Chimney supplies helpfully.

"No, it was the zoo, when they fed the giraffes," Hen counters. "That was the first one."

"Wait, how come I'm the last person to realise this?!" Buck demands. "You guys knew I was - and you didn't - what?"

"You've done it before," Hen says, very reasonably. "We just figured you were doing it again, only with Eddie."

"Eddie's a man!"

"So we've noticed," Chimney says.

"A beautiful man, though," Hen points out. "He's definitely in my "if I was straight" column."

"You have a column?" Chimney asks.

Hen suddenly looks at Buck. "Oh," she says. "This isn't about Eddie, is it? You didn't actually know that you were trying to date a man. Oh, that's what this is about."

"Buck," Chimney sighs.

"I can't help it, okay! I've been straight for twenty seven years!" Buck is undeniably panicking, because if he was going to have a sexual crisis this late in life why did it have to be about Eddie, of all people?

"First time for everything," Chimney says cheerfully. "Try not to panic, Buck. I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck demands.

Before he can get an answer, Bobby walks in, takes in the sight of them - Hen and Chimney, grinning from ear to ear, and Buck, red-faced, flustered, and half undressed, and says slowly, "What's going on here? Buck? Are you alright?"

"Eddie's a man," Buck says, and flees the room, ignoring the peals of laughter behind him and Cap's stunned face.

He's so flustered he forgets to continue researching activities for all of them to do.

~*~

Buck lays off the grand gestures for a bit, thoroughly and completely freaking out.

He doesn't care much about being into dudes all of a sudden, because it doesn't seem like much to worry about in the grand scheme of things - he still loves and wants to bang women - it's the Eddie factor that's got him all confused.

So he sort of hides and doesn't say or do anything that could make Eddie think that Buck's got any untoward intentions, and if he trips over himself more than once trying to escape being literally no feet away from Eddie, well, that's his business.

~*~

Because he's Buck, and because some cosmic entity hates him and personally fucks with him at least once a month, things do not travel smoothly for him after his Hen-enforced I've Been Wooing Eddie Diaz (and possibly his son) realisation.

They have a call-out to an apartment fire that has decimated at least two floors, and Buck's whole body is pounding with adrenaline before they even get there, wiring him for action. This is what he lives for - the rush, the victory at the end. Lately, they haven't had many wins.

He's sent in to level three, which is maybe the second most on fire part of the complex, and he manages to find three people before he goes back for a fourth.

This is when the shit hits the fan, of course.

"Got another one, Cap!" he says into his radio, and he's just beginning to herd the woman out when the floor crackles ominously beneath him.

"Oh my God," she whimpers.

"Go!" Buck yells, and pushes her to the window. "Towards the window, Eddie will-"

The floor cracks, and she takes off, right before the entire foundation beneath him crumbles and sends him crashing through to the second floor.

Miraculously, he maintains consciousness, but he feels a rib give as he hits a hard wooden coffee table on the floor below and then goes through it. His breathing apparatus has stopped working from the impact, and there's smoke filling his lungs.

Buck's not dumb. He's got a few minutes at most to try and make it out of this fire, has to hope that the stairwell isn't blocked off. He wraps a tea towel from the kitchen around his face to stave off as much of the smoke as he can, drops to the floor, and begins to feel his way out blindly.

He finds the front door, he thinks, lies on his back to kick it open. His lungs are filling with smoke. His head pounds, and it's so hot, and he can hardly see or hear anything.

Hands on his back, rolling him over, pulling him up. He knows enough to cling, feels a strong set of shoulders under his arm and knows instinctively that it's Eddie.

"Sacrificado cabrón," Eddie swears.

"Whatever that means," Buck gasps, "I'm guessing it's not nice."

They're outside, and the air is blessedly cool. Eddie deposits Buck fairly non-ceremoniously onto a backboard, where Hen and Chim are immediately fussing over him, calling out his stats and getting a mask over his face.

His helmet is pulled off, along with his fire resistant jacket. They're checking for burns - temperatures that hot, your own sweat can turn to steam and burn you inside your clothes - and the oxygen flows through the mask, sweet and relieving and cool against his throat and lungs.

"Easy, Buckaroo," Hen says gently. "We got you."

He nods. Eddie's face appears over his. He's soot-darkened and his mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Buck could swear he looks almost pale underneath all the grime.

"Idiota," Eddie mutters.

"Rude," Buck replies, and still considers it worthwhile when he starts to cough.

"How's he looking?" Bobby asks.

Hen turns. "He'll be okay, Cap," she says, smiling with relief. "He inhaled some smoke and he might have a few bruises, but he's alright enough to be talking smack with Eddie. We'll take him to hospital just to be sure, though."

Buck groans. "No," he says. "I'm sick of-"

The looks of the entire crew silence him, and he shrinks back into the backboard meekly. "Okay," he mumbles.

~*~

Buck has one broken rib and several bruised ones, plus all the external bruising he suffered from the fall, but there's no concussion, no lacerations, all his organs are where they're supposed to be, and with pain medication, he feels better, so the hospital deems him disgustingly healthy and decides to send him home.

He's in bed, waiting for a change of clothes, when the door opens, revealing Eddie. Buck is pleased to see him for all of a second, until he notices the thunderous expression on Eddie's face.

"Hi," he says, thinking maybe this will be movie-levels of epic and Eddie will be so relieved to see that he's alright he'll forget to be angry and sweep Buck into his arms and kiss him and maybe take him-

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

When has life ever been movie-levels of stellar for Buck, after all?

"There was still someone in there," Buck argues. "Eddie, I was just doing my job. Nobody told me not to go in there."

Eddie laughs hysterically, which sounds dangerous, and says, "What am I supposed to tell Christopher if you die?"

Buck opens his mouth, then closes it. Shannon's death still haunts Eddie, and Buck has to tread carefully with what he says, he knows that. Telling Eddie he isn't going to die won't make the guy feel any better.

"He needs you," Eddie says, pacing up and down now. "I need you. Stop being so reckless."

"I can't." Buck feels like he's getting scolded for stealing cookies from the jar. "It's my job, Eddie. We knew the risks going in."

"Would you have gone in if you'd known the floor would collapse?" Eddie asks.

Buck looks at him evenly. He loves Eddie, which he's sort of come to accept, and he wants Eddie in his life and wants, more than anything, for the ever-present cloud of his lawsuit to fuck off so that things can go back to normal. This might fracture their relationship again, but Buck can't lie.

"Yes," he says.

The fight seems to go out of Eddie, then - his shoulders slump. He's hardly even showered enough to get the grime off. "Okay," he replies.

He puts a bag at Buck's feet. "I got you your clothes," he says tiredly. "A change. They said you're getting released."

"Yeah," Buck mumbles.

They're silent while Buck changes, his chest throbbing a little and his heart heavy. Things are never going to go back to the way they were - he knows that now. He's going to spend the rest of their relationship on the back foot, trying to make up for everything, trying to make the Diaz boys happy. He finally screwed up too badly to just pay up - he's racked up debt now.

Eddie waits for Buck to get changed before offering a curt, "I'll see you," and taking his leave.

Buck sighs. Good thing he texted Maddie to pick him up.

~*~

The great thing about hospitals is the hospital-grade painkillers he gets given.

The not-so-great thing about hospitals is getting released with about four hundred tiny holes from IV medication in his arms, a sense of exhaustion from not quite sleeping right, and the painkillers wearing off, leaving him in pain and miserable.

His broken rib hurts, and he's still coughing from the irritation to his lungs. His leg throbs, because any fall he takes now jars the rod and pins in it, and on top of all that, he's miserable with the thought that he's fucked things up with Eddie.

It meant a lot, to have the Diaz boys in his life. They were like family to Buck.

He's woken from a nap to a knock on the door and has to ease himself off the couch, wincing as he limps to the front door. It's probably some kind of marketing something but Buck always feels bad for not answering if he's here.

He opens the door without looking, mumbling a short, "Hello, I'm not-"

Eddie looks up at him, smiling a little. "Hey, Buck."

Buck blinks. "Hi," he says.

Eddie's eyes rake over him, taking in the bruises on Buck's face and arms, of the way he's a little hunched to try and ease some pressure off his ribcage. "You look like shit."

Buck snorts. "That's real nice of you, Eddie. Come here to say that?"

"No," Eddie says, and takes a deep breath. "I brought pizza. And snacks."

Sure enough, there's a grocery bag hanging from his left arm and a pizza box balanced in the other. Buck blinks.

"It's not a grand gesture or anything," Eddie admits quietly. "I don't really have the resources for that. But I haven't seen you in a while, outside work anyway. Whenever we had a bad shift you'd take us out to make us feel better. I thought it was my turn."

Just like that, Buck feels a whole lot better, like his ten off-duty braincells have exploded into little heart emojis. Eddie Diaz, who he's pretty much in love with, brought him pizza because Buck's hurt.

Without thinking, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Eddie happily. He's taller, but not so much that he can't tuck his face into the crook of Eddie's shoulder and say, "I've really missed you, Eddie."

He swears Eddie is blushing against him, even as hugs Buck back. "Lo siento," he says quietly.

"That's not fair," Buck complains. "I don't understand that."

"I said I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It's alright," Buck says earnestly, stepping back to let Eddie in and shutting the door.

"It's not," Eddie says. "I haven't been good to you at all. I shouldn't have yelled at you for doing your job. But I was scared and I let it get the better of me. You should hold me accountable for being shitty, Buck."

"But you apologised, so it's fine," Buck replies.

Eddie stares up at him, then smiles. "It really is that easy with you, huh?"

"Yes?" Buck asks sheepishly, and Eddie laughs.

"C'mon. The pizza is getting cold."

~*~

Chris is with abuela, Eddie explains, once they've demolished the pizza and they're moving onto the snacks. He didn't want to overtax Buck if he's in pain.

Buck is in pain, but it's not as bad with Eddie sitting with him on the couch, pressed up against him. "You disappeared," Eddie says.

"I did?" He knows he did, but sometimes a combination of playing dumb and puppy dog eyes gets him out of trouble.

"Yeah. We stopped hanging out. Why's that?"

Eddie sounds like he knows and Buck is nervous as hell. "I, um-"

Eddie's hand lands on his thigh - his upper thigh - and Buck's brain short circuits. "You're a man," he blurts.

Eddie's eyebrows crease. "As far as I'm aware, yeah."

"You're a man and I used to do this stuff with Abby, I'd take her out to amazing places and then Hen and Chim pointed out that I'm taking you places and how that worked out for me last time-"

"Buck," Eddie says, squeezing his thigh, "slow down."

Buck takes a deep breath. "I was trying to woo you only I didn't realise," he mumbles nervously, "and I'm really sorry because I didn't realise that's what I was doing but I totally was and Hen and Chim pointed it out to me and I got nervous and I didn't want to mess things up so I stopped asking you to go places so that I wouldn't have to try and-"

"Remember what I said about slow?" Eddie teases. "You didn't mess anything up, Buck."

That doesn't sound right. He feels confused.

Eddie laughs a little. "Dios, Buck. I've liked you since the moment we worked on getting that live grenade out of the guy when I started at the 118."

Buck blinks. That also doesn't sound right.

Eddie turns to face him on the couch. "I know Abby left you," he explains, quietly, and Buck finds himself suddenly blinking back tears. "I know that even after everything she left you and it broke your heart. But I'm not Abby, Buck. I'm a sure thing."

Buck's heart does this funny thing where it thumps twice, and then Eddie is taking his face in his hands and kissing him softly, and Buck kisses back, because he's wanted this for so long he doesn't remember starting. It feels like a dream.

"I might not be," he explains, brokenly, when they separate. His voice sounds small.

Eddie frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I want this, Eds," Buck admits. "But what if I let you down? What if - what if I let Chris down?" His voice wobbles. "I already have. Doesn't matter where I go, someone seems to get hurt. I couldn't protect Maddie from Doug, and I couldn't protect Chris in the tsunami - then the lawsuit, and..."

"You saved Chris," Eddie says quietly. "You found Maddie. The lawsuit sucked, yeah. But you did it to get back to us, and I was a real asshole about that too, Buck. I'm willing to try if you are."

He remembers, then, speaking to an elderly man about his husband and their life together - "I hope someday I find something like that," he'd said, and the old man had replied, "You don't find it, son. You build it" and here it is. This is his chance to build something.

"Okay," he says, and Eddie's face lights up like Chris's does when Buck makes pancakes or tucks him in or surprises him. The Diaz boys will almost definitely be the end of him, and he's okay with that.

"We can't tell Chim and Hen," Buck mumbles as Eddie pulls him into another kiss. "They'll gloat for months."

Eddie smiles against his mouth, pushes Buck lightly to crawl between his legs and lie on top of him, a thrilling, heavy, muscular weight that Buck isn't familiar with just yet. "Worth it," he mumbles, his hands on Buck's face tipping his head up. "So worth it."

#buddie #evan buckley x eddie diaz #otp: there's no one i trust more with my son than you #nibbles writes things

105 notes · View notes

goffilolo · 5 years ago

Text

Revival of Midoriya Izuku chapter 3

It’s been 84 years huh? As always the fanfic is up on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/52652386

also im aware of like some formatting issues with the fic when it comes to tumblr, so reading it on ao3 might be better if you particularly care about like italics and what not, but otherwise it’s all the same stuff.

“Move your ass Boom Boom Bitch, I wanna get there early!” shouted Izuku, as him and Bandit sat on rather stylish, but uncomfortable couch in the Bakugous’ living room that was probably worth more than both of them put together, which probably wasn’t even that much anyway since they’re both garbage, but it’s about the principle of the thing.

“Shut your mouth you Trash Twink, I’ll get there when I get there! And what the fuck are you doing in my house?” screamed Bakugou all the way from upstairs, although with his voice being as explosive as his quirk he might as well be standing right next to you considering the damage he does to everyone’s eardrums.

Speaking of hearing damage “Katsuki!!! Is that how you talk to our guest you rude brat?! Get over here!” exclaimed Aunt Mitsuki.

“Shut it old hag! Deku’s not a guest, he’s just an annoying cockroach that invites himself wherever he wants and does whatever he wants!” which is a fair point, considering Izuku has invited himself to Bakugou’s first day at UA for less than wholesome reasons. Some people might see it as the ultimate bitch slap to Bakugou’s ego (partially true), but for the most part it’s merely a testament of how far Izuku has come, considering he now only sees UA as a place where he can flirt with Tensei’s hot brother, rather than a means of accomplishing some bullshit dreams... But it’s not like Kacchan knows any of this, so he can fuck off.

If you were to ask Izuku what his deal with Bakugou was, he would reply “Best friends, duh” with enough sarcasm to last you the next ten years. If you were to press for any specifics his reply would be more along the lines of “I dunno, get the fuck out of my apartment” followed by having Trash Bandit sent after you. The bottom line was, his relationship with Bakugou was complicated, as were most thing in Izuku’s life, but that’s not unusual.

Izuku’s presence at the Bakugou household though? That’s quite unusual, yet more likely than you’d think.

And although the screaming match between the two Bakugous was ever so entertaining Izuku had places to be, and guys to seduce, so “Leave it Auntie” he exclaims in a dismissive manner “We don’t want to rile him up too much, otherwise he ain’t gonna get that 30-day chip from the anger management that he’s been gunnin’ for” he adds half-jokingly.

“I know, I know” she says “But you’d think he would act a little nicer by now, after all these months of therapy.”

“Wouldn’t expect miracles if I were you Auntie, you know what the say; Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree ” replies the boy with a shiteating grin as he motions towards Bakugou descending down the stairs, not missing the way Mitsuki flinched ever so slightly at his rather obnoxious comment.

“And to think you used to be such a nice boy yourself, I used to always tell your mother how great it would’ve been if Katsuki was more like you” she says in a mix of bittersweet nostalgia and regret.

“Yeah well, considering the shit I got for being nice , I think from now on I’d rather be a bastard and then some” exclaimed Izuku as he got up from the couch with Bandit in tow and made his way towards Bakugou. The other boy was getting ready to leave as well and his excitement for the day was concealed even more poorly than his mother’s discomfort at the current conversation “Have a good one Auntie!”

And with that, the two teenagers and one (1) sheep were on their way.

“Kacchan please , not everything is about you” said Izuku exasperatedly, hurrying over to the only empty seat on the train.

“Like hell it isn’t! This was supposed to be MY DAY, my first day at the school of my fucking dreams, and you’re trying to ruin it by following me around dressed like a dollar stripper!” replied Bakugou in a whisper-scream. He may have anger issues but he wasn’t a dumbass and the two of them were already drawing enough attention as it was. It wasn’t exactly easy to remain unnoticed on a train while carrying a green sheep; a task which fell on Bakugou, because Izuku was a weak-noodle-arm-bitch.

“First of all, I’m flattered that you think I’m worth a dollar” said the weak-noodle-arm-bitch in question “And second of all, this is my best outfit.” Said best outfit consisted of a worn out tank top that had THE HOES written on it in what once was a glittery pink; a pair of booty shorts with ENEMY OF STATE hand stitched onto the backside and rainbow patterned knee socks. The look was completed with a pair of pink platform crocs, because Izuku had standards ... and because he was short.

“God I hate you” murmured Bakugou.

“Don’t I know it Kacchan?”

The rest of the train ride was spent in silence.

It wasn’t until they actually reached the gates of the school that Bakugou had a thought; one that he probably should’ve had before they even left his house, but having a coherent thought while carrying a sheep and bickering with the sheep’s owner about whether the sheep should be referred to as a dog or not is in all fairness not possible.

“They won’t let you in” he said, voicing the sudden epiphany.

“Sure they will” replied Izuku.

“Oh yeah? How? Deku, you don’t fuckin’ go to this school, you don’t go to ANY school!” shouted Bakugou, because they were no longer on the train, therefore arguing with a lunatic stripper looking guy was now acceptable.

Izuku for the most part did not have a problem with that, because not only did he love having petty fights with people, he also loved proving them wrong, especially when everyone and their grandma accuses him of being a high school drop out.

“Shinjuku Metropolitan would beg to differ” he says, dropping the metaphorical bomb on the unsuspecting dipshit that is his childhood friend, after which he continues to walk, crossing the gates of UA High like he owns the damn place.

After about a minute of Bakugou standing frozen in shock, he finally snapped out of it when Bandit decided to start chewing on his uniform “Oi, hold the fuck up!” screamed the blond as he followed Izuku inside, while the sheep was being dragged along like a betrayed ragdoll “Did you just say Shinjuku Metropolitan?!”

“Kacchan, you know I can’t hold you, you’re too heavy” replies the other teen, while pointedly ignoring Bakugou’s question and the looks he’s been getting from the students.

“Don’t change the subject shitty Deku! How the fuck did your ass get into a top non-hero high school in the whole damn Tokyo you bitch?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

“I fuckin’ swear to God-”

“Do it! Pull the trigger piglet!”

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

Their pointless quarrel, which was on a steady way into becoming a straight up brawl (Izuku having already pulled out his axe and lighted a cigarette using one of Bakugou’s warning explosions) came to a stop when they were interrupted by one of UA’s teachers, although in Izuku’s opinion she made a wrong career choice, considering being a Dominatrix probably paid more.

On another note, when someone asks you ‘what’s going on?’ that doesn’t mean they’re actually interested in whatever is happening at the moment, it means ‘stop’, therefore Izuku’s answer to that question, which usually involves something along the lines of “You see, I’m small, horny and full of rage, and I have no outlet for these emotions” is rarely appreciated. That is not to say that the lack of appreciation is going to stop him from spawning whatever dumb shit comes to his mind when faced with the judgement from authority figures. If anything it makes everything worse.

“That’s just how we flirt” replied the teen instead, all the while looking THE Pro-Hero Midnight dead in the eye and putting out his cigarette on Bakugou’s uniform jacket. Bakugou, for the most part was unable to even be mad at the cigarette burn considering he was busy recovering from being metaphorically punched in the kidneys by that line.

“And why aren’t you wearing uniform?” she asks suspiciously, pointing at Izuku’s attire.

“Oh, I don’t go here” he replied casually.

“Then pray tell , why are you in this school?”

“To get laid”

“TO WHAT?!” screamed Bakugou in surprise.

At this point Midnight took out her phone (no, her costume doesn’t have pockets, please don’t ask where she keeps it) and clicked on one of three contacts she keeps on her speed dial.

“Principal Nedzu, we got a situation…”

After telling Bakugou not to worry and that he will see him later in class, Izuku was dragged to the principal’s office by Midnight.

On the way there he tried cracking up another joke, telling her that his safe word was ‘avocado’. She did not appreciate that one either. For those of you wondering what happened to Bandit, the sheep ended up following Bakugou, much to the blond’s dismay.

Now, being sent to a principal’s office, especially of a school that you don’t even attend is usually a sign that you have royally fucked up. Not for Izuku though, because he had a plan! Contrary to the common belief, Izuku is not dumb. The fall didn’t kill off any of his brain cells, only his ability to give a shit, which made life much easier since he no longer had to worry about things like: people’s opinions, social norms, laws and heteronormativity.

Anyway, back to the plan. Izuku was not dumb, therefore even he knew that wandering around UA while not attending the school would not fly. He needed a way to stay, and for that he needed the guy who runs the whole shitshow; Nedzu.

Which is why the moment Midnight opens the door to the office Izuku stomps in like a man on a mission and stops right in front of an animal of questionable origin in a suit that is allegedly UA’s principal. A little unusual, but if a scumbag like Endeavour can hold the title of No. 2 Hero in Japan, then an animal can run a school.

The principal in question was calmly sitting on a couch and drinking tea, totally unconcerned with whatever bullshit Izuku was about to throw at him.

“Now, what seems to be the issue with this young man?” asked Nedzu.

“This young man-” said Izuku, pointing to himself in a rather cocky manner “has a message for you!”

“And what would that message be?”

The principal’s question was answered with what Izuku can only think of as the ultimate power move, or in this case; a literal ace up the sleeve. The boy proceeded to pull out a Monopoly “Get out of Jail” card out of his shorts (since he technically wasn’t wearing any sleeves) and slam it on the table right in front of Nedzu.

While to an outsider the current situation might seem absurd, it is important to remember that Izuku had a plan; one that could’ve never come to a fruition without a little help from the most unexpected person, which is why that card was no ordinary Monopoly card, but a very specific reminder that only Principal Nedzu would know the meaning of, and when he picked it up and flipped it around, the neatly written message on the back made its presence known.

It read: “You owe me one. - Hisashi”

“My dad says ‘Hi!’ ” exclaimed Izuku, taking one look at Nedzu’s face and knowing that he already won.

Was cashing in on a favour that his dad secured like 10 years ago a morally good decision? Debatable, but it got the job done so he’s not gonna complain. All that mattered was that Izuku now had a pass to enter the UA grounds whenever he pleased and nobody could stop him, and so here he was about to enter the classroom where Kacchan is supposed to be in. The bell hasn’t rung yet so he still had some time and who knows, maybe the handsome guy from the police station was in the same class?

With that in mind he opened the gigantic door and made his way into the classroom and was met with what looked like a pissing contest between his crush and his childhood friend.

“REMOVE YOUR FOOT FROM THAT DESK! SUCH AN ACTION IS INSULTING TO THOSE WHO CAME TO UA BEFORE US AS WELL AS THE CRAFTSMEN WHO MADE THIS DESK!”

“LIKE I CARE! WHAT MIDDLE SCHOOL ARE YOU FROM, YOU EXTRA ?!”

Ah yes, pissing contest at its finest, which meant that Izuku had options . The most obvious course of action would be siding up with Tenya and taunting Kacchan, which is not something Izuku would ever say no to. However , it also happens that the object of his affections had a massive boner for rules and authority, which is the exact opposite of everything Izuku stands for, so siding up with Kacchan it is.

And so he made his way to the pair of bickering teenagers and promptly pushed Kacchan’s feet off the desk, earning a scoff from the blond and an approving but baffled look from Iida, which only lasted for about 2 seconds, because Izuku being the gay disaster that he is simply HAD to ruin it all by claiming the desk as his sitting spot and giving Tenya the most ridiculous bedroom eyes that had Kacchan fake gagging like his life depended on it.

“Umm...Izuku, was it?” asked Tenya, feeling awkward under the other boy’s intense gaze.

“It sure was” replied the boy, feeling happy about leaving enough of an impression to be remembered from all those weeks ago “Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

“Indeed-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Deku!” exclaimed Bakugou, completely fed up with the cringeworthy display in front of him “Just tell four-eyes that you came here because you wanted to see him and be done with it!”

“WHAT?”

“Kacchan, not now! I’m trying to put on some moves!”

“Well your moves are shit-”

“Hey, aren’t you that guy from the news who stabbed a villain in the eye with an axe?!” shouted one of the students while pointing at Izuku. There was something ironic about the fact that it was his stunt on live TV from 2 weeks ago that got everyone’s heads turning and not his iconic outfit, or inappropriate behaviour, or literally anything else about him. Like that’s just rude ok? And interrupting him while he’s trying to flirt? Also rude.

“Bitch, I might be” he replied anyway, because his reputation was on the line and because at this point literally everyone has gathered around the desk that he sat on, so things were way past the point of return. People were throwing questions and accusations at him left and right, Trash Bandit is nowhere to be found and his quil flask is not full enough for this bullshit. At this point Bakugou simply got up from his seat and sat at the back of the room, as far away from this nonsense as possible.

“It’s you!”exclaimed the boy with dual coloured hair and equally mismatched eyes “You’re the guy who keeps T-posing in front of my house. Can you please stop?!” he asked with the most deadpan face Izuku has ever seen despite his voice being filled with desperation.

“Look, I T-pose in front of a lot of houses so you’re gonna have to be more specific” he replied sarcastically — despite knowing exactly who he was talking to — since it probably wasn’t a good moment to mention that you’re besties with that person’s mom because you were both stuck in the same loony bin and so you already know all the family drama and have dedicated a good portion of your time to harassing her abusive piece of shit husband…especially with like 20 people around you.

“You’re the one who egged my limo!” shouted one of the girls at the back. She was a very tall girl with long, dark hair tied in a seemingly gravity defying ponytail and a kind face. She had an air of a distinguished lesbian about her, which Izuku could respect even if she was rich if the limo comment was anything to go by. He egged several limos in his lifetime because seeing rich people out in public makes him go apeshit, as it should, so really how is he supposed to remember everyone?

“And I will egg it again!” promised Izuku “When I see rich people out and about it triggers my fight-or-fuck response”

“Don’t you mean fight-or-flight?” she asked.

“No”

“Are you ok?”

“Not in the slightest”

And with that more people joined in on the conversation, including a particular girl who very much looked like an alien with her bright pink skin and black sclera who ended up complementing his outfit, which thank fuck someone here actually had good taste , as well as a guy who ended up being Ms Shouji’s son, and the only reason he found out was because the guy recognised his antics based on the gossip his mom told him and isn’t that a small fuckin world? And in the middle of it all laid an inconspicuous yellow sleeping bag that has been conveniently ignored by everyone for the sake of the plot up until now.

The sleeping bag began to seemingly unzip by itself and soon enough Bandit’s head poked out of it.

“Bandit! There you are”

“Baaah!”

“Guys! Look at this dog!” exclaimed one of the students who Izuku thought looked like a personification of weed, but he wasn’t going to say that. At least the guy knew what he was talking about.

“I’m pretty certain it’s a sheep-” added Tenya, taking his role as the last standing voice of reason in this room very seriously, even though his voice has practically drowned in the sea of teenagers chanting ‘good doggo’, similarly to how one might feel if they were standing at a dance floor while Baby Got Back started playing.

It’s also important to note that while all of this was happening, Bakugou who has sat himself at the back of the room was forced to witness the chaotic force that is Izuku interacting with multiple people at once while being able to convince about 20 of them to refer to his sheep as a dog, and in that moment he turned around staring into the void and asked himself “Am I having a fuckin stroke?”

“Nah, he’s always like that” replied the one person who was sat at the back along with him that Bakugou previously did not bother to notice.

“And how would you know, you damn extra?” asked Bakugou somewhat offended, because sure him and Izuku were not on the friendliest terms and the whole incident from last year really changed him and what not. But they still knew each other their whole lives, so really that had to count for something and Bakugou was not willing to compromise on that with some random extra who looked like a Tinky Winky humansona on drugs.

Unfortunately Bakugou was not able to get an answer because the entire class was interrupted by a homeless looking guy coming out of the yellow sleeping bag to shame student kind. “If you’re here to socialise, then get out” he said. Soon enough the room was filled with a tense silence as the students were unsure of what to expect next.

“It took 8 seconds for you to quiet down. Time is a precious resource. You lot aren’t very rational, are you?” asked the man as he walked to the front of the classroom, making it very clear that he was in fact their teacher. The man was rather tall and unkept, his hair was long and slightly curled, similar to Izuku’s own and the outfit he wore could only be described as a goth onesie. There was something very familiar about him but Izuku couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be.

However, just because Izuku’s memory aligns very closely with a slice of swiss cheese doesn’t mean that the same can be said about the teacher in question. As soon as he turned around to get a good look at his new class his eyes fell on Izuku and his face has swiftly shifted from that of practiced disinterest to shock and recognition that Izuku honestly was not expecting.

“What are you doing here problem child?” asked the man with a certain degree of disbelief in his voice. Once again there was something very familiar about him and the way he addressed Izuku and wait a minute did he just call me a problem child? That can’t be-

“Uncle Shouta” exclaimed the boy in a way that felt uncertain, yet childishly hopeful “Is that you?”

“Of course it is brat, who else would I be?” he replied with a hint of amusement.

#revival of midoriya izuku #demise!au #bnha #fanfic #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #trash bandit #aizawa shouta #iida tenya

123 notes · View notes

split-n-splice · 5 years ago

Text

A small fic in which heroes aren't all about fighting villains and a young Shego has qualms with a particular F word.

Find on FFn or Ao3 in chapter form. 6k

“The F Word”

She’d only been a hero for a few short months. Already she’d aided in the arrest of more than a dozen men and women, some – if not most – of which probably needed therapy more than incarceration.

For starters, bird-brained Dr. Robinson had gotten into a turf war involving the defacement of property with a bird-loathing guy who looked like a scarecrow, with his bristly beard and ill-fitting rags. There had been a geeky woman who’d posed a more serious threat by allegedly hacking various electronic systems of city officials and murdering them via electrocution, and even though Team Go had caught her in the act, she’d destroyed the evidence with the press of a button and walked free with the aid of a good lawyer. Likewise, Mr. Richie had the wealth to get out of jail when busted red-handed for trafficking, despite Shego herself testifying to being bribed and touched when left alone to interrogate him. And then there were the occasional costumed losers desperate for a confrontation with local heroes cleaning up the streets. So far, they could all pass as normal people more or less.

At least until she met Gloria Grace.

Shilo sat alone now on the bleachers at school – as a student, not a hero – with a turkey sub sandwich left uneaten on her lap. Two weeks in a row, the sophomore had left campus to take lunch across town, but her big brother had caught on and put his foot down once he’d learned she’d been skipping class too. He’d tracked down one of her connections yesterday, consequently catching Alex smoking and very nearly busting her, but the stoner had gotten off the hook by snitching that Shilo wasn’t taking lunch with her lately. He’d just barely caught Shilo yesterday, and today as well, right as she’d been about to sneak away to go hitch a ride across town. They’d had a little argument, and now she was stuck under his watchful eye as he chowed down on a bench somewhere above her, chatting and laughing loudly with his clique.

Another cherry tomato struck the back of her head, and she turned a deaf ear to Hugo lightly chastising the girl who’d thrown it only to be immediately accused of having a crush on “the freak.” Somehow no one at school had made the connection yet that they were related. With Hugo’s broad build and Shilo still a little on the scrawny side, it was hard to see the family resemblance. Not to mention, only one of them had a sickly complexion other students feared was contagious.

She heard disgusted whispers behind her back, and when Hugo dismissed the girl who’d been all over him until now, Shilo was the one to take the heat for it. The scorned woman dumped her salad over Shilo’s head as she trotted down the bleachers, scoffing, “Freak,” back at her as she left.

“Fuck you too,” Shilo spat back, clenching her fists and planting her rear back down to resist the urge to sock the girl. Civilians were off-limits, she reminded herself, breathing deep and counting to ten before shaking off the lettuce. Her hair was still short, but it tickled down the nape of her neck now and was long enough to cover her burning ears, and she benefited from a clip to hold back her bangs.

A hand brushed her head, and she smacked it away in reflex, turning sharply to shoot a heated glare up at her brother come to wipe salad dressing out of her hair with a wet tissue. He ignored the rebuff and plopped down just above her, continuing to clean it off while she snorted and rested her cheek in her hand, scarcely tolerating it.

“You need to eat,” he said quietly.

“Not hungry.” On cue, the growl of her stomach claimed she was a liar.

Breakfast had been canceled, as Hugo’s beeper had gone off as he’d been reading the morning paper with a front-page blurry photograph of an entity that had been “terrorizing” Go City’s crumbling and underfunded Southside for months. Global Justice was a little late in informing them of the sighting. Their father had taken over breakfast prep from Shilo and wished them luck then, echoed by her young twin brothers. Shego had barely convinced Hego to let it go, just in time to get to school before they were tardy. There would be other chances for him to serve justice on the monster scaring the townsfolk, she’d told him.

“I gotta piss,” Shilo announced suddenly, hopping up. He almost stood to follow but she shot him a scowl and he slumped back.

“I’ll give you five minutes, and then I want you back here.”

Ignoring the allotment and giving him the finger, she took her sub sandwich and left.

A quick clean up in front of the restroom mirror, and she was ready to sneak off – but Hugo knew better than to let her out of his sight. She barely bit back the urge to scream in his face when she exited the lavatory and nearly ran into him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

She grimaced at the bell chiming just then. “Um, to class?” she lied.

Hugo stared her down for a moment before uncrossing his arms and stepping aside to let her go with a nod. “No more skipping,” he said sternly.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She looked down to the sandwich she carried, still wrapped up and untouched. “Catch you later.”

Forced to go their separate ways, Shilo seized the opportunity to slip away once and for all. Lately, Hugo had taken to reminding her how dangerous Go City was for a pretty girl to wander alone in. His concern was more bogus than the flattery. She was superhuman now and she could fend for herself now better than ever with the aid of her comet-given gift of alien fire. There was really nothing to worry about. Big brother just didn’t want any of them out alone without backup in fear that someone worse than the average criminal might get a hold of any member of Team Go. Hugo bought into it easily though, convinced danger and threats lurked around every corner.

In any case, the supervising organization had locked a monitoring anklet on her. If she ran into trouble, all she had to do was flare up and Global Justice would be alerted and Hugo’s beeper would go off so he could come save the day. He loved hearing his beeper go off.

Breaking the private school’s stupid dress code, Shilo tied her stiff blue jacket around her waist and sighed in relief as she relaxed back into a hard seat on the bus minutes later. After just a few moments of the bus driver eyeballing her bare legs, she tugged at her skirt and moved to the back. Not that the back was any better when another man turned to look her over and a woman with a small child moved away from her, probably afraid of her hue like so many were when she wasn’t clad in Shego’s uniform.

++X++

Eventually, she’d made it across town, keeping her head low to ignore the variety of stares.

She wasn’t fond of venturing out to the Go City slums alone, but a few residents were familiar enough with her by now to keep their distance, and she hadn’t even once used her glow on them to win a healthy respect.

For months now, Southside had racked up countless reports of a creature prowling the streets after dark. Yesterday “the Southside Freak” had come out in daylight, and a photo had actually been snapped and plastered across local papers. Guilt gnawed at Shilo and she clutched the sub sandwich closer. She’d pickpocketed cash from a punk kid earlier, justifying to herself that the rich snob didn’t need it all that badly. A quick stop at a shady convenience store for a two-liter and big bag of chips, and she was off to find a shady niche beneath a rotting old fishing pier on a shoreline littered with garbage.

It was a tricky trek down with an armful of goods, across jagged boulders coated in places with sharp mussels, but she made it without dropping or squishing anything.

“Hello?” she called out into the dark shadow of the abandoned pier. “Anyone home?” As she crept out of the light, her eyes adjusted.

Something moved then, and if she didn’t know any better, she might have feared it was a leg of the pier collapsing as it bent.

The local known as the Southside Freak crossed the shadows in two long strides, coming to a pause before Shilo. She stood almost eye-level with knobby scabbed knees set into stilt-like legs for a moment before the living urban legend crouched down. Her head still hovered far above Shilo’s.

She tipped her head back to offer a smile and held up the sandwich, chips, and bottle of coke. “I brought you lunch,” she said, steadying her voice.

The gaunt giantess reached out with trembling fingers the length of Shilo’s forearm to delicately take the two-liter. “Thank you,” she mumbled politely, her voice both booming and fragile at the same time, and turned away to awkwardly shuffle further up the shore to a sandy spot she’d cleared of rubble, just out of the water’s reach during high tide.

Shilo followed and sat down beside the giant girl. Well, she wasn’t really a girl. Or maybe she was. Gloria couldn’t remember her age. She couldn’t remember where she’d come from either. One thing was for certain – she didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone as tall as her couldn’t have. It seemed like each day she’d grown another inch. Shilo chalked it up to her imagination.

She’d finally had her first fleeting encounter with Gloria a month ago, but it was hard to say if she’d really been shorter back then. And then, little more than two weeks ago, Team Go had been called out again to investigate a sighting. Shego had unwittingly cornered her beneath the pier, and by the green light of her fire she’d seen the long-limbed figure trembling, wrapped up in sheets stitched together with fishing line that sufficed as a dress. The Southside Freak had quietly and desperately begged Shego not to hurt her, pleading for her to just leave.

So she did. She didn’t even tell her brothers what she’d found.

Of course, she’d come back the next day as Shilo, and she’d brought a token of peace with her. Since then, rain or shine, she’d been skipping school and sneaking off on weekends to bring lunch to the famished Southside Freak whose name, she learned after a full week, was Gloria Grace. At close to twenty feet tall, glorious or graceful weren’t words Shilo would use to describe the gangly giantess. She often suspected the girl had made up the name, but never questioned it aloud. Gloria it was.

Shilo unwrapped the sandwich as Gloria carefully sipped from the bottle. “I couldn’t make it yesterday,” she said, as if the starving girl hadn’t noticed, and added in a mutter, “sorry.” She would have brought more cash than what was necessary for the bus fair and lunch, but Hugo was careful about how much he let her go to school with lest she bring home some gateway drug and risk spoiling the good hero name. As it were, Gloria needed the meal more than she did.

She passed up the sub and opened up the bag for Gloria too without taking a single chip for herself, staving off the hunger pangs.

“So,” she said carefully as the giantess savored each bite. She tore her eyes off the sheet-clad girl, finding an old fishing pole lodged in the rocks a little ways down the shore to watch instead. Most days Gloria swore she caught enough marine life to sustain herself – she certainly smelled like she did – but a girl couldn’t survive on fish alone. The mere thought made Shilo gag a little, but she cleared her throat and ignored the pungent odor permeating the air. “Is today the day?”

Gloria held a tiny chip between two overgrown nails and frowned at her knees. Then she shook her head. “N-no. Not today.”

“You can’t hide forever, GG,” she pressed gently. It was a fact. The girl had certainly become worse at staying discreet, if the increasing number of reports had anything to say about it. She tried not to frown too deeply at the ocean when the giantess scooted away from her. “I know you’re shy, but the sooner you get it over with, the sooner we can…maybe…get you back to normal. Or as close to normal as we can.” Clothes that fit her would be a good place to start. She’d recently tried learning how to sew for GG’s sake, but there wasn’t enough time in the day for it. Not with the burden of Team Go duties anyway.

“I like it here.” She wasn’t a very good liar.

“You were seen yesterday.”

Gloria winced. “Yeah.”

“The weather’s going to get bad this weekend,” Shilo noted, knowing already she was failing to persuade Gloria to come out of hiding. Before the giantess could disregard it too, she added, “And my sweet sixteen coming up. Would be cool to have a friend there.”

The long-limbed mutant nearly dropped the bag of chips. “I-I’ll take a rain check,” she said nervously.

Shilo rocked back, quipping, “You sure? We could talk about boys, paint each other’s nails.” She tried to laugh lightheartedly, knowing full well that bringing a giant girl over to hang out wouldn’t fly. “I’ve got a big brother you might think is cute.” The notion was absurd, but it worked to bring a very human blush out on Gloria’s bony cheeks.

The giant girl fidgeted with her sheet-dress and shook her head. “You wouldn’t want a freak like me crashing your party.”

“Ah, the more the merrier,” Shilo said flippantly. “Come on, GG. What do you say?”

Gloria Grace looked down to her with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

“Hm?”

“The more the merrier,” Gloria echoed curiously. “You’re not a freak.”

Shilo spared a glance up at the giantess finishing off the sub sandwich in two bites. She wanted to tell the giant girl that she wasn’t a freak either, but that was a far stretch from the truth. Gloria was a lot of things – scared, scrappy, exceptionally tall – but she wasn’t stupid. The giant girl knew she was unusual to terrifying degree, and it daunted even Shilo.

She stood then, brushing off the sand. “I gotta get going.”

“Wait!” The desperation in the giant girl’s voice was pitiful. “You’ll come back tomorrow, won’t you?”

Biting her lip and hugging herself, she could do little more than shrug in reply. “No promises – but I’ll try. Bye!” She spun then and began picking her way across the boulders back up to the road. One small glance over her shoulder, and she saw the pale figure and head of dirty brown curls peeking out from under the bridge.

“Goodbye, Shilo,” called GG after her.

Shilo gave a small wave and was gone, barely catching a northbound bus in time.

As she flopped down in the back, watching the last glimpse of ocean slide away, she mulled over Gloria Grace’s words. “You’re not a freak,” she repeated to herself. It felt like a lie. Her chest constricted and she swallowed hard. Even if the giantess was undoubtedly the more peculiar of them on the surface, they were both misfits. Gloria didn’t have to know that though. Shilo almost hoped she’d never make the connection. Someone who didn’t view her as freakish was nice in a way, even if it meant hiding a part of herself.

++X++

She made it back to school in time for sixth period, but she’d barely shrugged on her dirtied jacket to conform to dress code when Hugo came sprinting up the hall to cut her off. She knew she’d been caught the instant she saw him bowling towards her.

“There you are!” he gasped. He didn’t pause to shoot the breeze – merely latched onto her arm with a grip like a tourniquet and began hauling her away. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Her shoulders would have slumped if she was given a chance, but instead she was forced to stumble after him. “What is it this time?” she groaned, exasperated. She could take a good guess. He wouldn’t be in such a hurry for anything else.

If there was any question about it before, the glance Hugo shot her told her all she needed to know. He couldn’t openly discuss the details in a hall full of ears – not outside of uniform anyway. So he pulled her along quickly as he could without slinging her over his shoulder to pick up the pace.

Once she’d claimed shotgun of his coppery old Sloth, Hugo barely waited for her to buckle up before flooring it out of the parking lot. Moments later, they were pulled up behind the junior high, tween brother Milo popping up out of his designated hiding place in the bushes to dive into the back seat.

“Sweet!” he practically shouted, voice cracking in Shilo’s ear. He leaned between the seats, smelling strongly of sugary donuts he must have conned out of a classmate, and Shilo had to hold her breath to ignore her hunger pangs. “What is it this time? Someone threatening the ballpark again?”

“No,” said Hugo, making a beeline for the nearest Global Justice hideout where Betty Director herself would be waiting for them. “The Southside Freak was just spotted.”

Sitting on her hands, Shilo sank in her seat and scowled out the window. She should have guessed they were being sicced on GG again. They were called on her no less than twice a week. So far, Shego had been able to steer her teammates clear of the giant girl, who was still adamant on keeping her low profile to avoid confrontation she was so sure she’d be faced with should Team Go or anyone else catch her.

The way Hugo’s knuckles paled as he gripped the wheel, she couldn’t say a confrontation wouldn’t escalate and blow up. “We’ll catch the monster this time,” he swore. “And then the people there can rest easy at night.”

“I think the people from Southside have a lot worse to worry about than a walking lamppost,” Shilo grumbled.

Her big brother flicked an unhappy frown her way. “We should have been on this ten minutes ago,” he chastised. “Where were you?”

“I bet you a fiver she was smoking again,” Milo said and leaned over to take a whiff. “Hego, you got a breathalyzer on you?”

Shilo shoved her little brother’s face away. “Breathalyzers don’t work that way, idiot.”

“Quit fooling around,” said Hugo. “We’ve got to make this quick if we want to catch it.”

It. Shilo rolled her eyes.

Sooner than she would have liked, she was zipped and buckled up in the snug form-fitting attire of Shego, the second uniform she’d worn today.

The head honcho of Global Justice wished them luck, wearing a smirk for Mego and giving Hego an approving nod. Suspicious eyes cast to Shego however, and she was glad to escape them, following her brothers back out of the hidden conference room and into the alley to get back in the car – only it wasn’t the car they’d arrived in. Global Justice worked in mysterious ways and had the means to do mysterious things – like replace the Sloth with a white Spider customized with vibrant bolts of color coinciding with each member of Team Go. Shego turned a blind eye to the two little red stripes in the paint job.

The sportscar was a trap – and not just a deathtrap – but the seats were comfortable and Shego knew for a fact that the radio wasn’t as static-ridden as the ones in the old Sloth or family van – not that she ever got to enjoy it. The pricy convertible wasn’t for pleasure. It was armed to the teeth and the dash was equipped with advanced technology for tracking, spying, and communications that Team Go still hadn’t fully learned to operate. Even without the rocket boosters mounted to the back, the Go Kart was capable of reaching 300 miles per hour – just in case they were ever in a hurry.

It was excessive and nothing more than a flashy bribe to tempt them with the gadgets and luxuries they could have if they gave up their family life to play GJ’s game indefinitely. Their family was just shy of dysfunctional enough not to buy into it just yet, even if Hugo – Hego – reveled in playing the game at any given opportunity, convinced he was duty-bound.

Shego was just tying on her domino mask as they sped out of the ally, feeling like a clown and hating that people pointing and gawking was becoming an everyday occurrence as they sped across town. She rehearsed in her head the protocol she’d set in place for when they reached Southside. She’d tell Hego to look over there, while she’d take Mego and look elsewhere, steering them clear of the pier where the resident cryptid took shelter.

That plan was blown out of the water when Hugo pulled abruptly to the shoulder, the pier in question in sight. “Around here,” he announced. “Spread out.”

“Mego, you’re with me,” Shego said anyway, and made a grab for her little lavender brother.

He dodged her, shrinking to duck before bouncing back. “No way!” he said. “I’m going to find it first this time!”

Hego shot him a smile over his shoulder as he strode off toward the defunct pier. “You call for us when you do,” he said, as if he really had faith in his little brother. After a month of tracking the mysterious creature supposedly terrorizing the neighborhood, honing in on her location with each sweep, Shego could tell he just wanted the goose chase to be over with once and for all, even if it meant Mego got credit for it.

She knew from experience that Hego was unmovable once he got in the mindset. The best she could hope for was that the giant girl had taken shelter in an alley or someone’s garage somewhere as she dashed after him.

He opened his mouth to tell her off but decided it was a lost cause, and cracked his knuckles instead, no doubt ready and eager to punch something. He really liked getting to show off like that lately. “The Southside Freak was spotted around here,” he stated with a nod toward the dilapidated pier, and Shego grimaced once more at what Gloria Grace had been dubbed. It was an official label of the supposed culprit terrorizing the neighborhood, filed away with many others like it in GJ’s records.

“What if she’s not a freak?” Shego blurted suddenly, jumping out ahead of Hego, hands up to stop him.

“Sister, you’ve seen the photos,” he reminded. “This thing defines freakish.” It was a hard point to argue.

She couldn’t smother her nervous chuckle. “But what if it’s all just a big hoax?” she suggested, not for the first time.

Hego was ready to brush her aside, but slammed a fist into his palm as if to drive his point. “Then we’ll reveal the culprit behind it and call it a day.”

“It could just be a prank—”

“When it comes to destroying private and public property, it’s no longer a prank,” Hego argued.

Shego opened her mouth again but before she could even think of anything to add, the frenzied barking of a dog followed by a car alarm and a crash interrupted. She turned and the last person she wanted to see came tumbling out of a street ahead, scrambling in her mad dash for the pier.

++X++

While Shego stood rooted in place, her brothers sprinted past her, their superpowers activated and ready for a fight. Gloria Grace’s bewildered eyes locked on hers, if only for a split second. Next Shego felt her legs begin to move just as the Southside Freak backpedaled to run the other way.

“Don’t let it escape!” Hego bellowed, and he grabbed hold of Mego, who was happy to bounce into his hands to be hefted up and thrown like a missile. Barely hitting the mark, the lavender boy landed on the giant’s back and clung to her sheet-dress like a baby monkey.

Shego raced past her big brother, giving him a shove of annoyance that didn’t even faze him.

“Halt! In the name of justice!” Hego shouted at the giant, as if any perpetrator was ever that compliant. Shego might have rolled her eyes at the rehearsed line if she weren’t preoccupied, and she ignored the order he barked after her. “Shego! Trip it!”

Gloria Grace covered ground fast with her long legs, seemingly oblivious to Mego squealing for her to stop as he held on like a tiny purple backpack. Shego pushed herself harder to catch up, desperately hoping with every beat of her pounding heart that the girl wouldn’t bump into a deadly power line by accident as she ducked beneath the cables every few paces.

“Wait!” Shego screamed, but the gentle giant must not have heard her. She barely heard herself.

She heard the engine of the Go Kart revving up behind her though, and barely had the chance to flick a sidelong glance before the sportscar zoomed ahead of her, only to pause just long enough for Shego to hop in. Hego stomped on the gas a little too eagerly, lurching them forward, and she caught his eyes popping wide in alarm. He’d only been driving for a few months and it was much too soon for him to be behind the wheel of such a vehicle.

Ahead, Gloria had taken a turn inland and was bounding through traffic, many vehicles swerving out of her way and at least one rear-ending another. The compact Go Kart barely zipped through in her wake.

Hego’s hand hovered over the dash and the numerous buttons and knobs there. “Which one of these deploys the—?”

“You are not launching anything at her!” Shego snapped. She was braced in an awkward crouch in her seat, holding on tight to the door and headrest, ready to jump on Gloria or wave her down – or something—

“I’m not going to hurt it!”

“You guys!” shrieked Mego as he was jostled upon the giant’s back. “Any time now!”

“Get up alongside her,” Shego ordered, and Hego threw her a questioning look. She scowled back. “Do it!”

His apprehension was fleeting, but he must have trusted her to have a plan because he did as she requested.

Ignoring her brother’s worry, Shego stood as straight as she dared in the speeding Go Kart now zooming along beside the panicked giant’s shins. “GG!” she shouted around cupped hands. “GLORIA!”

Wide panicked eyes snapped down to her, and Shego scarcely had the chance to hope it was recognition she saw in them. Gloria took more two gigantic steps and reeled, curly brown locks bouncing around her gaunt face as she came to a sudden stop uncomfortably close to the next set of power lines across her path.

Hego’s fingers hooked her belt then, pulling Shego back down into her seat to keep her from flying out as he hit the brakes and whipped around in front of the giant collapsing back on her rear. “That thing is a woman?” he blurted in realization now that he finally had the chance to really observe it.

Shego threw a worried glance back and was relieved he wasn’t springing into action as he’d been so ready to before he’d thought to fetch the Go Kart. Even someone as dense as Hego could read a room, though his aura all but shimmered in pops of blue around him in anticipation for a fight.

Jumping out of the car, Shego held her hands up in peace, stopping in her tracks when the giant girl began shuffling back at her approach. Car horns and alarms blared and civilians were still screaming as they scattered, but she tried not to let the commotion bother her as she called up, “We’re here to help you.” It was a lie. The assignment wasn’t to help the perpetrator – it was to take down and capture an unidentified creature. Plans had a funny way of changing though. She could only hope Betty would be understanding.

“Sh-Shi—?”

“Shego,” she corrected before her name could leave the giant girl’s lips.

“You’re one of them?” cried the giant, her distress resonating off the surrounding buildings towering above even her.

“It’s okay, Gloria,” Shego swore, hands up and unlit. She had a hunch Gloria was terrified of Team Go’s glow – especially hers, which presented itself as something too similar to fire. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Huge hazel eyes were brimmed with tears and she looked from Shego to Hego approaching slowly to stand just behind her. She didn’t look terribly convinced, but seconds passed without one of Team Go’s signature fights breaking out.

“Someone get me down!” howled Mego suddenly, his head peeking up over Gloria’s shoulder.

He was almost shaken off with her startled gasp, and GG dented a car hood as she leaned aside to gawp at the boy clinging to her. It was a wonder she didn’t brush him off like a bug in reflex.

“Oh, just jump, Mi— Mego,” Shego snapped at him. It wasn’t that far. He’d be fine.

Before he could work up the courage leap down, Gloria reached over and, as gentle a giant as ever, plucked him off her shoulder. Mego didn’t complain about the ride in a palm the size of a chair seat, but he hopped off before she could set him down herself and stumbled unsteadily toward his teammates.

Hego was quick to give him a congratulatory smack on the back that nearly knocked him to the pavement. “Way to go, champ!” he praised. “Good job holding on. You could take up professional bull riding.”

A woozy groan answered Team Go's posterboy, and then Mego was doubling over, upchucking his lunch. Which had been colorful, to say the least. “Dude,” Mego whimpered, tears streaming past his domino mask and down his cheeks, “I’m never eating donuts with sprinkles ever again.”

Shego cringed and tore her eyes away, stepping back quickly before the mess could get on her boots. She looked up to Gloria, the giant girl still stunned but clutching herself.

A hand rested on Shego’s shoulder and she flinched, looking up at her big brother who was looking down gravely at her. “You know the Southside Freak?” he asked.

She swallowed and nodded in reply.

++X++

So she got in a bit of hot water that day.

It didn’t end with a distraught lecture about a whole slew of things from Hego once they were in private or a slap on the wrist from Betty for withholding information. The penalty wasn’t too severe, but it was still a little more than a simple grounding. She had makeup work to do for skipping classes, she was essentially put back under house arrest, and the supervising organization swore to keep a closer eye on her for the foreseeable future until she proved herself trustworthy again, which meant hanging out with particular acquaintances at school was no longer an option to fill the social void.

She’d anticipated the punishment and was ready to accept it, even keeping her aggravation to herself when the morning after the Southside Freak was – peacefully – taken into custody, the newspapers began selling stories of Go City finally rid of another terror, all thanks to Team Go. Of course photographs had been snapped before a semi-truck had arrived to take the scared woman away to one of Global Justice’s outposts.

Shego had felt like she was lying through her teeth when she promised the research center would help her sort out her little mutation crisis.

Otherwise, the case of the Southside Freak was put behind her. There were bigger fish to fry and a new villain of the week to contend with. She had enough on her plate juggling family, school, and hero life to dwell on closed cases she was officially no longer involved in.

Some weeks later, like a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relief washed over her to discover big brother had kept their end of the deal. She almost didn’t recognize the brunette towering over the front door when she answered it. The giant girl was still inhumanly tall, casual jeans and tee custom tailored, but she was much more proportionate now, even if she still had to stoop to fit under the porch roof.

Gloria Grace was a stage name as it turned out, as she was a born and raised performer. She was a circus freak by definition and she was happy with her hand in life. She’d been seventeen and on tour with her folks, who were exceptionally tall themselves though they no longer held a candle to her, when Lady Fate came to Go City last April. Gloria never returned home to her trailer that night. Whatever had happened to her during her strange year away living on the outskirts of Go City, Global Justice’s team of clever scientists had been able to treat, gradually reversing the effects.

Her memory was still sketchy, GG explained as she sat on the front porch with Shilo to sip cola, but she still knew how to do what she did best – and that was be a freak. She smiled as she said so, and gave Shilo a handful of tickets for the traveling circus that had come to Go City. Shilo was apprehensive, but the show was for one night and one night only, so she took them and smiled back and promised to see her there.

She almost didn’t go.

She was glad she did.

It took some degree of begging before her pops let up on the curfew restriction and agreed to an outing for the sake of overdue quality time with the family. Surrounded by them on all sides, either popcorn or the twerps in her lap, Shilo waited anxiously for the giant girl’s debut that night, beating back the fear of the audience gasping in horror.

She was nervous for nothing. Despite first impressions, Gloria Grace the Giant Girl lived up to her title. The crowd was surprised – but in a remarkably good way that put her worries to rest. Oohs and ahhs were a much better sound than the screams of terror Gloria had been met with time and time again over the past year.

Gloria fit in among her own family of misfits, and her extraordinary condition was a more than welcomed sight. Shilo watched as the giant girl in the billowing skirt and vibrant sequins fluffy frills preformed her dance routine with a family larger than life and assisted in the performances of others. Throughout the whole evening, the giant girl wore a smile. It wasn’t just for show, either.

When all was said and done, Shilo slipped away from behind the circus tent, waving a tentative goodbye to the exuberant young lady who was ecstatic to be reunited and back bigger and better than ever, though she had joked about standing to lose a few inches, as if it would be as easy as diet and exercise.

The last she saw of GG was through the rear window of the family van, catching a final glimpse of her happily signing autographs and posing for photos.

Clearly some people – mutant or otherwise – took genuine pride in being a freak.

As Shilo sat on the edge of her bed that night, studying the radium-green plasma bubbling from her hands, she couldn’t help wondering if being a freak was for her.

#The F Word #Kim Possible #Shego #Team Go #fanfiction #oneshot

9 notes · View notes

jawnjendes · 5 years ago

Text

can’t see in the stormy weather | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

NOTE: this is NOT the new series. this is a one shot that takes place during the early stages of their relationship... you’ll find it in the Season 1 section of the masterlist :)

goth gf playlist | masterlist

When Shawn asked me to make a playlist describing who I am, I almost threw myself back to California. I don't know what it is about people wanting to know things about me, but it's annoying. I detest it.

It's not like he made me a playlist full of sappy love songs. He just wanted to hear songs I identify with. That was borderline terrifying because Shawn is a musician. He lives and breathes music and analyzing lyrics and melodies. What's he going to think if he finds Halsey's "Without Me" or 5SOS's "Invisible?"

Oh yeah. I deeply project whatever bits of me I discover onto songs. Then I stick to those songs and keep them on repeat and I make sure no one knows about them because then people would know things about me. It's irrational and unrealistic but that's how my stupid brain works. Anyone who's ever known me needs to disappear! They can't have the luxury of knowing me and all my secrets! What the fuck would I do if Shawn and I broke up? I'd have to kill him, that's what.

"What, are you gonna kill me too if we stop being friends?" Stella asked. "Seriously, it's just a playlist. It doesn't have to be that deep."

"I told you what the prompt was, right?" I replied.

"Yeah. And that is because Shawn knows you don't verbally express yourself about… anything. So he gave you a different outlet."

Fuck, I thought I was the psychology major here.

Yes, it was easier to let Shawn in through ways where I didn't have to say things out loud and explicitly. I had to admit that. But he was still going to find out things I had yet to tell him. Important things apart from the anxiety and semi-regular therapy sessions.

"Why don't you just pick generic songs you like, and not the ones that reveal too much?" Stella suggested.

I scoffed. "I'm closed off, I'm not a liar."

"It's not lying. Everyone's favorite song means something. I was listening to Big Time Rush when I touched down on Toronto for the first time. Everytime I hear Boyfriend I think about how I successfully made it out of my parents' house."

As nice as that sentiment was, I couldn't bring myself to find ways around the prompt. I had to do what Shawn said: compile a bunch of songs that I feel represent who I am. Besides, making playlists is… really fucking fun.

It took an hour of adding, removing, and very specific placements, but I was happy about my playlist to the point where I was nervous. I sent the link to Shawn the next morning when I knew he was on the way to the gym. Figured he’d listen to it during his morning workout and get it overwith. But no.

No.

Basically, I’m a fool who forgets she’s dating a musician.

So here I was, thinking that Shawn would make of what he will about the songs I chose and we would never talk about it. Wow, was I fucking wrong. How did I not expect Shawn to want to know the why?

He was a little sneaky about it too. Shawn invited me over to his place after my classes, and why the fuck would I say no to that? Of course I went over, internally cursing myself for not shaving my legs the night before. He usually had the TV on and a steaming mug of chamomile ready for me whenever I came over no matter the circumstance. Today there was only tea, and a stupidly excited Shawn.

“We have music to listen to you today!” he said when he had me on his couch.

He knew I wouldn’t play dumb either. And because of the fact that I was looking at his stupid beautiful face, I couldn’t move away from this topic.

“Cool…” I said stiffly.

Jet Black Heart - Live

He pulled up the playlist, which I had titled with the black heart emoji, and hit shuffle. Completely going against the very intricate order I put each song in. He was surprised to hear an audience screaming at the first song, but he recognized the tune that came shortly after.

“Why’d you pick this one?” he asked, his arm going around the back of the couch, watching me with his stupid pretty eyes.

I chuckled. “It’s a goth joke! Everything about me is dark, even my heart!”

“And there’s a hurricane underneath it?” Shawn guessed. He really was going to pick apart the lyrics and apply them to me, huh? “Any reason why it’s the live version?”

The answer wasn’t anything too telling or cheesy. It was still hard to maintain eye contact as I explained. “Stella introduced me to this band. She dragged me to a 5SOS concert and now it’s our tradition to see them whenever they tour.”

“Is this your favorite song?”

“Live, yeah. It just reminds me of feeling so alive. Concerts are the only times I feel that way.”

Shawn grinned at the sentiment. He seemed happy with that answer and sang along to the rest of the song.

“And there’s your deep shit of the day,” I said when it ended.

“I want more.”

What I’m Made Of…

I felt a tiny pit in my stomach. I knew this song, and I knew that Shawn did not know this song. He was looking down at the album cover on his phone, thinking to himself. Then, he turned to me expectantly.

“So…?”

“Just enjoy the lyrics and the sick guitar solo.”

He was quiet for a minute. “Well, I do get your vibes from it. But you’re also reluctant to show me what you’re made of.”

I hesitated. “It’s uh, a battle song. I’ll fight someone for trying to forcibly take anything from me.”

“Like if somebody jumped you?”

“Physically, mentally, emotionally. Yeah.”

Again, silence. “You gonna fight me?”

I knew he was joking, and I cracked a grin. “Jury’s out.”

“Any reasoning behind this soundtrack?” He showed me the cover, and I internally tried not to panic.

I had plucked the song off the wrong album, and now Shawn knew I was a fan of a certain speedy blue creature.

So much for being cool and mysterious. I’m just a fucking nerd now.

“Nah, not at all,” I casually replied.

Honestly, I enjoyed this song. I love this song. Why else would it be on this playlist? But just this once, I wanted to skip to the next one.

And when the next one came, I wanted to skip again.

I Am… All of Me

“Do, do you kin a certain hedgehog?” Shawn asked, once again amused by the album cover.

“No…” I resisted rolling my eyes.

“This song definitely sounds like you. Tell me, am I dating a hedgehog?”

Suddenly, this felt less nerve wracking and more annoying. I sighed heavily.

“I thought you wanted to know more about me.”

He chuckled. “Hey, I’m trying. I’m interpreting all these songs in whatever way I can because you won’t explain them to me. Plus, this song is from a video game.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I like the game this song came from? Maybe I casually like this whole franchise because-” I stopped myself upon seeing Shawn’s face light up, like he wanted me to go on.

But no, he made fun of me. This song is now void, and he will not get an answer.

“Because?” he coaxed.

“Because nothing.” I grabbed his phone out of his hand and skipped to the next song.

Without Me

“Oh, who hurt you?”

“You already know that story. Next!”

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)

I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.

Shawn looked at me for a moment, still trying to analyze the fuck out of my song choice. “I gotta say, I was expecting more goth music. You listen to a lot of mainstream artists.��

“There’s no rule saying I can’t. Mainstream artists are popular for a reason.”

“Touche. So why this song?”

“It’s what people think I am. Grumpy, bitter, always in black.”

"But that's not all you are." Shawn held his hand out to me, and I took it. He looked down at my chipped polish, running his fingers over my nails. "I mean, you are grumpy. Bitter? No, I'd say realistic. Always in black? Yeah, and you look beautiful all the time because you feel good in it."

That last part struck me. At least I didn't look odd to him. He didn't fall for the tough exterior I've built for myself. That little fact was both touching and terrifying.

"I know there's more to you than the way you dress yourself. It's why I like you so much." He grinned.

Cry With a Smile

"There's the goth metal you were looking for!" I exclaimed.

"Mm, your sense of belonging, as you put it. I know all about this already."

And he skipped to the next song.

A Little Too Much

Shawn perked up a little bit, a smile growing on his face. Then he looked at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Is that me?"

Now my cheeks burned. "Yeah. This song feels like a callout."

"Babe…" He was still smiling as he leaned in to cup my face and kiss my forehead.

"Yeah, can you believe? I get tired of being a hardass sometimes." I was only half joking.

Not a lot of people knew my deal with anxiety and depression, much less why they intensified over the last couple of years. The urge to tell Shawn everything was beginning to form in my throat but I kept pushing it down. He looked too happy, and I didn't want to bring that down.

"You don't have to be a hardass around me," he said sweetly. "Actually, please don't be a hardass around me, okay? Everyone has their limits."

Then, he skipped to the next song, because he was sick of his own voice.

Fist Bump

Shawn looked at me once again, a grin on his face. Here we go again.

“I’m noticing a trend here.”

“I like this franchise, okay?”

“Okay, kinnie.”

I rolled my eyes and sat back, scrolling on my phone to diffuse the frustration. What was the point if he was just going to make fun of me?

“Hey.” Shawn gently placed his hand over my phone, getting me to put it down. “I’m only kidding. You can laugh.”

My eyes narrowed.

“I’m serious! Look, maybe if you just tell me what these songs mean to you, I’ll understand better. Just give me a chance.”

His eyes didn’t show any bit of deceit… But that’s how they all are. And everytime, I’m always a fool. So I sighed and tried not to cringe at my own words.

“It’s lame… and stupid… and really stupid. But all those silly little video game songs? They…” I exhaled, and chipped at my nails. “You know I deal with… anxiety and everlasting sadness…”

“You mean depression?” Shawn corrected.

“Yeah, whatever,” I went on. “The world is full of some real shit, and, and the songs and the games…” I made a face and looked down. “They’re comforting.”

It was silent for a minute before a hand went and cupped my chin. I was met with Shawn’s eyes and glowing smile. But then he opened his mouth and the most baby baby voice came out.

“Does Sonic make yew feew bettew?”

I smacked his hand away. “I swear to-”

But I didn’t finish that statement because he tackled me in a hug.

“Kidding, kidding! I’m sorry, baby, that was the last one, I promise!” He kissed the side of my head before leaning back to look at me. “I think it’s really cute you like this series.”

“It’s not cute, it’s self care,” I mumbled.

Head Above Water

“Finally, a song I know!” Shawn exclaimed, and he dove into singing along.

I forgot I put that one on the playlist. I meant to take it off. It only made me more nervous that Shawn already knew this song. He was one step closer to unlocking the big one.

He sounded beautiful as he sang, lost in the melancholy melody. I watched him, trying not to give anything away through my face alone. It was getting harder to keep it together, just from the little things I had already told Shawn.

And so came the inevitable expectant look. “So? Depression? Religion?”

Part of me wanted to let him think that. Depression is common, it’s easier to explain than the real reason. Besides, it’s not a lie. I do have my dark days, and even darker periods. But depression isn’t the reason for this song.

“Nope,” I replied.

“You know, Avril Lavigne wrote this when she was really sick.”

Dammit, he does know what this song is about.

I sighed heavily. “How do I put this in a way that doesn’t sound scary or pathetic?”

“You’re sick,” Shawn guessed with a chuckle. But the look on my face changed the mood, and he went serious. “How bad are we talking?”

“I get sick… every so often,” I explained. “It’s nothing scary, it’s just… chronic IBS. I can manage it, I just have to be careful with what I eat.”

He nodded as he listened. “So it’s not that bad, but it’s enough for you to have a whole song about being sick?”

I hesitated. “There’s another song, actually.”

“Two?” Shawn shifted in his seat. “So that must mean it’s a bigger deal to you than you’re making it out to be.”

And he thinks he doesn’t know me well enough.

I didn’t like talking about my health problems, unless it was with my doctor. I didn’t talk about how annoying all this shit was outside my therapist’s office. Anytime I felt frustrated about food, I talked myself down because it could literally be worse. Why would I whine about something so mundane?

“You know you don’t have to tone it down for me,” Shawn added when I stayed quiet for too long. “And, if it helps… now I understand why you read restaurant menus so carefully.”

“Like I said, I have to be careful.” My voice went thick for a moment, so I coughed. “I eat the wrong thing, and I end up sleeping in the bathroom til the wrong thing is out.”

“So it’s frustrating to deal with this all the time?”

“Yeah… and I spent two and a half years not knowing what was wrong with me, two and a half years going to the doctor more times than a young adult should for their age… two and a half years thinking I might die…”

Shawn’s eyes widened. “Years?”

“We went to a doctor in Mexico, and he finally diagnosed me with IBS,” I explained. “But that was after the words ‘lymphoma’ and ‘tumor’ were thrown into the mix. It’s not really something you forget. Oh, and I hate vomiting. I hate it so much that I can’t be in the same room as someone who might be queasy. So that’s annoying.”

“Wow…”

I suddenly felt a little self conscious. “I know it’s stu-”

“If you say stupid one more time,” Shawn cut me off. “This is the least stupid thing you could be talking about right now.”

“My anxiety links back to food, too. Think that’s important to mention.”

“Is that why you always want to go back to your dorm after a dinner date?”

Oof, so he noticed. I stayed quiet, so Shawn continued.

“I can take care-”

“No,” I said immediately. The last thing I needed was my boyfriend seeing me have a meltdown because I ate something spicy. The last thing I needed was for anyone to see me have an anxiety attack after vomiting. “It’s not your job.”

Shawn reached over to cup my cheek. Only then did I realize I had been tearing up, and he was wiping it away.

I turned my head away, dabbing at my eyes with my sweater sleeves. I didn’t want to look pathetic and I failed.

“I have to ask,” he said after a moment, “have you gotten sick at all since we started dating?”

“It is a chronic illness that I have.”

“And you just… you just took care of yourself? While you were sleeping in the bathroom?”

“Like I’ve always done since I left home.”

“Impressive. I always call my mom when I feel sick, and she comes over every time.”

I was honestly surprised. I was expecting him to be upset because I never called him in my time of need. And that alone, made more tears well up in my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, scooting closer to me. “It’s okay. You probably went through a lot before you got diagnosed. It’s frustrating, I can see it weighing on your shoulders. Just tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

I could feel him looming over me, waiting for me to fall back in his arms. The song had long since ended, and it wasn’t about the playlist anymore. Shawn was just waiting for me to do something. I couldn’t bear to look at him, because his kindness and understanding would make me break even more. He really was too kind, far more than I expected.

Even when I said nothing, and he took out his phone. I thought he got bored, but his next prompt made me look up at him.

“Okay, so that barbeque restaurant we went to the other night, we had spicy buffalo wings for an appetizer, so we won’t have those again. Any other food that might make you sick?”

I stared for a moment before I caught another tear with my sleeve. “Um… can we skip that whole restaurant? Barbeque and my stomach don’t mix.”

Shawn typed, and the only sound in the room was his clicking keyboard. “Got it. No more barbeque. Any other place or food to avoid?”

“It’s a long list…”

“That’s why I’m writing it down.”

_______

goth gf taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @someoneunimportantxx @goldenmndes @ruinhoney @calyumthomas @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @parkeraul @havethetimeeofyourlifee @chillingbythesea @wronglanemendes @softmendesss

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x oc #shawn x goth gf #damn look at dis shit #xmas came a little late lmao #im a lil soft for shawn rn so yea

54 notes · View notes

descendantofthesparrow · 6 years ago

Text

Deaf! Harry Hook x Reader - first voice

Key:

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

“talking”

“signing”

“talking while signing”

‘thought’

“lip reading”

---narrator pov---

ever since he was little, Harry had been unable to Hear the world around him, he could see, taste, smell, and touch just fine. but he couldn't hear...you see Harry was deaf, now he wasn't born deaf, no no no, an accident happened.

now when Harry was 7, he was on the jolly roger when a rival pirate crew ambushed his father's crew and took Harry hostage, and when the one holding him got tackled, Harry got sent to the floor and his head hit the floor and caused something connected to his ears in his brain to be disconnected, he blacked out and when he awoke, his sisters and uncle Smee standing over him, seemingly talking but...they weren't? he couldn't hear anything.

as he stared at them like they were crazy, Smee figured something out and tested it by secretly snapping his fingers directly next to Harry's ear, and...nothing. no reaction, saddened by the poor boy's fate, he grabbed a writing device and wrote

“Harrison my boy, I’m so sorry, but you’re deaf now.”

Harry, tried to tell him off, but when he spoke, he couldn't hear himself, he could feel the rumble of his voice, but...no voice. Harry couldn't believe it, he jumped out of bed and ran off, needing to get away from everything for a moment. so he ran, ran past the usually noisy gaston fight bar. nothing. ran past the screeching witches. nothing.

nothing

nothing!

collapsing on the beach he felt something burning at the back of his eyes, flooding over and streaking down his face. pressing his hand to his face he felt wetness

'tears, of course'

Harry let them run, he was allowed to, he couldn't hear any more for fuck's sake he could burn down a village if he wanted to.

so he cried, and cried, and cried.

Smee found him three hours later, curled up asleep on the beach, eyes red and puffy, tears long dried up on his cheeks. he picked him up and took him back to the ship.

---

Uma found out sooner than later and when she did she refused to leave his side for a week before her mother pulled her away, screaming her head off.

fortunately, Mal didn't find out, along with almost all the Isle, the only people who knew Harry was deaf were his dad, sisters, uncle Smee, Gil, Uma, and Yen Sid.

Now Yen Sid found out Harry was Deaf when Harry came to class, and whenever he called on Harry, he wouldn't respond till Uma shoved him and showed him a piece of paper written down with what he was asking on it. Harry also seemed to be more sluggish in his talking, as if he couldn't hear what he was trying to say, so he confronted Harry, and after Harry confirmed it, Yen decided he would teach Harry ASL, Auradon Sign Language. along with teaching Uma as well, who taught it to Gil.

over the years Harry had mastered ASL and lip reading. Yen Sid had also forced Harry to undergo speech therapy, knowing Harry would need to keep a reputation and for that, he would need to talk so Harry could talk just as he would if he could hear, and when he was around his family or friends that knew, he would simultaneously sign. it was just easier. he also learned a lot of ASL swear words.

so now the backstory is set, let us go on to the story.

----

Harry sat in the chip shop watching the entrance carefully, Uma had yet to return and he was getting anxious, tapping his hands on the table. The crew around him also being anxious, Gil soon took noticed and tapped Harry on the shoulder, Harry jumped and turned to Gil, who started to move his hands around, a worried look on his face.

“Hey, are you okay? you’re really jumpy”

Harry sighed and pressed his pinkie and ring fingers into his palm and pointed his index and middle finger out and pressed them together with his thumb, opening and closing them. “no” Gil made a face and signed “why?”

“Uma, I don't know where she is and im getting worried” Gil made an “oh” shape and nodded signing “don't worry Harry its Uma, we have nothing to worry about” Harry furrowed his brows but nodded pressing his fingers to his chin and extended his hand to Gil, a soft smile on his face.

“thank you”

all of a sudden bonny tapped the table five times causing vibrations in the table, alerting Harry. harry and the crew straitened and looked to the entrance, Harry let out a harsh breath, Auradon messengers. the one in the front walked forward and handed Him and Gil a scroll, both glanced at each other

‘His Royal Majesty, King Ben of Auradon, and his counselor Ms.Evie of the Isle hereby request the pleasure of your company, Harry Hook, for the current academic year at Auradon Prep. please notify his Majesty’s couriers of your response of his request.

I should have done this sooner, I'm sorry, please come.

King Ben.

PS. we are still looking for Uma, if she is found she will also be given an invitation, I promise.’

Harry bit his lip and glanced over at Gils which entailed the same words with a few exceptions. Harry looked over to the couriers and carefully spoke as not to reveal his disability.

“we accept”

---

Harry made a face at Gil as he stuffed his face with the limo sweets, Gil turned to him and raised his brow

“what?” Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed a cherry lollipop. ripping it open and popping it in his mouth he looked outside the car window, pausing when the cherry syrup hit his tastebuds, feeling his throat rumble, he realized he probably just moaned at the taste, turning he saw Gil laughing, getting control of himself Gil signed to Harry

“dude, did it taste THAT good?”

all Harry did was give the bird, causing Gil to double over laughing again.

soon they arrived at the school and the boys looked at each other and Gil signed “don't worry, I’ll be right here if anybody talks to fast ill fill you in later” Harry pressed his fingers to his chin and extended his hand outward to Gil,

“thank you” Gil nodded and said “you’re welcome Harry”

the two clambered out of the limo and saw, Ben, Mal, Evie, Carlos, Jay, a band (which Harry couldn't Hear, one of the few times Harry was glad he was deaf), and Fairy Godmother. FG opened her mouth and began her speech but she was talking at a speed Harry couldn't lip read so he just looked around when someone caught his eye, a (h/c) (s/c) girl was walking into the dorm building and she turned and her (e/c) eyes caught his and she gave a shy smile and waved before continuing her way into the building.

‘well,’ Harry thought following Ben and Mal lead the way for a tour, ‘shes interesting’

...

‘i wonder what her name is’

---

over the next two months, Harry made sure no one would be able to deduce the fact that he was deaf, though many Auradonians made that hard sometimes, like facing away from him as they talked preventing him from lip reading, he did notice that there were some other deaf people here, who also used ASL, Gil tried to convince him to introduce himself to them but he refused, not sure that they wouldn't tell FG and Ben. so he was doing...okay, except there was that one girl that he saw on his first day here, Gil had met her in home ec class and had said that her name was (y/n) and was really nice and he should get to know her, Gil also said that he should tell Ben and FG about the deaf situation, they would understand.

all Harry said was “bullshit”...at least to the Ben and FG thing, as for the (y/n) thing....goddammit fine he’d get to know her.

only thing was..when he met her in the place Gil set up,...she talked yeah...but she also signed. Harry blanched and hurriedly asked her how she knew he was deaf. she signed/said

“well, whenever someone tries to talk to you, and they are behind you, you don't respond till either someone alerts you or they touch you. and FG also brought it up with me, as im one of the only really fluent ASL speakers on campus, soooo yeah”

Harry simply stared at her until he realized that...Fairy godmother knew

“what FG knows!?”

“well, not really, she has a hunch, she wanted me or Gil to tell her but both of us think you should be the one to tell her, it is your disability”

well, it kinda made sense, FG had always been enunciating her words, she might have done that so Harry could read her lips.

he felt (y/n) tug his jacket, looking up at her he saw her smile and she pointed at him, pointed at herself, and clasp her hands together in a motion that Harry had only seen Yen Sid do while teaching him ASL.

“you, me, friends?”

Harry gaped at her, before nodding slowly, his face heating up. she smiled brightly, closing her eyes and laughing. and in just that motion, Harry realized how adorable this girl was.

‘godammit, I’m not trained to deal with this much adorableness’

and from that day forward, (y/n) joined their duo, making it a trio once more, Harry finally noticing that she was in all of their classes and Gil had forced her to move her seat to the one directly next to Harry. so by forced association and newfound friendship, he and (y/n) were getting to know each other. and slowly...Harry was falling for the (h/c), (e/c) cutie/beauty.

first, he was amused.-

he liked to tease her, and when he did, she puffed her cheeks and he liked to squeeze them and make the air pop out. and when he visits her in cooking class she’d have whatever she was cooking/baking with all over her apron and face, and she'd toss some him, many a time creating a food fight. and like a little evil mastermind, used his deafness to her advantage (it was one of the few times he didn't mind someone doing that), recruiting Gil and hounding him with chocolate and flour.

then, he was impressed-

he had attended a viewing of R.O.A.R tryouts, and there was a particular fighter that had swamped all the others with ease, flipping, pk rolling, clearly an expert in both defense and offense, easily beating Jay, the dick head chad, and the actually cool chick Lonnie. and when the fighter revealed themselves, Harry almost tripped. (y/n), it was (y/n). she saw him in the upstairs viewpoint, grinned and gave him a thumbs up, Harry giving one in return.

...

yeah, she got in. goddamnit, she’s awesome.

finally, he was smitten.-

he fell, oh geez he fell hard, he’d fallen for her rhythmic tapping of her fingers on his wrist, he’d fallen for the way she took his hand and pressed it to her throat/chest to feel her voice as she sang her favorite songs, he’d fallen for the way she jumped excitedly as she presented a dessert she’d thought he’d like after working on it for hours. how’d she write notes for classes of a teacher who never spoke to the class facing forward for him, how’d she naturally speak and sign at the same time so Harry could understand her, how’d she stay up late with him and Gil and help them understand remedial goodness and math.

just...she had become a lighthouse, in the storm of his life, she had even understood his devotion to Uma, even volunteering to go help look for her.

one day he realized, if he would possibly hear again, her voice would be the first voice he’d want to hear.

--the end!!...?--

I’m going to be doing two endings to this,

-the slight angst with fluff ending where Harry regains his hearing in a similar way that he lost it, hitting his head-

-the fluffiest ending where FG tells Harry about hearing aids and Harry goes for it and he hears for the first time in 10-11 years-

note: there will be crying in both endings, not telling you who cries.

Links are making this story not show up in tumblr search bar, so if fluff ending and angst ending are wanted to be read go to my page and type in first voice.

459 notes · View notes

im-the-punk-who · 5 years ago

Text

I don’t know if I ever actually posted this but I can’t find it in the tags so here’s the epilogue I wrote for @thunderboltsortofapenny‘s Del Grant au, set roughly fifteen years after the end of it.

The sound of Del's phone makes him look away from the window of his apartment. He pauses in scratching Kronk's head to look at the screen.

Hey loser, want to meet for coffee? That new store is opening and I want to try their muffins

He snorts, Kronk looks up at him in a mix of slight alarm and confusion. The blond tabby that's adopted his sixth floor apartment isn't used to the noises he makes yet. He'd only just managed to lure the stray in through his window last week. With pizza, of course. He is nothing if not just like his namesake. Del misses Clint. He makes a note to call him later, it's always easier to hear Clint's voice. For all everything else has changed, Clint's voice hasn't.

Gimme half an hour. Have to convince the cat to move.

Half a second later: You're a loser and that cat is taking advantage of your bad habits. See you in half an hour. First ave and tenth. <3

Groaning remorsefully, he slowly starts to detach the warm cat from his thigh and move from the windowsill. He's dressed well enough for a date with a friend - Natalie won't care anyway. As long as Del is smiling and sober Natalie doesn't ever give him too much shit. Del loves that about her. He zips his hoodie up the rest of the way and stuffs his wallet and phone into his jeans pockets, starts shuffling lazily out the door. He hasn't wanted the gloves sitting on the front table since winter, but it's still cool enough that a long sleeve shirt is plausible.

Twenty minutes later he steps off the subway out into the east village. For all he lives twenty minutes away he rarely comes here unless one of his friends invites him. He likes to stay in Brooklyn for the most part - or lose himself completely in a really crowded place like Times Square. He revels in the fact that crowds - for the most part - comfort him now instead of petrifying him. It's a small victory, but it's an important one. The new cafe Natalie wants to try is called Trees Bein' - "it's pronounced Tres Bien it's a pun, it's clever" Natalie had insisted, exasperated - and Del can't actually help the sound he makes at the name. His friends are such fucking dweebs. The place is crowded but not uncomfortably so and the nature vibe immediately puts him at ease. He spots Natalie waiting by the front door and waves.

"You are such a dweeb I can't believe I'm friends with you," he says in lieu of an actual greeting and he gets a pinch to his right arm for the trouble.

"Delano Timothy Grant you are like a hundred and twelve years old and you're still hanging out in wannabe chic cafes with your expectant-mother friends. You have no room to judge in this scenario." The fact that doesn't hurt - and Natalie knows it won't - makes the smile on his face grow bigger.

He's better now. He really is. He's made his peace with Bucky - with the Soldier too - with every part of him, mostly. He still has bad days and nightmares sometimes, but mostly he's just a perpetual twelve year old who doesn't age like his friends do, who sometimes relapses into an accent that hasn't really been heard for more than a couple of decades. He has real memories of three very different lives. But he's okay. He is. (He remembers when he used to say those words and they were lies, but they aren't now. His three psychology degrees and his Masters in Cognition and Perception make him qualified to make this statement.)

"You are going to make a horrible mother. Your children will grow up traumatized and their only comfort in life will be their uncle Del."

They're at the front of the line and Natalie orders a hot mint tea and a chocolate chip muffin. Del looks undecidedly at the menu for a few seconds before ordering the largest mocha coffee they have and a banana nut muffin. He doesn't need the muffin to remind him of his mentor today, but he gets it anyway. Fond memories or something.

"If my children ever call you their uncle Del I'm deleting your number from my phone," Natalie continues as they wait for their orders, but she gives him a fond look anyway. "How's work?"

Del smiles when he thinks of his patients. He always does - if there is one thing he can unequivocally say he's done right since being given whatever number second chance he's on it was going into therapy. "It's going really well. I've got a new patient who is doing very well, considering what they've been through. I think I can really help them." He's thinking about his newest patient - a young child who'd been assaulted and tortured by her family until she started having dissociations to deal with the trauma. This case hits close to home, and he knows he's maybe more invested in this kid than he usually is even by his standards. But. He became a therapist to help people and he's good at it.

He's careful not to give away any specific information - even what he's said much is more than he would share with anyone who wasn't Natalie. He takes his work and his patient's confidentiality seriously, he can't imagine not doing so. Wielding someone else's secrets like that. Natalie smiles again at him because she knows.

"I'm really proud of you, Del."

He flushes with pride at the statement but luckily their orders are called, so he's saved from saying something equally mushy back. Natalie has been his friend since he first came back to New York fifteen years ago, lost and alone and so suicidal he'd nearly walked in front of a train, except he hadn't been sure it would have killed him. She's almost forty now but she glows in a way that makes her looks years younger. She's Del's favorite person in the world hands down, possibly barring Clint.

They sit and chat for a while, catching up on their life in the two days since they've talked last and giving the new cafe a resounding thumbs up - "even though the name is still stupid who comes up with these things" "shut up Delano".

"So have you made any new friends - besides your stray cat friend?" Del rolls his eyes. Natalie has been on hi for a while about finding someone to spend his time with romantically lately. Like she thinks he's becoming an old spinster or something. It's not that he doesn't want that it's just. Just he's still got some old doubts and he's comfortable alone, comfortable waiting for the right thing when it comes along. Until then he'll play the casual dating game and just as casually lose their numbers afterwards.

He shakes his head and doesn't miss her eye roll, but she lets it drop. He's come a long way and they both know it. Natalie finishes her muffin and gets up, admitting reluctantly she really doesn't have time for a longer chat. She has to meet her husband Blake before she heads to yoga and if she didn't legitimately scare him sometimes Del would never let her live down what an aging hipster she is. "Give my regards to Blake," he tells her sincerely and hugs her close before they part. He sits in the cafe for a few more minutes, content and jesus christ he is happy isn't he? No matter how many times he realizes it, it's still a shock after all the time he's spent not happy.

On his way back he makes a detour to a new grocery store, mostly because the one he usually goes to doesn't have any good cat food. He walks home along the pier instead of catching a bus. Brooklyn has and hasn't changed, he loves the commitment to keeping things green and making outdoor gardens everywhere. He's frustrated it comes at the expense of families who have been living there since he did...the first time.

He and -

In retrospect, he's honestly flabbergasted they haven't run into each other before now, but he looks casually around the park running along the pier and sees Steve Rogers amongst a gaggle of kids with baseball mits and bats. He's not embarrassed he recognizes Steve without seeing his face, after fifteen years. He's still at least partly Bucky Barnes, after all. What he is surprised about is that there's not pain or hurt in his chest. No pain or bad memories or needles in his brain. It's another small check in his mental notebook of things that are good about today.

He walks slowly to a bench and sits down - he can take the time and he can admit he's curious about what Steve has been up to when he's not Captain America. Del sometimes shakes his head that even after all this time Steve hasn't given up the mantle for more than a few years at a time. Addicted to being needed, that one, says a voice in the back of his head and Del has to agree.

He waits, watches fondly, until all but one of the kids has left. Steve sits with this one kid and talks with the scrawny munchkin for another fifteen minutes, until the kid hops up and grabs his pack, running off. Del gets up and walks over. He's not sure when he decided he wanted to talk to Steve but he's eager in a way he hasn't really been in a long time.

"Well if it isn't Captain America." He has to struggle not to laugh when Steve whirls around and nearly trips over himself. The picture of grace.

Steve's mouth forms a few words, none of which he vocalizes, before he regains his composure. Del is still trying not to laugh. "Uh. Jesus. Hey." Steve looks him up and down, unsure. "Wh-uhm. Hey." He's staring somewhat expectantly at Del for a few seconds before Del realizes with a flush of pleasure Steve is waiting for Del to tell him what he wants to be called. He's almost forgotten when he last saw Steve he'd told him to do that. Not to assume Steve knows anything about who he is.

"Del. It's Del." Steve smiles brightly and he looks genuinely happy. There's no sadness or regret that Del can find when he searches his expression.

"It's been. Christ it's been a long time. Are you - how are you?" It's that same genuine tone Del and Bucky both remember Steve always having. Del rolls his eyes, but it's a fond gesture.

"I'm good. I'm. Really good." He's still a little surprised he's talking to Steve and not in pain. That he can actually look at Steve and not feel hollow or inadequate. That he might actually have ridiculous butterflies in his stomach because Steve hasn't changed either. "I stopped at the grocery store on the corner because I have a new cat and the bodega near my house only has shitty cat food." Like he has to explain he wasn't just sitting on a park bench watching Steve teaching a bunch of kids baseball for the simple pleasure of it.

Steve's laugh is maybe another check on that list of good things. Which is weird, because he doesn't know Steve, not really, but he...wants to? "Trying to resurrect the Dodgers?" He doesn't know if that's too familiar. He isn't in pain, but there's a weird balance in his head. He isn't sure what's appropriate when talking to the guy you were in love with, then had wiped from your head, then hated, then, maybe...could have had a crush on again. Then didn't want to see for fifteen years.

"Nah. I've let that dream go." Their eyes meet for a second and there's more to those words and neither of them pretend there aren't. Steve doesn't let them hang though, just states them as simple fact. "I like teaching these kids. They're really great, and they love the game."

It's bright out and he's not hurting and Steve's still fucking gorgeous. That was never really the question, it's still not. "Hey, I've gotta get going or these will spoil-" he holds up the cans of cat food "but do you want to catch up sometime?" He can't hide how relieved he is, no matter how much he likes his life now, to see someone else who hasn't changed with the years that have passed. And he can admit that, maybe, he has actually been lonely. Not like Natalie thinks, but he has been.

"Absolutely. I'll give you my number? Call me or whatever when you get a chance." Del gets his number, enters it in his phone and grins.

"Great. I will." He's turning away when Steve calls his name and he looks back. Steve's smiling and his face is so, so earnest Del does feel an ache in his chest, but it's not a bad one. It's because every part of him knows what's coming and he's maybe a little bit exasperated at how much Steve hasn't changed, even when he has.

"Thank you, Del. I'm glad we ran into each other."

Del grins, lifts a hand in goodbye. "Me too, Steve. See you around."

Definitely a check in the good things that happened today column.

#penny i really hope its okay im posting this like 6 years later #idk what you even did with this but like #i needed something happy and this is probably the happiest thing ive ever written lmao #del grant au #he stood for something #milo writes

2 notes · View notes

sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 5 years ago

Text

@thecorteztwins

I wound up writing a little thing based on those panels you showed me of villains “rehabilitating” (but actually being mind-controlled) at Clear Mountain Center in X-Men 92. This was meant to be a funny story about Fabian in rehab learning how to talk to women, but it got a little disturbing because of the mind-control aspect, and also Avalanche tells a grim little story about baby murder, so warnings for that. But now I’m really tempted to write something about Haven taking the place over and actually Doing It Right.

“So,” Fabian began, speaking in the halting tones of someone attempting to wrap his mind around a difficult concept. “You’re saying you’re not attracted to me?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Tabitha Smith, the mutant known as Boomer (and also Time Bomb, Boom-boom, Meltdown, and whatever other code-name caught her fancy). Her tone was firm, but she smiled at him, as if to soften the blow. “I mean, you’re obviously good-looking, just not my type.”

“Oh, of course, you prefer women. I understand. I am open-minded about such things –“

“Nooooo…..” Boomer cut in, with some slight irritation creeping into her voice. “I’m mostly into guys. Just different types of guys.” Fabian thought hard. He was tempted to spread his legs out wider, to give her a better look at what she was rejecting, but he’d gotten enough tiny power-bombs to the crotch to learn that that was a bad idea. (The low-powered bombs did no real damage, but they certainly stung.)

“I get it, I get it. You are holding yourself back. You are maintaining a professional relationship because you are my counselor.”

“No!” Boomer held her head in her hands for a moment, sighing. “Look, not every woman will find you attractive, okay? Everyone has different preferences. Like, people think Leonard Decaprio is super-hot, and he just doesn’t do anything for me, I’m more of a Brad Pitt girl. It’s not something you need to feel bad about, it doesn’t mean you’re like, ugly, or anything like that.”

Fabian’s mind whirled. This girl was young, beautiful, a powerful mutant, and had showed him such kindness as his mentor. She had a surprising amount of wisdom underneath her shallow and flippant demeanor. And yet, her judgement was so unsound. Perhaps she had some kind of psychological condition, like a strange form of face-blindness? But then, Fabian had been learning to accept many ideas that had previously seemed impossible. The idea of living with the humans in peace. The idea of answering hatred with understanding, not violence. The idea that he should treat others with kindness and respect, instead using them as stepping stones in his quest for status and power.

“Very well,” Fabian began again. It was difficult to force the words out. “I…accept that you do not find me attractive. I….accept that some people…..may….not find me attractive. After all, there are many different preferences in this world.”

“Yeah, dude, exactly. It’s like…some people like Cool Ranch Doritos? And some people prefer Nacho Cheese. There’s no right or wrong, except for the people who like Funyuns, because that shit is nasty.” Fabian wanted to roll at his eyes at her rather low class tastes, but instead he found himself laughing good-naturedly.

“Ha, ha, yes, that is a funny joke,” he said, beaming. It was strange. His mind felt so….slow. Like there was this weight pressing down in it. But at the same time, it was oddly pleasant. A bit like Anne Marie’s more enthusiastic hugs, which always threatened to break the recipient’s back.

“In Spain we have jamon flavored potato chips. Perhaps you would find them interesting to try. I will bring some back the next time I visit home.” He did not add that he had never eaten those chips, they were junk food for peasants, but if this girl found them enjoyable, he would indulge her. It was a nice thing to do, and he found that he wanted to be nice lately. He didn’t entirely understand why.

“Oh dude, that would be amazing!” Boomer exclaimed. “I love trying junk food from other countries. There’s so much cool stuff out there. Did you know that they have, like, a whole ton of Kit-Kat flavors in Japan?”

I don’t care, Fabian wanted to say. I spent my time in Japan eating Kobe beef and blue-fin tuna, not wasting my money on cheap candy.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he said aloud instead. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t intended to sound so interested, but his mouth and brain did not seem properly connected. The pleasant feeling hung over him, almost suffocating.

“OMG, there are like, so many! There’s strawberry, and sweet potato, and soy sauce, and wasabi – which is like, better than you’d expect – and sake, and…”

Fabian wanted to tell her to stop prattling, but he couldn’t quite find the words. He looked around the outdoor area while she rambled on. There was Blob pruning rhododendron bushes with Storm, the blossoms tiny in his huge, clumsy hands.

“….and blueberry cheesecake, and apple pie, and brown sugar syrup, and cantaloupe which sounds totally disgusting but apparently it’s pretty good, and…”

The Kleinstock brothers and Frenzy were tossing a Frisbee around with Feral and Cannonball, while Vertigo and Arclight were playing scrabble with Polaris and Multiple Man. Ruckus was strumming a guitar, pausing occasionally to sweep his hair back dramatically, and clearly looking around for an audience. Ugh, he was singing “One Tin Soldier.” Fabian hated that song. Fabian hated……a lot of things that were happening at that moment.

“….and maple, and pumpkin, and chestnut, and green tea, and Tokyo Banana, because apparently that’s a thing, and..”

He hated listening to this stupid girl spew out every thought in her empty brain. He hated sitting in group therapy and listening to the peons that he shared the facility with whining about their inconsequential problems. He hated having to hug people. He hated being stuck in this adult daycare while he should be leading his Acolytes to victory against humankind (and racking up a few kill points for the Upstarts while he was at it.) Something in his mind was breaking free.

“Enough!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “This isn’t right! I shouldn’t be here!” Boomer paused in her Kit-Kat flavor recital.

“Whoa, dude. Chill out. You need a time-out, or something? Maybe you need some time in the Angry Room.”

“No, I do not need some time in the Angry Room,” Fabian snarled. “I don’t belong here with the rest of these losers, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m….I’m so much better than the rest of you. I’m practically a god! I should be….should be –“ His eyebrow twitched. His body shuddered, and a fixed grin came over his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying things like that. What am I thinking? We’re all special in our own way. I just want us all to be friends,” Fabian continued. A single tear leaked out of one corner of his eye.

“Hey, good job, man,” said Boomer, patting him on the shoulder. “You recognized a negative thought pattern, and then, like, stopped it. That totally deserves a Hershey Kiss.” She tossed him the silver wrapped chocolate.

“Thank you.” Fabian shuddered again, and then his body seemed to relax, his tense smile softening into one that seemed genuine, if a bit dazed. “I like Hershey Kisses.”

“Don’t we all, buddy.”

“They are good,” Fabian continued, pulling the foil off and popping the chocolate in his mouth absent-mindedly. “This place is a good place. We are all good here.”

At the table, another group was mid-way through a fairly intense game of Uno. Most of the group (X-Men included), would have preferred poker, but apparently that wasn’t wholesome enough the rehabilitation process.

“I’m just saying, we didn’t start the war.” Avalanche slapped down a card, perhaps slightly too hard. “Humans want to stomp out anyone who’s different. That’s the whole damn history of the human race.”

“But nothing will change if we continue the cycle of violence,” argued Colossus.

“We must ‘turn the other cheek,’” agreed Nightcrawler. “Send out a message of peace and love.” He betrayed that sentiment by tossing down a Draw Four card.

“Yeah, and the guy that did that got nailed to a cross, didn’t he?” Avalanche retorted. “Didn’t work out so well for him.”

“You can’t be expecting us to imitate Christ, can ya?” Pyro put in, throwing a Reverse on the stack. “He was all flawless and perfect and ‘ineffable,’ right? And he had a get-out-of-death-free card. We ain’t got that.”

“You could have that, by the Grace of God –“ Nightcrawler began, than stopped, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, this is not the right place for that conversation. I know religion is very personal, and everyone must make their own choices. But I will talk about it with any of you privately, if you want.”

“All I’m saying is, humans have tried to bloody kill us,” Pyro continued. “Are we supposed to just lie down and take it? I’ve had people turn on me, even back before the Brotherhood, before I committed any crimes. People that I thought I could trust.” The cards in his hand crumpled as his fist clenched.

“Humans are fucking brutal. I’ve seen…..” Avalanche shook his head. “There was a woman back on Kalymnos, gave birth to a baby with gills. Nothing wrong with the kid otherwise, it was just a cute baby. But people acted like it was the damn anti-Christ. Her husband moved out and wouldn’t have anything to do with her. And one day….” A slight tremor rippled across the table as he continued. “One day some guy just snatched the baby out of her arms and threw it down on the rocks. I’ll never forget how she screamed. And nothing ever happened to the guy. He was a murderer, and the police did nothing. Everyone just pretended that it never happened –“ The table shook visibly now, the vibrations spreading out into the ground around them.

“Tovarish, please calm down. I understand how that memory must pain you, but –“

The vibrations suddenly stopped. For a moment, Avalanche looked confused, then a dull smile spread across his face.

“I’m sorry, friends. I just get upset sometimes, thinking about that. I shouldn’t dwell on such horrible memories.”

“Yes, we should just think about good things,” Pyro agreed, wearing the same sickly smile. “We are in a good place. We are all good here.”

Sitting in the sun on the roof, Toad wrapped his arms around himself, smiling. He felt….good. For the first time that he could remember, he was entirely at peace with himself. He wasn’t plagued with anxiety at every social interaction, waiting for the inevitable rejection, wasn’t miserable when he looked into the mirror. No more flashbacks or sudden fits of sadness or anger. He woke up and was actually eager to get out of bed in the morning, eager for a day that he knew would bring good things. And people were actually being nice to him! There was no superficial politeness or poorly hidden disgust, no cheap pity. Just genuine kindness. His counselors and the other former super-villains actually seemed glad to see him every day.

Of course, sometimes it felt too good to be true. Sometimes he would look around and everything would feel slightly off, like one of those hyper-realistic dreams where you can only tell that you’re dreaming because something in your room is out of place. He felt like he was constantly wrapped in a blanket of warm air, and it was so good and comforting, but it made him dull and sleepy. (Perhaps this was what being drunk was supposed to be like? For the normal people? When Toad tried alcohol, it only seemed to make him sad.) Things were very hazy, and it was hard to put his thoughts together. But that didn’t matter, did it? Because finally he was safe and happy, and everyone was so nice.

“This is a good place,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “We are all good here.”

#fabian cortez #dominic petros #avalanche #pyro #st. john allerdyce #toad #mortimer toynbee

6 notes · View notes

thedeevirus · 6 years ago

Text

NYGMOBBLEPOT FICLET: ‘Broken Looking Glass’

‘I have a suggestion for a ficlet. I would love to see something involving Jervis Tetch hypnotizing one of the two of them (or both, I'm not picky). It's a concept I haven't seen played with before, and if anyone could do it well, it's you’

Thank you for the lovely message @spoonsthatareominous This one’s for you :) Enjoy!

***

‘Greetings Edward!’

Ed closed the Iceberg Lounge’s door him, pocketing the key that Oswald had given him. He turned slowly, recognising the cheery voice that had saluted him but completely baffled as to the reason for its presence.

‘Tetch?’ he asked, plastering on a fake smile.

It was difficult to do. Oswald and he had both agreed to maintain a skeleton staff until the Lounge opening the next night. Ten people seemed like more when their corpses were propped up on chairs as grisly party guests. Blood seeped from beneath ghastly rabbit masks that Tetch appeared to have stapled to their faces. Ed’s forensically trained eye told him none of them had put up a fight. He tried to push the thoughts of them shrieking silently inside their own hypnotised heads as Tetch had dressed them for the occasion and focused on Oswald, who was still very much alive. He sat to Tetch’s right, dull eyed and still as stone. He held a tea cup in his hand complete with saucer, his pose stiff and unnatural. Tetch had rearranged nearly every table in the Lounge to form one long table replete with teapots of all shapes and sizes and dishes full of cakes, cookies and pastries. The food had been raided from the Lounge’s kitchen but Ed was at a loss to explain the origin of the tea sets. Tetch must have supplied them himself. The large ice sculptures of penguins set into the walls that Oswald had commissioned to decorate the club from Victor Fries had been given hats of their own and the coloured spotlights designed to create a subdued blue light for the diners had been changed to multicoloured as they whirled dizzily. The mad tea party brought to life.

’Never fear! Penguin is under my command’, Tetch said, spreading his arms wide, ‘Welcome to my Winter Wonderland!’

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you’, Ed said politely, noting the loaded gun in Tetch’s hand.

‘And I had not expected you to be late’, Tetch said, wagging a finger in mock reproach, ‘Late! For such a very important date!’

‘And what important date would that be?’ Ed asked.

Tetch laughed as he placed a decidedly unhealthy amount of sugarcubes into a teacup. Ed watched with a mixture of disgust and unease. Arkham had not been kind to Tetch. He had always been jittery and disturbed but his fingers were shaking so badly the teacup was rattling on its saucer. His fingernails were torn and bloody outside his fingerless gloves. His soiled long coat seemed to have been borrowed from a homeless person and the ever present top hat looked as if it had been sat on more than once. His laugh was shrill and odd, compounded by his clenched jaw and dry, chapped lips. The only pristine elements of his appearance were an immaculate white card in the top hat’s band inscribed with ‘In this style 10/6’ in impeccable, looping calligraphy and a delicate, white rose set into his buttonhole.

‘Your unbirthday silly!’ Tetch said. Tea spilt over his fingers from the cup. Despite the obvious heat, Tetch didn’t even flinch. ‘I had prepared a party in Arkham complete with centrepiece but Jeremiah wrecked my plans by arranging your release’.

‘This is very thoughtful of you. But why here?’ Ed asked, accepting the teacup.

He made a show of blowing on the cup, pretending it was too hot to drink and set it on the table. He looked down at the unappetising white sludge floating on the liquid’s surface as the sugar dissolved while Tetch espoused his vision.

‘Because we will take revenge in this traitor’s lair. His death will tell all of Gotham to beware! I remember how Penguin treated you dearest friend. What better gift could I give you than his head? Tonight, your stalemate ends and Riddler and Hatter will ascend!’

Ed walked around the table and waved a hand in front of Oswald. Oswald didn’t blink.

‘How did you get close enough to hypnotise him?’ Ed asked, feigning admiration.

Tetch giggled like a child and produced a greeting card from inside his coat like a magician producing a rabbit. Ed was baffled at the continued contrast between Tetch’s clothes and his discerning taste in stationary. Like the card in his hat, the card was white and embossed with silver etched flowers. Ed took it and read the contents.

‘A fake missive from yours truly insulting him rudely’, Tetch said in a loud stage whisper, ‘A plan perfect in its simplicity! He wanted to kill you badly he didn’t doubt your signature’s authenticity!’

Ed saw that Tetch had indeed forged his signature at the end of a litany of petty insults about Oswald’s appearance. Ed could see why they had ignited Oswald’s infamously short temper but he was insulted that Oswald could have thought such childish slights could have come from him. No doubt he had raged at Ed’s sudden verbal savagery and hastened to the meeting point outlined in the card. Ed was forced to begrudgingly admire Tetch’s plan as well as how perfectly his signature had been duplicated.

‘You seem to have a talent of gaining his attention’, Tetch sighed, stroking Oswald’s head like a docile pet, ‘I almost envy the strength of your connection’.

He snatched the monocle from Oswald’s eye. Oswald didn’t even blink. Tetch held it up to the light before dunking it into a cup of tea three times.

‘Why he ever thought you could be friends was bizarre’, Tetch said airily, using Oswald’s own pocket square to dry the monocle, ‘You two could never be true friends…like we are’.

There was a sharp noise which made Tetch blink. His grip had suddenly tightened causing the monocle to crack in half. Tetch looked down at it then flicked the handkerchief, unconcernedly scattering the former monocle’s pieces onto the floor. Ed slid his fingers along the seam of the card and imagined a knife sliding across Tetch’s neck.

‘Will he do anything you say?’ Ed asked, careful to keep his tone light as he returned the card to Tetch.

‘Ooh is that a suggestion I hear?’ Tetch beamed, ‘I’m all ears!’

Ed walked to a nearby music system and clicked a button. A smooth waltz began to play over the lounge’s speakers.

‘What’s a tea party without music?’ Ed smirked.

Ed held a hand out to Oswald, inviting him to dance. Jervis tittered at the conceit and waved a hand permissively. Oswald rose slowly and took Ed’s hand. Ed led him to the dancefloor as Jervis began to waltz with a teapot. Ed began to dance with Oswald. He was careful to keep his back to Tetch; his height would obscure Oswald and Tetch would be unable to see him speaking.

‘Oswald, listen to me’, Ed said, ‘You’ve been hypnotised-‘

He stifled a gasp as Oswald interrupted.

‘No I haven’t. Keep your voice down’.

‘How do I know you’re not just saying that?’

‘Because does that look like a man capable of long term planning?’ Oswald deadpanned.

Ed risked a glance at Tetch and saw that the hatter was not paying the least bit of attention to them. He seemed to be trying to balance a spoon on the tip of his nose. Ed conceded the point.

‘I don’t understand’, he asked, ‘How are you not hypnotised?’

‘If you don’t understand, then what chance do I have?’

‘Clean cup! Clean cup!’ Tetch yelled suddenly, ‘Move down, move down!’

‘Is it just me or has he gotten worse?’ Oswald asked, watching in confusion as Tetch hastily began to move the table settings one place down while muttering myriad apologies to invisible guests.

‘It’s not just you. They increased the ‘persona indoctrination therapy’ to keep him under control’, Ed explained, hating the treacherous touch of genuine sympathy in his voice, ‘Why they used the personality of the most famous literary madman of all time I will never know’.

‘Nice to see Arkham’s standards of care haven’t slipped’, Oswald observed drily.

‘Surprisingly, the treatment actually did something useful. Tetch needs eye contact to hypnotise people now. No more commanding anyone to jump off buildings over the radio’.

‘Still seems like a useful friend to have’.

Ed fought the urge to laugh at Oswald’s sulky tone. They were technically in a hostage situation and Oswald was choosing to focus on that?!

‘We weren’t friends��, Ed corrected, ‘Our association was a science experiment’.

‘He seems to think otherwise’.

‘He also thinks a dormouse is living in that teapot. I didn’t have the luxury of choosing my cellmate in Arkham’.

‘You think I did?’

‘I’m pretty sure yours didn’t gouge out a guard’s eye with a spoon when they confiscated the top hat he made out of newspaper and macaroni’.

‘I didn’t have a cellmate’.

‘You were alone?’

‘For my “own safety”. Or so they said. I thought about you a lot. It helped’.

‘I thought about you too. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept me going’.

‘How did you even start a conversation with him?’

‘I wanted to learn more about his hypnotism so I indulged in his psychosis and wordplay to get him to open up’.

‘Did you learn how to resist it?’

‘Turns out there’s no need. Do you remember the chip in my brain?’

‘I thought Lucius Fox removed it?’

‘He had to leave the casing to avoid permanent damage. It made the metal detectors in Arkham go nuts all the time. I think it acts as a barrier to whatever signal Tetch is sending out’.

‘My eye. He doesn’t know it’s fake’.

‘Credible theory’.

‘A theory’s one thing’, Oswald said, eyes darting towards the music system as the music began to die away, ‘We need a plan’.

Tetch applauded as the song ended. Ed and Oswald broke away from each other, Oswald’s face resuming its mask of blank indifference.

‘And now a game!’ Tetch said, clapping his hands, ‘We must have a game!’

He indicated the chairs to his right and left as he settled into the chair at the top of the table. Ed took the chair to the left and Oswald assumed the seat opposite him.

‘What say you to a riddle or two?’ Jervis asked Ed eagerly.

He didn’t wait for Ed’s affirmative reply before turning his attention towards Oswald. Ed admired Oswald’s restraint at Tetch’s physical familiarity. Oswald hated to be touched and Tetch was leaning on his shoulder as hard as a drunk struggling to stay upright.

‘In our cell, we did so while away the hours exerting our deductive powers’, Tetch reminisced, ‘The perfect game to keep us sane! When you left I missed that fun the most’.

Tetch’s face darkened. His smile grew brittle as his lips drew back, the corner of his mouth twitching. His fingers adjusted on the grip of the gun. Ed knew that look. Tetch was looking at the gun like an addict looking at a needle. Ed tensed but then the moment passed and Tetch was his cheery, manic self once more.

‘No matter! As usual, first turn goes to the host!’

Ed nodded obligingly.

‘How is a raven like a writing desk?’ Tetch asked, rubbing his hands.

‘Because Edgar Allen Poe wrote on both’, Ed replied without missing a beat.

He knew Tetch would never accept the answer even thought it was obviously the most logical solution to the riddle. Tetch physically couldn’t.

‘Oh my, I’m sorry but that is the wrong solution’, Tetch said sadly but then brightened, ‘Now then, shall we proceed with Penguin’s execution?’

Ed placed a hand on the gun, keeping his grip light so as not to arouse Tetch’s suspicions. He would have to play things smart as always.

‘Wait! Don’t I get a turn?’

‘Now Edward, there’ll be time later for fun. Aren’t you keen to make a dodo out of this penguin?’

‘But, what’s the answer?’

‘Beg your pardon?’

‘You and I both know there is no official answer to that riddle’.

‘Yes there is!’

‘Then what is it?’

Tetch looked lost. The silence dragged. Tetch’s fingers opened and closed reflexively like dying spiders.

‘You can’t think of anything that’s not in that book, can you?’ Ed asked softly.

‘Book?’ Tetch asked, a shaking hand straying to his hat as he stared at his reflection in a metallic kettle.

‘The made up story that they jammed into your head’.

Ed swallowed hard at Oswald’s interjection. His patience with the charade had reached its limit. Tetch’s head swivelled slowly, his eyes widening at Oswald’s cutting words.

‘Wind up words so they could make you tick the way they wanted you to. Reshape you into a predictable madman. The book that made you a cliché Tetch’.

‘Silence!’ Tetch yelled, covering his ears, ‘How dare you speak out of turn?! How?! Look into my eyes!’

‘Good. I have your full attention’, Oswald said, clasping his hands on the table, ‘Here’s a riddle for you Tetch. Why would Ed ever associate with a twisted, diseased maniac like you? If the automatic answer in your head isn’t ‘he wouldn’t’, then you’re more deluded than I thought’.

Ed carefully watched the gun as Tetch flailed. If he could just make one quick move he could disarm him. If Tetch would just hold still!

‘Lies slip from your slithey lips!’ Tetch screamed, ‘What do you know about our relationship?! You only know how to lie and betray and abuse others’ trust! Your pathetic manipulations fill us with disgust!’

Ed recognised Oswald’s smug look. He was about to merrily tap dance on Tetch’s jangled nerves. It was a gamble and Ed knew Oswald knew it. But Oswald had obviously worked up an immunity to the psychological experience of being threatened with a gun.

‘Your lack of perception is becoming aggravating’, Oswald pronounced metrically, pausing slightly before continuing, ’I’m not the one manipulating’.

Ed stifled an amused grin as Tetch’s eye twitched incredulously, riled by Oswald throwing his peculiar compulsive speech pattern back at him.

‘Ed didn’t befriend you out of kindness or concern’, Oswald continued, ‘He only talked to you because of what he could learn’.

Tetch’s gritted teeth morphed into a grin as he shook his head. He scratched his temple idly with the barrel of the gun.

‘You’re trying to tear our friendship apart’, he said knowingly, ‘Nice try Penguin but you’re not that smart. Only I am on Edward’s equal. Equally cunning, clever and cerebral. You think I’ll listen to his arch enemy when he and I are on the same page mentally?!’

‘The page of what book exactly?’ Oswald taunted.

Ed could see Oswald had pushed too far by how still Tetch became. His eyes narrowed, their nervous twitch obliterated as he stared Oswald down. All wistfulness was gone from Tetch’s voice. It now belonged to a man in utter, terrifying control of a too long suppressed craving for violence. Quiet and detached. The voice of a hunter finally dispatching long hunted prey.

‘I have another riddle for you Edward’, Tetch said, raising the gun, ‘What’s black and white and red all over?’

The gun drifted until it was aimed squarely at Oswald’s chest. There was a click as Tetch disengaged the safety.

‘You’, Oswald snarled.

The movement was so fast at first Ed wasn’t sure what had happened. Then he heard Jervis scream and the clatter of the gun as it fell to the floor. Jervis stared, wild eyed at the purloined knife Oswald had stabbed into his wrist then wrenched it free. He glared silently at Oswald for a moment, his shock overwhelmed by sheer, tranquil, fury at Oswald’s audacity. Then something finally snapped inside his mind and he leapt at Oswald howling like an animal. The table overturned with the force of Tetch’s lunge and Oswald’s chair toppled over. Oswald cried out as his injured knee was badly jarred from the impact. He tried to rise but his ankle failed him. Tetch crawled on top of him and held Oswald down, blood slipping down his glove as he raised the knife.

‘Off with your head!’ Tetch hissed through a savage grin, eyes feverishly bright.

Oswald saw the flash of the knife and his eyes closed reflexively as it plunged down. There was a gunshot and Oswald felt Tetch’s weight lighten. He opened his eyes and saw Tetch had fallen off him. Tetch lay on his side, one hand clutching his left shoulder. The white rose on his chest began to turn crimson as blood seeped through his jacket and his top hat rolled away. Oswald saw crude stitches interlacing across Tetch’s scalp, barely hidden by his wispy hair and was startled to feel a pang of sympathy as Tetch groaned in pain, curling into a foetal position.

Ed walked past him, throwing the gun away, far from Tetch’s reach. Tetch tried to reach for him but flinched at the pain as he tried to stretch.

Ed helped Oswald to his feet and held his face. His eyes were worried and questioning. Oswald smiled and patted his hand. The two embraced, squeezing each other tightly. After a few seconds Ed released him. Oswald adjusted his stance shakily and Ed passed him his walking cane from where it had been propped beside the table.

‘You lied to me’, Tetch whispered hoarsely, eyes glittering with tears of pain.

‘I said Oswald and I weren’t friends’, Ed said pointedly, ‘You made up your own story’.

He felt his tie tugged and suddenly found himself pulled into a deep, loving kiss. He relinquished control to Oswald willingly, letting and savouring his tongue ravishing his mouth. Tetch as an unwilling witness only incited Ed’s desire. The thought of Tetch’s assumptions being shattered in such a graphic way was immeasurably exciting to him. He loved how Oswald loved him without a single thought for how others might feel about it. After far too short a time, Oswald released him and turned his attention on Tetch. Ed knew Oswald had timed it perfectly; enough to make Ed long for more. Beg for more. Ed felt his spine tingle and cock pulse at Oswald’s proud bearing as he advanced on the helpless man.

Oswald stepped on Tetch’s hat, crushing it, as he idly tapped the head of his cane against his palm. The bird’s metal beak shone in the light. Ed wondered if Oswald was going to use the hidden blade in the cane. Oswald favoured knives. He liked intimacy. Oswald surveyed Tetch from on high, the cane akin to an executioner’s axe. Tetch’s eyes were wide, sweat beading on his brow, the realization of the depths of his mistake written all over his pallid face.

‘See? He didn’t lie’, Oswald said and knocked Tetch out with a single blow.

#nygmobblepot ficlet #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #Oswald Cobblepot #Jervis Tetch

66 notes · View notes

etherealhood · 6 years ago

Text

Lighthouse - Part Two

author: @etherealhood

word count: 10,470

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, make-out in the on-call room, mention of cancer

a/n: and here is chapter two! holy shit thank you for the feedback and all the kind words on part one! it means the world to me that you all are just as excited for the rest of the series as i am! this is real long and steamy so enjoy!!

pairing: neurosurgeon!calum x pediatric/neonatal!surgon reader

As you looked down at the charts in your hands, you walked into the patient’s room. Looking up, you saw the little boy sitting in the bed and his parents sitting in the chairs next to him. With a smile, you greeted them. “Hey, everybody! How’re we doing tonight?” You asked, setting the grey charting folder on the bedside table as you stood at the little boy’s bedside. “Tyler, how you doing, bud?”

Tyler, your patient, sat in the bed, tapping away at a tablet in his hands. “I’m great, Doctor Y/L/N!” He smiled brightly, still looking kind of tired as he did so. “I’m winning the game! Look! I never win!” He told you excitedly.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed happily, looking over his shoulder to see the game he was playing. All the time that you’ve spent with Tyler this past month has given you a bit of a knack for knowing the latest games and how to play. “There’s someone behind you, I can hear footsteps.” You told him.

His character turned around and shot the remaining player, winning the match he played. He laughed in surprise, clearly excited about winning in the game for the first time. He turned to look up at you, seeing as you held up your hand in a high-five. “I can’t believe I just saw that! Congrats, Tyler.” You say, praising him.

Looking to his parents, you notice the small smiles on their faces as they watch their son. It’s rare for you to see a parent smile in what you do. Watching your child go through something so painful hurts more than anything, as you know to some degree. So seeing your patient’s parents smile always made your heart swell.

Especially parents that had kids with tumors or cancer. Tyler had what was called a pediatric ependymoma, in which the tissues of his spinal cord and brain were being damaged by cancerous cells. The doctors working on the case had caught it early on, so thankfully he was still in the early stages of the disease. However, it was rapidly growing and he was required surgery to remove the problem.

Since Tyler was a child, he fell under your specialty, but his condition was also neurological, so you’d been working with the attending neurosurgeon, Calum Hood. Truthfully, you didn’t mind working with him. Although you were both headstrong and that trait caused you to butt heads all the time, you worked together perfectly. In the years that’s you’d been a doctor, you’ve never worked as well with someone as you have with Calum.

Over the four months that you’d been working at the hospital, you had grown a lot closer to Calum. Since you were two of the only single people in the group, you spent most of your time together both at and outside of the hospital. Most nights you got off, you and Calum would go to the bar down the street and have dinner or go to one of your apartments and just hangout there. At the hospital, you and Calum had lunch together when you weren’t eating with Marie and Aerielle, which wasn’t very often, but frequent enough to be considered good friends.

“So, Tyler, hate to bring down the mood, but I’ve gotta take-”

“Vitals, I know.” He sighed as he nodded, sitting up straighter so you could take his heartbeat. “Are you going home after this?” He asked as you grabbed your stethoscope and put it in your ears.

“No, I’ll be here a while, lil dude.” You told him, putting the chest piece over his lungs, telling him to take deep breaths. “So whatever you need throughout the night, just press the button on the remote and I’ll be there. Another deep breath for me, Tyler.”

You finished up the vitals and started writing things down in his charts. You sat in a chair as Tyler told you about him and Michael playing a couple games the other night. Eventually, Tyler’s parents started telling you about they’d gotten the physical therapist to start working with Tyler and what he’d been doing with the therapist, who was recommended to them by Calum. Because of Tyler’s tumor being in his spine, he was likely to lose motor functions and it was the goal to keep that from happening too soon.

Said man walked into the room, knocking two of his knuckles on the door as he stood in the threshold. Everyone in the room looked to see him with a smile as he came further into the room. “Hey, everyone. How are we doing this evening?”

“We were just talking about the therapy you recommended for Tyler.” The little boy’s mother explained to the neurosurgeon.

Calum nodded in understanding as he looked at the monitor screen, making sure everything looked okay. “How’s that been going?” He asked. You stood from your seat and pushed the chair out of the way, as you knew that Calum coming into the room meant he was getting you so you two could eat together.

“The therapist said Tyler’s been doing good, that they don’t usually see such motor function in children with his condition.” Tyler’s father told Calum, smiling at his little boy.

“That’s great!” The doctor grinned down at his patient, giving him a thumbs up. “When we get you out of surgery in a few weeks, you’ll be doing even better.” Calum promised.

You smiled as you watched your friend interact so casually with the child you’d grown fond of over the time you’ve worked with him. If you weren’t with Tyler, then Calum was usually nearby, making sure that the child got everything he needed to be comfortable. Calum didn’t get very many child patients, so when he did, he always made sure to make them as comfortable and unafraid as he could.

Looking down at your watch, you saw that it was approaching ten o’clock and you still hadn’t eaten. Your stomach was starting to rumble as you thought of what the cafeteria might have tonight. You smiled at everyone in the room, informing of them of your departure. “Well, I’ve been here for a while now, so I’m gonna get going, but I’ll be back in about two hours to make sure you’re doing alright. Sound good?”

Tyler shrugged. “You know, I’m getting tired of you always waking me up in the middle of the night.”

You giggled at the child’s statement, nodding in agreement. “I could say the same for you, bud. We’re gonna let you get some rest for now, so we’ll be on our way.”

“Thanks, Doctor Y/L/N and Doctor Hood.” Tyler said to you and your colleague. You and Calum looked at each other briefly, sharing the common thought of how much you both adored the sweet boy.

“Goodnight, Tyler. Mister and Missus Watts.” You nodded in farewell to each of the family’s members before walking out with Calum right behind you, his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

As soon as you stepped further out into hall, you let out a deep, solemn sigh. Calum’s face softened as he tilted his head slightly. “You okay?” He asked, knowing what was bothering you already.

“Yeah, he just, reminds me of what I could’ve had, you know? He’s just such a pure and sweet kid.” You told him as you walked down the hospital hallway with your arms crossed over your chest. “Wish I got to know mine.” You mumbled quietly. Calum felt his chest tighten as you brought up your child.

After a while of being friends with Calum, you explained what you’d gone through in the last two years to him. Since you were so close, you felt inclined and comfortable enough to tell him about your harder times in life. You told him about the loss of your son and the divorce in full detail. It was nice, because you hadn’t for a long time, had someone who didn’t understand what you had gone through, but would just listen to what you need to get all out when it came to your past.

Calum wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side so you could lean your head on his shoulder. “I know you do, love.” He whispered, kissing your right temple softly as you two continued down the hall.

Taking the elevator, you two rode down to the cafeteria together, talking about what you were both up to tonight. Calum and you were going to both be at the hospital until tomorrow morning, so it was kind of a relief that you’d get to see each other throughout the night.

You both entered the not so busy cafeteria, going your separate ways to grab what you wanted to eat, before finding a table in the corner to sit at. You sipped some of your water after you bite into the sandwich you bought. You and Calum started talking about the day and patients you had or things you’d heard from other people all day long. It was the kind of conversation that just flowed and you didn’t feel the need to make an effort.

From across the cafeteria, two of your friends watched you interact with Calum. Ashton and Marie were sitting together, discussing their wedding plans when they saw you and Calum sit down together. You laughed at something the Maori man was saying as you put a chip in your mouth, trying to hold back from laughing harder.

Marie beamed as she saw you smile and laugh. Knowing that your life had been rough for the last couple of years brought her to great sorrow, because all she ever wanted for you, one of her greatest friends, was happiness and a good life. You deserved to be happy and she thought that your kind heart always deserved great things. She always felt it was unfair that you were given the cards life dealt you.

Seeing you so happy and so comfortable with being yourself again after so long of just being stuck in your grief, was something she’d been waiting for. Marie knew you moving down fo California, being around your long-time friends would be good for you and she was so happy when Ashton told her that you decided to take up his offer of being the head of your speciality at Crossroads General. Albeit, she’d rather have heard it from you than from her fiancé, she was ecstatic for your arrival.

As the couple watched you with Calum, Marie couldn’t help the concern she had for you. She knew that you and him were great friends and he was a big part of the reason you were back on your feet again, but she was still worried. She loved Calum like family, she really did, but she knew how he was: he slept with someone and always left it at just sex, not making an effort to really care about what happened afterwards.

She knew that he was a good man and that he wouldn’t dare hurt you, but she had this fear that you and Calum would get involved sexually and that would cause you to fall back down a few steps from all the progress you made. It was very clear that you two liked each other and it was even cleared that there was some kind of chemistry between you two. Marie didn’t understand it, but she saw it every time you were with him. The way you two fit together was perfect and she would’ve had to have been dumb to not see the possibility of something happening between you two.

Marie knew it was absolutely none of her business what you and Calum did, but you were her best friend, someone she’d considered a sister. All she wanted was you to have the best life you could. More than anything in the world, she wanted that. She wanted you to be happy and she felt terrible for thinking that getting with him could be detrimental to your well being.

Marie placed her small hand over one of Ashton’s, causing him to stop talking and slightly tilt his head as he looked at her. “What’s wrong, babe?” He asked, pulling the wrapper off him muffin.

“Calum and Y/N.” She nodded towards you two, causing her fiancé to look at you table. He saw you nodding along to what the neurosurgeon was saying as you bit into your sandwich.

“Yeah, what about them?” He asked, eating his blueberry muffin.

Marie sighed and shook her head. “I love Calum, I really do. But Y/N, she can’t be hooking up with him. I mean, you were there in the hospital after her and Cyrus… you know?” She said softly.

“Yeah, I know.” Ashton nodded, his voice low as sadness crept into him at the memory of that terrible phone call. After getting the news, Ashton, Marie, and Aerielle went up to Seattle and stayed for a couple days to help the struggling couple out. They stayed at the hospital with you and Cyrus, just trying to be a support system.

“It was rough on her. These whole two years have been hard for her and she’s just barely getting back to who she was and I don’t want Calum ruining it.” Marie looked to her green-eyed man, her dark brown eyes meeting his. “I think you need to tell him to make sure that nothing happens between them.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’re his best friend and he’ll listen to you.” Marie argued. “He won’t take it seriously if I tell him to back off. Besides, it would be weird.”

“Alright, fine.” Ashton sighed, knowing he couldn’t even put up much of a fight with his partner. She smiled and kissed his cheek, causing him to smile softly. “You’re lucky I’m so in love with you.”

Marie laughed at her fiancé, “I know I am.”

A few days later, Ashton found Calum coming out of an elevator, looking down at his phone as he walked out. Ashton hurried to finish writing something on the papers he was working on before unclicking his pen and shoving it in the chest pocket of his white coat. He closed the file and put it on the cart before quickly jogging towards his friend.

Calum looked upon hearing the sounds of footsteps hitting the linoleum hospital floors. He turned to see his best friend coming towards him, he furrowed his brows but put out his fiat for Ashton to bump. “What’s up, Ash?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Calum’s confusion only increased. “About what?”

“Y/N.”

It was weird how both bewilderment and fondness grew in him upon the mention of your name. He had no idea why Ashton would want to talk about you with him, but he was also jumping at the opportunity to talk about you. With an even more puzzled expression, the neurosurgeon shook his head. “What about Y/N?”

“Well, I have some concerns.” Ashton scratched the back of his neck, his fingertips grazing over the California condor tattoo he had. “So Marie and I were talking-”

“That’s never good.” Calum sighed, having a feeling he knew what was coming.

“No, it’s not bad.” Ashton explained. “We’re happy that she seems to be taking in to California and the hospital so well. It’s been rough for her these last few years, things I don’t want to get into because it’s none of my business.”

Calum shrugged as they turned down a hall, leading to the nurse’s station in the surgery wing of the hospital. “I already know about everything. The baby, her ex-husband.”

Ashton stopped in his place, causing his friend to do the same. “Then you know that it broke her to go through all of that. That her losing her son and her husband is why she’s down here, why she is the way she is.”

“What are you getting at, Irwin?”

“Don’t sleep with her, Calum.” Ashton blurted out, feeling a little bad about just coming out with it, but he needed to say it and he couldn’t keep beating around the bush.

“I don’t plan on sleeping with her!” Calum exclaimed as threw his hands up in the air, anger growing in him at the conversation. Nearby people looked at the two men, giving them weird looks. Calum winced at the attention he didn’t mean to grab before quieting his voice and turning back to the Chief of Surgery. “I don’t plan on sleeping with Y/N. It’s not like that.”

“Well make sure it stays like that.” Ashton told him with a bit more authority. “It’s not just Marie who feels this way, I do, too. Y/N, isn’t just a friend, she’s family and I don't want to see her get hurt.”

“I’d never hurt her.” Calum mumbled and looked down at his shoes, knowing where Ashton was coming from. It still made him angry, but he understood. As much as he cared for Y/N, as much as he might’ve been so enamored by her when he first met her, she was his friend first. She was his best friend first. It blew him away how she’d so quickly became one of his best friends. As his closest friend, he would do anything to make sure she was okay and that she was happy.

He wasn’t blind to why Marie and Ashton may have felt the need to say something. He knew that he had this reputation for sleeping around, and he understood that the fear of him hurting their friend stemmed from that quality of his. As he thought over it a little bit more, he realized that he wasn’t mad, he truly wasn’t. He was just frustrated. He thought that he was good at showing that for him, Y/N came before any sexual urge he might’ve had.

“I won’t sleep with her, you have my word.” He muttered as he nodded in agreement. “She’s just a friend. We done here? I have a surgery to get to.”

Ashton sighed as he realized that he had upset his friend before he nodded. “Yeah, we’re done here.” He said and with that watched Calum walk towards the operating rooms. Ashton shook his head and turned to go to his office.

“He’s getting worse, Y/N!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, biting your lip as to keep from saying something rude to your partner. “You think I don’t understand that, Calum?” You exclaimed, looking up at him dead in the eyes, noticing how he looked just as upset as you did. You felt bad for thinking that he looked so good when he was angry, the way his face scrunched up with the need to win the argument. His jawline beautifully defined as he clenched his jaw. His eyes darkened with irritation.

Calum was thinking the same thing as you two struggled with your opinions. He watched as you continuously licked your lip before you spoke, watched as you pulled it between your teeth. Today was one of the few days that you wore your hair down, since you hadn’t had any scheduled surgeries. So your hair flowed over your shoulders, your fingers going to run through it when you got upset.

It’d been a couple weeks since Calum and Ashton had the conversation about you being off limits to Calum. Ever since that day, he’d been looking at you different. Instead of looking you in the eyes when you were talking, he’d looking at your lips, wondering what they would feel like against his, what they would taste like. When he did look into your stunning eyes, his chest tightened because they somehow had this kind of magic that lit up the whole entire room. Whenever you smiled, he found himself smiling because more often than not, he was the cause of the lovely sight.

Whenever you two were sitting together at lunch, he watched you intently and hung onto every word of yours as you talked passionately about your day in the hospital or something totally unrelated. Whenever he saw your favorite color, he thought of you. He had no doubt that he was into you, especially when the sexual thoughts crept into his mind at the most inconvenient times ever.

The other day, he walked in on you in the supply room, grabbing things for a patient just as you bent over, your perfect ass right in front of him. It was ridiculous that he felt himself get hard just at the sight of your scrub pants tightening around your bottom. The other day, he went to grab something from his locker in the locker room, but you were in there the room, you pulling off your shirt, leaving your beautiful breasts in hey your bra. With a quick moment of his eyes trailing over you, he hurried out of the room. You often pushed your hair over your shoulder when you wanted it out of your face, leaving your neck exposed. He would look at your smooth skin and think about how perfect you'd look if his mouth left purple love bites on your throat.

It was safe to say that, without really knowing it, Calum Hood was falling in love with you.

The neurosurgeon scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head with sneer as he put his hands on his hips. “Well, you seem pretty keen on not doing surgery. You’re a surgeon, this is what we do.”

“I know! But the tumor is in a tricky spot, if you make even one wrong move, he won’t have any muscle movement for the rest of his life.” You argued, eyebrows furrowed as you explained what you should do for Tyler’s treatment plan. Calum believed that he could do the surgery, even with the tumor being in such a terrible place, but you knew the risks and that the risks with this form of treatment almost seemed to outweigh the benefits.

As you two were walking in the hallway when you came back from lunch, you started discussing your mutual patient’s treatment. Unfortunately, you two didn’t agree, which led to the hushed argument. One of Ashton’s first rules in the hospital was to have quiet arguments to keep from disturbing any patients.

“I’m a neurosurgeon! My whole job is one big risk.” Calum threw his arms in the air, exasperated at the fact that this was even being argued. He was the attending neurosurgeon, which meant he was damn good at his job. This was one of the best hospitals in the country with some of the best teaching doctors and best surgeons, there’s no way that they wouldn’t be able to perform this successfully.

“I understand, but you’ve never done a procedure like this, maybe we could call in someone, have them teach you how to do it before you actually do it so our odds are better.” You watched as his face fell, making you instantly feel terrible for saying what you said. Without physically saying it, you told him that you didn’t believe in him, and that wasn’t the case at all.

Calum chuckled with disbelief, looking down the hall before grabbing your wrist, pulling you into one of the on-call rooms that was nearby. You didn’t register what was happening until you’d been pressed against the closed door once you were both inside. He leaned in, grazing his lips over the shell of your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin.

“May I should you teach you a few things, yeah? Teach you a lesson, Doctor Y/L/N?” He growled into your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning quietly at the way his tongue would gently peek out and touch your skin. Your hands went to his back, bunching up his own dark blue scrub top as he pulled back and looked into your eyes.

You gave him a slight nod, one that he had to have been looking for to see. You could feel that your eyes were clouded with lust as you found yourself no longer on Earth. He leans in, pressing his lips to your roughly. The taste of the chapstick you saw him applying multiple times everyday on his plump lips. You closed your eyes as you two moved in sync with one another, savoring the kiss you’d secretly been wanting for so long.

Over the last few weeks, you’d been craving Calum. You don’t know what suddenly sparked your sexual interest in him. Maybe it was that you hadn’t been with anyone in months, or maybe it was that you’d gotten too comfortable with your relatively new best friend, that you realized just how perfect he was. Whatever the case, you wanted him so badly, and now that he was kissing you, pressing his body as close as possible to yours, you couldn’t help but never want him to stop.

His hands wrapped around the backs of thighs, lifting you up against the wall. His neck craned up as he kissed you, trailing his hot and quick kisses down your chin and all the way to your warm chest. He nipped at the skin, causing you to whimper in pleasure and grind your hips into his body. He could feel himself harden a bit at the way you would roll yourself into him. The thin material of both of your scrub pants didn’t leave much to be desired.

Your small hands, went to the back of his head as he dragged his hand up and bunched up the material of your thin shirt above your bra clad chest. Your breasts were clad in a simple black, cotton bra, but oh did they look so heavenly. He moaned as he looked at your body, leaning into start sucking at your skin. His fingers trailed down your chest to pull down the cups of your bra so he could kiss and suck at your nipples.

His lips wrapped around the hard buds, the cool air of the room and his touch setting your body on fire, lighting you up with a warmth you’d never quite felt so intensely before. His teeth grazed over your sensitive skin, causing you to mutter a curse followed by a whisper of his name. Calum heard every sound you made, making sure he didn’t miss anything you might’ve said. He could feel himself spiraling into a daze as he touched you sensually.

A sudden beeping went off, pulling both you and Calum out of your moment. You looked each other in the eyes, both of you realizing what had happened as he set you back on the floor and pulled your bra back up and your shirt down. He wiped his mouth of the spit that had collected around his mouth from sucking so aggressively at your nipples.

There was one thing Calum was thinking as you grabbed your still-beeping pager from the waistband of your pants, reading the page you’d been sent: “Fuck.”

Calum muttering the curse made you look up at him. He pulled away and put his down his pants to adjust the growing erection he had. You furrowed your eyebrows, even more confused at what just happened as he left the room without another word, slamming it closed behind him.

You fell back against the wall, feeling very flustered and very needy for more of what your friend had to offer. “What the fuck?”

Later that night, Calum was in his apartment, sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, his face in his hands. There was an ice-cold, half-drunken Corona sitting on the coffee table next to his couch. He was beating himself up over what happened in the on-call room with you earlier that day.

After the extremely heated moment shared between you two, Calum made sure to avoid you for the rest of the day. It was tough seeing as you and him shared a patient and saw each other multiple times throughout the day. He made sure to go to Tyler’s room when he knew you wouldn’t be there. When he looked at Tyler’s files, he noticed that you gave your signature of approval to the surgery you and Calum would operate, the one you were arguing about.

After you two got off, you’d wait for him in one of the waiting rooms so you two could go get something to eat and have a couple of drinks at the bar. As he was walking out to leave, he saw you scrolling through your phone as you waited for him. He went as far as walking through the emergency room and out to his car, which was on the other side of the hospital, just so you didn’t see him and possibly confront him.

With the television playing quietly, he was cursing himself for letting his urges get the best of him. He knew better. He told Ashton nothing would happen, and just a couple weeks later he had his lips all over your chest and his hands touching every part of you he could in the on-call room.

Even with the shame he had for betraying his best friend, he still wanted you. Badly. He still wanted to explore every inch of not only your body, but your soul and your kind heart. After just that brief moment in the on-call room, he was beyond addicted to you.

Rubbing his hands over his face and up into his hair, Calum groaned frustratedly as he pulled at his hair. He laced his hands together and pressed his knuckles against his lips. He looked at the beer bottle on the coffee table that was leaving water rings, thinking of you and how you’d started drinking Coronas just because he did so. The water ring of his beer reminded him of the coasters you insisted he used when he was at your apartment. It reminded him of the way you got so mad when you saw water rings on your coffee table and made him smile softly at your weird quirks that he absolute loved.

He grabbed the bottle and brought it up to his lips, wrapping them around the lip of the bottle as he tilted his head back and let the beer rush down his throat. He drank the rest of the liquid in the bottle, finishing it off. A knock at his apartment door caused him to stop drinking and furrow his eyebrows as he looked at said door. He looked at the watch on his wrist and saw that it was approaching midnight.

Standing from the sofa, he walked over to the door, throwing the now empty glass bottle in the recycling bin as he walked by it before he went to the door and pulled it open. You stood there in front of him, looking anxious as you two made eye contact.

Calum’s eyes widened, stuttering as he tried to find his words. He was gaping, left speechless at you standing before him. To be completely honest, he didn’t really expect you to even talk about the incident in the on-call room, let alone show up at his front door. “W-What are you doing here?”

You walked in, pushing past him. He closed the door and turned to face you again. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you looked like you were also trying to find your words. With a final sigh, you set your bag on the counter in his kitchen.

“You said you had a few things to teach me.” You said, referring back to earlier that day. Your fingers came to the hem of your shirt as you pulled it over your head. Calum’s eyes just about fell out of his head as he watched you undress yourself.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Teach me.” The shirt you were once wearing dropped from your hands and to the floor by your feet. You began taking off your shoes as Calum watched you.

Calum shook his head slightly. “I can’t. I told Ashton nothing would happen between us.”

You shrugged, in response to Calum. “I don’t care what Ashton said. I want you to teach me a lesson.”

“We can't, we’re friends, Y/N.” He said, his eyes going up and down your body in a moment of weakness.

“But you wanted me earlier.” You walked over to him and grabbed his left hip, pulling him closer but also pushing yourself into him. Your hand smoothed up his chest and to the back of his neck, your fingers going to play with the the tiny hairs residing there. “Please, Calum. Teach me.”

He seemed to have another moment of hesitance, but you watched his face and saw that reluctance melt into desire. He cupped your face with his hands, dipping his head down to kiss your lips. Your eyes fell shut and you arched into him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders while his came down to circle around your waist.

He backed you up to the couch, your butt pressed against the back of it. His fingers trailed down your back and to the curve of your bottom, his hands going to the back of rogue thighs to lift you up. He set you on the back of the sofa, pressing himself as close as possible to you. You could feel the bulge in his pants that you’d felt earlier growing against you.

Calum's lips moved roughly against yours, but not as rough as before. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you and wanted to just get inside of you all while wanting to make this last because he didn’t know if it’d ever happen again. It felt like you were what was giving him the power to breathe and he’d been underwater for so long, holding his breath until his lung burned in his chest.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling continuous whimpers from the back of your throat. “Lay me down.” You whispered. He did as you said, walking around to lay you down and hover over you. He looked down at you, your lips flushed and your chest heaving as you brushed our fingertips over the side of his face. His gaze followed his large hand as it smoothed over your bare stomach and up to your covered breast, cupping it in his warm palm. His other hand softly moved to your back, finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking the two hooks with just three of his fingers.

He pulled the straps down your shoulders, taking it completely off your body. After he’d thrown it over the back of the couch and let it fall somewhere on the floor in the kitchen, he went back to kissing you passionately. His fingers began tweaking at your nipples, pulling at them as his tongue grazed over yours.

Your hands went to rest on Calum’s shoulders, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head on one of the couch pillows. He pulled back from you, shaking his head with a smirk. “No, baby. You wanted me to teach you, remember?” He asked with a quirked brow. You nodded and bit your swollen bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as he looked down at your with eyes that had darkened significantly as you two made out. “So I’m in charge. Am I understood, gorgeous?”

You nodded and reached up to kiss his top lip quickly, still looking into his eyes as you did so. “Yes, Doctor Hood.” You whispered with a smirk playing at your plump lips.

Calum growled before he caught your lips with his once again, his fingers moving through your palm to lace with yours above your heads. You wrapped your leg around his waist, pressing your foot against his butt to push his crotch closer to yours. The erection pressed to your lower stomach. You mentally applauded yourself as you felt his covered cock twitch against you.

Still holding your hand, your friend started kissing down your body, licking over the spots his lips touched every now and then. When he got to your perky nipples, he made a point of looking you dead in the eye as he flattened his tongue over the hard peak before he pulled it into his mouth, sucking at it. You hissed at the wet feeling of his spit on your skin.

“You need me, baby?” He asked as he let go of your nipple, voice low as he started sucking at your stomach. You closed your eyes and shook your head when his free hand rested over your stomach, his long fingers splayed over your smooth skin. You shook your head, showing Calum some resistance, but that faltered as he licked your stomach and nipped at your skin. “Sure about that?”

“Don’t be such a tease, Calum.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes. He chuckled, before he undid the buttons of your jeans and then pulled your zipper down. He unlaced your fingers and grabbed the waistband of your pants, pulling them off and letting them fall to the floor.

His fingers bunched up the fabric on his back, pulling it off his body before throwing it onto the coffee table. He ran his hands through his thick hair and took the time to look down at your body, laid out in front of him.

His eyes scanned every inch of you. Every inch of your wonderful body, leaving him speechless. You had stretch marks on your hips and on your stomach which he assumed had came from your pregnancy. You had a tattoo on your hip that his fingers grazed over. He smiled softly at the black ink of the name he read he across your skin. He met your gaze and nodded slowly. “He had a beautiful name, Y/N.”

You felt your heart swell at the way that even in the heated moment, he could still speak to you with such fondness in his voice. That he could still touch you so softly, that he could still look at you with a softness in his eyes.

You leaned up, resting on your elbows as you watched his fingers trailed over your tattoo before your hand pulled him back down. You kissed him, softer this time than any of the other kisses you’d shared that day.

He leaned back down, laying you down once again. As he was above you again, the metal necklace he wore around his neck touched your heated skin, the cold contradicting the warmth. His fingers, hooking in the waistband of your panties, began pulling the flimsy fabric down. He let them pool with your jeans.

His fingers grazed over the scar just below your belly button before dipping down to run through your slick folds. You hummed quietly against his mouth, happy that he’d actually touched you where you wanted him to. His pointer and middle finger rubbed over you entrance as you stopped kissing him to moan into his mouth.

“Please, Cal. I want your fingers so bad.” You whined, looking him in the eye as you skimmed your lips against his. He pecked the corner of your mouth before dipping both of his fingers into your tight entrance, curling them up as he went right in with a single rub at your g-spot.

“Like that?” He asked as he began pumping them in and out of you slowly, making sure to graze his fingertips over the spot inside of you. You nodded in approval of his actions. His thumb started making clockwise circles around your bundle of nerves, causing you to arch into him. You loved that he’d so quickly figured out how to make you feel so good. His lips were kissing gently at your heated skin, your body starting to shine with sweat at the close proximity of your hot bodies.

Your hands smoothed down his chest, fingernails scratching gently at his dark skin which caused him to let out a little moan. Your fingers came to the waistband of his sweatpants. You slid your hands into his pants, fingers peeking into them smoothing over his round butt as you pushed them off of him.

His fingers were still pumping in you when his thumb pressed at your clit and caused you to dig your fingernails into his ass and your mouth to fall open. His forehead was leaning against yours, his nose bumping into yours as you tilted your head back. He watched as your brows furrowed and your throat was left exposed for him to mark up, which he took the opportunity to do so.

Calum’s plump lips latched onto your neck, doing a combination of sucking lovebites and skimming his teeth over the sensitive skin. You sighed pleasurably and squeezed at his bottom urging him to release a groan of satisfaction at your actions.

After a few more minutes of him fingering you, he could feel you clenching around his fingers and he wanted more than anything to hear what sounds you would make as you came, feel how your body would shake against his as you splattered juices on his fingers. His fingers were dripping with your arousal and he could only imagine how sweet you tasted. He’d make you come as many times as he could that night because he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to do it again.

“Come on, darling. I can feel you clenching ‘round my fingers.” He growled into your ear, his lips kissing underneath it before biting the thin skin gently. You whimpered and nodded, your hips squirming. It was almost torture the way you moved so actively against him, your hips pushing up into his hand but also creating a bit of friction against his achingly hard cock. “Oh, I wanna see your face as you cum, baby. You’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t get enough of you.” He told you.

You moaned repeatedly, the sounds bouncing off the walls and the hardwood floors in his apartment, making it louder enough to hear from outside the front door to those walking by. “Oh my god. I’m right there.” You breathed out, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers.”

With that, you released all over his digits, your body trembling and your toes curling as you came. Your release splattered against his fingers as he rubbed harshly at your g-spot and your throbbing bundle of nerves. You let out a mixture of curses and moans as you said his name over and over again like a prayer.

He helped you ride out your orgasm, trying to milk everything out of you and give you one of the best climaxes you’ve ever had. You’re not even gonna lie, Calum making you come with just his three of fingers was like being on cloud nine, you were more than excited to see what he could do with other things.

As your high settled, he pulled his fingers out of you gently just as you opened your eyes. He moved from you, sitting back on his knees, his sweatpants pulled low but not low enough to expose his lower half. Your eyes trailed all over his torso, noting every inch of him from the hair around his belly button that led into his sweatpants to the tattoos on his collarbone. You were looking up at him, making a piercing eye contact as he put his fingers, covered in you, in his mouth, sucking them clean. You suppressed the shiver of arousal that his actions wanted to send through you.

He smirked as he finished licking at his fingers, knowing that it had affected you even if you didn’t physically show him it did. Your breathing was uneven as you got on your shaky knees to level with him. Your fingers danced down his body, finally pushing off his sweats enough to show you his hard cock. It slapped against his stomach with a soft smack as he sighed, grateful for the release.

He moved to take them off fully, leaving them on the armrest of the sofa. You were both fully exposed to each other, nothing left between you two. You looked down at his erection, seeing a bead of pre-cum leaking from the slit in the swollen head of his dick. You wrapped your fingers around him, beginning to pump his member very slowly, teasing him.

You looked at him as you heard him gasp, immediately looking up to see his lips parted and his eyebrows scrunched up with a wrinkle between them. He placed his hand on your hip before he dipped his lips down to kiss you again. Your hand came off of him as he pushed you back down to how you were before, but you wanted to be on top and have a little control and that’s why you flipped him.

Unfortunately, you forgot that you were on the couch and it wasn’t big enough for you to flip over. You two landed on the floor, you on top of him as you landed on the carpet that he had in the living room. You were going to laugh at your mistake but didn’t as you heard him groan underneath you.

“Oh, Cal, I’m so sorry.” You apologized as you looked up at him, his eyes squeezed shut.

He shook his head and opened his eyes to look at you. “It’s all good, baby.” He said to you with a strained voice. He saw your soft smile as your tried to not laugh at the incident, which only made him laugh a little. His fingers rubbed up and down your spine, before splaying across your back to hold you close as he sat up. He kissed your chin, making you giggle when he nuzzled his face into your neck, his stubble tickling your skin.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you smiled at the playfulness of your situation. His chest was pressed against yours when you looked down at him, nuzzling your nose against his lovingly. One of his palms came up to cup your face, his thumb stroking over your cupid’s bow. The mood shifted around you and Calum again as it got quiet and all that was heard was your uneven breathing.

“What do you want, gorgeous?” He whispered as you leaned your cheek into his touch, your eyes closing at the comfort of him holding you so gently. You placed a kiss to the heel of his palm and looked at him with those eyes of yours that took the very oxygen out of his lungs.

“You. All of you.” You mumbled, tilting your head into his touch as you looked at him. Your hand came to the side of his neck, your finger stroking over the chain of his necklace.

“Then you have all of me.” He said lowly.

He went to grab his pants to pull out his pocket and grab his wallet since there was always a spare condom in there, but he realized he’d left his wallet in the bedroom. “I have to go get a condom.” He told you.

You shook your head and started kissing his cheek and jaw. His hands were on your thighs as he was confused by your actions. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control and I’m clean. What about you?”

“I just got tested, I’m clean.” He explained. You nodded and raised yourself up on your knees as Calum pumped himself a couple times before rubbing his tip through your folds. He looked at you for another sign of approval as he placed his cock at your entrance. “You’re sure about this, Y/N?” He asked, but you knew that he meant about everything; about him, about what could potentially ruin your wonderful friendship, what could get you both in trouble with Marie and Ashton.

But, you didn’t care.

All you wanted was Calum Hood, in any and every way you could get him.

“All I want is you, baby.” That was the first time all night you’d called him something other than his name and it made something snap in him as he realized how serious you were about this. He nodded as you sunk down on him, his hands coming to your hips as he was finally all the way inside of you. You both let out satisfied sounds as you pushed him back onto the floor, Calum letting you take the reins.

You began rolling your hips towards him, bouncing on him as you sped up your actions. His hands were on your hips, squeezing tightly at the feel of your warm pussy wrapped so tightly around him. To steady yourself, you placed your hands on his soft stomach, grinding down into him as he laid on the carpet.

He couldn’t stop watching you as your tits bounced in front of him. Your eyes were looking down at him, watching as he bit his lip at the sight of you above him. His fingers tightened around you, his nails digging into your skin as you grinded a bit harder into him, rubbing your clit at his pubic bone.

“Fuck.” He groaned out when you tightened your walls around him. With every movement you made coming down on his cock, he prodded that sweet spot inside of you, pushing against it repeatedly. Your head fell back and your nails dug into his chest, scratching roughly down his chest, making him moan loudly; louder than you’d heard all night. After that, you quickly caught on to the pain kink he seemed to have and planned on taking full advantage of it throughout the night.

He flattened his feet on the ground so he could begin thrusting his hips up meet you halfway and maximize the force of your movements. He sat up and used his right hand to grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back gently, while his other arm circled around your waist. You hooked your arms underneath his, holding him close as your hands rested on his shoulder blades.

Your leaned your cheek against his shoulder, beginning to kiss his soft skin gently while you moved sloppily with each other. You could feel him do the same to your bare shoulder, though his kisses quickly turned into sucks so he could leave hickeys on you. You knew that the next time you looked in the mirror at your naked body, you’d be covered in all kinds of bruises that came from just this night. With the way he gripped your hips so mean, you knew that there’d be finger-shaped bruises, you knew that you’d have various love bites scattered over your body and the thought of having a reminder of this night thrilled you.

“Feel good, darling?” He asked in between his kisses on your sweaty skin.

You nodded slowly as pleasure shot through you at a million miles per hour. “Your cock feels amazing. Stretches me so good, fills me up unlike any other.” Pulling back, you grabbed one of his hands and brought it to exactly below your belly button. “I feel you right here, baby.” You told him as his fingertips sat where you could feel his tip grazing inside of you with every thrust he made.

He smirked and gripped your hips again, tighter than before as he held you close to him. His thrusts had stopped and he was just inside of you, twitching as he held you down on his cock. You whimpered and tried moving, but he wouldn’t let you. “That didn’t mean you could stop, Calum.” You scoffed.

Calum started moving thrusting up into you quickly, leaving you speechless as he moved so fast. You moaned loudly, realizing what his plan was. Tease you just a little bit then give it his all. You hugged him again, nose pressing into his shoulder as you pressed your lips to his sticky-with-sweat skin. He fell in love with the way you held him so close and the way your hard nipples were pressing against his chest. It was something that was so simple, but something that felt so wonderful.

“Please, don’t stop, Calum.” You begged him, whimpering and moaning with every thrust he made. Your sounds were endless, but Calum loved it. In the weeks leading up to this, he thought of the sounds you’d make as he fucked you into the sheets or as you moved against him like you were now, but this was way better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed up. The sounds leaving both yours and his mouths combined with the slapping of damp skin, the noises bouncing off the walls.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous. Your pussy feels like heaven, so nice and warm. Fits me so perfectly.” He told you, bringing his hand to rub at your clit. You shuddered as his fingers touched the bundle of nerves that aches so good. “All mine, Y/N. You’re all mine.”

You hummed approvingly and sucked hickeys on his neck. You skimmed your teeth gently over his skin, causing him to shiver against you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking his head back so he could look you in the eyes. “And you’re mine, got it?” You asked him, your voice raspy from all the sounds you’d been making. Calum nodded with a whine and it set you on fire to hear the sound. “Only I can have you like this, can touch you like this.”

“Whatever you want, love. I’m all yours.” He told you breathlessly. His lips crashed to yours as his hips began to stutter, the kiss a mess of tongue and clanking teeth. He kept bouncing your body on him as you swallowed each other’s moans and groans. Your teeth bit down on his bottom lip roughly as you felt the coil in your stomach burn as it tightened. The pain of your teeth digging into his swollen lip encouraged him to rub harder at your clit and move faster inside of your pussy.

You let go of his lip as you felt another release approach you. With your arms wounding around his shoulders again, you dug your teeth into his shoulder, surely leaving teeth marks. Your nails scratched relentlessly at his back, long welts being left in your place. Calum was so turned on as all the wonderful pain of you biting and scratching him mixed with the pleasure he got from moving in and out of you.

Your clenches around him became more frequent and your hips started stuttering as you moved faster with him. You pressed yourself as close as possible to him. “I’m there, baby. I want you to cum with me.” He whispered in your ear as your legs shook. “Wanna feel you cum again. All over my cock this time. Let go.”

Once again, his words sent you over the edge and you were cumming over his member. The feeling of your warm juices around him set him off as the head of his cock twitched and he released strings of cum inside you. His hips were shaking as he thrusted up into you unevenly.

“Calum, oh my god!” You cried out with pleasure filling you like it never had before. You were burying your face in his neck as you held him tighter. “Oh, fuck!”

Calum grunted and was breathing heavily in between his groans. His abs were clenching as he released, his eyes squeezed shut as dug his fingers into your hips. He didn’t stop saying your name as he came inside you, his head spinning as he had the best orgasm he’d ever had. Never in his twenty-nine years, had he ever found a woman that made him physically and emotionally feel the way you made him feel.

He knew as he looked up at you in your post-sex glory, still recovering from your orgasm that you were it. You were the one he’d always unknowingly wanted. The one he never knew he was looking forward to falling in love with. But here you were, your eyes still screwed shut as you came down from your high.

You rolled off of him, your legs shaky as you fell onto the floor next to him. Your arm rested over your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. Calum looked over at you as he laid back then looked back at the ceiling. He wondered what was going through your head, what you were thinking. Did you mean what you said when you told him he was yours? Or was that something you just said in the moment of great sex? Did you want to even be with him? Was this whole thing a mistake?

You peeked an eye open and saw him with a thoughtful expression. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he laid next to you. “What’re you thinking, Cal?” You asked softly, pulling him out of his daze.

He sighed and sat up, bending his legs to put his feet flat on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees like earlier as he laced his fingers together and brought them up to rub his thumb over his lips. With his back to you, you could see the scratches you left on his tan skin, the ones that looked painful. The hickeys you marked him up with were on his shoulders and the side of his neck.

You sat up with him and brought your hand up to his shoulder, rubbing his hot skin. “Hey, talk to me.” You leaned against him, kissing his skin softly.

“Why? So you can just get up and leave?” He asked bitterly. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering where the sweet and caring man from earlier had gone. You should’ve known in all honesty. He had a habit of very quickly switching emotions up in the blink of an eye when something was worrying him. “Because if so, you can just go.”

He went to get up but you wrapped your hand around his left bicep to keep him from going anywhere. “You really think I’d do that to you? Because I promise I’m not going anywhere.” You said quietly, hoping he’d understand that you really did want to be here with him. You hoped that he’d understand what he meant to you and why you were really here with him.

“Why not? It was just sex, right?” He shrugged, shaking his head cynically. “Just me teaching you fucking a lesson?”

“What is your problem?” You exclaimed, frustrated that he wasn’t picking up what you were trying to say without saying it because he was so focused on himself. “God, Calum! Do you not understand that I’m trying to tell you I had feelings for you?” You frowned, looking at the man in front of you.

Calum’s anger melted away and his face visibly softened. “You what?” He mumbled.

With a soft chuckle, you cupped his cheek. You tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, tenderness swimming in your kind eyes. “This wasn’t just sex for me. I wouldn’t do that to you, not when I feel the way I do about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a gentle grin, his eyes lighting up with adoration and hope as he looked at you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or just assumed.” He grabbed your hand brought to his lips, kissing the back of it apologetically.

He laid back after grabbing a blanket off the sofa, throwing it on you and then he pulled you to lay on him. Your front was pressed to his side as you rested your hands over his chest, your cheek laying against your hands. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his hand rubbing up and down your back, fingers tracing circles around your soft skin.

You looked up at him fondly, happy that everything had turned around for the better. He tightened his arm around you, moving forward a bit to place short and sweet kisses on your lips. “Stay with me?”

“All night?”

“As long as you want, baby.” He smiled and pressed his lips to your forehead gently, your eyes closing in contentment. He ran his fingers up and down your spine, pulling you to sleep before he spoke up again. “Just promise me that this wasn’t a one time thing?”

You smiled and opened your eyes to look up at the man before you. “Well, it’s not just a one time thing. I’d like to see what you and I could turn into.” You told him.

Calum bit his lip to suppress his beaming face, but had a hard time doing so as you made him so happy. Being here with you, holding you and kissing you made him so happy. “I would, too.”

After a few minutes of silence, he chuckled and shook his head. You laughed at the man, wondering what was going on in his head. “What’re you laughin’ at, baby?”

“Ashton and Marie actually said something to me about us” He said, confusing you with what he meant, but you automatically had a feeling that it wasn’t a great conversation.

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “What’d they say?”

“Well, Ashton basically warned me about staying away from you because they think that I’m no good for you.” He said mockingly in his best Ashton voice. You chuckled and shook your head, kissing his pectoral.

“Fucking Ashton. I swear, he can’t keep his nose out of anything.” You said. “But I think they’re wrong. I think you’d be great for me. You already are.”

“So basically, fuck Ashton and Marie, and start sleeping together anyway?”

“Pretty much.” You shrugged and kissed his pectoral, scratching gently at his skin.

Calum tapped your shoulder, causing you to look up at him. “I can take you on dates, right?”

“Yes, of course.” You laughed, kissing his jawline. You put out your pinky and held it out for him. “We don’t tell anyone though, got it?”

Calum hooked his pinky with yours, sealing your promise. “Got it.” He nodded in agreement. He leaned in and kissed your lips. You pulled him on top of you and deepened the kiss. He grinded his hardening length against you and smirked when you hissed, still sensitive. “Wanna go again?”

You smiled smugly and nodded before wrapping your legs around his waist. “Sure you can keep up?” You asked, rolling your wet core into him.

“Without a doubt.”

@biggestslutforcalum @moonlightgodcalum @cade-james @mycollectionofnuts @auburnish @lukesflaredpants

469 notes · View notes

holidaysat221b · 7 years ago

Text

Part One of the List of Sherlolly Prompts as of 5/8/2018

Here is a link to the very informal Sherlolly Prompt FAQ

Below is the list of prompts submitted to @holidaysat221b. Where possible, we have tagged the submitter so that credit can be given if a prompt inspires someone to write a fic or create a piece of art.

Some submissions were specifically labeled as Art prompts, and they have been separated into their own category. However, if you are a fic writer and one of the art prompts calls to you, go for it. Likewise, if one of the other prompts makes you want to draw, have fun with it! Prompts that have been filled at least once will be noted with a link to the fic/art, in case that influences your decision to work with one.

We only ask three things:

1) If you use one of the prompts on this list, please remember to credit the prompt and prompter somewhere in your fic summary/art description or in your notes.

2) Please submit an ask or message @holidaysat221b with a link to your work, the prompt you used, the prompter, and how you want to be identified (in cases where your Tumblr and fic/artist name are different). This will allow us to share your work with our followers and tag the prompter (if possible).

3) We have set up a Sherlolly Prompt Collection on Ao3. If you are planning to post your fic or art on Ao3 and would like to add it to the collection, please do. As of this moment, the collection is open and unmoderated. Please remember to credit the prompt and prompter in your fic/art notes.

On to the Prompts as of May 8, 2018

Art

Art prompt: (I’ve wanted this like burning for five years, I’ll never give up asking) Sherlock and Molly, the cake scene from Sixteen Candles". Only in the morgue and Molly’s wearing the lab coat. - @sunken-standard (Prompt fill - Sherlolly // Sixteen Candles by @simplyshelbs16xoxo)

Art prompt: Potter!lock. Don’t care if it’s student Sherlock and Molly in their house robes, teachers, wizarding professionals, a recreation of the Order of the Phoenix group photo with Sherlock characters instead. Whatever. Just as long as it’s Potter!lock. - @darnedchild

Art prompt: Molly and Sherlock’s first real date gets interrupted by a case. Are they dressed up for a fancy evening, or wearing something more suited to fish and chips and a walk around the park? - Anonymous

AU/Works that do not/will not fit in with the series current on-screen canon

Sherlock: A TV series featuring a hot guy with awesome deductive skills, his best friend the doctor, the exasperated detective inspector, the sweet landlady, and the pathologist. And no, the pathologist isn’t in love with the hot guy. - The Silent Fangirl

A post TRF fic, where Sherlock takes Molly with him, but they return to London a couple years later than in canon because Molly got pregnant along the way (or even twice), so now they are three/four of them instead of two? - @mychakk

“We had chips. She liked me.” – Sherlock in TLD. What could have been had he and Molly gotten chips in TEH: A kick to Tom’s butt. Happy greeting (a hug at least!) at the end of TEH. Quite a lot of sex with Sherlock instead of Tom. Molly the best man’s date. A (sophisticated. Or not) Molly/Janine cat fight for Janine hitting on SH moments. Dancing, so much Sherlolly dancing (and no leaving early). Probably no Shezza (Shezzer?)—which, hmm, is a shame (But maybe they’ve their own not-being-on-a-sex-holiday-but-sexing-a-lot time). A real proposal to Molly. Molly at family Christmas, maybe even a Christmas wedding. Solving CAM without the threat of exile sharpens Sherlock’s deductive abilities. No Norbury as Molly’s already expecting their first offspring, so Sherlock doesn’t taunt needlessly. Mary as the Sherlolly baby godmother as she’s alive! Culverton Smith is taken down by the duo of Mary and Molly while the latter gives birth there (because the ladies are awesome, plus Mrs H tackles him down). John is so impressed he doesn’t look at any other women. Molly’s big heart brings Eurus from her metaphoric plane the moment she steps into 221B, plus baby Holmes wins her heart too. The Holmes family reconciliation and Eurus is in therapy instead of being a multi-killer. Baker Street Boys Team continues while Baker Street Girls Team gives them a run for their money. Mycroft asks Lady Smallwood out himself to her astonishment and internal squealing. Mummy Holmes gets more grandkids than she could’ve imagined. And basically, everyone walks happily into the sunset. The End. Please note, some things can obviously be modified. - @mychakk (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

AU: Molly runs away from home when her parents try to arrange a marriage for her. She wants to pursue a life that involves science and marry for love if she ever gets married at all. She meets Sherlock, who is being pressured by his family to marry a nice girl they found for him who loves science as much as he does. It will be interesting when they figure it out. - @shadowyqueenbeard (Prompt fill - Uncertain Terms by geekmama)

AU. Instead of dying, Mary actually does hide from Sherlock and John effectively and they don’t find her. Still wracked by guilt and worried he’ll never see her again, John still imagines her in his mind and Sherlock still goes after Culverton Smith … possibly both to save John and because maybe Smith knows something about where Mary went? To solve the mystery and bring Mary home, Sherlock and Molly team up. - @rooneykmara

Uni!lock Sally wakes Molly at 2 am because her junkie boyfriend of dorm 221b is streaking across campus calling her name, so she better stop denying that she’s his girlfriend. - @escaily

To cover her butt during New Year’s Eurus lies and tells mummy that Sherlock has a wife, and Mycroft borrows her ‘Sherlock’s wife’ excuse whenever he wants to avoid sticky topics during holidays. The lie gets bigger the more Sherlock avoids family meetings. Until December when Sherlock finds out he’s married to a forensic (E), sex addicted(E), petite (E), intelligent (M), very forgiving (M) paragon of virtue (M). Now he needs to find a stranger that fits the description before Christmas. - @escaily

Rock Royalty AU. That AU in which Mary drags Molly into an edgy rock concert of her favorite band “Baker Street Boys” even though everybody and their mother knows that indie acoustics and hippie music is Molly’s thing. Enter Sherlock Holmes lead band member, (the type of Rock Star that sings ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ while high as a kite) famous for his electric violin solos, addict past and cold attitude. He tries deducing the girl less likely to throw herself at him out of all the fans and finding that one concert goer who doesn’t get turned on by his music. Turns out that Molly the ‘I-said-I’m-not-a-groupie’ pathologist in training is actually an interesting girl when she’s not covering her ears, even if Sherlock needs to educate her on the finger points of violin appreciation. Basically a fic where the Rockstar wants to turn this hater into a fan but actually ends up falling for her instead. - @escaily

The Do Over/ Time Travel Sherlolly fic that I NEED. Let’s pretend that a destroyed Molly went to sleep the night of the infamous phone call wishing she could do it all over again, and overnight she wakes up back in Season 1 first ep. If you could get a do over, erase all the bad things that have ever happened with the person you’ve always loved, even if it meant never having the good, would you do it? Especially if said person just broke your trust over the phone. The moment with the riding crop, all the late nights at the morgue, chose to avoid that awful Christmas party (showed up with a boring date), change shifts the day ‘Jim from IT’ asked her out and not offer her help when Sherlock needed to fake his death. Of course, fate still keeps throwing her together with Sherlock no matter what she tries. “You’re not MY Sherlock, you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered at last. “And what did your version of me have that I don’t?” “Many things, I know you think you can’t be a better person, but my Sherlock was.” Or something around those lines where slightly-younger Sherlock feels jealous of TFP Sherlock, because in any version of history Sherlock will always end up falling in love with Molly and she’s already so attuned to his quirks that he resents the ‘other him’ for having so much time with her. - @escaily

Crossovers/Works set in or inspired by another specific fictional universe (ie Potter!lock)

I’d really like to see a Daemon (from the His Dark Materials books by Philip Pullman) version of Series 3/TAB/Series 4 (any or all of those), especially when it comes to the ILY scene. - Kay

iZombie!Sherlock – Think of this, if Sherlock gets infected we have: 1) Sherlock with white hair 2) Sherlock getting brains from Molly “for experiments” 3) Sherlock getting different attitudes (hippie brain = hippie!Sherlock) 4) Paler than normal pale Sherlock 5) Sherlock with red bloodshot eyes. Also: If Molly Hooper gets infected, it’s like she’s the Liv Moore of Barts. Lestrade as Clive (and relieved to be not only depending on Sherlock to solve crimes). Sherlock deduces Molly’s hair color and tan (because Molly can’t show up to work with white hair, even whiter skin color, and very slow pulse rate). Major asshole Boss being the one shipping tainted Utopium to Britain. - The Silent Fangirl

Superwholock!Sherlolly - The Silent Fangirl

Doctor Who!Sherlock - Molly Hooper as a companion - The Silent Fangirl

Me Before You!Sherlock - The Silent Fangirl

Molly Hooper as “Mary Reilly”. - @darnedchild

Dracula!lock, but maybe mix it up just a little. Sherlock as the object of Dracula’s affections (Mina) and/or Molly as the vampire expert (Van Helsing)? - @darnedchild

Sherlock and Lady Molly of Scotland Yard. Molly Hooper as Lady Molly from “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” with her crime solving partner Mary (Morstan). (Note from Mod - “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” used to be available via BBC Radio 4 Extra on demand, you may still be able to find it online somewhere.) - @lullikiish

A Hades and Persephone AU with Molly as female Hades (the unrequited love at first, the proximity with death) and Sherlock as a male Persephone (the curiosity, the lack of eating). Irene would be a great Poseidon (the chaos provided by the ocean, the sailor knots). As for John, he would be a great Hermes! - Kay

Gimme “The Full Monty”, baby. Surely someone can find a reason to have Sherlock, John, and Greg get their kits off? Or Molly, Mary, and Sally? Mrs H could give professional pointers and tips to whomever you’re planning to get starkers. - Anonymous

A Sherlolly version of “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Sherlock gets to see what his loved ones’ lives would be like if he never existed, realizing the positive impact he had on them when he was alive. - @simplyshelbs16xoxo (Prompt fill - Strange, Isn’t It? by SimplyShelbs16)

Something similar to “The Ransom of Red Chief”, only in this version the kidnappers have figured out that Molly Hooper is a pressure point for Sherlock Holmes. They take her captive, intending to blackmail Sherlock or hold Molly for ransom; but Molly Hooper is having none of that nonsense. While Sherlock works to save her, Molly finds ways to torment, injure, and outwit her captors. Whether she escapes on her own, finds a way to let Sherlock and John know where she’s at, or ends up driving her kidnappers crazy to the point that they give up and send her back is up to the author. Could go humorous or dark very easily. - Anonymous

Clique/Sherlock Crossover - After the events of TFP, Molly Hooper (who is actually Jude McDermid) decides to go back to Edinburgh, broken-hearted & bound to continue the “family business” after years of running away from it. Gone is her long hair & colorful jumpers: she completely changed her look & have every information about Molly Hooper destroyed. Years passed, she forms the Solasta Women’s Initiative, much to her brother’s delight, until a horrific event brings Sherlock Holmes back into her world again. It’s more of a Sherlolly/Judelock mash-up where Sherlock wants to know why she left, who she really is, & how he’s still madly in love with her. Molly/Jude is more like she’s finally embracing the life she thought she never wanted, until she realizes that she can never forget the love she has for Sherlock. Can she be Jude & love him as well? Can Sherlock accept her true reality, or does he only love her as Molly & not Jude. Throw in a nice mystery/thriller plot too! Oh yeah Mycroft, who knew Molly is Jude from the beginning but decided to let Sherlock figure it out on his own, is determined to stop this union at all cost. Pls include all the girls & guys in Clique, especially Holly since she’s a badass off to take down Jude and her “girls” no matter what! It’s a crazy plot but if you’ve seen the 1st 2 episodes of Clique, it screams for a Sherlolly crossover fic! Thanks for reading this uber-long fic prompt! - @violetjersey

A reversed Potter!lolly with Sherlock being the Muggle-born, while Molly’s the pureblood witch (the likes of Luna Lovegood). Sherlolly, of course. - @mychakk

Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” – because I always think of the movies when I see Mizjoely’s U.N. Owen tag. - @darnedchild

We know Molly can keep other people’s secrets. Maybe Molly has a few secrets of her own, i.e. her very secret collection of FWBs. Because honestly, you think she would just sit alone in her home every night, year after year, quietly pining for a romantic relationship with Sherlock? And what a surprise when Sherlock and their friends find out…maybe at Sherlock and Molly’s wedding? Crossover possibilities depend on FWBs selected…Q (James Bond), Loki (Avengers), Doctor Strange, etc. - @rubyred7531

Crack!fic based on an episode of “Friends”. Sherlock marries Janine. (Maybe for a case, or because Molly is still engaged to Tom.) Unfortunately, he says Molly’s name during his wedding vows … - @shadowyqueenbeard

“Two Mules for Sister Sara”, but with undercover Father Sherlock (or Brother Sherlock if you want to go that way). You could go with the original western cowboy period or make it modern. You can keep it PG -or- you could go for that priest kink M/E rating. - @darnedchild

Reverse “Runaway Bride” AU, where Sherlock is getting married to Janine and Molly to Tom at some venue with space for lots of simultaneous events. Then they both get dumped in the altar. And it’s a meet cute of two people commiserating about how annoying it is to be the jilted ‘acceptable’ fiance in a rom com. - @escaily

Period pieces/TAB

Victorian “Hooper”lock—Molly in disguise as “Hooper” the man, and they work together on a case and sparks fly. They flirt and all, and Sherlock can’t figure out right away that she’s a woman, and I think it might not even bother him that much. - @lullikiish

TABverse – After the whole bride thing Molly Hooper asks Sherlock to help her create a new Alias for herself, something ‘detective proof’. The thing is that Sherlock doesn’t approve of the nurse Alias, or shopkeeper, or the governess one, or the maid costume (brothel girl disguise almost kills him). For Sherlock her new persona will just have to be the wife of someone with status, someone like him. - @escaily

Song fic/Inspired by lyrics

Song Fic: Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge” - @darnedchild (Prompt fill - Water Under The Bridge by SimplyShelbs16)

Song Fic: … I would love something based on “Samson” by Regina Spektor please. - @chelle812

Song Fic: Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally” - @darnedchild

Song Fic: Texas’ “I’ll See It Through” - @darnedchild (Prompt fill - And I’ll See It Through by darnedchild)

Song Fic: … I’ve got a quote from a song. “You only know you love her when you let her go.” (Note from Mod - The song appears to be Passenger’s “Let Her Go”) - @flowerstar5 (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

Song Fic: Angst. Based on the ABBA song “Knowing Me, Knowing You”. Sherlock and Molly have tried to have a serious relationship, but it just didn’t work out. - @shadowyqueenbeard

Song Fic: 8 Seconds “Kiss You” - @shadowyqueenbeard

OT3/Sherlock, Molly, and ?

A case involving wine and stolen spatulas leads to Mycroft Holmes being attracted to Molly Hooper. Too bad Molly’s had enough of the Holmeses, and Sherlock mooning over her really isn’t helping. (Molly Hooper/Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes) - The Silent Fangirl

Molly wants to meet The Woman. Irene and Sherlock are still friends, and Molly is curious. Much to everyone’s surprise, Molly and Irene hit it off fairly quickly. (Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper/Irene Adler) - Anonymous

When Sherlock is injured and stuck in a cast up to his thigh, Mary and Molly find out JUST how grumpy he can get. They end up putting him by a window with binoculars, his pain medication, snacks, juice and his mobile. What happens next? (Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes/Mary (Morstan)Watson) - @penaltywaltz

#sherlolly prompt list

3 notes · View notes