#the car is not entirely fucked like i was terrified it might be

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, I 100% know this is an overused trope... but still....

What If 141 2 people 1 bed trope

Who cares that it's an overused trope? It's a classic for a reason!

I will never tire of a one bed trope. It can be steamy and sexy. It can be angsty. It can be tense. It can literally be so many things at once. It's also a wonderful canvas to play around, and I had a lot of fun with this one. I know you've waited for this one for a while. I hope you enjoy it! :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141 Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, multiple positions, rough kissing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & female receiving), admission of feelings, pretend sex, fake dating/married

Word Count: 6.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Fuck,” mutters Price.

You glance over your shoulder. Captain Price stands near the hotel window, the gauzy blinds closed but the thicker ones bunched to the sides, allowing in natural light. He’s staring at something happening in the parking lot.

“What it is?” you ask, starting to walk over to him.

“They might have found us.”

Dread flares hot, clenching the muscles in your stomach until it hurts. “Are you sure?”

Price nods, and then backs away from the window. “There’s no way they saw our faces during the infiltration. We wore masks. Might have tracked the stolen car.”

“We need to leave,” you say, but Price shakes his head.

“There’s too many of them, and they’re likely watching all exits on the main floor.” He sighs. “We need to play this right.”

The two of you are freshly showered, and the clothes you wore for the infiltration have already been discarded. Burned—actually, somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. At the moment, the two of you look like civilians.

“They can’t search the building, John. Not without bloodshed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting across the room as his brain works something over. You fidget, picking at your nails. It’s a terrible habit. One you do when you’re nervous.

Price glances at you and your heart drops. “They look official, and that’s probably all that matters. The scrawny teenager at the front desk isn’t going to put up a fight if the credentials appear legitimate.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, striding toward the window to look for yourself.

Captain Price is right. They do look official. They also look fucking terrifying which would scare anyone into compliance if you don’t know what to look for.

“We’re on the bottom floor,” you say, stepping back.

“I know,” growls Price. He pivots, examining the entire room.

He goes for the car keys and shuts them inside the safe. The only other thing in the room is a duffle bag full of plain clothes and generic toiletries. Price pushes clothes aside and then draws out the pistol hiding beneath it all. He checks the clip and then preps the barrel.

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” you ask, startled.

Price walks over to the singular bed in the room, tucking the gun beneath the pillows. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely,” you affirm.

“Then take off your clothes,” repeats Price, reaching behind his head with one hand to grab the collar of his shirt. He pulls it over and off, tossing it aside.

“Spread it around. Make a mess,” he instructs as he goes for the belt on his jeans.

For a moment, you’re stunned, staring at Captain Price’s bare chest. While he’s muscular, it isn’t from a life in the gym. He is thick in all the right places. A solid wall with a beautiful dusting of dark hair that travels downward.

The belt is gone, and that too is tossed aside.

Without removing your gaze, you tentatively discard your shirt, but keep your bra on. It’s a barrier. A safety net. Price isn’t even glancing at you, but you do notice some color at the tops of his cheeks. A soft pink that makes your thoughts spiral outward to imagine if this gentle blush is the same color as the head of his cock.

Price’s jeans go next, already discarded before you move on to the next article of clothing. He’s only in socks and black boxer briefs. There is so much of him on display that you’re starting to forget yourself.

He glances at you, and that color in his cheeks darken. “You’re still dressed.”

You open your mouth to answer but then you hear a shout from down the hall and sharp banging on a door. They’re far too close.

This urges you on, moving with faster intention, and once you’re down to just your bra and underwear, you finally glance at Price again.

Price—who is naked. Completely bare. And you have a full view of what he’s been packing underneath all that.

Fuck.

He approaches the bed, and tugs back the sheets. The muscles in his arms and back tense as he crumples the bedding to sexed perfection—as if the two of you have been going at it for hours.

Price sits down on the edge of the bed and slides underneath, his legs parting enough that you get a glimpse of everything. This man isn’t even fully hard but from what you can see, it would be a tight fit if you actually sat on him.

Lifting a pillow, Price checks for the pistol and then sets it back, settling into the sheets. He frowns slightly when his attention returns to you.

“All of that has to go.”

“Does it?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

There’s another thunderous pounding on a nearby door followed by shouting.

“It does if we’re going to make it out of here alive.” Price shrugs, and then smirks. “Could help you.”

Sighing heavily and you reach behind your back, unclasping the bra. You hurl it at him and Price catches it out of the air. Crossing your arms over your chest, you hurry toward the bed. But you don’t make it beneath the sheets.

“Everything,” repeats Price.

Reaching out, Price snags the thin cotton fabric and pulls down, revealing you to him and the room. Instinct as you grasping for control, hands splayed over his large forearms as he gives the fabric another yank.

You cannot form a response. Words leave you as Price drags you into the bed with him.

“Sorry about this,” he grumbles, that color returning to his cheeks in full force. It’s cute actually—how sheepish he looks.

You swallow, and lick your lips. “It’s fine.”

Price leans back against the pillows, guiding you with him. “Get on top.”

Straddling his hips, you settle yourself over him. You try—and fail—to not notice the way the hard length of him nestles against your pussy. You keep one arm crossed over your breasts but all it does is hides your nipples from him. Your other hand is splayed wide and pressed against his chest.

“We’re married,” he says, staring into your eyes. “That’s the story. I’ll do the talking. You act like the scared wife when they come barging in.”

You nod, and Price releases a deep exhalation. His hands rest on your thighs. They’re a brand. Warm. All you can think about. They move upward to settle on your hips.

“Pretend you’re riding me,” he murmurs.

With a gentle hand, Price grasps your wrist, drawing your arm away from your breasts. You don’t resist, and he brings your other palm to rest against his chest.

“Pretend,” he reiterates, hands returning to your hips. Price creates the motion by dragging you back and forth, imitating a rocking motion. Though you’re stationary, your pussy still drags against the length of his cock.

You notice the tremor in his jaw as your bodies rub against each other. This is affecting him as much as it is you.

“Pretend,” you say back to him.

Price nods and then grabs for the television remote from the bedside table. He turns it on and then ups the volume. You imitate the motion he created, rocking back and forth, sliding yourself along his cock, pretending you don’t notice how wet you’ve become over the course of the last few minutes.

His hands return to your hips, and then Price sinks back completely into the pillows, his eyelids softening as he gazes up at you. It’s far too intimate of a stare, and it’s only compounded when one of his hands meander upward to slide over your stomach and then between your breasts. You gasp as his thumb traces the underside of your breast.

Head tilting back, you grind downward, finding yourself diving into the warmth that’s starting to pool low in your belly.

A sharp pounding at the door has you snapping to attention. Every muscle tenses. Seizes.

“You’re fine,” coos Price. “We’ll be fine.”

The pounding comes again and then a yell from behind it. The voice is muffled. Not only by the door but from the television.

Swallowing, you try to connect into it again, rolling your hips, imagining that Price is your husband—that you love him—and this is simply an exploration of that love.

When you roll your hips again, Price sits up slightly, his warm breath brushing against your breast. A tingle shudders through you, and Price groans before his tongue grazes over your nipple, bringing it to a point.

“Knew you’d taste sweet,” he says softly at the same moment the hotel door bursts open.

One second, you’re atop Price, and the next his arms are around you, turning you away from the door to hide you from sight. You’re not on your back but Price has shoved you toward the bed as he sits up, creating a barrier between you and the intruders.

The tactical-clad trio entering the room—with a hotel worker nervously trailing behind—

don’t even get a word in before Price starts going off on them.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

His accent is gone, replaced by an American one. It’s incredibly good, and his feigned anger even more so. The men entering faulter under Price’s tirade. They likely weren’t expecting this, and Price uses this opportunity to push the advance.

“We’re fucking busy in here. Fuck off!”

The man at the head of the trio clears his throat and holds up a hand, but Price chucks one of the water glasses at the man. The guy ducks and it shatters against the wall. The hotel worker at their back squeaks and pushes forward.

“We’re so sorry. Just a search for some prison escapees. We’re clearly in the wrong room.”

Prison escapees? You want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, you press your face against Price’s arm, feigning sheepishness.

Price’s lips turn into a snarl, and the hotel worker blanches.

“We’ll give you a complimentary stay for the inconvenience,” the man babbles before waving his arms to usher the other men out.

For a moment, you don’t think it’ll work, but they go.

You and Price don’t sigh with relief until the door shuts. His forehead presses against yours, chest heaving.

“Nice accent,” you whisper and this draws a smile from his lips.

“Like it more than this one?” he asks, his regular accent returning.

“Nope,” you say. “This one suits you fine.”

Price’s gaze draws over your exposed body and then lands on your face. It’s soft. Sensual. You’re frozen beneath it, breath catching as his fingers brush along the line of your jaw.

You’re not sure who moves first but his lips are on yours and then you’re moaning. Price rolls you onto your back, each kiss more demanding and fiercer than the last. He tastes of the mint toothpaste he used earlier and smells of soap.

Reaching between your bodies, you find him hard, and there is no other need within you but the one that craves for him to be inside. To fuck you ceaselessly.

You stroke him and Price groans into your mouth, his hand wrapping around your throat. Hooking your legs behind him, you guide him to your entrance. With a light press of your heels, Price takes your meaning.

There is no gentle pretense. No soft kisses or playful coaxing. Price goes all in, and you break the kiss to gasp aloud, nails digging into his back. Price is thick and having him inside you is a deliciously painful stretch.

It is all desperate the way he moves. Price isn’t gentle. It’s skin slapping against skin. It is sweat and groans. A savage hardness that borders on hysteria.

Your hand reaches behind you to press against the headboard as Price fucks you into the bed, but even that is shaking, banging loudly against the wall. It’s clear even over the drone from the television. The people next door will know exactly what the two of you are up to.

Price is relentless. A man starved. He nips at your bottom lip. Sucks it into his mouth. And when that isn’t enough, he goes for your neck and then your breasts, making your nipples smart and throb under his teeth and tongue.

The orgasm comes sharp and hot, bursting forth like a wave. And when you squeeze around him, Price is right there with you, his cum coating your insides as he too finds his end.

The two of you are all heavy breath. Sweaty limbs.

Price nuzzles the side of your neck, placing soft kisses there until he travels up to find your lips again. These are gentle. Not desperate like before.

When there’s a moment to speak, it is you that breaks the silence.

“So much for pretending.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s the middle of the day but you wouldn’t be able to tell.

A storm is raging—the rain thick and heavy. It falls from the sky in large drops that soak clothes and slick the skin. It’s a bit cold, too. A little chilly. The kind of wet chill that hardens the nipples and brings a shiver to your bones.

“Here. You’re soaked.”

Kyle presents a towel. It’s off-white and a bit frayed. But what can you expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Having a towel at all is nice. At least it isn’t threadbare.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, gently dapping the rough-textured material against your face.

Kyle strides over to the heating unit. It’s dirty and barely anchored to the wall. He hits a few buttons and then the thing turns on. It’s loud. Clunky. But heat starts to seep from the slats, warming the room.

After drying your face, you begin to remove outer pieces of clothing. Kyle might be your teammate, but there isn’t really anywhere to hide but the bathroom. Knowing the state of most motels, you don’t really want to find out either.

Kyle has the same idea. He dries off with his own towel, removing soaked articles of clothing as he goes. You try not to look—to be discreet—but it’s hard not to steal a peek. Kyle is all toned muscle and firmness. There’s a light dusting of hair on his chest. It’s a bit thicker around his navel. It trails downwards, and your mind wanders to a place it shouldn’t.

You glance away but not fast enough. His gaze roams upward, finding you, and there he pauses, observing you as you did him.

Pretending is best.

You attempt to act like you don’t notice him at all, turning your back like you’re incredibly interested with the wallpaper that likely hasn’t been replaced in years.

It’s his heat that draws your attention—that steals your breath, and makes every muscle in your body tense with anticipation.

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs.

Kyle is so close. Close enough that his breath brushes against your bare shoulder. You’re just in your bra and underwear, the only items that aren’t completely soaked from the rain.

He inhales, and that exhalation teases your flesh again. Giving in, you close your eyes, sinking into Kyle’s presence.

When you open them again, you notice a mirror hanging on the wall. It’s great if you were trying to plan an outfit, but that isn’t what you notice.

Instead, you see yourself. And Kyle.

The backs of his knuckles lightly caress the side of your arm. His head is tipped forward and turned inward like you’ll turn around any moment to kiss him.

The urge is there. Tugging. Wanting you to do just that.

The two of you are always walking around the other, seeking comfort and closeness but never seizing it. Maybe you should. Maybe—turning around is the best thing you can do for yourself.

“Kyle,” you breathe, and his little hum in answer tightens that string.

Without hesitation, you do turn.

Kyle’s lips are right there. They’re parted slightly. Inviting.

His arm drapes across your waist, hand splaying wide against your stomach, pressing until the two of you are sandwiched together.

It’s not like you don’t want this. You do. You want Kyle. Have since the moment he introduced himself to you. But the two of you have always remained professional in every space you occupy.

And now there is no one around.

No one to see.

No one to know.

Your head tips back in answer, and Kyle leans into it, pressing his lips to yours. It is sweet. Gentle. More of an ask than anything else.

And you reply, meeting him in equal measure. The pressure on your stomach increases just as Kyle’s other hand wraps around the front of your throat, holding you still. Each kiss is a claiming, one you freely submit to.

Kyle is all sugared-warmth, and you want to rot your teeth.

Draping your arm around the back of his neck, you pull him closer. Kyle nips. Bites. Sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before soothing the burn with a few tender kisses. Heat blossoms in your core before morphing into an aching slickness.

You’ve been putting him off—brushing him aside.

Why wait any longer when Kyle is all you crave?

“Fucking hell, love,” he groans against your mouth.

Your lips part, and Kyle slides his tongue inside. His taste is everything, but you want to know him everywhere.

Your hand seeks, brushing against his hardness through his boxer briefs. When you slip your hand beneath the elastic band, Kyle’s only response to kiss you harder.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you start to stroke what you can with the little room you have. Your thumb brushes over the head of his cock and Kyle draws back.

“I’ve wanted this since I met you,” he says, voice a bit rough.

Twisting in his grip, you turn to face him. “Can I show you how much I’ve wanted you, too?” you ask, pressing your breasts against his chest.

Kyle loosens his hold and you drop to your knees, taking his boxer briefs with you. His cock is gorgeous. It curves upward slightly, and a pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit.

He whispers your name, and then you have him in hand. Stroking once. Twice.

You lick off that bead. Savor his taste. Go back for more.

Kyle grabs the back of your head, drawing you to him. You open your mouth. Swallow him down. Throating him until you gag.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongating the vowel.

You work him with hand and mouth, keeping a steady rhythm that has him weak and wanton. You have all the control—until you don’t.

“Let me fuck your mouth, love. Please.”

The please is what does it. You release his cock, placing both hands on his thighs. With a pleased growl, Kyle keeps your head stationary. You anticipate the first thrust, and it is sinful. The movement goes straight to your pussy as you imagining him fucking you there like he fucks your mouth.

Fingers dig into muscled thigh. You want to touch yourself, to tease your clit while he does it. He is a god above you—Adonis.

“Can’t wait to taste your cunt, love,” rasps Kyle. “Can’t wait to make you drip for me.”

His desire fuels your own, and you urge him on, gently cupping him with one hand, thumb lightly rubbing the sensitive strip of flesh there.

Kyle’s hips stutter, and you relax your throat, humming around his cock as your lips meet the base. He holds you there, and you take it all, thighs chaffing from the friction of you rubbing them together in anticipation.

You blink up at him, and Kyle wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“My turn,” he murmurs.

You’re on your feet and then on your back in seconds. All the wind is knocked out of you, and then Kyle’s tongue is there, sliding through your slickness. Parting. Teasing the opening of your vagina before trailing upward to circle around your clit.

Gasping, your hands reach for him. Kyle grabs both wrists, keeps them planting on your stomach as he fucks you with his tongue. His shoulders dig into your thighs, keeping them wide. He’s stronger than you even as your thighs quiver, wanting to close, wanting to shut.

Kyle groans against your pussy, and then he’s on your clit, moving in such an easy, languid way that everything explodes outward. A shudder passes from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Your pussy clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.

Kyle doesn’t let up. He doesn’t cease. Every stroke strikes true and then your body betrays itself, overstimulation setting in, and the urge to wiggle away is paramount.

But just as you push at him—just as your body draws back. Kyle is releasing your wrists, pushing himself up and over you, spreading those legs even wider to slide inside.

The bed creaks beneath you, and then he’s thrusting.

Your moans of pleasure become one with the rain.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Single lamp. Lone bed.

Peeling paint. Dusty corners.

“Something’s on your mind.” Your voice is the only sound in the room other than the AC unit.

Soap’s sigh is soft and small as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

It’s the last night before the potential end. Before victory or failure. Just the two of you now with the plan to meet up with others later.

He nods, and you take a tentative step forward. “We attended the briefing. You know the details.”

“Aye.”

“Then what has you worried?” you ask, taking another step in Soap’s direction.

A warm, orange glow emits from the singular lamp on the bedside table. It’s not enough light to illuminate the cheap peeling paint or the dirt in the corners of the room. It only gives life to the bed and the side of Soap’s face.

It’s not like you have an unlimited budget. A motel room is the best the two of you could manage for some rest before moving on. The man at the desk didn’t even glance up when he asked if they only wanted a room for an hour.

You had asked for two beds. The man at the desk replied that no one who stops here asks for that.

One bed it is.

One bed.

Somehow, you’ll have to sleep beside Soap while simultaneously shoving down the urge to reach out to him.

Sighing, Soap leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. His gaze drifts slightly as if he’s not focusing on anything in particular. Running his fingers through his short mohawk, he tugs on the ends, mussing the freshly washed strands, creating a wavy mess.

Just that one movement as you leaning forward, nostrils flaring to inhale that clean scent.

“Adaptability,” he answers. Finally.

Instead of sitting on the bed beside him, you sink to your knees, resting your arm on the bed, and your chin on your arm.

The two of you have been on missions before but never together like this.

Never alone.

Keeping your gaze downward, you notice just how close you are to him—and how Soap leans in your direction, the edge of his knee brushing against the side of your hand.

It’s a small contact, but he’s warm, and that warmth is transferring into yourself, unspooling outward. It’s a difficult thing—because all this time you’ve harbored feelings for him, and yet have never acted on them.

“You’re quick on your feet, Soap,” you murmur, one finger absently extended to brush over the curve of his knee.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You can call me Johnny.”

Johnny. You’ve never called him that. Soap, sure. Sergeant MacTavish? All the time.

“I thought Ghost only had that right.”

Only Ghost calls Soap ‘Johnny.’ That’s understood by everyone.

Soap shrugs. “He did.” He glances at you, his smile widening. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

Something swirls in your stomach, twisting like a knife.

“How would you like to hear it?” you reply.

Johnny’s smile, which is so wide and teasing, softens into a sultry smirk. “I have options?”

“You do.”

Johnny’s usual playfulness emerges. “Say it like you’re angry with me.”

“Johnny,” you say, deepening your voice to sound like Ghost.

He bursts out laughing, falling back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. “Oh, aye. I’ll give you that.”

“What else?” you tease. “I demand more.”

“Say it like you’re annoyed with me.”

You do just that, and Johnny sits up, turning on his side.

“Again,” you prompt.

The middle of Johnny’s brow creases and then his hand cradles the side of your face. He closes the distance, kissing you deeply—as if you are his lover and not a friend.

But you don’t pull away. You indulge yourself, kissing him back just as sweetly.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just that it does, and his small retreat after it’s done is all you have in acknowledging its passing.

The withdrawal is short. Johnny doesn’t move away. He keeps his hand on your cheek. The tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Say it now,” he breathes, voice raspy.

“Johnny,” but it’s not what you intended to say.

He sighs. “Again.”

“Johnny.”

This time he groans, and then your lips are fusing, becoming one. You’re dragged off the floor and into his arms, tangling in his heat, forgetting yourself completely.

“Johnny,” you repeat, and then your shirt is gone, followed by your bra.

He nips at the curve of your breasts before sucking your nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze flesh and you say his name again until it becomes a strangled moan.

The front of your jeans is open, and his hand is there, cupping your sex, fingers dragging through your wetness.

“Johnny,” but it’s to stop him, to remind him that this cannot go on.

“Fucking hell. Love the way you say my name.”

This melts your resolve. Makes your legs spread wider. Makes you shove at your pants and create plenty of space.

Johnny knows. He understands.

He yanks them down even as he peppers your breasts with little nips and kisses. Your fingers drags through his hair as he sucks the other nipple into his mouth, bringing it to perky attention.

One finger slides inside, and you groan loudly, legs falling wide as Johnny settles himself between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, claiming your mouth and pumping his finger. You whimper as he inserts a second. “Wanted you so bad.”

Your pussy flutters, squeezing around him. It is Johnny that groans this time, and it is a primal sound.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks. “Please.”

“Johnny,” you breathe. “Johnny.”

“Need a yes or no. Tell me. Do you want me? I’ve wanted you.”

You answer by finding him—guiding him to the place you need him to.

With a low growl, Johnny pins your arms above your head, slotting his pelvis against yours, the head of his cock sinking in until you’re taking all of him.

“Johnny!”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he croons, starting to thrust.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I can’t tell what blood is yours and what isn’t.”

“Can fucking do it myself.”

“Ghost—”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Simon,” you snap, and he stops fidgeting.

Behind the plain balaclava, you see the fire in Lieutenant Riley’s eyes. This man is your superior. At least, right now he is. But the mission is done. It’s over. Yet the two of you are stranded, and making contact with Price is going to take time.

Not to mention that Simon is injured, and you have no fucking idea where at.

“Let me help you,” you say as soothingly as possible.

You don’t want to fight with him. All you want is to help Simon, to clean him up, and get him into bed. Rest and healing are what he needs right now. Contacting Price can wait. Base can stew for a while longer.

The two of you are in a motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere America. It’s shit overall, but it will have to do. There’s no way anyone is searching for the two of you out here. You drove until you nearly ran out of gas, and then you refilled and drove some more. Simon was in the back of the car, covered in blood.

But he was awake. Moving. Not a head injury, and not enough to get him immediate medical treatment. Not like he would have allowed you to take him to a hospital anyway. Lieutenant Riley is fucking stubborn. Sometimes infuriatingly so.

Simon stares, hard, his dark eyes intense behind the balaclava. He blinks, and then pushes up from the chair, keeping his gaze trained on you.

“Lieutenant,” you mutter, annoyed.

As Simon stands and attempts to take a step forward, his left leg wobbles, and he nearly topples forward. Your arms go out to catch him, holding him steady. He’s a big guy, and he seems to know this because he tries to prop himself up using the chair.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you snap.”

“Listen—”

“I’m not arguing with you Simon Riley.”

Using his full name shuts him up. It’ll likely earn you a reprimand later, but fuck it, you’re over this.

“Stay there.” You shove him back down into the chair and head into the bathroom.

There is a single overhead light. Flipping the switch turns it on and the fan. It’s a tight space, but thankfully the shower isn’t also a tub. That would be a nightmare getting him in. Instead, there is a sink, a toilet, and a dividing wall that cuts the room in half. It’s more like a locker shower but it’ll work.

Reaching in, you turn the handle. You jump back as cold water shoots out of the shower head. After waiting for a few seconds, steam starts to rise.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you have to do. “You got this,” you murmur, heading back into the room.

Simon leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees.

You hold out your hand. “Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Riley’s head swivels in your direction. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” you reply, holding firm. “Come on.”

With a deep sigh, Simon reaches out and slides his hand into yours. It’s warm. Calloused. You squeeze it and step forward, extending your other arm to wrap around his torso. Simon stands. Wobbles. But you snake your arm around him, and then it’s a slow trek into the bathroom.

Simon is limping, but he’s showing no other signs that his injury hurts him. Might be minor, or he’s just good at covering up the pain.

Once the two of you are inside the bathroom, you realize just how small the space is. Maneuvering Simon to the shower is difficult, a weird dance to wiggle around the door and toilet to the opening of the shower.

You retreat slightly, and Simon leans against the wall, his eyelids closing as he takes a deep breath.

“You good?” you ask, concern creasing your brow.

Simon nods. “I’ll manage.” His eyelids open slowly and then he stares into the shower. “You want me in there?”

“You’ll need to remove a few things first,” you reply, gesturing toward his uniform.

Simon snorts. “Trying to get me naked?”

“You wish,” you retort, even as your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Need help?”

At first, Simon doesn’t say anything. He just reaches for his belt, removing it slowly with one hand.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you mumble, starting to turn away.

“Wait.”

You freeze, and then glance over your shoulder. “What is it?”

Simon shrugs. “What if I slip? Might need you to catch me.”

This bastard.

“Then I’ll stay,” you reply cooly, pretending that this doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It’s reshaping you, and Simon’s slow undressing isn’t helping things. He keeps his gaze on you the entire time, and you purposefully keep your eyes averted, when really you want to look. You want to know what he’s like under all that.

The belt goes. So does his tactical gear and jacket. Next is his shirt followed by his balaclava. You sneak a peek then, and Simon grins at you like he knew you’d look eventually.

“I’ll need some help with these. Getting them down that is.” Simon gestures towards his pants and you feel your face grow so hot you fear it might explode.

“Sure.”

You reach for him, silently chastising your shaking fingers. This is too much, even though you like it, and want more from it. You undo the button and zipper. Sliding your hands beneath the band, you shimmy Simon’s pants to the floor. He kicks them away and all that’s left are his boxer briefs. They’re tight and you notice the massive bulge in front.

Fuck.

“You can do the rest,” you reply, glancing away.

Simon removes them, and then he starts forward, arms outstretched to balance himself as he enters the shower.

“Fucking hell,” moans Simon as the hot water hits his body.

The groan that comes after is deep, and so sultry you feel a bolt of pleasure spike from your pussy.

“Should join me.”

“No thanks,” you say, averting your gaze away from Simon’s muscled backside.

One moment you’re facing the wall, and the next you’re under the spray of water.

“What the fuck,” you shriek, stumbling backward as Simon chuckles. Muttering under your breath, you stare down at your soaked clothing. “Goddamn it.” You start removing articles of clothing, the wet fabric peeling away from your skin.

“Fucking fine, Simon.”

You shed everything and storm under the spray, only for Simon to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him. There is no pause between then and the moment his lips find yours. It is sweet, and warm. You instantly melt, enjoying every second.

But it’s fleeting.

You draw back, heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re covered in blood. Remember?”

Simon shrugs and then offers you the soap. “Clean me then.”

You do it, and when you’re done, he does the same for you. It’s far too intimate, and Simon’s gentleness is surprising. Once finished, you dry and bandage the wound on his leg. It’s not terrible—and will likely need stitches—but it’s not bleeding anymore.

The singular bed in the middle of the room is far too small. Not with Simon in at, spread out and naked under the sheets.

You slide in beside him, not knowing where you should settle. Simon is large, taking up most of the best. The only place is curled up next to his side.

Turning your resolve to steal, you settle in. You begin to turn away from Simon, but his arm shoots out, grasping your waist. You’re yanked across the bed, only to find yourself in Simon’s arms.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Stop pretending, love. We both know what’s going on. Don’t deny it.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Simon—”

“We’ve been making eyes at each other for fucking months. And now we’re alone. You think I don’t see the opportunity?”

Simon’s hand slides over the curve of your ass, and then dips beneath your shirt. You’re not wearing underwear, and when his fingers brush over your pussy, you gasp, pressing into him.

“You’re already wet for me,” growls Simon as he drags a finger through your folds. “So fucking wet.” He presses in, and your pussy parts for him.

“We can’t, Simon. You’re injured.”

“Not so much,” he coos. “Especially since I can do this.” On this, Simon drags the tips of his finger along the inside your pussy, hitting that sweet spot.

You moan, fingers digging into his chest as your back arches to press you further down on him.

“It’s just my leg that’s injured.” Simon’s lips brush against your cheek and then the edge of your ear. His breath is warm against your skin. “I can still fuck you. Have you on top. Bounce you on my cock.” Simon gives the curve of your ear the faintest kiss. “Would you like that, love? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“We—we—”

With his other hand, Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you against him, silencing whatever it is you’re trying to say. He seizes your mouth in a fierce kiss. You open for him, and his tongue slides inside. He tastes nice, and you want to sink into the feeling. Have him devour you completely.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips.

You push up, doing exactly as he wants you to do. You settle on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against your thigh.

With a low growl, Simon removes your shirt, leaving you completely bare to his gaze.

“Much better,” he says, cupping your breasts as you lean on his chest, lifting your hips.

His cock slides through your folds, and then you start the descent, moaning as he splits you in two. The stretch is intense—nearly sharp with pain, but laced with pleasure. Simon’s eyelids flutter slightly, and his groan is pure sin.

Simon lightly squeezes your breasts one more time before his hands find your hips. He lifts you up, and then back down, bouncing you on his cock. You cling to him, allowing him to use you, to fuck you in whatever way he wants.

Each grunt and growl from him only makes you wetter. Hungrier.

“I’m gonna come inside you.”

It’s not a question. There is no other option, and you wouldn’t take anything else even if there was.

“Please,” you whimper.

Simon’s hands tighten, his hips thrusting upward to meet every downward movement. He sits up, his mouth clamping around a nipple to nip and suck. Your orgasm roars up from nowhere, and then you’re clenching around him, milking Simon’s cock as his own end greets him.

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[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid, irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid, and so damn grateful, and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and pulled the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision, arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—here, at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space, and his nostrils, and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright, we're doing this, huh, big guy?” but then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm, and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck, and breathes.

Stiles lets him, because of course he does, cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically, then jokes more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh alpha, my alpha.”

Derek shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular. The kid shivers beautifully, but even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat. 

“Okay, shit, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Do I need to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly.

After a few moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's throat, once they're alone in the preserve, other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh!” is amazingly all Stiles has got—although Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, his wolf now howling inside of him at the delicious scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers, after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy.

He finally pulls away from Stiles, but doesn't release him from his grip entirely. Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes, and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face and replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles, kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Stiles doesn't hesitate this time, though. He kisses Derek right back like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes, and he takes, and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it; he is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When he presumably needs to breathe, Stiles tears his lips away from Derek's—swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with post-fight waning nerves and a feverish desire.

Stiles says, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again, and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

.

for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Hell or High Water

Request: Anonymous said, “i love your writing so much !!!! i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt "

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: tornado, blood, injury mention

A/N: I'm so sorry I've been posting so infrequently, but here's a little tyler angst / hurt / comfort to brighten your sunday (did not proof read so pls don't hold me responsible for the inevitable mistakes). Anyway, comments / replies are so appreciated, enjoy!!

The storm rolls in fast. One minute, you and Tyler are running through the streets of El Reno, trying to help by corralling people to safety, and the next, you’re watching as the storm, which has nearly tripled in size, barrels towards you and everyone you’ve ever cared about. 

Tyler’s screaming your name– he wants you to move. But it’s like what they say about car crashes– no matter how frightening, you can’t seem to look away from the monstrosity of a storm. The dark clouds are swirling fiercely, destroying everything in their wake. The rain picks up– fat drops fall, soaking your clothes. The tornado is spinning faster and faster, moving closer and closer. 

It’s mesmerizing– in a terrifying, deadly sort of way. 

The winds are whipping wildly, blowing debris all over the place. Before you can react, a large chunk of vinyl siding flies straight towards you. The corner of it nicks your temple, you feel the skin slice open with a sharp tear, followed by the sensation of warm liquid trickling down your face. 

“Shit!” you gasp, tucking your face into your elbow moments too late.

Another one whips by before you start to back pedal. 

You spin around just in time to see an entire fucking car drop from the sky in the space between you and Tyler. It lands on its back bumper before starting to fall backwards.  

“Tyler!” you scream, knowing he probably can’t hear above the roaring winds. 

With one more gust, the car begins to fall, sending up a wild cloud of dust in its wake. 

As soon as you’re done shielding your eyes from it, you run towards the vehicle– now resting upside down on its crushed roof. 

“Tyler!” you cry. 

This time, you hear a faint groan in response. You follow the sound until you see Tyler laying flat on his back– one leg crushed underneath the hood of the car and a pile of broken chunks of pavement. 

He’s attempting (and failing) to push it off from himself. 

“Tyler,” you say again– his name seemingly the only word your lips are able to form. This time, he hears you above the chaos of everything else. His eyes meet yours– except, instead of their usual calm, they’re filled with terror.  

“You gotta get out of here–” he says. “Go–”

But you’re already running towards him. You know you can’t lift a fucking car– but some delusional part of you hopes that adrenaline might give you momentary super strength or fucking something to help you lift this thing. You try to grip the front bumper, but it’s wet from the rain. Your hands slip and slide no matter how hard you focus. 

“Just hang on,” you plead. 

The car’s tilted right over his leg. You try again– lifting as hard as you can. But even with a good grip, you know it’s too heavy.

The car doesn’t budge. 

“You need to go–” he says. 

But you ignore him– all you can focus on is moving the damn car… even slightly would do– just enough so that he could slide his leg out. 

“Baby,” Tyler’s using his gentle voice– the one he uses when he wants you to butter you up so you do as he says. But you can’t– 

“Y/N, you have to leave–”  

“Shut up!” you scream, eyes blurring as tears and rain both start to cloud your vision. 

“Please,” Tyler says. His hand grips your wrist and you finally look at him desperately. “Please, you have to get inside.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you sob, the thought too unimaginable to even consider. “I’m not going anywhere without you!” 

Using every single ounce of strength left in your body, you lift again. And to your absolute shock, the car starts to lift– except… it isn’t you moving the damn thing. It’s the winds picking up. 

But it doesn’t matter what makes it move, as soon as Tyler feels the weight start to lift from his leg he slides out from under the car and scoots backwards against the pavement. 

Once he’d free, you dare to glance up at the sky– the storm is no longer coming. 

It’s here.

“C’mon,” you say, reaching for Tyler to help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Tyler nods– and willingly takes your hand as he gets to his feet. You’re surprised, but relieved, that he’s moving okay as the two of you hurry across the street towards the school that people had started taking cover in. 

“Where–” you pant as soon as you’re through the front doors. But neither you or Tyler had ever been to this school– so how were you supposed to know where to go? 

“Basement,” Tyler pants, nodding towards the nearest staircase. 

With your hand still clutching his, you let him guide you towards the double doors. As soon as you push it open, you see an array of other people huddled in the hall. 

“C’mon,” Tyler motions towards the stairs. “Go down– into the basement.”

You and him lead the way– moving as fast as you can into the first classroom on the basement level. It’s some sort of recreational room with open spaces and only a few desks scattered around the room. 

“Get down,” Tyler says. “Against the wall.” He moves his hand to your waist and helps lower you to the ground where you quickly lay flat on the ground. 

“Cover your head,” he instructs.  

“Tyler–” you call for him, but after only a moment, you feel the warmth of his body beside you, and then an arm cradling your head. He’s shielding your body with his own– 

And you don’t even have time to argue with it, because the building starts to shake. 

“Hang on,” he says in your ear. “I got you, we’re okay.”

The winds rip through the school, causing the building to tremble fiercely. Pieces of the ceiling start to fall around you– chunks of debris crashing to the floor. 

You’re pretty sure you scream at one point, but you can’t hear it above the roars of the wind. All you can do is stay low, just like Tyler told you to do, and focus on the way his weight feels on top of you. 

It’s enough to get you through it. Because within a few minutes, the winds die down and you can finally hear your breath as you pant for air. 

But even above your own gasp, you hear someone’s muffled voice murmuring something. You dare to open your eyes just as Tyler’s weight lifts off from you. The murmuring continues– this time, it’s accompanied by a gentle hand clutching your elbow. 

It’s Tyler, you remind yourself. Tyler’s here. Tyler’s safe. You both are. 

You let him help you to your feet. And when you finally get your bearings enough to look around, everyone else seems unharmed. People have cuts and bruises– but nothing that looks imminently life threatening. 

Suddenly, a hand cups your face, gently turning your head in the direction of Tyler. Concerned, watery eyes meet yours. Tyler’s studying you– making sure you’re not broken beyond repair. Finally, his voice comes into focus. 

“Y’alright?” he asks gently.

“I’m okay,” you manage to croak. “I’m okay–”

You wince as his thumb trails along the cut on your temple. “You’re hurt… We gotta get this looked at–”

Absent-mindedly, you reach your hand to your temple and touch where you’d been nicked. But maybe sliced was a better term– Tyler’s right, it’s bleeding steadily. When you pull your fingers away, they’re coated in blood.  

Suddenly dizzy, you move your arm and grip his shoulder, squeezing gently as if to check if he was really in front of you. 

“You’re okay. We’re okay. C’mon.”

“What about the others?” you pant. 

Tyler nods, tugging you towards the exit. “I didn’t see where they ended up, we’ll find them.”

You’re wobbly and unsure as you begin to walk towards the door, but Tyler’s hand gripping your elbow offers extra reassurance. 

Tyler has to put his weight against the door before it’ll open. There’s a pile of debris in front of it that he pushes to the side to make way for people to exit. Slowly, the pair of you make your way through the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor. 

You gasp when you see the damage– large chunks of the roof have been ripped off, displaying a gray, cloudy sky above. There’s random objects and piles of scrap lying in the halls. You and Tyler have to step over obstacles just to get to the exit door. This one opens with much more ease– making you sigh a breath of relief when you’re finally out in the open. 

Already there’s ambulances and cops arriving on the scene. 

Tyler nudges you towards one of the ambulance trucks. “Let’s get your head checked,” he insists. 

You’re foggy but still try to argue. 

“What about Lily and Dani? And Boone and Dex–”

“I know,” he says gently. “We’ll find ‘em, but you can’t even see with all that blood running in your eyes, so how about we get ya stitched up first, yeah?”

You want to argue– but in the end, you’re too exhausted. 

Tyler holds your hand the entire time you get checked out. The EMT shines a light in your eye– then makes you follow his finger back and forth. Meanwhile, something vicious pulses in the back of your skull. 

You try to be tough, but the second you see the needle the EMT pulls out, you start to get shaky. 

“You’re okay,” Tyler assures you, thumb grazing across the surface of your knuckles. “You’re okay, it’ll be quick.”

The EMT applies a local anesthetic, and luckily, you don’t really feel much after the first initial poke. But as soon as he’s done, he starts mumbling something about a concussion. 

Tyler nods before accepting the bag of ice offered. 

“Tyler! Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice holler. 

You exhale a breath of relief at the sight of Boone running through the rubble towards you. 

“Boone–” Tyler sighs, sounding equally relieved. He wraps an arm around his friend and claps his back gently. “You alright?” 

He nods. “I’m alright. Lily, Dani, and Dex too. We and about thirty others took cover in this old Irish lady’s store– she had a storm shelter out back believe it or not.” 

“You guys alright?” Boone’s eyes wander to you– in particular, the bandage on your forehead. 

“We’re okay,” Tyler says quickly. “Concussed– but she’s okay.” 

“Thank God for that. Y’all done here? RV’s beat to shit, but Lily found the truck. The windshield’s pretty shattered but I think she’ll drive.”

Tyler presses the ice the EMT had given him against your temple and nods. “Let’s get you home.”

…

“T?” 

“Hmm?” Tyler hums, he doesn’t take his eyes off you, although he’s painfully aware of his best friend watching him with a scrunched face through the rearview mirror. 

Normally Tyler always drove. But since you’d barely made it to the car without passing out beside him, he opted for the backseat. 

You’re currently curled into his side, breathing steadily with your eyes snapped shut.  

“Tyler–” 

“What, Boone?” 

“Was it your bad knee?”

“What?” he asks. 

“Don’t what me, T—” Boone frowns. “I was there the first time ya injured that knee. Is that the same one?”

Tyler shrugs. “Might be.”

Boone sighs. “C’mon T, why didn’t ya get it checked with the medics?” 

“Because it ain’t that important,” Tyler shoots back quietly, trying not to wake you up. “I gotta get her home first, she’s concussed and scared. And my stupid knee can wait.”

“T–”

Tyler clenches his jaw as he tries to straighten his knee. He can already feel it swelling underneath the fabric of his jeans. “I’ll get it checked tomorrow, Boone. Okay?” 

Boone shakes his head. “Fine. But for the record, you’re an idiot.” 

Tyler’s about to reply, but then he feels you shift in his arms. As he glances down in concern, he watches you sigh and nuzzle your head against his shoulder. 

When Boone pulls the truck in front of your place, you still haven’t budged. And truthfully, after the day you’d had, Tyler doesn’t want to wake you. So, he carefully scoops you up in his arms and slides out of the truck. As soon as he puts the pressure on his knee of your combined weight, he winces. 

“Jesus, T–” Boone says from the rolled down window. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“I’m fine, Boone– just go back and get Dex, Dani, and Lily. Get ‘em home safe.”

Without looking back, he carefully carries you up the driveway and through the front door.  

His knee is screaming the entire way, but when he gently kicks the bedroom door open and deposits you in the bed, he breathes a sigh of relief. Tyler pulls off your muddy boots before pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed over you, then, he quietly slips out of the door– heading for the bathroom. 

Tyler grunts as he lowers himself to the edge of the tub, his right leg awkwardly sticking out as he attempts to straighten it. He hasn’t bothered to change– his jeans are still coated in dirt and blood. 

Tyler shifts to look at his knee and debates whether he should’ve listened to Boone and gone to get it checked out. He secretly had been hoping his knee would heal itself, but now, sitting in the bathroom, Tyler can feel that something was wrong. 

Sighing, Tyler slowly lifts himself from the tub to shed his jeans. He grimaces when he pulls the fabric over his swollen knee– but he cringes even harder when he sees how bruised the skin is. Tyler pokes around the bone a few times– trying to determine where the most damage is. Ultimately, he realizes it’s on the outer part– probably a torn ligament or two, if he has to guess. 

He’s only been in the bathroom for a few minutes when he hears the floorboards creak in the hall. Tyler’s attention shifts as there’s a soft knock on the door. 

“Tyler?” your voice is small. “Tyler, are you in there?”

He immediately grabs the pair of sweatpants he grabbed from the bedroom and stands up to tug them on. You’ve been through enough– Tyler doesn’t need you seeing his injury on top of everything else. 

Once he’s covered he pulls open the door– all pain in his knee forgotten about when he sees you standing in the hall, hair messy and shirt wrinkled underneath your crossed arms. 

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You take a deep breath, eyes watery as you gaze at him in what looks like disbelief. 

“I–” you begin. “I woke up and you were gone.”

Tyler can’t help but step closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just changing–”

You nod quickly. “It’s okay– I just…” your voice fades, like you can’t find the words. 

So, instead of speaking, you move closer to him and sneak your hands around his waist. After laying your head flat against his chest, Tyler winds his arms around your shoulders and tugs you closer. 

“Everything okay?” he murmurs against your hair. 

He feels you nod beneath him, but doesn’t miss the way you squeeze him just a bit tighter. 

The two of you stay like that until Tyler’s knee begins to ache too much to bear. He fights the pain for as long as he can, but eventually he has to pull away. 

“It’s been a long day, why don’t we get you back in bed?” he asks. 

Your voice is muffled against his chest when you reply. “Will you stay with me?”

Tyler tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiles. “‘Course I will.”

…

Tyler doesn’t recall falling asleep. 

What he does recall is being startled awake in the dead of the night to a blood curdling scream. 

You thrash beside him harshly– flinching at something that isn’t there. 

“Tyler!” you scream out. “Tyler!”

Just as he turns to snap on the light, you kick your leg out– your foot colliding with the outside of his knee. 

Tyler hisses, unable to think for a moment as the pain shoots up his entire leg. You continue to cry out beside him desperately. After a moment, once the pain dulls just slightly, Tyler’s able to reach for you.  

The second his hand shakes your shoulder, your eyes snap open. They’re wide and wild as they search for him desperately. When you finally realize that it’s him who’s beside you, you take a shuddering breath. 

“You’re okay,” he says. Without waiting for you to respond, he reaches for you– gripping your shoulder and tugging you to his chest. You don’t hesitate before folding against him, breathing still rapid and panicky. 

You fist at the fabric of his shirt tightly, like you’re ensuring he won’t slip away. “I got you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your hair. “You’re okay, I got you.”

“I was–” you pant. “I was back there– I couldn’t find you– you weren’t there–”

 “Sh,” Tyler hums. “I’m right here, baby. I got you.”

“You’re right here,” you mumble quietly, like you’re reassuring yourself. 

Eventually, your whimpers fade and your breathing steadies out. Tyler’s not sure how long it takes, but you fall back asleep curled against him while he runs his fingers through your hair. Tyler never falls back asleep, but you don’t move again until morning. 

…

Despite the throbbing in his knee and the pounding in his head demanding caffeine, Tyler doesn’t get up until he feels you stir beneath him. Your eyes flutter open, relief instantly washing over your features when you notice he’s still with you. 

“Morning,” you mumble sleepily. 

Tyler pretends like he hasn’t been awake for the last three hours and smiles. “Mornin’. How’re you feelin’ today? How’s the head?”

You shrug. “I’m okay, still a little shaken up I think.” 

Tyler nods understandingly. “Why don’t I go make us some coffee?”

Your lips spread into a small smile. “Okay,” you agree, untangling your limbs from his. “Thanks.”

Tyler carefully slid out of bed, trying to prevent you from seeing the obvious limp he was sporting– but the night had made his knee grow stiff. As soon as he was out the door, he hobbled down the stairs, hand gripping the railing the entire way. 

Almost as soon as Tyler makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he hears a knock at the door. He frowns at the unannounced visitor, wondering who would be stopping by before nine in the morning. 

Tyler hoists open the front door to see Boone standing on the other side. 

“Boone– hey,” Tyler says, caught off guard. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Hey man, just checkin’ in.”

“What happened to phone calls?”

Boone frowns. “Man, I texted and called about a hundred times, I was just poppin’ in to make sure you weren’t dead.”

Tyler steps to the side to allow room for his friend to come inside. “Shit, sorry,” he says, recalling that he left his phone downstairs all night. “I just forgot to charge it. I’m hangin’ in there, you?”

Tyler closes the door behind Boone before limping back towards the kitchen. 

“Bullshit,” Boone says, eyeing Tyler’s gate. “Have you called the doc yet?” 

“I just got up–” Tyler starts as he grabs a few mugs from the cabinet. 

“Call right now– see if they can get ya in today.”

“Since when did you become such a mother hen?” Tyler grumbles, flicking on the coffee pot. “I’ll call today.”

“The earlier you call, the better chance they can get ya in. Unless you want to just go straight to the hospital–”

“Why would he need to go to the hospital?” Your voice makes Tyler’s head snap to the side. 

You’re standing in your sweats and one of his t-shirts with your arms crossed. You look between him and Boone carefully, like you’re studying the situation.  

“I don’t–” Tyler starts. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Boone interrupts. 

Tyler watches as a look of concern takes over your face. “Tell me what?”

“Boone,” Tyler says sharply in warning. “Don’t.”

“What is it?” you demand, looking at him for an explanation. 

“Nothing,” Tyler clears his throat. “I’m fine–”

“Tyler fucked up his knee yesterday,” Boone blurts out, eyes never leaving Tyler. 

Tyler sighs, eyes slowly falling shut now that his secret was out. “Jesus, Boone.”

“Sorry, T. But maybe she’ll convince you to get it checked,” he says. 

“What?” you say, looking down at Tyler’s covered knee. When no one responds, you blurt out, “Oh my God, the car– your leg was crushed–” 

Tyler rubs the back of his neck, purposely avoiding your gaze “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go to the medic…” your voice trails off in realization. “Because you were too busy helping me,” you answer your own question. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Let me see it.”

Tyler winces at your harsh tone. “What?”

“Your knee, let me see it.”

Tyler clears his throat. “Baby, it’s fine–”

“If it’s fine you’ll let me see it,” you say stubbornly. 

There was an awkward moment of silence as Tyler contemplated what to do. He’d looked at his knee the night before, and can only imagine how much worse it probably looks today. 

Finally he sighs, accepting his fate as neither you nor Boone back down. He grips the hem of his sweatpants and yanks the leg up, showing his bare knee. 

You gasp before hurrying over. “Tyler, what the fuck–”

How had you not noticed? You supposed yesterday in your daze you missed his limps or awkward steps– but you still think that you should have known– a damn car fell on him for God’s sake…

“Jesus, T,” Boone hisses. 

Tyler steals a glance. The discoloration is darker than last night, and the swelling has definitely gotten worse. Tyler curses himself for not at least throwing an ice pack on it the night before. 

“Oh my God, you carried me–” you blurt out. “What the hell, Tyler?”

“Y/N,” he pleads, sighing. But when he glances at you, he’s surprised to see tears forming in your eyes. 

“So it is the bad one,” Boone mutters after he notes the scar down the center of Tyler’s knee. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

Tyler drops his pant leg and straightens his back. “Look, I will get it checked out, okay? I promise– it’s not a big deal.”

Tyler expects backlash, but there’s no response. Boone looks like he’s nodding, maybe he’s actually believing Tyler’s promise. But you’ve gone quiet, head down and arms crossed defensively, like you’re withdrawing into a shell. 

Boone turns towards you, finally averting the attention off from Tyler. “How’re you doin’? How’s the concussion?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I’m okay. A little headache, but nothing broken. You?”

Boone nods. “About the same. I’m gonna go check on Lily, then we’ll drop the truck back off later, will you make sure he gets to the doctor’s today?”

“I’m right here,” Tyler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah but I trust her more than you,” Boone says candidly. 

You offer him a small smile, “I’ll do my best,” you say. 

Boone offers the two of you one final nod before heading out the front door. 

“Leave it to Boone to barge in like that at nine in the mornin’,” Tyler says as he extends a steaming mug of coffee towards you. But you never uncross your arms. Instead, you just stare at him like that with a look of disapproval. 

“C’mon,” Tyler sighs, head falling. “I’ve been walking on it since yesterday and I haven’t fallen apart yet. You and Boone are both making this a bigger deal than it is.” At this point he knows he’s being a little difficult, but he just wants this over with. 

“I–” you choke out. “I– I don’t understand. Why would you stay in pain like that? Why wouldn’t you tell me you were hurt? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Tyler says. 

“So why lie?” 

“I didn’t lie–”

“You told me you were fine– I mean you… you carried me on a broken knee, for God’s sake–”

“We have no idea that it’s broken,” Tyler reminds you. 

You scoff. “It looks pretty fucking broken to me, Tyler.”

“It’s just a knee–”

“I know it’s just your knee, and knees heal– but what if it was something worse… I mean, what else are you lying to me about?”

“C’mon,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t lie.”

“Okay, so just keeping stuff from me then,” you say, voice rising. “I mean, you were such an idiot yesterday– first you tell me to leave you behind when the car fell, then you shield my body with yours in the basement instead of keeping yourself safe– now you’re getting my injuries checked out and completely neglecting your own. And for what?” you yell. “I mean… is it an ego thing? Because you’re too tough to get checked out? Or what? Some stupid sort of hero complex? You gotta prove yourself by putting your life in danger?” 

Tyler’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together. “Is that what you really think?” 

You throw your hands up exasterbatedly. “I don’t know what to think! Because you won’t fucking talk to me!” 

Tyler scoffs. “Are you really that mad about this?”

You suck in a breath before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “Yeah–” you choke out. “I am mad– I’m mad because I don’t want to lose you!” your voice cracks on the final word, fat tears rolling down your cheek, leaving streaks behind. Tyler’s entire demeanor instantly softens at the sight. He moves closer, but doesn’t reach out. 

“I did all that to protect you–” he spits out. “Because I can’t stand the idea of something happening to you.”

You wipe the tears away from your face, chest heaving as you listen. 

“God, if you got hurt– trying to help me lift a goddamn car off my legs… or because I led you into the wrong spot– or because I put my stupid knee about your head injury, I’d never forgive myself.” 

“And you think I could forgive myself if I ran away and left you underneath a fucking car? Or if you died shielding me from debris?” 

He sighs defeatedly before leaning against he kitchen counter, trying to take some weight off his knee. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, but that’s just what I do– I protect the people I love… And unfortunately for you, I love you more than anything else.” 

Finally, the look of frustration melted off your face. In it’s place was a mixture of sadness and admiration. “I love you more than anything else too, which is why I need you to take care of yourself.”

Tyler nods, finally feeling like you both were finding some common ground. “I can’t promise I won’t put you first,” he says. “But I promise I’ll try to take care of the both of us.” 

You shift your weight to your right leg and pop your hip disapprovingly. 

“C’mon, what can I do to make things better?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he gazes at you. 

“Well for starters you could let me take you to the damn hospital.”

Tyler offers you a pleading look. “How about the doctor’s office?” 

“Urgent care,” you state, like it’s your final offer. 

Tyler groans exaggeratedly but then nods. “Okay, fine. Deal. Urgent care it is. But let it be known this is only happening because I love you so much.” 

 The corner of your lip tugs into a small smile. Tyler will take it. 

[ptolemaeacles]

♡ becoming hazel callahan's cheerleader gf hcs

pairing: hazel callahan x cheerleader!reader

synopsis: headcanons i have about becoming hazel's cheerleader gf.

notes: … i did rush the ending a bit because i have school and i did not proofread the entire thing but hope guys liked :))))

word count: 1.3k

i'd imagine you guys meet when you decide to join the self defense club that pj and josie were teaching.

she always admired you from afar but being the loser lesbian that she was, she never made a move on you.

eventually, the both of you got paired up to fight. poor baby was so scared she might hurt you, she barely hit you. more like slightly aggressive taps rather than punches.

"c'mon hazel! hit her!" pj yelled from behind you. you had hazel on the ground, crouched over her body. her nose was dripping blood and it was all over her teeth. no matter how many punches you threw her way, she never retaliated. not a single kick or punch was given back to you. the sight of you on top of her certainly wasn't helping her win this fight.

now that you guys were acquainted, she would get so nervous around you. of course she was always nervous around you but more so now since you actually knew who she was.

you guys would actually speak to each other in the classes you shared instead of her just staring at you. (and you taking quick glances because you're a lot more slick than she is)

hazel convinced herself you were pin straight. to her, there was no way someone so hot was gay. (god damn cheerleader stereotypes) so when she heard from isabel that you liked girls, she had no idea what to do. she had no idea what to do even when she thought you were straight but now it was 10x worse.

she started second guessing every compliment, every time your hand brushed past her when you guys were getting lunch, every single time your eyes held her gaze a little too strongly.

you always thought she was cute. even when she acted a little crazy. the whole bomb situation was actually a bit endearing to you, as concerning as that is. while everyone was in the car, yelling at hazel for setting off a fucking bomb on jeff's car, you squeezed her hand and sent a sweet smile her way. that smile alone erased any feeling of guilt or blame within an instant.

and when pj had said hazel had no friends and called her mom a skank, you were the first person running after her. you searched half the school campus before finding her hiding under the bleachers,

"haze, oh my god, i was so worried about you!" you crouched down and brought hazel into your arms. the nickname brought a warmth to hazel's heart. you were the only person who called her that.

"everything that pj said is not true at all," you let go of her to hold the sides of her face in your hands, "forget all that shit about your mom. and you have friends. you have josie, you have isabel and brittany, you have me."

hazel looked up to you slowly with a new look in her eyes.

"i don't want to be your friend." you felt your heart get heavier for a second. hazel leaned in without thinking. she caught your bottom lip between hers and-

she was kissing you. hazel was kissing you. and to her surprise, you were kissing her back.

after the unexpected love confession under the bleachers (typical high school romance), hazel decided she wanted to take you out on a proper date. it's what you deserved. (plus she's not getting caught in the 'u-haul lesbian' allegations crossfire). unfortunately, those plans were postponed.

she never told you that pj and josie lied about juvie or that she agreed to fight the school's star boxer. (you later find out she had no idea she was fighting him too.)

the aftermath of the fight was terrifying for you. of course, you had seen her bloody face before (and had even been the cause of it before) but it was never this bad.

you stayed with her for a long while after that. always taking notes for her in class and coming by her house to check up on her. the other girls would come by as well. it made you happy that they were all there for her, even after the club disbanded.

you opted to sleep over from time to time which she was always appreciated. it quickly got old when you guys could barely hear each other talk over the sound of ms. callahan and jeff going at it.

both you and hazel were in her bed, laying on your backs, next to each other. hazel laid with her hands behind her head, elbows facing outwards, and you laid with your hands on your stomach, palms facing down. both of you still giggling over a joke hazel made about your shared english teacher earlier.

"hey so, uh, i wanted to ask you something." hazel turned to face you, resting her head against her arm on her pillow.

"yeah? go for it." you turned your head to her.

"well, um, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a da-" hazel's question was interrupted by loud moans and rhythmic thumping coming from her mom's room.

'goddamn it...' hazel thought. it was jeff and her mom again.

"you know what, never mind, it was stupid."

eventually, the game against huntington arrived. hazel was nervous for the game and she wasn't even playing nor did she care about sports. she was going to officially ask you out. and she wasn't going to let anything ruin it this time. she watched you do your cheerleading routine, admiring your uniform. (she was obsessed with it and wanted to see you wearing it all the time. but not even batman could beat that information out of her...)

once again her plans were cut short, when a frantic pj and josie came up to her in bleachers asking her for another distraction. you were in the middle of your routine when you saw hazel running across the field towards the girls from the club. (you didn’t happen to see the little device she had in her hands)

what confused you even more was when hazel ran up to you mid-routine.

you moved your pom poms in a choreographed motion, the way you had been practicing for weeks.

the girls from the club had been running around in the corner of your eye and you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. they looked distressed but you had to focus on your routine. that was until hazel came up to you.

she called out your name, loud enough for you to show some concern and put your pom poms downs.

“come ‘ere” she murmured. she wrapped her arms around your waist, slotting her lips between yours.

to say it took you by surprise was an understatement. you tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and brought your hands to either side of her face.

when the both of you pulled away, the mixed groans and cheers finally met your ears. but by then, it seemed you guys had bigger problems.

the fight was chaotic to say the least. the huntington players were known to be ruthless and unforgiving. throughout the entire fight, you and hazel fought back to back, constantly covering the other. more like hazel stared you while you broke a guys nose in. and your mouth definitely didn’t get a little dry when she kicked a guy unconscious.

the fight felt like it had been going on forever, especially with the way your body was aching. you and hazel looked around the field and you see tim getting on the ground, sticking his tongue onto the wet field.

“it’s pineapple juice!” he exclaimed as he got up.

you finally put 2 and 2 together.

you turn to hazel.

“we did all that for jeff?”, you huffed, “god, we’re just as brain dead as the rest of the school.” hazel chuckled before bringing her bloody, bruised hands to either sides of your waist.

“i wanted to ask you something and i’m not letting anyone ruin it this time,” she looked at you with a newfound confidence, “will you go out with me? i know it took me a long time to ask, i was looking for a good moment-“

you crashed your lips into hers, shutting her up. which she took as a definite yes.

taglist: @heartrobynn @masclover111

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Thank you so much for answering my request from a while ago! I really love your work and appreciate it. I have another request if you don’t mind and I was hoping if you could do the AOT guy’s’ reaction to Y/N telling them that she wants to drive instead of them driving. Hope this isn’t too hard and sorry if I bothered you with this request! Keep up the good work! 🇳🇬➕🌲🟰🇳🇫

a/n: thankkkk youuu! it’s never a bother

eren loves when his girlfriend drives. he won’t tell you no because he likes to be passenger princess especially because that means you won’t be a backseat driver. now, it’s his turn to irritate you about the way you drive.

armin prefers to drive but he can never tell you no. so, he hesitantly agrees while you make him worry about the way you drive. he’s really easy to stress out. bless that baby’s soul.

jean thinks it’s hot when you drive. he’s also the one who taught you how. however, he very rarely says yes to letting you drive because he wants to drive you around. that’s his job.

connie 100% says yes when you ask to drive. he likes to stick his head out the window and be an inconvenience to anyone walking. this way, you don’t have to worry about him snacking and driving.

reiner says no. mainly because he doesn’t want you driving his truck. you put up a fight and he eventually gives in. he looks TERRIFIED the entire time you’re driving. mans is sweating.

bertholdt and you go half and half on who drives so it’s no big deal when you ask. he likes looking out the window and looking at you, two things he shouldn’t do when he’s driving.

levi tells you no but he knows that you won’t take that for an answer. so when it’s time to leave, he hides your keys and insists there’s no time to look for them. you haven’t caught on yet but man, it’s really annoying.

erwin says yes because he likes the way you look in the driver seat of his car. it makes you look cute and tiny. he doesn’t get to see you in this light that often so he always obliges when you tell him you want to drive. he thinks your road rage is funny.

zeke thinks you drive like a maniac so it’s a hard no. “no ifs, ands, or buts, i’m driving.” he ignores you and any pleas you might have. but he feels bad so he lets you drive on the way back.

porco says, “sure, babe. go ahead.” he gets road rage for you. he is not meant to be a passenger princess! he flips people off when they cut in front of you or just in general drive like a dickhead. he defends all of your actions, even when you run over curbs. “hell yeah, babe, you don’t need no fucking curb!!”

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (04)

Well, damn, it’s been a while. Uni is kicking my ass, but I’ll try to do at least one update every week (the goal is one during the week and one on the weekend). Anyway, I hope you like this chapter too! Thank you all for your support; I really appreciate all the likes and comments. It’s my first fic, so seeing people enjoy it is so validating and motivates me to keep writing.

I will try to post another chapter this weekend though.

Warning: cursing, blood

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

03 <- 04 -> 05

Masterlist

Taglist

You had never gotten home so fast in your life. The entire drive was a blur—nothing but flashing lights, familiar roads, and the sound of your own pounding heart. It was a miracle you didn’t slam headfirst into someone else’s car or lose control of the wheel. The last, dying surge of adrenaline got you through a sloppy parking job, followed by a sprint into your apartment complex, straight to your apartment’s door. The moment it slammed shut behind you, you quickly locked the door. A distant voice in the back of your mind wondered if your neighbor would leave yet another passive-aggressive note about the noise, but you couldn’t care less right now, but you couldn’t care less now. For the first time in what felt like hours, you sucked in a shaky breath, leaning against the door as you slid down. Your back scraped painfully against the wood, but you didn’t care about that either. When your ass finally hit the floor, the whole nightmare came crashing down on you. The fear, the panic, the pain—it all hit you at once, in a suffocating wave that made your chest tighten.

Your nose had stopped bleeding during that hellish drive, but the damage was done and blood was everywhere, splattered all over your shirt, caked, crusted and dried. And then there was the sweat dripping down your body, making your skin sticky and gross. You smelled like rusty iron and sweat, a disgusting mix that made you want to puke, while the still sharp and throbbing ache in your nose acted as a constant reminder of how fucked up this day had been.

You sat there in silence. The tears long gone, dried somewhere between the drive and the door slamming shut behind you, but the exhaustion was still there. Everything hurt: Your head from being smashed into the wall, your face from Red Riot’s fists, your legs from sprinting like your life depended on it. And it might as well have been the case.

Minutes passed in agonizing stillness before you felt something besides pain and exhaustion. A vicious spike of anger shot through you. White-hot, boiling rage surged through your veins. It crashed into you with full force, tearing through the numbness. You had been terrified, yes—petrified, running for your life—but now? The fear had settled, buzzed out of your system, and only left rage in its wake. Staggering to your feet, you felt the room sway around you as you stumbled to the bathroom. Once you met your own eyes in the bathroom’s mirror, you couldn’t stand the sight of yourself—sweaty, bloody, pathetic and wrecked. It made your stomach churn. You looked like shit, arguably worse than shit. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face swollen, your lips busted wide open. And your nose—twisted in a way that made you wince just looking at it.

All of this for what ? Nothing.

That piece of shit Red Riot, did that to you. He came barging through the door like a red storm, no explanation needed before breaking your nose. You hadn’t even done anything wrong. Not a goddamn thing. But no Red Rio- Kirishima Eijiro, the known friendly hero, had acted like a rabid dog and torn into you without a second thought.

Fuck him. Matter of fact, fuck Todoroki too. Fuck those two.

He beat you into the ground, and you did nothing. You couldn’t do anything. Rage boiled in your chest as you yanked your clothes off and threw the bloodied, reeking fabric to the floor. Your hands reached for your face, intending to heal your injuries with your quirk but as your fingers brushed over the dried blood and bruises, you caught the faint scent of berries and honey beneath the sweat and rusty iron. Your stomach twisted as the memory of Todoroki’s desperate wet kisses on your hands flashed through your mind. The anger surged again, burning hotter as you quickly washed away his scent on you in the sink before healing yourself.

A soft yellow glow filled the room as your quirk worked to repair the worst of the damage—your split lips, your broken nose. A tingling sensation crept over your body, uncomfortable, but familiar and you frowned, concentrating on pushing through the discomfort as your quirk did its work. It wasn’t a “miracle-doing” type of quirk though, your nose straightened, your lips sort of healed—but the pain lingered, lurking beneath the surface. You’d only kick-started the healing process. It would take time for the swelling to go down, for the bruises to fade, for the pain to finally subside.

You hit the shower, cold water cascading over you, washing away the dried blood as you scrubbed your skin roughly with your loofah. You stayed under the chilling stream, hoping it would wash away the weight of this terrible day, letting it all drain down the sewer. It was only when you began to feel raw and too cold that you jumped out of the shower, dried yourself with your towel, and put on the first non-bloodied shirt you found on your way out of the bathroom.

Once you opened your bedroom door, you didn’t bother to turn on the light; the darkness felt comforting, and you welcomed it with open arms. You crawled under the sheets, burying yourself in the heavy comforter, yearning for the warmth it promised to bring. The weight of the blanket pressed down on you, grounding you in a way you needed after this atrocious day. You longed for it to smother the lingering anger and exhaustion, but you couldn’t shake the thoughts running rampant in your head. How long before Red Riot reported you to the police? How long until the hospital fired you and your medical license was revoked? It would be your word against his in front of a judge. “Beloved hero Red Riot catches a doctor taking advantage of his mate, other beloved hero, Shoto Todoroki,” you could already imagine the headlines. The public, police and judges would eat it up, siding with the hero without question.

After a day filled with chaos and pain, your mind was now horrifyingly clear. You knew it—there was no escaping this. You were done for.

Ironically, the only person who might have been as furious as you today was Kirishima. He was livid—at you for taking advantage of Shoto, at the villain he had to apprehend before rushing to the hospital, and at himself for arriving so late.

He barely noticed when you fled the room, his focus entirely on Shoto. He realized how awful of a partner he’d been, letting his anger consume him. He knew how overwhelming his scent got when that happened, and how sensitive omegas were to scents during their heat. Shoto’s heat wasn’t even due for another three weeks normally, his mate was always so punctual when it comes to thing like this, so to smell his familiar scent of berries and honey, so rich and intense from behind the door, surprised him when he first arrived at his mate’s hospital room earlier. But what really made him stop was the new, unfamiliar scent coming from the room

The two scents mingled, forming a mouthwatering fragrance of sweet, thick and ripe—berries, peach, and maybe apricot under a drizzle of hot honey. The combination was intoxicating, like stepping into an orchard at the height of summer, where each layer of sweetness blended perfectly with the next. The richness and depth of it were almost overwhelming, a scent so inviting and luscious it felt as though you could taste it, lingering and saturating the space around it. It was so enticing but equally odd, a foreign scent mixed with Shoto’s. The warmth and intensity of his mate’s scent coming through the door was a confirmation that he was already in heat and the thought of Shoto in such a vulnerable state with a stranger fueled Kirishima’s panic. Worried, he had bursted through the door to find you, a doctor, with your hands all over Shoto in a way that looked anything but professional, a red haze of fury had fully consumed him.

But now ? Now, he had to be there for Shoto. He had already wasted too much time dealing with you, and the pain in Shoto’s eyes confirmed he had already failed as a partner today.

“Shoto, are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t come—" His voice was thick with worry and panic, but Todoroki cut him off.

“Eijirou, home, now….just take me home."

“Of course. Let’s get you out of here.” Kirishima nodded instantly, his heart pounding as he held out his hand, ready to steady Shoto with it. Shoto was his priority now, and he couldn’t risk another creepy doctor coming in.

He took him by the arm and supported him as they both walked toward the exit. Pro heroes had their own separate exit in their hospital wing as a safety measure, preventing journalists from harassing them the moment they stepped outside. When they reached the hospital’s second front desk, the man working there gave them a confused look, as patients couldn’t be discharged without their doctor’s approval. However, one look from Kirishima discouraged him from asking any questions.

Once they left the building, Kirishima noticed Todoroki’s condition worsening. If his usual quiet demeanor was comforting and endearing, the silence now filled Kirishima with dread. He focused on getting Shoto home, guiding him to his car and helping him into the back seat. The heterochromatic boy appeared uncomfortable lying on the too-small back seat, and all Kirishima could do was hold his hands, and softly promises they’d be home soon.

The drive home was the most careful yet fastest he had ever experienced, but still one of the worst. He hated hearing Shoto's pained moans every time he accelerated too quickly or hit a bump too harshly.

Did I mention that chapter 3 was the end of the prologue? Well, I lied! I had planned an interesting scene between Kirishima and Todoroki, but this chapter ended up being so long. I think I'll save it for next time. Plus, I wrapped up the last two chapters similarly, with a character leaving the hospital in their car, so that counts for something. At the very least, it’s a mini cliffhanger: “Oh, what’s going to happen when Todoroki and Kirishima finally get back home? 👀👀👀 »

What did you think of the Kirishima POV part of this chapter? I feel like calling his mate by his last name is a bit silly, but I also noticed I overused their names. It’s just "Shoto... Kirishima... Shoto's... Kirishima..." on and on.

I can now confidently say that the prologue is complete—unless I decide otherwise in the next update!

As always, criticism are welcome !

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

03 <- 04 -> 05

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist, I may have underestimated how much work a taglist is 😭

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby

[cosmicdahlias]

Here For You

MINORS DNI

Your stalker ex has been relentless as of late. You found a threatening note on your car and no longer feel safe at your place. Your research partner offers to let you stay with him and the two of you grow incredibly close.

warnings: abuse, stalking, HUGE age gap (reader is in their 20’s), premature ejaculation, oral, p in v, creampie, knives, blood, suicide mention, unplanned pregnancy, birth

holy shiiiit this one is long for me, over 7k!!! i included my cat in this fic, beans! he’s my darling little man who I love very much!!! his name comes from his paw pads looking like little coffee beans. obvious juno reference at the end is obvious, love that movie to death.

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the gaps in the blinds of your apartment window. You stretched and rolled out of bed, making your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and shower. You dried yourself off and returned the bedroom, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans from your dresser and putting them on.

As you bent over to put on your shoes, your siamese cat, Beans, weaved his way in between your legs. You reached out to scratch behind his ears and he leaned into your hand in approval. You grabbed your keys and locked the door behind you, heading down the steps to your car. A note lay on the windshield.

Expecting it to be some sort of scam, not unlike the ones your research partner’s brother was famous for, you picked it up to inspect it. As you read, you recognized the handwriting and felt all of the color drain from your face. This was anything but someone looking to make a quick buck.

“Y/n

You can’t shut me out of your life forever. Just because you keep calling the cops doesn’t mean I’m giving up. WE HAD SOMETHING! Try calling them again and see what happens, I don’t care. Nothing is gonna come between us and if I find out you’re fucking anyone else I’ll make sure no one can ever have you again.”

This unfortunately had become the norm for you, your ex boyfriend had been relentless in pursuing you. This note however was aggressive, even for him. You had called the police so many times that you’d lost count. Due to his father being a lawyer, an incredibly good one at that, he always seemed to beat the charges. At this point you didn’t even bother with getting the law involved, you knew he would always come out on top.

You had met him in the year your research partner, Stanford Pines, was off at sea with his brother. You broke up with your ex a week before they returned, so at the very least he didn’t know where you worked. Despite being a kitschy tourist trap, the Mystery Shack was one of the only places you felt safe. You stuffed the threatening note in your pocket. If something happened, you might as well have the evidence to incriminate him.

You got in your car and turned your keys, making your way to work on the outskirts of town. The entire drive you struggled to fight back tears. As you pulled up to the shack you felt yourself begin to spiral. You slammed the car door, sat down on the couch on the front porch and sobbed. You were so exhausted and terrified. You seriously didn’t know how much more of this you could take. You began to shake when you heard the front door open and you quickly attempted to wipe away your tears.

“There you are, y/n. I was worried when you weren’t in the lab at your usual time. It’s incredibly unlike you to not be punctua- oh dear, is everything alright?” Ford said with great worry.

“I- I’m fine, it’s nothing.” You said, trying to hide a sniffle and failing.

He sat next to you on the couch.

“If it were nothing you wouldn’t be crying like this. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

“It’s- it’s just… my ex again. I found this on my car this morning.”

You handed him the note and watched as his eyes scanned the words. His face fell, expression serious.

“Y/n this is horrible, you need to go to the poli-“

“You know nothing ever comes of it! His fucking lawyer dad gets him out of it every time!” You said, beginning to sob again.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I know firsthand what it’s like to have someone you once loved turn against you, threaten to hurt you for breaking things off. I promise I’m here for you.” He said, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I- I don’t know what I’m going to do. He knows where I live and I can’t just move out, I don’t have the funds for that. What if he decides to do something? What if he hurts me or, god forbid, Beans?”

He took his chin in his hand, thinking. You could tell he was trying to come up with a solution. If there was one thing you knew about Ford it was that he was a fixer.

“How about this? You can stay here for a while. He never got to know that you work here, right? Tonight after we finish up in the lab we can head to your place and I’ll help you pack the essentials.”

You felt your heart thump in your chest. You had secretly harbored a crush on Ford for quite some time, since the day you first met. So the idea of living with him, possibly growing closer, seemed like an incredibly shiny silver lining.

“That sounds grea- wait, what about Beans?“

“Of course he can come with you! I’ll have a word with Stanley if he tries to give you grief over it, but I’m certain once I fill him in tonight on the situation he’ll understand.”

That night you drove with Ford to your apartment. Thankfully your ex was nowhere in sight. You led him up the stairs and unlocked the door, as you swung it open Beans greeted you with a long, loud meow. Ford smiled.

“Ah, so this is the little scoundrel I’ve heard so much about.”

Beans circled his legs and rubbed his head against them. Normally when men came over he acted incredibly aloof, so to see him be so affectionate, especially a man he’d never met, did something to your heart. You already felt safe with Ford beforehand, but now even more so.

“Alright, let’s get started!” Ford said, rolling up his sleeves.

-

You finished loading the last of your things into the trunk of your car. Beans sat in his carrier in the backseat.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Ford asked.

“Positive.”

“Good, let’s head back.”

You made the drive to the shack along winding, pine tree flanked roads. When you arrived Stan was waiting on the front porch. He and Ford helped move your stuff into the room their niece and nephew shared when they came to visit.

You let Beans out of his carrier, he laced himself between Stan’s legs and any possible hangups you might’ve had about staying in a house with two old men quickly vanished.

“Heh, you know I used to have a cat once, Freeloader. Found her digging around in my trash.” Stan chuckled.

“Alright, Stanley, let’s give them a chance to settle in.” Ford said.

They turned to leave the room.

“Give us a holler if you need anything, kid.” Stan said as Ford shut the door behind them.

You flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Beans hopped onto you, sitting in a loaf on your chest. You gave him his favorite thing, a scritch behind the ear and he purred happily. Between the gentle rumble of your cat and finally being able to relax in a place that felt safe, you began to drift off. You awoke an hour later to a knock.

“Y/n?” Ford’s voice called from behind the door.

You made a motion to get up, Beans leapt down and you crossed the room to open the door.

“What’s up?”

“So, there’s a documentary about Yellowstone that’s going to start in a few minutes. I know it’s something that would be interesting to you and I figured it might be a good distraction from the unpleasantries of this morning. Just a suggestion though.”

He fidgeted with his hands and looked at the floor… was he blushing? You smiled, taking him up on the offer.

“Sounds good.”

He smiled back. “Perfect.”

You both descended the stairs to the living room, Beans trotting behind you. Ford gestured to the recliner.

“I figure you deserve the better seat.”

“A gentleman as always, Ford.” You said, sitting down.

He pulled a chair from the nearby table and sat next to you. Beans jumped into your lap and curled up. You leaned back into the chair as the documentary opened with a scene of wolves hunting in the wintertime.

As time passed your mind began to wander to memories of past relationships. Sadly, men like your ex were a pattern in your life, you always seemed to attract the worst of the worst. You wanted so badly to just have a happy and healthy relationship like all of your friends. Yet no matter how hard you tried to find a decent one, they always turned out to be awful. Tears started to fall as these thoughts ran through you. Ford could see it out of the corner of his eye. He turned to you, face full of concern.

“Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“No, it’s stupid.” You sniffled.

“Whatever it is, if it’s making you feel this way, then it’s not stupid.”

You took a breath, looking down. “I just… I feel like no matter what I do I bring horrible men into my life. I try and try so hard to make sure I find one that’ll treat me right, but just as I start to feel safe they betray me in one way or another. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. It feels like I’m cursed. Maybe I just don’t deserve any of the good ones.”

He took your cheek in his hand, wiping away your tears with his thumb and turning your head to face him.

“Hey, look at me. Don’t ever think that you’re not worthy of a good man’s time. You’re incredibly brilliant, creative, and compassionate. You have a fantastic sense of humor and your beauty is breathtaking.”

You turned bright red.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Absolutely, without question. Were I a younger man I would’ve-“

You leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, he pulled back.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“Ford… I like you, so much. I think I always have.”

“I- I have too, but… I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. You’ve been through so much lately, I feel like I’d be giving you whiplash.”

You set Beans down on the floor, standing and moving to straddle Ford’s lap. You felt him grow instantly hard against you. He stared at you, eyes filled with a primal need. He was doing everything he could to hold himself back, keeping his hands at his sides.

“I want this, Ford.”

“N- no you’re so much younger than me, I feel like I would be taking advantage of you. You don’t want an old man like me.”

You laced your fingers in his hair, kissing him far more passionately than before. He didn’t pull back this time.

You whispered into his ear. “But I do though. I really, really do.”

He let his hands travel to your back, bringing you closer. He pressed his lips to yours and moaned softly into your mouth, then broke away to pepper kisses into your neck.

“Oh, Ford.” You moaned.

He returned his lips to you and began testing the waters with his tongue when he heard a loud clearing of the throat. Both of you turned your heads to see Stan in the doorway.

“Look uhhh, I’m happy for you two and all, but… c’mon get a room.”

Ford huffed. “Stanley, there is such a thing as looking the other way.”

“Hey! I live in this house too!” Stan retorted, crossing his arms.

Ford shot him a look that said “I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Fine, fine. Just try not to make a mess on the furniture.” Stan grumbled, waving a hand and turning to leave.

Ford waited until Stan was out of sight before picking you up underneath your thighs and moving to sit in the recliner with you in his lap.

“Now, where were we?” He purred.

He kissed you deeply and you slipped your hands down to the hem of your shirt, beginning to lift it up. Ford put his hands to yours.

“No, not now.” Ford said between kisses.

“But… don’t you want this?”

“More than anything, just not tonight. Making love with you is something I want to work up to.”

“You’d be the first man in my life to do so.”

“Well, no offense, but I think I can do far better than the brutes who dared to think they were worthy of your affection. Someone like you deserves respect.”

You kissed him again, grinding against the bulge in his pants. He buried his head into your neck and whimpered.

“Oh god- ah- it- it’s been over 30 years since I’ve been with someone. Even just feeling you against me is almost t- too much. Hhhnh.”

You leaned down and bit his neck, this was apparently more than what poor old touch starved Ford could take. He cocked his head back, giving an exceedingly loud moan and bucking his hips as he came.

“Ford… did you-“

He turned beet red, putting a hand to his forehead.

“In the name of- I’m so sorry. Like I said it’s been so long and you’re incredibly gorgeous, I couldn’t help it.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay, I’m kind of flattered that I could work you up this much.”

He kissed you and stood, lifting you up and setting you on the recliner.

“Well… I need to take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

-

A week and a half had gone by with you and Ford growing incredibly close. On this particular early spring afternoon Ford led you on a hike to one of his favorite spots, a meadow that lay at the base of the mountains. The sun hung low in the sky, turning it a mix of orange and pink. Ford pulled out a blanket from his rucksack, unfurling it and setting it in the tall grass. He sat and patted the spot next to him and you sat next to him as he pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Ford Pines, look at you being a romantic.”

“I spent 30 years away from all possible comforts of another human being. It gave me a lot of time to think about how I would treat my love should I ever have the chance again.”

You put a hand to his cheek and kissed him.

“I’m glad to be yours.”

He uncorked the bottle and poured it into both glasses, handing one to you. You clinked them and as his eyes met yours you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in the light of the golden hour.

After you finished your glasses, Ford moved in closer, kissing you passionately, the sweet taste of wine on his breath. His hands wandered up and down your body. You had become very familiar with his touch in the short time of living with him, but this time the way he moved his hands on you felt different, a strong feeling of desire.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you wanted to do more than just drink wine.” You said.

“Why do you think I brought you out here? With Stanley in the house we’d have to be quiet. But here?” He said between kisses. “Here you can be as loud as you want. That and I’ve always wanted to make love in the beauty of nature.”

“Stanford Pines, how dare you have an ulterior motive!” You said, playfully swatting him on the back of the head.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve been planning this for days, since that first night we shared. I wanted things to be perfect for our first time.”

“You? Having meticulously thought out plans? Never would’ve guessed.” You teased.

Ford’s hands wandered south and began to tug up at your shirt.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded.

“Good girl.”

You turned bright red and Ford gave a devilish smile.

“Oh? Do you like that?”

“I may or may not have a praise kink.”

“Duly noted.”

He lifted your shirt over your head and wrapped his arms around your back to unhook your bra. He slid the straps off your shoulders and stared longingly at your chest.

“Dear moses, your breasts are incredible.”

He took one in his hand, stroking your nipple with his thumb. You moaned softly at his touch.

“Does it feel that good?” He asked.

“No it’s not that, I’ve just wanted your hands on me like this for so long. You don’t know the things I’ve imagined about you since we met.”

He kissed you deeply.

“I think you’ll be pleased to know our fantasies aligned. Not long after we met I would spend my nights stroking myself to the thought of you. God, there were times you’d be down in the lab and you would unintentionally brush up against me. I’d grow hard instantly and have to head upstairs to my room to take care of it.”

“So that explains why you’d come back down all breathless and red-faced.”

He chuckled. “And I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it.”

Ford returned to undressing you, sliding your shorts down your legs. He traced the delicate lace of your panties with his fingers. He hooked his thumbs underneath them and slowly pulled them off you. He looked down, you were dripping.

“So wet for me already, dear god you’re perfect.”

Ford lowered himself down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He reached your pussy, his warm breath felt incredibly good. He locked his lips around your clit, licking it, somewhat ineptly, with the tip of his tongue.

“You taste so good, far sweeter than semen.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words. He stopped, looking up at you.

“W- what? What did I say?”

“Just you and your need to use scientifically accurate terms.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Would you prefer I used ‘cum’?”

“Well quite frankly if you say ‘I’m going to ejaculate’ later I think I might never fuck you again.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough, princess.”

He returned his tongue clumsily to your clit for a moment before pausing again.

“Am I doing okay?”

“I mean… to be blunt it seems like you don’t have much experience with this.”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. This is all new to me. It’s embarrassing to admit at my age, but you’re the first person with female anatomy I’ve ever had sex with. So quite frankly I have little idea of- mmf!”

You silenced him by gripping is hair and shoving his mouth to your clit.

“You’ll find it’s pretty intuitive. Just treat it like the head of your cock.”

He heeded your advice, sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit sloppily, you shuddered in pleasure. If the first thing you knew about Ford was that he’s a fixer, the second was that he’s a fast learner. He growled against your clit and you whimpered loudly, tightening your grip on his hair.

“Did that feel good, love?”

“Dear god, t- the vibrations.”

He sucked furiously, rolling his tongue against you. You arched your back. The pleasure started to feel overwhelming, you weren’t going to last much longer. You started to buck your hips against his mouth.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

His words of praise completely undid you, cumming all over his face with a loud moan. He didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm from you, then a third. You shook, completely overstimulated.

“Oh jesus, F- Ford.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve read the female orgasm can happen in multiples and I couldn’t resist testing it for myself.”

You giggled. “I’d expect no less from a man of science.”

Ford stood and removed his trench coat and sweater. Scars covered his body, you assumed from a mix of Bill’s abuse and years of trying to survive in different dimensions. Somehow his scars made him hotter. Ford noticed your eyes wandering back and forth along his scarred torso.

“Sorry, I know it’s not the most appealing to look at with all of the damag-“

“No, no! I like it actually.” You interrupted.

He blushed.

“Y- you do?”

“It makes you look tougher.” You purred.

“God, you know just how to make this old man feel attractive.” He said, returning to taking off his clothes.

He undid his belt and slid his pants down his legs. His cock strained in his boxers, from the outline alone you could see he was huge. He slipped his thumbs into his boxers and pulled them off. You couldn’t help staring at his cock, you bit your lip. Ford sat and pulled you onto his lap, kissing you. You could taste yourself on him. He laid back on the blanket.

“Ready? I know I can be kind of big for some, so take it slow. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He said softly.

You nodded and lowered yourself slowly on his cock, letting your pussy adjust to being stretched by his intimidating girth until you reached the hilt.

“Oh dear god, I’ve n- never felt anything like this. You feel incredible, stardust. So warm and- nnnnh- wet.”

“Did you just call me stardust?”

“Do you not like it?”

You leaned down and kissed him.

“No, I love it.”

You began to move yourself on him, lifting and dropping your hips.

“A- ah yes, that’s it, good girl. You feel so perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Ford let his hand travel between your thighs, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“How does that feel? Good?” He asked.

“U- uh huh.” You whimpered.

You rested your hands on his chest, moving in a motion to slide Ford’s cock fully in and out of you. He tilted his head back.

“G- god, you don’t know how long I dreamed of this, of you.” He whimpered.

“As have I, and… I have a confession to make. I used to touch myself while thinking of you too, I did it the that night after we met. And I- oh god, this is so embarrassing- I ah, stole one of your sweaters once. I’ve always loved your scent and I would make myself cum while taking it in.”

He chuckled. “So that’s where that went, but it’s good to know I wasn’t the only one unable to resist the urge of touching oneself to the sole thought of their research partner. You drove me absolutely wild, you still do.”

You started to move faster, your breathing becoming shallow. Ford could sense you were close, so was he.

“M- may I cum in you? Will you cum with me?“

“Please.” You said through shaky breaths.

He tightened his grip on your hip and began to buck into you while increasing the speed to your clit. You felt the pressure within you build, you were right on the edge. You cocked your head back.

“Oh god, I’m gonna- hhnnn.”

He reached up to cup your chin and tilted your face down to look at him.

“Look into my eyes. I want to see your eyes when you cum.”

You looked down at him at the exact moment you felt your body ignite in pleasure. The feeling of your pussy spasming around Ford’s cock immediately sent him over. He released your clit, both hands holding firm on your hips as he slammed you down on the full length of his cock, shooting every single drop of cum inside you. The warmth flooded your insides.

“Oh god, y/n!” He moaned.

His hips slowed, the only sound either of you made was heavy panting as your pleasure subsided. Ford pulled you down into a kiss. You got off of him and laid with your head against his chest. You both lay in silence until you remembered something he had said minutes ago.

“Ford, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“You said I’m your first person with female anatomy. So… who was your actual first?”

Ford smiled, you could tell the question had brought back memories.

“It was so long ago. He was my old college roommate, then years later became my research partner. It seems I have a habit of developing feelings for my coworkers.” He chuckled.

“Wait, McGucket?”

He laughed. “Yes, you wouldn’t know it now, but back then Fidds was quite the catch. I’ll have to show you a picture sometime. We experimented heavily during college, neither of us willing to admit that we wanted something more. Then, after he came to work with me on the portal, we were mature enough to confess our feelings to each other. It was perfect, just the two of us, but then I-“

He let his words fade, looking off into afternoon sky. His eyes seemed wistful.

“I don’t know… between how I treated him at the end, most likely being the straw that broke the camel’s back in his marriage, and sending him down a spiral that would destroy his sanity… I still harbor a lot of guilt. Bill was using me, but I used Fiddleford too. I know he and Emma-May had been on the rocks for quite a while, yet I still feel responsible. After Weirdmageddon we rekindled our friendship and I apologized for ruining his life, but I live with knowing I can never undo the damage I caused.”

He turned his gaze to you, taking your cheek in his hand.

“Y/n, I never want to hurt you like I hurt him. I want to be a better man, a better partner than I ever was for him.”

You kissed him.

“Ford, I trust you. I can sense the effort, and that’s all I could ask for.”

He kissed you back.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as perfect as you?”

-

Two weeks had passed. You were once again spending a late evening with Ford in the lab. He set down his pen and stood from his chair, coming behind you and putting his hands on your waist. He kissed your neck.

“So I was thinking we could call it early tonight. There’s supposed to be a meteor shower. How about you and I hike to the nearby hill where we’ll have a good view of the event?”

You turned to face him and smiled.

“Sounds perfect, Ford.”

“Fantastic. You can head outside and wait for me, I just need to speak with Stanley about something first.”

“See you shortly, then.” You said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

You made your way up the stairs, walking through the shack and out to the front porch. You stared up into the night sky and caught a glimpse of a few bright streaks. You couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather for something like this.

You smiled and thought to yourself. “For all of the chaos I’ve been through, things are finally starting to look u-“

You froze as a dark figure crept out from the side of the shack.

“Thought I wouldn’t find you, huh? You’ve been busy, whoring yourself out for some old man. It’s fucking pathetic. You know what has to happen now, I warned you what I’d do if I found out you weren’t being faithful to me.” Your ex threatened, brandishing a knife.

You wanted to run, but your legs wouldn’t move. You did the next best thing and screamed.

“FORD!”

He pounced on you and sunk the knife into your chest, you tried to scream again, but all of the air in you left. He had punctured your lung.

-

Ford stood in the empty gift shop with Stan. Soos counted the day’s profits at the till. The brothers were in the middle of a discussion.

“Yes, but what I think is important is that-“

“FORD!”

Stan and Ford looked at each other, silently agreeing by your tone that something serious had happened and booked it outside, Soos followed. Ford swung open the door to see you collapse to the ground, your ex boyfriend standing over you. He looked up at Stan and Ford in the doorway, but before he could turn to run both men were on him. Stan managed to land a punch square to his jaw before he and Ford tackled him to the ground.

“What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?” Stan barked.

Your ex spat out a tooth. “What that fucking bitch gets for being your brother’s whore.”

Stan shoved your ex’s face into the gravel and turned to Ford.

“I got it from here, sixer, this scrawny kid ain’t going nowhere. Go make sure y/n is okay.”

Stan turned to Soos who stood in shock on the porch.

“Soos, call 911!”

“O- on it, Mr. Pines!”

Ford hurried quickly to you. You lay motionless on the ground on your side, struggling to breathe. He could tell by the pool of blood that it wasn’t good. He gently turned you over on your back and his eyes widened at the sight of the knife stuck in your chest.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

Your eyes struggled to focus.

“F- Ford?” You murmured faintly.

“I’m here, y/n. We’re going to get you some help, it’ll be okay.”

“It h- hurts.” You gasped.

“I know, just try to breathe.”

“I can’t, the knife.” You struggled out.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, but if I remove it you’ll bleed out.”

“They’re on their way, Mr. Pines!” Soos shouted.

Your attempts to take in a breath were becoming increasingly labored and shallow.

“Stay with me, y/n, just hold on for a little longer!”

You put a hand to Ford’s cheek.

“Ford, I-“

Your eyelids became incredibly heavy, your hand fell to the ground and you went limp. The last thing you heard was Ford calling your name.

-

Your eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Mmmnh.” You groaned.

“Sixer! Sixer! They’re awake!”

You turned your head to see Stan shaking his brother who had been sleeping in a chair next to you.

“Huh? Wha- y/n!” Ford said, taking your hand, which you noticed had an IV placed in it.

“I’m gonna go get the doctor, be right back!” Stan said, already at the door and slamming it behind him.

“Ford, what happened? Where am I?”

You made a motion to sit up, but an intense pain in your chest protested. You hissed out a sharp breath.

“Easy, stardust. You’ve been through a lot. You’re in the hospital, you’ve been in a coma for two weeks. Do you remember anything?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall your last moments. It was nighttime, you were outside the shack, there was a meteor shower and then… your eyes widened as the memories came flooding back.

“Wait, what happened with-“

“It’s been taken care of. He’s in custody and from the looks of it he’s most likely never coming back out, not even that lawyer of a father can save him this time. They found a note in his apartment, he had been planning this for a while. He was going to flee the scene and commit suicide if Stanley and I hadn’t been there to stop him. From what I’ve looked up, in Oregon aggravated attempted murder can carry a life sentence.”

You gave a sigh of relief that quickly turned to anger.

“It never should’ve come to this.” You said through gritted teeth.

He looked away. “I know, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t stayed back to talk to Stan this never would’ve happe-“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare blame yourself for even a second over this. The law failed me, not you.”

“Still, I should have known better than to leave you alone.” He said, a tear ran down his cheek.

You squeezed his hand.

“You still saved my life, I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you.”

Stan returned with the doctor. He did a quick assessment of your vitals and asked you questions to determine if you’d suffered any cognitive impairments or memory loss.

“Well despite the circumstances you appear to be in good health. Your vitals are stable and your memory and cognitive functioning seem to be in order. However, there was something we picked up when we tested your blood. I’m just going to be blunt, you’re pregnant.”

You looked at Ford, he looked back at you and squeezed your hand. The doctor turned his attention to Ford.

“Now, are you the patient’s fath-“

“Partner.” Ford corrected.

The doctor raised an eyebrow before continuing, his eyes back on you.

“I would recommend getting yourself in with an OBGYN. If you need anything, press the call button and a nurse will be with you.” He turned on his heels and left.

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Stan broke it.

“So… I guess I’m getting another niece or nephew. I’ll uh… I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

He shut the door behind him. You turned your gaze back to Ford.

“Ford, I- I promise I was on birth control. I don’t know how this happened.”

He cupped your cheek.

“It’s alright stardust, these things happen. What do you want to do? No matter your choice, I promise I’ll support you.”

“I- I want to keep it. I’ve always wanted kids and with the way you treat Dipper and Mabel, I know you’d be an amazing father.”

His face lit up.

“You really mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

He pressed a deep kiss to you. When he pulled away he looked at you like he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

He took a deep breath. “I know it’s soon, but after almost losing you and now with this I don’t see a point in hiding how I feel. I love you, y/n, with every single cell and atom of my being. I will do all I can to be a good father to our child, and the best partner I can be for you. No matter what, I promise to always love you. You’re my everything, stardust.”

You were speechless. Out of all of the men that had come in and out of your life, no one had ever said anything close to this. No one had ever promised their love and utter devotion to you like him.

“I love you too, Stanford Pines.” You smiled.

-

When you finally discharged from the hospital Ford immediately made a trip to the library, returning with a stack of pregnancy books in his arms. He pored over the material for days.

He was very insistent that you follow a strict prenatal vitamin regimen. He became incredibly attentive to you, any complaint of symptoms was immediately met with a solution. Nausea? He’s brewing you a pot of ginger tea. Your back hurts? He’s running you a warm bath with lavender oil.

At your 18 week ultrasound it was finally time to determine the sex. You had both originally agreed to keep it a surprise, but the curiosity was too much for either of you to handle.

The technician ran the probe across your stomach as a grainy picture of a fetus formed on the screen. Every time Ford could get a glimpse of his and your child he savored the moment, not wanting to even blink as to not miss a single second. He kept the first ultrasound picture in a frame on his desk.

“Alright, let’s get a good look here.” The tech said.

Ford held your hand tightly.

“Congratulations you two, it looks like you have a girl.”

You watched Ford’s face light up just as it did when you told him you wanted to keep the baby.

“A girl, we’re having a little girl.” He said softly.

As the months passed Ford would find any reason to hug you from behind, his hands caressing your stomach. During one particular instance, he rested his head on your shoulder after wrapping his arms around you when he felt something press against his hand.

“Wait a minute, I think she’s kicking!” Ford said, completely ecstatic.

“Yeah! I can feel it!” You said, matching his energy.

Ford moved to stand in front of you, his hand never leaving you.

“Fascinating, truly fascinating.” He whispered.

Mabel, who was visiting along with her twin for the summer, burst into the room.

“DID I HEAR THAT MY COUSIN IS KICKING???”

“Yes! She-“ Ford began before Mabel cut him off by speeding over and unintentionally knocking him aside.

She placed a hand on your stomach and felt the kick of a tiny foot.

“Whoaaaaaaa, this is so cool! I mean I knew it already obviously, but there really is like a little person in there.”

-

After the trauma around your last hospital stay, you opted for a home birth with a midwife. Ford did extensive research and insisted on a water birth. You were hesitant at first, but he managed to convince you after stating that it reduced pain, shortened labor time, and gave the baby an easier transition into the world.

Your water broke late into the night and labor started around the same time the next day. Half a day passed with the contractions becoming longer and more intense. The midwife arrived and set up the birthing pool in the bedroom. Every so often you entered the warm water to ease the pain and felt your muscles relax. Ford held your hand in his, you squeezed it tightly enough to break it. The midwife checked your cervix.

“You’re fully dilated, it’s time to start pushing. Mr. Pines, do want to help deliver?” The midwife asked.

“Yes, absolutely.” Ford answered, moving himself in front of you.

You pushed as hard as you could, the baby slowly moved through you and it felt like you were being torn apart. An hour and a half later and you were at your limit.

“I- I don’t know if I can keep going.” You said, tears falling.

“Yes you can, y/n, you’re so strong. Breathe.” Ford said softly.

“Alright, the baby’s crowning. You’re going to need to support the head once it’s out.” The midwife instructed to Ford.

“Got it.” He said.

You screamed, your lower half might as well have been on fire.

“You’re doing so well, y/n, she’s almost here. Just breathe.” Ford soothed.

“If you tell me to breathe one more time, I’m going to fucking strangle you.” You growled through clenched teeth.

Ford took the baby’s head in his hands, guiding her out. Once the head passed, the rest came quickly. You felt two more contractions, and she finally arrived. Ford stared in awe at the crying baby in his arms.

“My god, she’s beautiful, y/n.”

“Mr. Pines? Do you want to cut the cord?” The midwife asked, offering a pair of scissors.

Ford nodded and took the scissors, cutting the umbilical cord two inches away from the baby’s navel. As he held her he caught sight of her clenched little fists. Six fingers on each hand, just like him. He looked at her in pure adoration, he would have loved her and given her the world regardless, but now he felt connected to her on a cosmic level. A childhood of being bullied was entirely worth it just for this moment. Tears streamed down his face, he was completely enveloped in a sea of love and emotion until the midwife spoke up.

“Uhh, do you maybe wanna hand her to-“

“O- oh! Yes, of course!”

As he passed the baby to you it was immediately obvious why he was so enamored with her. You held her against your chest.

“Oh Ford, she’s perfect. And you’re right, she’s absolutely beautiful.”

He leaned down to kiss you.

“I think I know where she gets it from.” He smiled.

Time passed and you handed the baby off to Ford so you could shower. As you dried off and began dressing yourself in a comfortable pair of pajamas you heard a cry from down the hall. You quickly buttoned up the top and made your way to the bedroom.

“She must be hungry.” Ford said.

You got into the bed you had convinced Ford to purchase once you officially moved in with him after you were told you were pregnant. Before that he slept on the couch and it drove you crazy. He handed your new baby girl to you and you unbuttoned your top. It took a few attempts, but eventually she latched and began to nurse.

“So, I know we’ve already settled on your mother’s name for her middle name, but we still have our list of first names to pick from. What are you thinking?” You asked.

Ford smiled. “Well I do have one that I’ve grown really fond of.”

“Me too. How about we both say our choice on three?”

Ford nodded.

“Okay. One, two, three-“

“Juno!” You both said in unison.

You stared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“Well I guess that’s settled then. Welcome to the world my little Juno.” Ford said, holding her tiny hand.

Beans hopped up on the bed and approached Juno cautiously, sniffing the top of her head.

Ford chuckled. “Hmm, I don’t think he knows quite what to make of her.”

“That’s pretty on brand for cats. When my parents brought home my siblings, our cats were terrified of them.”

You gave Beans a scritch behind the ears and he relaxed at your touch, purring and curling into a ball on your lap. You felt complete, you had your little family all together. Juno finished nursing and you begin to grow sleepy. The adrenaline from pushing out a small human left you and exhaustion took its place. Ford noticed immediately.

“It’s alright, I can take her. You need your rest.”

Ford gingerly took Juno in his arms, holding her against his chest. You snuggled up against him as you felt yourself drift off to sleep. You awoke to Stan entering the room two hours later.

“Everyone’s favorite uncle is here! How’s my niece doing? What name did you guys end up going with?”

“Juno.” Ford responded.

“Heh, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you two nerds. Now c’mon, let the best uncle ever hold her.”

Ford handed Juno to Stan and he took her in his arms. She grasped his finger in her round little fist.

“Would you look at that, we got another sixer here!”

Stan’s phone rang in his pocket.

“I think that’s Mabel, I texted her that you had the baby.” Stan said.

You sat up as Stan gave Juno to you. He answered his phone.

“Hey, kiddo! Yeah! Yeah they’re doing great, so is the baby. Juno. That’s what I said! Oh believe me, I’ll make sure she’s spoiled rotten. Of course! I’d love to have you two over for the break! Sure, I’ll let you talk to him.”

Stan handed the phone to Ford.

“Hello, Mabel. Yes! It’s incredibly strange to say, but I’m officially a father. Correct, from Greek mythology. Eight pounds, five ounces. Oh she’s absolutely beautiful! Thankfully she didn’t inherit my nose, but she does have my fingers!”

You heard Mabel’s shriek through the phone and an excited “DIPPEEEEERRR! SHE HAS HIS FINGERS!”

Ford laughed before continuing.

“I know, all twelve! It’s perfect, truly meant to be. Caryn. Yes, after your great grandmother, she would have loved her. Y/n? I’ll let you talk to them.”

Ford passed the phone to you.

“Hey, Mabel!” You said.

“Hiiii, y/n! I already asked grunkle Stan this, but how are you doing?” Mabel asked.

“Great, exhausted, but great.”

“Duuude I bet! Giving birth to a tiny person must be like soooo crazy! Oh! Did grunkle Stan ever tell you when I was born that I punched the doctor right in the face?” She said, almost boastful.

You laughed. “Somehow that sounds like something you’d do.”

“You know, I always thought you and grunkle Ford were perfect for each other. You’re both huge nerds who like weird stuff. If you two get married, promise you’ll make me a bridesmaid!”

”Of course Mabel, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I feel like you’re already a part of the family though! You might as well be my grauntie at this point!”

You smiled. “I’m honored.”

“Oh hey, Dipper and me are thinking of visiting during winter break later this month, so hopefully I’ll get to meet my new little cousin soon! You can give the phone back to grunkle Stan, I wanna say bye. Make sure to give Juno lots of kisses for me!”

“Will do!” You said and handed the phone to Stan.

“Thanks for checking in, pumpkin. It’s good to hear from you. Say hi to Dipper and your folks for me and keep me posted on if you and your brother are coming to stay for the break. Alright, love you, bye.”

Stan turned to you and Ford.

“So I was thinking of ordering pizza to celebrate. Would you be down?”

“I haven’t eaten since I went into labor so that sounds fantastic.” You said.

“Great! I’ll give you two lovebirds some alone time with her.” Stan said, giving Ford a wink for some reason and shutting the door behind him.

Ford turned to you, he had the same look on his face as he did in the hospital right before he told you he loved you.

“Everything okay, Ford?”

“Y/n, there’s… something important I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

He pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket, your heart thumped in your chest. He opened it, revealing an absolutely beautiful ring.

“Since the day you came into my life, you’ve fundamentally changed it for the better and I’ve loved you ever since. I promise to cherish you and stay by you and Juno until my last breath. If there is a life beyond this one I’ll wait for you on the other side. Y/n, will you marry me?”

You kissed him deeply.

“Yes, absolutely!”

He took your left hand and slipped the ring on your finger.

“Oh Ford, it’s gorgeous.”

“It was my mother’s. Many years ago she passed it on to Stanley, thinking he was me, and told him to give it to the love of his life when the time came. On the day you and I became an item, Stanley gave it to me, insisting I’d need it. He said I should do it for tax purposes.” He chuckled.

“Of course he did.” You laughed.

You admired how the stone caught the light.

“What are the odds that your mother and I had the same ring size?” You said.

“Well… about that. I may or may not have measured your ring finger in your sleep. I had the size adjusted, I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

You kissed him again.

“I’d expect no less from Stanford Pines.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and once again felt your eyelids grow heavy. Ford too felt the exhaustion of the near 40 hours of helping you bring Juno into the world. It wasn’t long before the two of you and little Juno fell asleep. Stan opened the bedroom door.

“Hey, guys, pizza’s he-“

He smiled at the sight of all three of you sleeping peacefully. He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“Yeah, that’s a keeper. Mabel’s gonna love this.”

[tossawary]

I'm back to frequently thinking about a Transformers AU for SVSSS, because I love trying to fuse the worldbuilding (working across several different continuities of TF, admittedly) into something recognizable to both worlds that's also new. I also love pulling on the elements these worlds have in common: immortal beings, endless conflicts, switching bodies, cores of power, building yourself up to become a higher being, oppressive systems controlling entire worlds, people (characters) who were constructed and are discarded for specific purposes (profit and sometimes just entertainment) and are not always viewed as real people, the creator god might be just some guy over there, and so on.

For this AU, my story outline currently sticks to Cybertron and its surrounding space. I don't have any characters whom I want to make human, I have very specific backgrounds in mind for everyone already, and I have a plotline that doesn't require Earth or humans in any way. Though, for fun, I was absentmindedly fiddling with the idea of taking the characters of a different MXTX story (MDZS or TGCF) and making them into the humans of this AU.

I feel like Wei Wuxian would be one of those human characters who is basically already climbing into the seat before a transformer can finish introducing themselves as a giant space robot; oh, he is DOWN for whatever the fuck this is. However, if I was writing Wei Wuxian as a human in a TF AU, I don't know which SVSSS character I would pair him with as his "partner", as I personally would be far more interested in writing a story in which Lan Wangji and/or Wen Ning (both?) are Cybertronians. (Yes, obviously, Wei Wuxian would be a robotfucker for LWJ.) I'm leaning more towards Wen Ning, because there's the "I rebuilt this guy and turned him into an abomination who acts kind of in service to me" aspect, and also it's funny to imagine human Lan Wangji having to put up with his boyfriend's alien car being a part of the relationship.

With TGCF, making the characters into the humans of a TF AU for SVSSS feels like a reversal. Xie Lian's narrative everything arguably makes him an even better Cybertronian than any other MXTX character. The fall from being, say, a Prime and the Bearer of the Matrix to apparently being some poorly-maintained bot that spends its time picking up trash on Earth in the aftermath of some Cybertronian war? Delicious. Hua Cheng was some half-broken, half-starving, outlier freak, MTO discard saved by the new Prime EIGHT MILLION YEARS AND SEVERAL WARS AGO, and has never gotten over it and never will. And a lot of the other TGCF characters also match very nicely to TF worldbuilding: mmm, my brain likes chewing on the image of beautiful and terrifying, near-immortal robots falling from the "heavens". It's even easy to source internal TGCF characters as the humans if you need human characters, so there's no real need to make it into a crossover with MDZS or SVSSS.

So, ultimately, this TF AU for SVSSS is not going to be a crossover. I don't want it to be. But I did enjoy thinking about TF AUs for MDZS and TGCF as well, where the worldbuilding or character arcs fit nicely together, so I wanted to share that here.

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

[ckret2]

If you were to want any scene in your fic drawn (that you haven’t drawn yourself. Your art is amazing btw) which would it be?

You can give multiple answers! This is not a trick at all. Totally not planning anything!

someone asked a while ago and i was like "fuck if i know, anything would be great!!" but SINCE THEN i've thought about it so i have some actual answers by now

I wanted to draw the girls summoning a demon but ran out of time

i really wanted to draw Bill menacing Gideon in his bedroom—peak manipulative creep

Bill's harrowing nightmare being interrupted so Bud Gleeful can try to sell him a car

one of Bill & Ford's physical altercations. Maybe the one where they end up covered in eggs

i've never actually drawn his cultist, she deserves to be illustrated

those are the top ones that occur to me, here's some more i thought of while glancing over the chapters:

the moment after his haircut when he sees himself in the mirror and his mood switches from >:D to D8

I've always wanted to draw something for chapter 9, but since the entire chapter is just bill & ford sitting there talking, i never came up with anything i feel like is interesting

bill having a showdown with shmebulock

bill being caught after nearly falling out the window on summerween

bill hollering at waddles to free him, while waddles doesn't care

Dipper terrified about what Bill might be up to after "escaping," just in time for him to find Bill in the saddest most pitiable state he's ever been in

some of Ford's fight with Journal 2

I also write a lot of the jokes & humor imagining how they'd work if they were in the show, so they're very visual... without visuals. so any joke you think would work drawn out would be appreciated

[disasterousduo]

Incorrect Quote Generator

I might draw some of these later/tomorrow

——————————————————————— Sun: Croissants: dropped  Solar: Road: works ahead  Moon: BBQ sauce: on my titties  Lunar: Shavacado: fre  Earth: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead  Eclipse:  Eclipse, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

———————————————————————

'Can I copy the homework?'  Sun: I can help you with it!  Solar: Yeah, sure.  Moon: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.  Ruin: lol nope.  Earth: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!  Bloodmoon: *Read 5:55pm*

———————————————————————

Solar: Is something burning? N!Moon: Just my love for you. Solar: Moon, the toaster is on fire.

———————————————————————

Ruin: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Bloodmoon: You need to stop.

———————————————————————

Ruin: I made tea. Eclipse: I don’t want tea. Ruin: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Eclipse: Then why are you telling me? Ruin: It is a conversation starter. Eclipse: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Ruin: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

———————————————————————

Earth: What time is it?  Eclipse: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out  Eclipse: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*  Moon: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING  Eclipse: It’s 2 am

———————————————————————

Sun: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Moon: How am I supposed to know? Lunar: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Moon: *sighs* Moon: You wouldn't be trapped.

———————————————————————

Lunar, texting Solar: Solar! Help I’m being kidnapped Solar: Where are you? Lunar: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help. Solar: I’ll call Earth. Earth, answering their cell: Y’ello? Solar: Where’s Lunar? They texted me that they were being kidnapped. Earth: Lunar? Whaddya mean, they're right next to me- Earth: Earth: I’ll call you back. *hangs up* Earth: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD! Lunar: WHO ARE YOU?!

———————————————————————

Earth, talking to Sun on the phone: Did you preheat the oven like I told you to? Sun : You bet! Earth: At what temperature? Sun : 535. Earth: That's the clock. Sun: Earth: Sun : 536.

———————————————————————

Sun: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running?  Solar : Oh, I’m always running  Solar : The question is from what

———————————————————————

Ruin: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.  Solar : Oh, you’ve been?  Ruin: Once. In Monopoly.

———————————————————————

Sun: Favorite horror movie?  Solar : It  Lunar: Saw  Moon: Annabelle  Earth: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

———————————————————————

Sun: Nothing in life is free.  Solar : Love is free!  Lunar: Adventure is free.  Moon: Knowledge is free.  Jack: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

———————————————————————

Sun: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Bloodmoon will and will not eat. Solar : Grass? Yes! Sun: Moss? Yes!! Solar : Leaves? Ohh, yes! Sun: Shoelaces? Strange but true! Solar : Worms? Sometimes! Sun: Rocks? Usually nah. Solar : Twigs? Usually! Sun: Ruin's cooking? Inconclusive! Moon: How did you… test this? Sun: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it. Moon: ... I don’t know how to feel about this. Ruin: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

———————————————————————

Sun: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Moon : ... Your what? Sun: My friends. Solar: Are they saying “friends”? Moon: I think they're being sarcastic. Lunar: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Sun! All of your friends are in this room. Sun: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

———————————————————————

Sun: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need! Moon: To the city? Sun: Yeah, no matter what! Earth: Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly? Sun: I... I don't know! Solar : Oh come off it, be serious! Sun: I am serious! Solar : You're insane! Lunar: Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved! Everyone: Sun: What??? Lunar: Or maybe it was a basset hound! Solar , panicked: YOU'RE ALLINSANE!

———————————————————————

Sun: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.  Chica : What if it bites me and it dies!?  Moon: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Chica , learn to listen.  Freddy: What if it bites itself and I die?  Monty: That’s voodoo.  Bloodmoon: What if it bites me and someone else dies?  Chica: That’s correlation, not causation.  Freddy: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?  Monty: That’s kinky.  Sun: Oh my God.

———————————————————————

Sun: Hewwo.  Jack : Hihiiiiii!  Moon: Greetings, Humans.  Solar: Three kinds of people.  Lunar: I want pudding.  Sun: Four kinds of people.  Bloodmoon: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?  Solar: Five kinds of people.

[rinhaler]

The Root Of The Apple

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Why is Megumi at your parents house warming party? And why is he such a psycho? Daddy issues, of course!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, panic attack, mental health issues, alcohol consumption, drug taking, bullying, drugging mention, bladder failure mention, marking mention, family drama. 

WORDS : 5.8k

notes : two years years with hindsight i should not have added toji bc i want to fuck him so desperately 😭

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Unlike your hellish few days, Megumi’s were uneventful. After he choked you in the club, he took a cab home. His sister Tsumiki was fussing over him, much to his chagrin. She asked how his night went, if he had a good time, if he kissed any girls. She thought she was hilarious, but Megumi found her to be nothing but a nuisance.

He hates that he was trapped with her until he finishes university, being unable to move out from under her over protective thumb is painful for him. Tsumiki is invasive, irritating, and too God damn happy. And what’s worse, she’s not his real sister. He’ll never think of her as such, to him, Tsumiki is a means to an end.

He hates her. He hates his whole God damn family. But right now, right in this exact moment…

There’s nobody he hates more than you.

While you were still in a drug infused sleep, Megumi’s Wednesday was different. He went on as if everything was normal, he got a ride to university from Tsumiki. It’s rare she has the time to take him since she is usually at work.

He found the entire day dull. It pained him to admit it to himself, but he supposes part of him missed you. He was blissfully unaware of your coma-like state, he smiled into the pencil he was chewing in his mouth as he imagined that you’re terrified to come back to school for fear of seeing him. It gave him a sick sort of power trip, knowing what he’d done to you, what he’s doing to you.

He’s sick.

But it’s okay that he’s sick, because he knows.

He knows he’s fucked up, and everything he’s doing to you is fucked up.

But Christ it’s fun.

Thursday is the same, although he’s grateful he gets to finish the school day earlier. But as he walks through the parking lot, he pauses when he doesn’t see Yuuji’s car in its usual spot. He didn’t think twice about it yesterday.

Of course perfect Yuuji would want to stay home and play the role of the doting boyfriend, protecting you from the big bad bully, wrapping you in cotton wool and shielding you from the world. But today is the second day Yuuji hasn’t been to school.

Megumi would never admit it out loud, but his blood ran cold at the thought that something terrible had happened.

He arrives home, his sister nowhere in sight. Megumi dumped his backpack and sprawled out on the couch. And against every voice in his head telling him not to, his resolve crumbles, and his thumbs involuntarily types your name into Facebook.

He couldn’t see much since you weren’t friends, but he thought he might be able to see if anyone had said something about what happened.

Alas, there was nothing.

He decides to try and put it to the back of his mind.

Within the hour, Tsumiki is home. She begins preparing dinner for the two of them. She waffles on about her boring, mundane workday. She hasn’t even realised that Megumi has his headphones on and is completely tuning her out. An eyebrow quirked on his face when a text came through to his phone.

Nina: Megumi omg baby we are in soooooo much trouble! 😳😟💘xxx

Megumi’s thumbs hover above the keyboard momentarily as he contemplates how he should reply. One thought ran through his mind.

Who the fuck is Nina?

It had to be one of those annoying sluts from his class. But was it the blonde or the redhead? They’re both practically the same save for the hair colour.

He can barely remember which one he fingered; he thinks it’s the blonde.

It had to be her, surely the other one wouldn’t be so bold as to call him baby. He shudders and gags as he thinks of the pet name. The more he debates formulating a reply, he opts to not bother.

Megumi technically didn’t do anything wrong.

Hours pass, it's close to 1am. Tsumiki never normally stays up this late, but she has the day off tomorrow and was enjoying watching movies with Megumi.

Well, she thought they were watching together.

Megumi is just in the room playing on his phone, pretending she didn’t exist, as usual. Just as he was about to go upstairs, the siblings both startle at the sound of an ominously loud knock. Tsumiki looks at him, as if to ask if he was expecting anyone. He shakes his head in response, so she gets up and looks through the peep hole.

She gasps, and opens the door quickly after she’d spotted who was outside.

Megumi isn’t ashamed to admit that his stomach drops when he realises the police are at his door. And the disappointed look in Tsumiki’s eyes as she hears them ask if Megumi Fushiguro is home make his insides churn. She welcomes them in, clearing space for them to sit on the sofa.

Megumi sits down next to her, she wraps an unwelcome arm around him, a sign of solidarity.

“There’s been a serious allegation made against you Megumi.” one of the officers speaks. Megumi hears his sister’s breath hitch, but he clears his throat and tries to remain calm.

“In regard to what? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” he answers simply. The officers look at each other quickly before giving him their attention once again, as if they’ve already decided he's guilty.

“A classmate of yours has accused you and two others of drugging her in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Do you know anything about that?” the policeman asks. Megumi does his best to stay composed, shaking his head in response.

“Megumi would never—”

“Please don’t interrupted miss.” the other policeman speaks. Tsumiki bites her tongue as she sinks back in her seat. His attention focuses back on Megumi before he starts flipping through a notebook. “This young woman was in a terrible state. I won’t go into too many details, but she was publicly humiliated and has been unconscious for the last two days.” he explains. Megumi’s jaw bubbles as he tried to supress his emotions, Tsumiki’s hands cover her mouth in horror as her ears digest the information. She leans forwards timidly, as if to ask permission to speak.

“I- sorry, what do you mean by publicly humiliated?” she wonders.

The officer clears his throat, unsure whether he should say. The other nods, wanting to fill them in. Megumi knew their little game. They think if they tug at his heartstrings and make him feel guilty, his emotions will give him away. He didn’t know what happened after he left; he told the girls that the drug will be enough to make her embarrass herself.

“When she was discovered on the bathroom floor in the club, we were informed that she had urinated and vomited on herself on account of the drugging.” they explain.

Megumi has to do everything in his power to supress his laughter.

He knew you’d find a way to make a fool of yourself when it was in your system, but that really cut the cake.

“That’s awful.” Tsumiki says softly.

“As well as that,” the officer speaks again, commanding the sibling’s attention, “the t-shirt she’d worn that night appeared to be cut open with a pair of scissors. We could tell from the CCTV from the night of the incident that someone had written the word 'bitch' across her body. According to the woman’s partner it was written in lipstick.” he tells them.

Megumi managed to keep composed, although he was seething. Those idiot incompetent girls could be the undoing of him. He specifically told them that they had nothing else to do other than slip the pill in your drink. Their petty jealousy had clearly gotten the better of them, and it could fuck them all up well and truly.

Tsumiki gasps when she hears the final sentence from the officer. She assures them that Megumi could never do anything so horrible. They look at him, and he knew he had to speak.

“I don’t know anything about that. I left earlier than most, I got a cab. My sister was awake when I got back, and I’m sure the CCTV can prove that I wasn’t there.” he tells them calmly.

“How do you know you were gone before it happened?” the officer asks, feeling clever, feeling like he trapped Megumi in a lie.

“Because you said it was the early hours of Wednesday morning. I had left the club by 11:30pm, like I said, the CCTV will be able to prove I left early. This incident has nothing to do with me,” Megumi stands to his feet, knowing he’s won and has no interest in carrying on the discussion anymore. The policemen knew as well as he did that it was your word against his, he feels untouchable. “Whoever she is, I hope you can get some justice for her.” he tells them, smugly. His sister beams up at him with so much pride. Her little brother is so good, so respectable, he’s perfect in her eyes.

If only she knew.

She shows the men out of their home, requesting he get in touch if he remembers anything that might help their case. Megumi finally retreats to the safety of his bedroom, feeling cocky and proud of himself for slithering his way through your feeble attempt to get him arrested. He feels like a god. He feels invincible. An electric excitement jolts through him as he wonders when he might see you next.

What he can do to you next.

Friday brings another uneventful day, he really fucking misses you.

It sounds more romantic than it is.

Maybe it is, in some twisted way, treat them mean to keep them keen.

And he is downright vile to you. He doesn’t feel anything but pure unadulterated hatred for you. You’re too fucking nice, like his sister. No one is that nice. The way you felt compelled to compliment his art whenever you had the audacity to lean over and observe his sketchbook. And every time you did it, it was pictures of him. He thinks he hates you the most. And then when he remembers that man, that scumbag, he takes first place. If you could have just shut your fucking mouth, if you didn’t feel so compelled to start talking about those pictures of him, maybe you wouldn’t be paying the price now.

Megumi arrives home from his boring school day and kicks the door shut behind him with his foot. He's furious. The combination of his hatred for you and his father is too much. All he wants to do is go to his room, get changed and head outside for a few hours to clear his head. But when Tsumiki stops him from going to his room, he just about bites her head off.

“What?!” he barks. The volume makes her jump, but she simply smiles as she prepares to speak.

“Dad called.” she told him.

“My dad. Don’t say dad as if he’s your dad too. What did he want?” he moans at her. Her smile pulls downwards into a frown at his rude and hurtful words. She was about to answer him again, but before she can she's interrupted by the creaking of stairs. The siblings look to the source, and Megumi’s blood boils at the sight.

“That’s no way to talk to your sister.” Toji speaks. He’s just showered. He's wearing some grey joggers and his chest is bare, he's in the middle of the process of pulling a shirt over his head. His shirt clung to his water-soaked body in all of the right places, it's almost a little pornographic considering how innocent of an act it was.

His children almost didn’t want to look at him because it's so unintentionally erotic. Although Megumi doesn’t like to look at him anyway. “It’s been a while son. You don’t mind if I take him for a drive do you Tsumiki? Got some things I wanna talk to ‘im about.” Toji smiles at the young woman who nods enthusiastically.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Megumi spits.

“I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’ so get your scrawny ass in the car and stop bitchin’ at me.” Toji commands, walking ahead and leaving through the front door.

What Megumi hates most about Toji is no matter how much he hates him, how much he knows he’ll never change, he still – for some unknown reason – craves his approval. He knew his son would follow him through the door, that’s why he didn’t wait for him to start moving his feet. Because within seconds, Megumi is following him through that very same front door.

The silence in the car is deafening.

Toji is feeling the need to drag out whatever it is he wants to discuss, and Megumi has absolutely no desire to make idle chit-chat with his piece of shit father. The new car doesn’t go unnoticed. Megumi can feel his blood bubbling with rage through his veins.

When Megumi’s mother died, Toji went off the rails and he brought Megumi right along with him.

He was a downright mess. He drank, he did drugs, anything to forget. And Megumi didn’t understand. All he knew was that he lost his mother, and his daddy wasn’t his daddy anymore.

Toji could barely stomach looking at him, he reminded him too much of his dead wife. Although he found a new wife to go off the rails with, and that’s how Tsumiki entered the fray.

They were both terrible for each other and they fed off each other’s toxicity. Megumi couldn’t bear to look at his father without reliving his trauma, his unresolved resentment coursing through his fragile skin.

He understood that his father was hurting, but he was too. He lost his mother. And instead of taking care of his son, being there for him, helping him heal. He found a new wife, narcotics, and shady ways of making money. That was more important than being a dad, apparently, and this new car, his new set of wheels that reeked of money and sin, makes his body fail him.

Megumi isn’t sad. He's never sad. What he's feeling right now, some may call a broken heart. But not him. To Megumi, the way his heart feels being in such close proximity to his father is different.

It didn’t feel broken. It feels shredded.

It feels like it has been wrapped in barbed wire, and when he was near this pathetic excuse of a human being it did all it could to bulge out of its piercing prison. Chunks escaped, sure, but they were destroyed. The rest of his heart is stained, bruised and pouring blood. He couldn’t bear it.

Megumi couldn’t bear it.

“Let me out,” Megumi speaks, his breathing intensifying. His chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What? Kid, stop bein’ a bra—”

“Dad! Stop the car!” he screams. He stares at his father, begging him to listen to him.

When Toji looks over to where his son is seated, he doesn’t recognise who he's looking at. Snot and tears dribble down his face. His eyes are puffy and red, totally bloodshot. His white irises cracked with red uncomfortable veins that made Toji’s heart stop for a brief second.

This isn’t Megumi. Megumi doesn’t get like this, he’s never seen him like this. But what has Toji seen him like? He’s seen gloomy, stoic Megumi.

That’s all he sees on his fleeting visits.

Toji pulls the car over and Megumi scarpers out as quickly as he can. Toji takes his time turning off the car, finding a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment before stepping out to tend to his child. He approaches him slowly. Wallet, phone and keys all rested skilfully in one hand.

Megumi doubles over, clear vomit evading the pit of his stomach. Toji grimaces at the sight, what the hell was wrong with him? His son is trembling, still. When he isn’t vomiting he's taking in sharp, heavy breaths, he almost sounds like he's screaming.

The desperation in his inhales are so eerie, like someone dragging a sharp knife down a windowpane.

Megumi is disgusted with himself.

It's all too much for him, reminiscing on his childhood and the closure he’d never get. The fact that his father thinks he’s allowed to pop into his life if and when he chooses.

He expects Megumi to drop everything and anything he’s doing to spend time with him and do as he’s told.

And the worst part? He does it.

He fights him every step of the way, but still, he does it.

Why does he do it? He hates him. Toji knows he hates him, too. Every conversation they have is surface level toleration or a heated argument. But Toji knows, no matter what, Megumi wants to please his father. Because he left him to fend for himself, he left him without a friend in the world. So, whenever Megumi gets the chance, he wants to prove himself to his father.

That’s why.

Megumi needs his father’s approval.

“The fuck’s wrong with you kid? Panic attack?” Toji questions as he towers above his son.

Megumi collapses onto his backside, mouth agape as he manages to calm himself down. He wants to rip his dad’s throat out for talking to him like that. But he doesn’t have the energy. He just can’t.

“Shut up, Toji.” he commands, making his father roll his eyes. An act of petty defiance, to call him by his name instead of dad. It doesn’t bother Toji, he couldn’t care less. He knows he’s a shit dad, he didn’t sign up for it anyway. He doesn’t care, he probably never will.

“Get up, there’s a coffee shop over there I’ll get you some water.” he tells him, hoping the offer will be enough to entice him off the ground.

Megumi blanks him though, still focusing on his breathing and trying to coax himself into feeling better so he can go home. Toji isn’t a man who likes to be ignored, Megumi is lucky he’s his kid right now. Anyone else would be in for a world of hurt.

But instead, Toji slowly raises his foot off the ground. He inches his dirty dust clad shoe closer to his boy’s face. Megumi side eyes the muddy soled loafer, piercing green eyes threatening him to back off.

However, Megumi forgets who he inherited those intimidating emerald orbs from.

Toji doesn’t take lightly to threats, and he hasn’t gotten where he is by being frightened by a simple look. His filthy shoe is millimetres from Megumi’s face, “I said get up kid.” and with Megumi ignoring him yet again, Toji has to make good on his threat. He gently kicks the bottom of his foot into his son’s face. Megumi grabs his ankle and pushes him away, springing to his feet soon after to ball his fists in his dad’s shirt.

“Why the fuck are you here now? What do you want? You only come when you want something so out with it.” Megumi hisses, his face mere inches from his dad’s. Toji raises his hand in surrender with that signature shit-eating grin on his face. But Megumi’s fists grasp harder, for the first time in his life he feels strong. Stronger than him. He shoves him backwards and pins him against the car. “What do you want Toji?!”

Toji, however, is over this little game. Megumi never has been, and never will be, stronger than him. He’d never hurt his son. He does love him, in his own fucked up way. He’s his after all. But he doesn’t love him enough to let him disrespect him in his quest for validation and superiority. He grabs his junior by the base of the neck, removing his sunglasses and peering intensely into his child’s eyes. Fear shudders through Megumi, and he lets go. But Toji doesn’t.

“Get in the fuckin’ car. Dumbass. I’ll go get you a drink,” and with that he releases Megumi from his grip, crossing the road seamlessly. Commanding the traffic around him to stop as he approaches the coffee shop.

Megumi gets into the car. It’s hot. Fuck, it’s hot. His breathing is intensifying again. He hastily removes his jacket with shaky hands.

His father has only been gone for a few minutes, but his gaze is flitting between the windscreen window and the coffee shop. He balls his jacket up and shoves his face into it, screaming all of the air in his lungs out into the material. He just screams. It feels like he can’t stop, the oxygen will never be out of him.

He needs it out, he needs to breathe out this day, this experience.

But he can’t.

It’s lingering in his lungs, itching away at him. Little spindly legs crawling around inside of him like spiders, biting and tapping inside of him searching for a way out.

There’s no way out. He can’t breathe. He wants to rip his fucking heart out and let his dad drive and reverse over it until it’s unrecognisable.

His head drops between his knees, his hands interlocking behind his head trapping tufts of his unruly onyx locks.

He startles a little when his father opens the car door and sits behind the wheel. Toji could swear he saw him jump a little again when he slams the door shut behind him.

“Here,” his dad speaks, holding two bottles out to him. Megumi peers up to see them. One is water, and the other is a chilled glass bottle of beer. Why did he get him this? “Might steady yer fuckin’ nerves. What happened to you? Never seen y’like this before,” Toji states, not expecting a direct answer from Megumi, but daring to ask anyway.

Megumi twists the plastic cap off his water bottle. He doesn’t sip, he gulps. And he gulped, and gulped, and gulped, until the plastic bottle was contorting and creasing as he sucked the air out and his heavy fist gripped tighter around the soft material. Toji offers a teasing ‘think ya got it’ hoping it would make Megumi give up trying to get the last lingering droplets out of the plastic container.

He was right, he did get it.

It just isn’t enough. It does nothing to drown that unbearable itch inside of him. So, he slouched back in his seat, at least a little calmer for having something else to focus on.

“I’m fucked up.”

And he laughs.

It's manic. If you could see him now, God if you could see what a pathetic miserable shell he is right now.

It’s symbolic really, how insanely he’s laughing. You’d actually see a similarity between the two of you. He was almost laughing as insanely as you had been as you destroyed his artwork, probably more so.

He's unhinged. And for the first time in his life, he thinks Toji is scared. His face hurts from the way his cheeks are pulling as he laughs. If he was normal, his stomach would be aching. Because that’s what is meant to happen when people laugh. Right? When people truly laugh at something, you feel it in your belly. But fuck, Megumi isn’t normal.

He’s breaking apart.

Toji grabs his shoulder, and in an instant the laughter stops. Megumi’s face turns, his eyes snap to find his father’s matching ones. His smile is gone, but his eyebrow quivers as he studies his father’s features.

“Oh, fuck, scared you huh?” Megumi asks. Toji scoffs and lets go of him, starting the car up to drive away instead. But before he does, he takes his sons beer bottle between his teeth and bites the lid off. He spits it down on the floor of his car beneath him and gives it to Megumi. And Megumi drinks it, seeming to enjoy the taste.

That’s doing it.

That’s drowning his demons.

His attention is back on Toji as he’s driving.

And looking at him now, that is the father he knows.

He’s just driving as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like his son hasn’t just totally snapped before his very eyes. He’s snapped already, so why not push him a little more. Megumi punches his arm, causing Toji’s steering to waver.

“Stupid little idiot, fucks wrong with you? Don’t fuckin’ touch me while I’m drivin’.” he barks at his son. But he doesn’t stop. He punches him again, again and again. He slams harshly on the breaks, engulfing his sons whole face in one fist. He smothers his face and forcefully pushes him back into the passenger side door. “Hey! Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

“Did I fuckin’ scare you dad? You looked a little concerned you piece of shit! Ya fuckin’ deadbeat…” Megumi yells, fighting back the tears that were building, slithering behind his eyes threatening to spill at any moment.

“Pfft. Grow up Megumi. You’re not fifteen anymore,”

“Yeah, I was fucked up then never mind now.” Megumi spits at him.

“God, shut up.” Toji seethes as he softly slaps Megumi on the side of his face, pointing to the tip of his nose, demanding his attention. “You’re not fucked up. You’re fine. Y’think everyone doesn’t get like this? Y’think I never get like this? I wanna rip my fuckin’ skin off when I think about how fucked everything is for too long.” he tells his son sternly, trying to be calm but firm with him.

“You—” Megumi manages to croak out before Toji interrupts.

“Yeah, me. I fuckin’ left you. Never said sorry did I? Would you believe me if I said I was sorry? I don’t know if I am kid, that’s the problem. Had to fuckin’ split, couldn’t handle it. But if it helps, sure. I’m sorry. It was fucked.” Toji tells him.

Megumi is in awe.

This is the most they’d ever talked in their lives. Everything they discuss is surface level pleasantries that are meaningless. And he apologised. He can’t apologise. He’s said the word sorry but the itch is still there. He doesn’t mean it, he said himself he doesn’t mean it. This can’t be it, this can’t be everything Megumi has been waiting to hear to fix him. Anger and resentment he’s clung onto for so long, dying as he awaited the moment he’d finally get an apology or an explanation.

And this was it.

This was all he’d waited for, and it wasn’t good enough. It’ll never be good enough. He’s going to be stuck with this itch for the rest of his life.

“Are you kidding me? You think that’s good enough?” Megumi questions, fists balled as he argues with himself whether to punch Toji again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not really sorry because I had too. Huh, asshole? You really think that’s good enough?!” Megumi bellows, lip quivering as he clenches his teeth together.

“Don’tcha get it? Idiot. Nothing I say’ll ever be good enough. I fuckin’ left you alone after your mother died. Whether I mean it or not, it won’t stop fuckin’ hurtin’ kid. You got more than I ever did. The Zen’in used to lock me up and beat the shit out of me.” he angles the right side of his face and points to the scar on his lip, “they gave me this for the pleasure, think I ever got a fuckin’ sorry? No. Fake or sincere, nothin’. Think holdin’ a grudge is gonna fix anything?”

Megumi has been vibrating with anger the entire conversation.

All he wants to do was smash the glass of beer he has and stab the jagged shards into Toji’s neck. He's furious.

There is some truth to his words, sure, but he's so fucking casual. Like Megumi is meant to take everything he's saying as gospel, accepting it as absolute truth and living his life by them from now on.

He’s been vibrating with anger through the entire conversation, until he thought of you. He can’t smile; but his clenching jaw relaxes when visions of you enter his mind.

It's just as well, Toji thinks if he clenched any harder his son’s teeth would smash to pieces. It was something Toji said that made him think of you.

Think holdin’ a grudge is gonna fix anything?

No. But it helps. He’s sure you’d have the same thought process as Toji, you’d be desperate to end the vendetta Megumi has against you. But if he didn’t hate his father, if he didn’t hate you, how else would he cope?

How else would he control the itch?

Megumi allows his body to go limp, looking over to Toji with a side-eye glance. He huffs, allowing his chest to rise and fall in one heavy dramatic breath.

“What do you want, dad?”

Toji kisses his teeth, contemplating how to speak. How to ask. But Megumi has honestly had enough of fucking around today, dancing around subjects and rowing with each other. He just wants to know, and that is something Toji could plainly see in his son’s defeated body. So, he comes right out and says it, not wanting to beat around the bush.

“Tomorrow,” he begins, looking around at everything in the car other than his son. But his gaze settles, their emerald eyes meeting once again. “There’s a big shindig, all of the Zen’in are goin’. You need to be there.”

And that’s how Megumi found himself in a town car on his way to your parent’s new manor home.

Toji didn’t offer him a ride, of course.

Megumi suspects his father will be feeling uncomfortable after their argument yesterday, but in reality Toji is having a good parenting moment. He felt it necessary to give his son some space to cool down after their heated conversation.

The closer the car got to the ridiculously enormous manor; butterflies joined the itching in the pit of Megumi’s stomach. He tries to clear his throat and take deep breaths, but it wasn’t helping.

He fishes around in his inside jacket pockets. He pulls out a mirror from the right pocket and a baggie of cocaine and a razor from the other.

The car slows as it pulls into the gates, manoeuvring around the intricate landscaping. He takes the opportunity to make a white powdery line atop the mirror resting on his lap. He doesn’t care what the driver thinks of him, he’s sure Toji does the same if not worse whenever he's in here.

He snorts it, slowly. It’s been a while since he’s let this be a vice of his.

Megumi isn’t stupid, no, he’s careful. He will be careful with his vices. But when the car stops below the staircase that lead to the daunting double doors, he sags back into the plush leather seats of the car.

“D’ya mind if I just wait here for a minute?” Megumi asks, the man shakes his head, much to Megumi’s delight.

It’s been a while since he’s been to a Zen’in get together. When he and Tsumiki moved away, he managed to avoid them and Toji like the plague.

It's harrowing, really, that he had to walk into a strangers home, alone. To see a family who did nothing but chastise and disapprove. A family he barely knew but still felt it necessary to try and control aspects of his life and look down on each and every little thing he did.

But he relaxes. He wipes his nose of the white dust and takes a deep breath. He gets out of the car, slamming it aggressively behind him. He ascended the stairs. Breathing shallow breaths as he prepares himself for the hell he's about to endure.

He rests his finger on the doorbell, he can’t seem to take his finger off it. Air is knocked from his lungs when the door opens, almost being ripped from its hinges.

What the fuck are you two doing here?

He can’t help but stare, completely in awe at the sight. You’re looking at him differently, like you know him. Like you’ve had a look into the window of his damaged soul.

What the fuck are you staring at?

Megumi clears his throat, and you're staring soon turns to dismay, irritation. Megumi thinks you’re just processing what is happening, the unlikely coincidence of it all.

Are you still scared of him?

Terrified of what he’ll do to you?

Or are you safe now, because dear old Yuji is here?

Megumi takes in the sight of both of you, but drinks up the vision of you. He can’t believe it. You’re really here. He opens his mouth, smiling sadistically, knowing whatever he does will get a reaction out of you.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Megumi questions, crossing his arms across his chest as he waits for a response.

Yuuji looks feral, like he wants to skin him alive. It’s sad, really, that his best friend has let a useless cunt come between them. Megumi won’t disown him, but he knows Yuuji won’t claim him as his friend anymore. He’ll always be Megumi’s. Yuuji pulls your hand to bring you closer to his body. He’s sure Yuuji can feel you shaking like a frightened lamb against him, because even from this distance, Megumi can see it.

“Get out of the way Fushiguro,” Yuuji demands, holding your body as tightly as he can to give you the feeling of safety you’re so desperate for.

But of course, Megumi doesn’t move.

He doesn’t sidestep to allow you past.

He just stares. And Yuuji’s temper flares when he stops staring at you both, but through you. Because a dastardly grin stretches across Megumi’s pretty face.

While Yuuji is staring, shaking and furious, while you’re trembling, terrified and on the brink of tears, he sees who he can only assume are the owners of the house, who he can only assume are your parents, are walking through the foyer and approaching you. It’s like he’s watching a movie in slow motion. And it just gets better when his own dad lollygags behind them, leaning on a doorframe further down the hall as he watches your mother and father chase after you.

Megumi knows you’re not going anywhere.

Megumi knows your parents will beg, plead for you to stay. What will people say if you leave the party earlier? They’ll be the talk of high society. A simple, elegant party couldn’t go off without a hitch because their selfish daughter ruined it all.

No.

That’s not you.

The few brief days he’s known you, something he can see about you is clear. You, perfect, sweet girl, are a people pleaser.

Megumi’s smiling. And he’s smiling hard.

Because you aren’t going anywhere.

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2023 fuwushiguro

[darkbluekies]

The witty and uncanny: the outtakes

Yandere!doctor OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary/AN: I had written this, but thought that it was a direction that didn't fit the story, that it spiraled a bit, so I abandoned this and wrote the one in the series ... but I thought that I could share this too!

Warnings: yandere duo, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 3

Silas runs into the room an hour later, blood covering his neck and black shirt. 

“What happened?!” Dr Kry gasps. 

“Shit happened”, Silas answers while panting and hurries over to you. 

Dr Kry steps in front of him. 

“Stop”, he warns Silas. “Don’t touch them. What is going on with you?”

“My enemies know that Y/N is here”, Silas sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair. “And if you don’t want Y/N, yourself, me and everyone around to die, you better fucking help me transport Y/N to my house.”

Dr Kry widens his eyes. He swallows hard, looking around in the room, hesitating, debating. 

“How long do we have?” he asks carefully. 

“Twenty minutes at most”, Silas says. “We have to move. Now.”

“Alright, alright.”

Dr Kry grabs his bag and shoves some pills, syringes and other necessities he thinks he might need to keep you in check, removes the mask from your face and lifts you up in his arms. Your head automatically falls onto his broad shoulder. 

“Let’s go”, he says, stressed out of his mind. 

He usually stays calm in pressured situations, but when it involves you, he feels like a beginner again. Not a professional. 

The two of them hurries down to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” Silas asks. 

“My car?” Dr Kry scoffs. “Why my car?”

“Because I can’t use mine?” Silas asks as if that was obvious. “They’ll know it’s me and then we’re already doomed.”

“Fine, it’s this way.”

They hurry over to the white car in the corner of the parking lot. Silas opens the back door for the doctor to place you down on the backseat. Dr Kry jumps in beside you while Silas moves over to the driver’s seat. The doctor holds your body in his embrace, his arms working better than a seat belt — in his opinion. He caresses your hair softly.

It doesn't take long before you open your eyes and find yourself in a totally different location than before. Your entire body freezes before harshly trying to push whoever is holding you away.

"W-Where am I?" you stutter. "Let go of me!"

"Y/N, it's us", Dr Kry answers calmly and strengthens his embrace to keep you in place. "No need to be afraid. We're on our way to Silas’s house since he released his location at the hospital."

Silas house?! Flashing images of the basement fill your mind. You can still feel the hard stone floor under your ass from all the time you've spent there.

"No!" you burst out and start to fight against Dr Kry. "I don't want to go there!"

"I've started to like you better when you're asleep, little thing", Silas mutters over his shoulder. "I'm not going to put you in the basement — because I'm guessing that's why you're getting all worked up — if you stay calm. Don't yell, don't hit or kick and don't try to do something stupid. Got it?"

You gulp and nod. The doctor notices how you shrink into a ball.

"You can't talk to them like that", Dr Kry says.

"We're no longer in your hospital", Silas says. "Out in the real world, I'm in charge. And I discipline Y/N how I want. Unlike your method, mine actually works."

Dr Kry glances at you. You've curled up beside the car door, hugging your legs close to your body. Tears are running down your cheeks and you have to bite down on your lip to stay silent. He reaches out to caress your hair, but you flinch away. Silas grins in the rearview mirror. 

For the entirety of that terrifying drive, you sit in silence, remembering all the horrific things that occurred in Silas’s house before you eventually ran off. Should you try to make a run for it? You could get away … buy if they catch you you'll go down to the basement. That's a place you want to avoid at all costs.

"Okay, jump out", Silas says after parking the car.

Your hand trembles as you open the car door. Slowly, you step out. The gravel feels harsh and unwelcoming under your feet. A cold breeze runs past you. You hug yourself to create some kind of warmth, but when only wearing a loose, flimsy hospital gown, you can't.

"Let's get you inside", Silas says and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "You must be cold."

Dr Kry stops and looks at Silas’s dark facade. He can't tell if the actual structure is black or if it's so dark that it blends into the night. After a few seconds of thinking, he hurries after. Inside, the house looks like any other house Dr Kry’s been in. The only difference is the lack of personality but maybe that's all that can describe Silas.

You're led upstairs. Silas notices how you try to force your heels down into the floor, but his grip on you is stronger. Dr Kry walks behind you, leaving you no exit. The two men follow you into the bedroom. All will power leaves you the second you see the bed you used to share with Silas. The chains by the bed makes your stomach turn. Silas walks over to them, picking them up.

"Silas, please …", you whisper, frozen in place as you desperately shake your head. "I'm not going to move. I'll stay, I promise."

"I want to believe you, baby", he sighs and hugs you, sighing when you break down in tears for what feels like the hundredth time this day. "I really want to. But the last time you ran away from me, I thought I'd die! I really need you, sweetheart and I can't let that horrible night happen again. I can't let you hurt yourself like you did that night. I hated to see you in that hospital bed when I arrived. You looked horrible. And then you disappeared from me again … I was so fucking worried."

Somehow you agree. That night brought Dr Kry into the picture and made everything so much more complicated.

"Please", you sob desperately. 

Silas thinks for a while before he looks at Dr Kry who nods.

"Okay", Silas says and secures your head into his chest. "No chains."

Your entire body relaxes in relief.

"Give him a hug for being generous", Dr Kry smiles halfly with his arms crossed.

Your arms lock around Silas’s well built body. Silas gives him a surprised look and Dr Kry smiles slightly, shrugging. 

They tuck you in bed and walk out to give you some much needed privacy.

"I didn't know you could be human", Dr Kry says.

"Surprise", Silas says, glancing back to the bedroom door. "I really do love them, you know?"

"I thought you were just a sadist who wanted to hurt Y/N. That's how you come across."

"No. I could watch the world burn, but if anything seriously happened to Y/N I'd join in on burning it down." Silas leans his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "And why did you suddenly become nice to me in there? Was it just a show for Y/N so they'll choose you over me? In that case youre not much better than me."

"I changed my mind about you — but just a little bit. I still think you're an arrogant, narcissistic piece of actual shit … but I don't want Y/N to be scared … and if we fight it will only spiral."

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Silas breathes out, turning to the door. “There’s a guest room for you down the hall. Get some sleep.”

With that said, Silas walks back into the bedroom and into the bathroom. He’s still covered in blood he doesn’t want anywhere near close to you. A smile tugs on his lips when he exits. He'll sleep with you again. It's soon morning hours, but to him it couldn't matter less. The only thing that's important is your body in his arms. He lies down, bringing your sleeping form closer. You fit so perfectly in his arms, it's such a shame that you don't see how perfect the two of you are together.

You wake up earlier than Silas the following morning. For a few moments, nothing comes to mind. Why are you back? Was everything a dream? Did you never escape? Did you never meet Dr Kry again? Did you never come between them? The bandages on your wrists tell you a different story — a real story.

Carefully to not wake Silas, you climb out of the bed and sneak out of the room.

"And where do you think you're headed?" 

You're about to scream in surprise. You snap your head to your left, seeing Dr Kry sit in a chair in the end of the corridor with a syringe in his hands. 

"Bathroom", you lie. 

"I should come with you."

He's about to stand up.

"N-No!" you say quickly. "I'm okay. I won't hurt myself."

"Either let me come with you to make sure you'll be fine or don't go."

"Fine, I won't."

He smiles, exposing his pearly white teeth. "See? I knew you were lying. If you really needed to go to the bathroom, you'd do it even though you were uncomfortable." Dr Kry stands up, slowly walking over to you. "Where were you heading, little one?"

"Nowhere", you say through gritted teeth.

"Nowhere?" He chuckles. "That's a synonym for 'escape'."

"That wasn't said in any dictionary I read."

"Then you didn't read hard enough." He grabs your arm in a firm, but not painful grip. "Sit with me."

You flinch at your doctor's unusual boldness. He pulls you back to the chair, sits down and pets his thighs. You shake your head.

"If I were you, I'd sit", Dr Kry says, showing the syringe. "I don't want to use it unnecessarily, but I need to keep an eye on you. Please don't be difficult, my dear."

You sigh and sit down in his lap, body stiff and uncomfortable. He doesn't move, doesn't even look at you. You can tell that the hand holding the syringe trembles.

An hour later, the door opens and a tired looking Silas comes out.

"You little shit, Y/N", he yawns. "You gave me a heart attack when I didn't have you in my arms."

"And yet you're still breathing", you mutter under your breath.

"I heard that", Dr Kry says, tilting his head into the corner of your eye. 

Of course he did.

"They did try to leave", Dr Kry says, squeezing the flesh of your upper arms. "Who knows what could have happened if I hadn't been sitting here."

Silas moves over to you and towers over you like a giant. With Dr Kry both behind — and practically under you — and Silas in front — and practically above you — you can't help but start to feel claustrophobic. 

"Are you hungry?" Silas asks, tilting your head upwards by your chin. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"No", you respond. 

"Huh, you seem feisty today too."

The men, deciding that it's too big of a risk for you to sit alone down in the kitchen, tie your forearms to the armrests. They're careful to leave that bandaged wrists alone. This way, you won't be able to push the food away or try to run away.

Dr Kry gets his mandatory cup of coffee while Silas rummages through the fridge. You can tell some of his men pass by the door, but none of them give you any attention. Their eyes sneak onto Dr Kry in curiosity, confusion and amusement.

"Here we go", Silas smiles and holds up a bowl of steaming porridge. "This should do the trick."

You've seen him prepare it, you've seen all the ingredients, yet you don't trust him.

"Open", Silas orders, holding a spoonful to your lips. He blows on it for a few seconds to make sure it won’t be too hot for you.

You turn your head away.

"Oh, so we're doing this again?" Silas says, nodding. "Okay, I see how it is. You want me to treat you like a child again. Here comes the airplane~"

You widen your eyes in disbelief, shock and pure embarrassment. Dr Kry snorts out a laugh behind Silas. With burning cheeks, you have no other choice but to open your mouth, scared to be embarrassed further. Bad idea. 

“Hm, seems like you only respond when I baby you”, Silas smirks. “I’m starting to think that you want me to treat you like a little child, is that right?”

“No!” you growl. 

“I’m just kidding, little thing. Open your mouth again, next bite.”

You shiver. You’re not sure, but he managed to mess it up. Salty — too salty — until the point where you need water. You manage to kick the bowl out of his hands. The porcelain shatters against the wooden floor and porridge splatters over the planks. 

“I told you what would happen if you did something stupid, didn’t I?” Silas asks, dark eyes glowing dangerously. 

Shit. You had totally forgotten that. 

“S-Silas-”, you start in horror. 

“‘S-Silas’”, he mocks you as he unties you. “You can’t ‘S-Silas’ your way out of this one. You might be very special to me, that’s why I have to do this. If I teach you not to get on my nerves, you’ll less likely get hurt, don’t you understand that?”

You beg and plead and cry and scream, but Silas’s have turned off his ears. 

[tourettesdog]

DPxDC Prompt where when Jason is resurrected, he does not become fully conscious. He lays in his coffin, at rest while his body slowly absorbs the ambient ectoplasm of Gotham and tries to fix the improper formation of his core.

The rest is not altogether peaceful. He often has nightmares, and has no way of escaping them. The ambient ectoplasm in Gotham is sustaining Jason, but what repairs the ectoplasm is managing are agonizingly slow.

-

Danny has been living in Gotham for awhile, having moved there with Jazz as soon as she turned 18. Gotham has its own host of ghosts, but Danny feels at ease without the constant strain of ghost fights.

That is, until he feels something amiss in the Gotham cemetery.

The cemetery feels wrong, in a way Danny can't place. It reminds him of Amity, how restless it is-- only different. Wrong. He keeps visiting the cemetery, trying to find the source of that feeling. The entire graveyard is saturated with it, and all Danny can do is sit in the graveyard and talk into the quiet. He lets emotions flood from his core, trying to exude an air of calm that might settle whatever restless spirit haunts the grounds.

It works, at least. The sense of restless agitation eases when Danny flares his core, settling into a quiet comfort.

It becomes stronger, too. Danny can feel it coming from a newer section of the graveyard, and he curiously wonders why he's drawn more and more to a single line of headstones.

Wonders why the one on the end seems to stand out, the name Jason Peter Todd burning itself into his dreams.

Wonders why he feels a kinship with this boy's grave, when he can't even see a ghost attached to it or feel any resonance of a core. Nothing stronger than the blob ghosts that haunt the grounds, at least.

Only ever those strange emotions and that restless energy that quiets with the sooth of his own core.

Yet one day when Danny visits the graveyard and flares his core, he's startled when another one answers his.

-

[I originally posted this prompt in the Batpham server and it ended here, but several of us expanded on it and what I’m posting after this are the additions I added in that discussion, some of it edited.] Jason never actually digs out of his grave. When he finally awakens and tries to dig at the coffin he actually slips through it into the soil above. A hand thrusts its way through the soil and pulls him the rest of the way up

Danny is the only one present when Jason comes out of his grave-- when he pulls him free, a ghostly inversion of Robin who he knows to be a halfa. In his confused state, however, Jason does not linger in the cemetery. He runs off, and even though Danny's half ghost and can get around fast, Jason is now too and knows the city well enough that he manages to slip away. He's terrified, confused beyond reason, and hiding.

Jason hangs about the city, and at times he goes up on his favorite gargoyle to think-- and that's the first time Babs sees him. She thinks it's just a mistake-- her own imagination-- because as soon as she looks again, he's gone.

But it keeps happening. Dick swears he sees Jason near the manor grounds when he goes to visit. Alfred swears he sees him in the rear view mirror of the car one day. Tim swears he sees him while heading home one night. Bruce sees him on patrol, long enough for the two to lock eyes, but before Bruce can even open his mouth he's gone. And Danny isn't helping, because he's Looking for Jason still, trying to help, and this suspicious kid keeps turning up in the weirdest places and at a glance he looks like Jason too.

And it fucks with Bruce's head so badly. He can't say anything about it for days, and when he shakily admits it to Alfred the butler tells him he saw the same thing-- and when the others also share this, all of it lining up too perfectly, that's when Bruce approaches the grave and finds it empty.

During this, Jason naturally grows more bold after his initial shock and confusion dies down. He's a bold and smart kid, even if he's confused and afraid. He's just trying to investigate and see how Gotham (and his family) are doing and figure out how he can approach Bruce. He sees Tim and can’t help but feel forgotten and replaced, but without the rage from the pit he's trying to be a bit more level-headed and think things through.

Jason is also learning more about his new physiology, which keeps him distracted and his mind busy. Trying to figure out himself as much as those around him. But some things still haunt him and cannot be so easily ignored.

An encounter with the Joker sets Jason off.

Jason sees the Joker and that rage and hurt builds inside of him and he manages something similar to a wail. It's the most broken sound Danny's ever heard. It's nothing like his wail, it's more like choking and static and more a feeling in the chest than a sound. Jason died from inhaling smoke and didn't have any dying screams. It’s a shattered, raw wall of reverberating emotion that has no justice.

And Danny goes to it-- stumbling, because it's raw enough to punch at his core-- and he just finds the kid he's been looking for knelt on the ground, keening and sobbing his heart out. Danny goes to comfort him, tentatively wrapping an arm around him while they're surrounded by Wreckage (and a clown-shaped dead body).

And when the bats get there they finally get a good look at the specter they've been seeing all around Gotham, and it's absolutely Jason-- with another boy beside him... And the Joker's body, twisted and bloody. But when Bruce gets close, Jason startles, visibly terrified and hurt, and Danny hides them both from view and whisks Jason away to hide him.

Bruce let the Joker live-- and now Jason has killed the man and that horrified expression he caught on Bruce's face won't leave his head. He feels like a monster, destroyed with grief and hurt, and doesn't know what to do.

Danny takes Jason home, and he’s just a fucking Mess. When they get to the apartment Jazz is just about to leave. She was sleeping but the reverberating “wail” woke her and she’s been in a mad dash to grab all of their weapons to storm out and see what the hell has happened.

But right before she can leave, Danny appears with Jason in tow and all of Jazz's questions die on her tongue when she catches sight of the kid. Danny's told her a lot about Jason since he first met him-- and about the cemetery even before then-- and she's been trying to give advice and help out in whatever was she can from a distance. And now, seeing this kid actually here and just the sheer wreck that he is, she can't help but feel fiercely protective of him. She doesn't even know what happened down in the streets, just that Jason's in distress and needs help.

No questions asked, she helps Danny sit him down on the couch, wrap a blanket around him, and make some hot chocolate to try and get him to relax. She certainly has plenty of questions she Wants to ask, but that's not what's important right now. Right now she just has two severely shaken boys that need a safe place and time to calm down.

And even once she knows what happened, Jazz is nothing but supportive. Hell, she's happy to see the Joker is gone, but she doesn't focus on that because it's also not what's important. Instead she just does what she can to make a comfortable space and lets Jason know she's there to listen if he needs to talk.

And at first Jason is hesitant around Jazz-- and alarmed at first that Danny brought him to someone he doesn't know-- but Jazz is so patient and understanding. Jason can't help but relax around her. In a way it hurts, because it reminds him of his own family, but he'd rather have this than nothing, not knowing what reception he'd get back at the manor.

Danny's terrified Batman will want to hunt them both down. He knows this kid used to be Robin, but Jason's own reactions to Batman aren't making Danny feel more secure. If anything, he has a bone to pick with Batman himself now.

And Bruce is just left to reflect on what's happened, knowing that something of his son is still lingering. And he can't stop thinking of that Feeling the wail Jason made left in his chest. He keeps going back to his empty grave, hoping he might find him there. Hoping he might get to apologize to more than just the flowers.

Danny finds Bruce at the grave-- as Bruce, not Batman-- and he puts it together. He thinks he already knew it too, since while he refused to look up Jason Todd's name, it's Too Familiar.

Danny confronting Bruce angrily, expecting the man to rise to his challenge, but all he's met with is just a grieving father who desperately wants to see his son again.

And Bruce recognizes this kid and knows Danny knows where Jason is, but instead of demanding to know where he is he just asks if his son is okay. Because after feeling that wail and seeing what he saw that day, Bruce knows Jason must resent him. He doesn't even know what Jason is anymore, but he knows he's still the kid he loved and he's hurt and Bruce doesn't think he can fix that. He just wants to know if he's okay, and for Danny to tell him that he's sorry. That if Jason ever want to come home, the door will always be open.

Jason is terrified too cause he truly wanted to kill the Joker, but he didn't expect to If he was going to kill him, it would be in a way he could feel with his hands. But the way he did it was in an uncontrollable show of power that he's not sure he could have stopped.

And Danny keeps trying to reassure him that he not only will get a better hold on his powers, but that he's not a monster. That what happened wouldn't repeat itself because the only reason it happened in the first place was because that was the man who Killed Jason and ghosts are emotional beings. It’s still a struggle.

Unfortunately, the Fentons make their way to Gotham. News of what is clearly a ghost killing a person-- villain or not-- is big enough to reach them in Amity. Jazz and Danny were only in Gotham because the parents couldn’t stomach their son being Phantom-- assumed Phantom was overshadowing Danny and turned a moment of trust into one of betrayal. The siblings were trying to lay low, but... well it was Phantom that was seen with the other ghost.

The Fenton parents come to the town with an entire Arsenal and approach the Batman, going on and on about ghosts, how dangerous they are, and in particular how dangerous These ghosts are. They lament about the Death of their own son, and the entire time Bruce is just-- shocked. He wasn't even sure what Jason was, and while the word ghost does seem to fit it still feels like his heart breaking all over again.

And he can't forget how broken Jason seemed, and how protective this Phantom was of his son. He doesn't believe the Fentons, but he does Fear them. He fears what they might do, and that's when he learns about the GIW and that these people are acting Lawfully in telling him, to his face, that they want to hunt down his son.

[middlingmay]

“come on just . . . talk to me.” for clegan could be so good!

This has been sitting in my inbox for moonths. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but I hope you like it anon :)

Continues from my wee ficlet where Gale suspects there's something happening between John and one of his buddies, and he's both wrong and correct about it.

"Come on just…talk to me!"

John trailed after Gale in a hurried two-step. Although John had the advantage in height, that felt all for nothing now as Gale's stride swallowed up ground.

John had barely managed to stutter out an explanation of what had happened with Harry before any promises Gale had made him about keeping his head had been fast forgotten and he had near upended John fishing the car keys from his pockets.

Normally such a thorough going over would have John reclining back with his hands behind his head, but this time he clawed at Gale's arms, fruitlessly trying to keep Gale with him.

Gale had kicked the door open and was gunning for the car. He got as far as the key in the lock before John bulldozed into his side and brought him down hard onto the ground.

In a far more violent echo of their fight earlier that day, before Harry lost his absolute mind, Gale and John rolled around on the hard ground in the barely-lit evening. Gale bucked and thrashed and kicked, and John was going to be sporting some cracking bruises tomorrow. He held on by the strength of his legs alone, and when Gale managed to get his legs under him and tried to stand, John clamped tighter and dragged Gale right back down. He reached for the keys clutched fiercely in Gale's hands, but Gale saw him coming. He shoved the keys down his shirt and started to use those long and dexterous fingers to poke at all of John's soft and sensitive and vulnerable bits to try and loosen his grip.

But John rode it out and finally managed to wrap Gale's arms up tight against his own chest, pinned by John's arms locked around his torso.

"Get off me, John," Gale warned, low and spitting.

"Nuh-uh. Not a chance."

Gale made a frustrated, impotent noise.

"What're you gonna do, huh?"

Gale thrashed and twisted, and managed to roll them so John was on his bag, groaning and his breath was squeezed out of him under Gale's weight.

"I'm going to sink my boot into that skinny bastard's ass, that's what I'm gonna do! Thinks he can just kiss you and get away with it? Whilst I'm breathing?!"

"You—fuck." John had to brace and hold on with all his might as Gale managed to leverage himself onto his knees. But hold on he did. Like a damn spider monkey. "You promised!"

Gale was panting, sucking down air like John did carcinogens. Whether due to wrestling with John's weight on his back, or the anger that still had him trembling underneath all the points where John touched him, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't about to make the shittiest bet of his life that Gale was through working his way up to manslaughter.

John used his extra weight to his advantage and rocked forward hard and fast, sending Gale back down to the ground under him again.

Gale hissed and foamy spittle splattered on to the ground, and John worked one hand through Gale's hair, shushing and soothing.

"What did I say, hm? Before I left what did I say? Where am I lookin'?"

Gale tried to jerk his head out of from underneath John's pressing and prodding and scraping fingers but got nowhere. "It's not about you lookin' elsewhere, Bucky," he warned. "He's got no right to put hands or…any other part of him on you like that!"

"I know. I know. And I set him straight. I told you, I set him straight. You believe me? You trust me?"

The fight started to seep out of Gale. Because he did. He trusted Bucky with his life, with his whole entire future. And wasn't that terrifying, putting all of that on one man and expecting him to bear the load? But Bucky did, without a single missed step. Even when Buck missed a whole bunch of them himself and went spiralling down the stairs.

He'd warned Bucky he was a mess at relationships. Didn't matter what kind, he'd been a mess at them his whole life. Not a one of them had lasted. Not till Bucky.

And the thought of someone else showing Bucky what it could be like with someone else? Without so much shit to carry? That wasn't going to fly with him at all.

But Bucky was a grown man. He could handle his own business. Gale had to let him handle his own business. Take responsibility for yourselves, the head doc had said. Try to ease off the co-dependency.

Well, if this was what independence looked like, Gale was not a fan.

But still. They'd promised to do right by each other and try.

"Alright." It was quiet and begrudging but he said it. "Alright. You're right, I…I don't know what I was thinkin'."

John huffed and Gale felt him knock his head against the back of Gale's. Felt the muscles of his arms and legs ease off. His hands spasmed like they wanted the snatch all John's limbs back up and keep them there. See how long they could hold on.

"You were thinking you're a jealous bastard with a mean streak no one sees coming. That's what you were thinking. Like I don't know you, Buck, Christ."

John released him finally and rolled onto his back in a wide-armed, open-legged sprawl. it was a tempting, inviting space built perfectly for Gale's wide shoulders.

John propped himself up on his elbows. It stuck his chest out and Gale watched as John still tried to catch his breath. His curls were unruly and springing their way to freedom, apart from the wisps at his hairline that got caught up in his sweat. It made his face glow with the light it caught.

"Can't say I blame you, though. If some guy came on to you, I'd—"

Gale threw himself on top of John, claiming his mouth. Maybe his blood was hot. Maybe he couldn't stand the thought of anymore someone's trying to come between him and John. Maybe the sight of John laid out and breathless because of him was too much to bear, but Gale had one hand around the back of John's neck and was tipping his head up to lave his tongue over the dexterous stretch of John's own. They still couldn't breathe. Each kiss was punctuated by gasping inhales, cut off by dip of a tongue or the nip of their teeth.

Gale hauled them upright and, wrenching the hem of his shirt out from his pants, and caught the key that came tumbling out.

"What—?"

"Car," Gale kissed the sound into John's mouth. "Now."

John dropped his hands to Gale's belt and shifted just enough so Gale could reach the lock on the car door. Gale's hands shook as the clink of his belt opening split the air and John thumbed the buttons of his pants open. His large, calloused hand, warmed by a body that always ran hot, slipped inside and covered Gale with a hard press that had him nearly biting through his lip.

John's kisses whispered up the nape of his neck. "Get in the car, Gale."

He finally popped open the door and grabbed the collar of John's shirt. Gale flipped them around and, hands under John's thighs, nearly threw him inside. He watched as John crawled backwards on the bench seat, straining at the front of his pants. One look from Gale was he crawled in after him, and John was frantically flailing trying to remove whatever layers he could to expedite Gale getting on him.

"Fuck, baby," he said with an awe he reserved for B-17s and Gale. "How could anyone else even come close? Not never."

Never. There might be others out there who could show John how to build a healthier relationship. There might be others out there who would know how to de-escalate things and solve disagreements without pushing each other around a little until they got hot from it.

But all those jag offs would have to go through Gale and his cold, dead body before they got to John.

He saw him first and he wasn't giving him up. Fuck what the head headshrinker said.

As he looked down at John, who just looked pleased as punch to be there, Gale thought. Yeah. No one else. Not never.

-

Harry worked the counter at the tailor's Fridays through Sundays.

The owner was getting on in years, and wanted to spend his weekends with his wife and their grandchildren. So, the weekends were reserved for measurements and drop offs only, which Harry could take, and he'd make appointments for them to follow up with with Mr Flaherty later in the week.

The shop was never quieter than that last half hour to closing on a Sunday. By 5.30pm, most people were at home with their families enjoying the last of their quality time together before work and school, or they were out enjoying the final vestiges of freedom provided by the weekend.

So, when the bell over the door went at 5.50pm, ten minutes before closing, Harry didn't think nothing of calling out over his shoulder without looking, "Sorry, we're closing. Come back at nine tomorrow."

He expected to hear shuffling, maybe a mumbling sorry, and certainly the ding of the bell as the door was opened and closed again, But he heard none of that.

Instead, when he spun round, he was greeted with the sight of the always impeccably dressed Major Gale Cleven sitting cross-legged in one of the waiting chairs, staring at him.

Whilst Harry thought John was easy to read—or had though until his gross miscalculation—he'd never been able to get any kind of grasp on his more enigmatic friend.

Well, not his friend, clearly. God, he'd been blind not to see it before. Several of the townsfolk had mentioned how close they were, but Harry hadn't thought anything of it, too laser-focused on the way John smiled at him and the way he smelled and how he touched so easy…

"Harry." Even his voice gave nothing away. A low rumble with barely any inflection.

Had John told him? Harry stared, trying to see through even the slightest crack in Cleven's veneer.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

He was starting to suspect. Harry glanced towards the door.

Gale followed his gaze, and slowly reach out and flicked the snib above the lock.

Fuck. John definitely told him. "Uh…"

"I think you and I need to have a talk."

[kbagraces]

Flip A Switch - Lando Norris

Lando Norris Mafia AU

As much as we try to suppress the stigma, strong women will continue to be perceived as intimidating until you learn to love us.

PART 3 - Demons

I sped straight home to Mandi. She's my absolute ride or die, she's also the only person I've ever been allowed to be around. My father always hated anyone who tried to associate with me, Mandi somehow charmed her way into being my best friend and almost like an adopted cousin to my family. She's been by my side from the age of 15 and will be forever.

I may not have a gang of men supporting me but combined, Mandi and I have more intelligence than the lot of them. Mandi suggested there was no time to be wasted so we packed up all the stuff we could carry, my essentials consisted of all the weapons i could fit into my bag, Mandi however filled hers with clothes for every scenario as in her words "murderous rampages can still look cute". And I can't argue with that.

We had a plane waiting for us in Dover, we agreed flying from London would be a little too obvious however we were going to detour through London to possibly trick them in case they were tracking us in anyway. Keegan is not the brightest so I don't think he would've caught on just yet, but you never know his team might surprise me.

We sped down winding country roads, only an hour from London where we'd stop briefly.

Mandi reached to turn down the music, "What do you think Norris meant when he said his family leaving your dad was a misunderstanding?"

Now i love Mandi, but she does like to see the good in people. This was just not one of the times it was needed.

"Mands, he's a man. He's lying. As much as he painted it that he wanted to help me, there's always an ulterior motive, there always is with men in this business."

"Your dad was a man though. You trusted him, even more than you trust me."

"Daddy always had my best interests at heart. He never lied to me." I miss him so much, we were exactly the same. My mother used to hate the way we'd pair up in everything we did. My relationship with him fuelled Keegan's hatred as well. Daddy loved Keegan, he was a great father to us both. But daddy knew Keegan wasn't business minded, he was messy and he never planned things out or thought before he acted, he wouldn't make a good leader and he's going to ruin my entire bloodlines reputation if we don't get to Spain.

Keegan knows. Unsure when they're leaving.

"Why is he still reaching out to you?" Mandi questions as Lando's message flashes up on the dash. "You must've made a lasting impression." She smirked, I wasn't sure what she was getting at but i didn't appreciate it.

"Not going to send some love hearts back then?"

She finds herself too funny.

"Fuck off and put this in," I lean over my the centre console into my bag in the back, pulling out earpieces. She raises an eyebrow, I already know what she's thinking.

"Are we fucking spies now or something?" She laughs.

"I know you think it's excessive Mands but this isn't a drive along with my dad, you're fully involved now. It's just a precaution." She nods, slipping the device into her ear.

The low fuel warning light flashes up on the dash, "might have to make an early stop."

We pull into a rough looking petrol station. Mandi jumps out of the car beginning to fill it up. Watching her every move in case of any unexpected danger she waltzes into the station. She suddenly turns to the cashier before bolting to the dimly lit bathroom.

"Y/n/n, fuck there's two men sat in the cafe. Guns on the table, the cashier looks fucking terrified. I think they're- I hear her say over the earpiece.

The sound of glass exploding beside my head cut off whatever she was saying. Shards flew all around me, i instinctively ducked down into the foot well of Mandi's car.

"Mands. Don't move. Do not leave the bathroom" I stressed, popping my head up slightly, the men had disappeared from the cafe however the entrance to the petrol station door was swinging.

"Are you fucking joking? You'll die on your own!"

"Stay there!" I screamed, she's not here for this.

Footsteps clicked around the car, "I think we got her! The boss will be happy. Check her."

The passenger side door where I sat flew open, my gun being the first thing to welcome him, not the dead body he was expecting. A smirk found its way on my face as he scrambles for his own gun once more. One shot to the head. He slumps straight down. I jump out, where is this other idiot. "If you're going to put a hit on me, you actually have to hit me you fucker." I spit, sliding my way around the car.

"You've got a smart fucking mouth. They all say it's a shame you're a bitch with a body like that." I feel his arms clasp around me, pulling me against his body. One hand clasping a knife pressed into my neck, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but with one glide, dead. His other hand wrapped in his hand pulling my head back into his shoulder.

Fuck. I bend my arm backwards, grabbing at his manhood, squeezing and twisting. He screams out in pain, leading his grip to tighten, the opposite of what I was hoping would happen.

"Fuck you." He seethes, smashing my head into the side of the car. My vision going with every hit.

I hear Mandi, come out screaming. She's not armed. I made a mistake not providing her with a weapon, i didnt think we'd need them this early into the trip. Fucking stupid.

I want to yell at her to stop, I don't know how close she is.

I hear a gun shot.

Mandi.

But then the grip begins to loosen in my hair his head sliding down my back a warm trail of what i assumed is his blood staining the back of my hoodie. Did Mandi have a gun?

"What the fuck?" I hear her exclaim.

My body collapses finally, my vision still blurred but the piercing screaming sound in my ears slowly dispersing.

"How many times do I have to stop these situations before you realise I'm on your side?"

I know that voice. I'm starting to hate that voice. Lando.

I know he just saved me and Mandi, but he just can't mask the cockiness in his voice.

"How did you know we were here?" Mandi questions as she runs over to me, wiping the hair that was stuck to my head with blood away. Using her sleeve to clean up what she could.

"If they can track you, so can we." He shrugged. He's worryingly nonchalant after killing someone. I feel pangs of guilt even if i hate them, with Lando, not a care in the world, he was born to be a killer. I was taught.

"Thank you." I choke out, my voice hoarse.

"Nat has a place not too far from here. It's protected, you guys can crash with us tonight. No strings if you still want to be proud and carry on without us you can. But get some rest first." He speaks to Mandi, he can tell she's not as one track minded as i am.

"No we need to carry on-"

"Y/n with what car? You're in no state of mind to make decisions."

I try to argue but i feel Lando's hands already, grabbing both my arms, pulling me up. I lean into him, feeling a lot less stable than i convinced myself i was. Mandi already stepping into the car, Lando assists me to the car, my arm around his waist as his is slid beneath my arms.

"Good to see you again, y/n!" Natalie cheers as Lando places me in the backseat, he leans over clicking in my seat belt for me, I want to protest, but i genuinely don't think i could've done that myself.

Its strange how Natalie is so cheery as if she didn't just witness a murder, possibly two.

The mumbles of their voices all begin to merge together. I hear Mandi, shaking me to stay away just until we get to Natalie's.

All i could do was hum.

I can't fight it. Their voices finally disappear.

Masterlist

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