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#screaming on the playground and everything
visceravalentines · 3 days
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cold blue summer
a slasher movie AU for The Passenger (2023)
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Elliot Sheppard, a third-grade teacher at Central Elementary, abused children for many years before being exposed and taking his own life. Now, twenty years later, the school is being demolished, and something has awakened.... Strap in for the cruelest summer on record.
An homage to classic slasher movies with a summer romance flair.
Read the intro below and read the first chapter (and the rest as it updates this summer) on ao3! Mind the tags--suicide, implied/referenced child abuse, graphic depictions of violence.
School lets out early that year.  
The kids don’t question it, no matter how many times they catch the adults cutting conversations short when they walk in the room.  You don’t look too hard at a gift like that, four extra days of blue sky and no schedule.  
The school makes a statement that says everything and nothing, tries to keep the details vague, but word spreads anyway like kudzu.  The parents sit and fret, cancel camps, extend family vacations.  Stand in the hallways late at night and peer through cracked bedroom doors and swallow their dread down whole and kicking.  Read statistics.  Count their blessings.  
It’s a weird summer, gets off on a weird foot, like trying to hopscotch wrong-foot-forward.  
It’s early Monday morning, too early for teachers to arrive yet.  The schedule change allows extra time to tear down posters, enter the final few grades.  Nobody’s in a rush, though, to sit alone in the empty classrooms.  To sit in the silence of that building and let imagination run wild.  To be there, in the place where it happened.  In proximity to the unthinkable, guilty by association.  By ignorance.  By inaction.  
Elliot Sheppard has been missing for three days.  
The playground for the younger grades sits on the east side of the school at the base of the hill.  The kids call it the Little Toy, relative to the Big Toy, which is on the other side of the building and reserved for the older grades.  Weeds have already started their seasonal conquest, bursting up at the edge of the wood chips and in the shade of the slide.  The foursquare courts need repainting.  A kickball sits half-deflated in the grass at the bottom of the hill.  
The lonesome call of a mourning dove trembles over the dew.  The sun stretches its arms over the lowlands, rosy and resplendent.  In the pale dawn light, blood drips black onto the wood chips.  The gun sits mere inches from the thick-fingered hand that dropped it.  Very little of the man remains above the bridge of his nose, mouth rent asunder, a tooth fairy’s bounty.  Flies already swarm around the pale blue sinkholes of his eyes.  
He will be found in less than an hour by the secretary who bid him good morning every day since she started at Central.  The police will identify him immediately and do their damnedest to keep these details out of the media too, in the name of protecting privacy, protecting dignity.  In an effort to shelter the soft and innocent from the uglier parts of life.  
This time, at least, they might succeed.  
-
Three miles away and twenty years later, Benson Rousseau jolts awake with a scream in his throat.  
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tequiilasunriise · 2 years
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Honestly, can we please take a step back and laugh over how absolutely hilarious the spectrum that is humanity? This turned into a bit of a tangent so the muskrat dragging will be under the cut.
Like, on one hand we have Elon Musk who is throwing the world’s biggest, most publicized temper tantrum over random internet strangers being mean to him and rightfully calling his bullshit out. This man is trying so hard to cover his tracks after buying Twitter and time after time after time again he keeps being his worse enemy. If he would just shut his mouth and stop giving the rest of the world fuel to clown the fuck outta him, Twitter wouldn’t be actively burning to the ground in real time right now. Sure, these memes are incredibly funny and I am very much thriving over these homefires, but I do feel bad for those who relied on Twitter for business like small artists. This is only the iceberg tip of his vileness, mind you.
Moving on, on the other side of the spectrum we have the backbone of our society, truly the peak, dare I say the PINNACLE of humanity- softly apologetic ao3 writers. Literally some of my FAVORITE ao3 experiences is opening up the update and seeing author’s notes like, “I’m so sorry I haven’t updated in a while, my cat’s ovaries exploded and on the way to the hospital I got into a major car crash but don’t worry the doctor who took care of me was amazing and next thing you know we’re wives now with like, two kids and yes my cat is perfectly fine after all of this time.” Obviously this is a dramatization, but we all know and have seen those authors who literally went through the most traumatic, the most absolutely life-changing shit and STILL genuinely apologize to their readers for?? For what??? Not updating this Wenclair Griddlehark AU 200k words enemies to lovers slowburn??? Like, you are the least problematic person to ever exist please don’t ever apologize for not cranking out surprisingly well-written smut about some popular Tumblr Sexyman getting the wizzy dizzy glizzy gulp gulp guzzler 9000 because real life obligations got prioritized. 
(In all seriousness, yes, I love getting updates on my favorite fics as much as the next media enjoyer, but self care babes self careeeee. You may be a content creator of any variety, but you’re your own person first. Don’t ever feel the need to apologize for living your life because us shippers, shitposters, and all in-between can (and should) wait.)
tl;dr: The sheer duality of humanity is absolutely hilarious and I think we should talk about this more.
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oh think youre fucking clever do you
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heniareth · 2 years
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I wish the marketing industry a very please die
#reviewing a document on how to market to kids and i just want to burn the whole thing to the ground#it talks about community and the need for companionship and mental health and everything. EVERYTHING goes back to how can we use that#*to promote our brand#leave the kids alone for fuck's sake#what are you gonna prey on kids' loneliness to have them buy more product? you gonna foment the already present addiction to social#media for a few clicks and some cash? fuck you. fuck you fuck you fuck you to the sun and back#advertising to kids should be forbidden#let's tell a heartwarming story about friendship and cameraderie to advertise pur products IS NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE#they talk about the fucking dopamine loop that happens on social media and i don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing in their eyes#''being where they escape'' written over a photo of a skateboard park with a huge ad hanging over the ramps IT'S NOT AN ESCAPE ANYMORE NOW#image of 3D avatars with speech bubbles over them with stuff like ''let's play'' or ''what's up?'' and the figures are all just. looking#*into the distance. is there a more poignant depiction of loneliness in an online hyperconected world?? and i think it's unironically meant#to be a positive depiction of people having fun in a virtual world and yet ALL OF THEM ARE STANDING AROUND AND SYARING INTO NOTHING#antithesis of fun. they talk about overload of information in the context of how to cut through the noise and basically scream louder than#*anyone else. for God's sake if kids are overloaded don't expose them to more????? wtf??? if ''constant exposure to global issues and#*social media are resulting in their need for mental health support'' maybe don't try to build places for them on FUCKING social media??#like are we dumb? do we build playgrounds on highways now?? you talk about the fine line between escapism and avoidance and then about the#dopamine loop?? this industry is predatory to the most extreme degree and i hate it to death. if i ever have kids i'll buy myself a brick#*nokia and relinquish all social media. fuck all of this. the worst part is i WORK here and i should be able to do something to make it#*better but fuck if i know how. can the ship bee saved or do we have to burn it to the ground. i am so angry#swearing#vent post
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sunseed-fandump · 28 days
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Every good circus needs a Big Top! And this here is the tent used by the Liar's Circus! But don't be fooled by its small size, the interior is guaranteed to blow any circus fan away! All forms of entertainment can be found within!
Nobody can put a price tag on FUN! So everything is free for the taking! Just step through the door!
Eat, drink, be merry! Let your emotions fly as high as the trapeze!
All that energy will soon be put to better use...
More information about the individual areas under the cut!
ARENA
This is the central area where most performances are given. From clowning around to acrobatic feats that boggle the mind, it's all done here! All paths around the circus lead back to this area, so it is also typically considered "the crossroads" of the circus.
The path to the Arena from the entrance runs through a gauntlet of concessions and gift stands. So many wonderful treats on display almost makes it feel like a dream.
Zoo
All manner of strange creatures are kept within the cages. Summoned from the great beyond lie beasts twisted by shadows and kissed by the forbidden reaches. Lions? Tigers? Bears? Those are nothing compared to what lurks behind the steel bars...
Games Square
Up for a challenge? The Games Square is the perfect place to show off one's skills. Tests of strength, dexterity, and intelligence can be found here. And don't worry about losing, everyone is sure to walk away with a wonderful prize! Just.. Be careful not to get lost in the hall of mirrors.
Playground
This area is for those who crave some good old-fashioned fun. The map really doesn't do it justice. A beautiful carousel spins all day long, filling the air with joyous music. Slides, swings, and various other pieces of equipment offer plenty of ways to play, play, play! So run around! Scream and shout! Let out all that pent-up energy!
Theater
Beautiful tear-jerking performances and awe-inspiring tales are spun on this stage. There's never a shortage of stories! All of them were written by the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown-- Huh? Who is he? Our beloved Ringmaster of course!
Staff Area
This is where Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard Cookie stay. Each performer gets their own tent, filled with all the basic comforts a hard-working cookie needs. Of course, they're tailored to the individual interests of each child as well. Wizard has a cozy little tower filled with books. Strawberry has all sorts of games to keep her occupied. As for Gingerbrave, he's got toys, crayons, and even a whole trampoline in there! The kids are certainly comfortable.
Ok, that's all cool but what's ACTUALLY going on in there?
The answer to that is simple, this plane exists to gather energy for Shadow Milk Cookie. Magic is tied to emotion. So the more excited the guests feel, the more life energy Shadow Milk collects from them. Everything here is perfectly harmless (to guests), as the point is to only illicit strong emotions of thrill, excitement, and joy.
Guests are free to come and go as they please, but when they do leave, everyone feels especially drained.
And if the circus faces a tough crowd? Well, fear is also a viably strong emotion to gather energy from.
The only Cookies in the tent who Shadow Milk Cookie does not collect energy from is the kids. As they need their strength to perform and complete whatever tasks are given to them.
Cookies who are labeled as "Intruders" will have a horde of phantoms, animals, and puppets come down on them from all sides, and that's not even counting how Shadow Milk can control everything and anything inside. So it's best not to pick a fight unless one is prepared...
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inkyray · 27 days
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a/n: lol buckle up 4 this one hahahhaaaahhhh....
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warnings/content ahead: really heavy angst, death of a loved one, bsf!sturniolo triplets, mentions of self harm, crying, negative thoughts to oneself, hatred toward a parent, comforting!matt, comforting!chris, comforting!nick, all yall hurting in this
6.1K words
PERMANENT
You've always been there, since the very beginning. From the zoomed in pictures challenges they'd do in Boston for YouTube, still young and exploring, to the second tour they went on, more serious and dedicated.
Every memory they had, you were a part of it. You were laced into their mind like metal strings, they couldn't not think of you if they'd tried. You felt permanent.
6 years old
The wind blew past your wild hair as you watched children laugh and run in glee, the sun leaving a warm cast onto your skin as everything was tinted in the golden rays of the hot star. The summer heat had your baby hair stick to your forehead as you sat at the birch bench, watching innocent laughter falter through your ears and children playing with no care in the world.
Your chest felt hollow under the sundress your father had dressed you in, the feeling of utter sadness swimming along your body as everyone was paired with friends. All but you.
The frown seated on your lips undeniable, you watched identical boys sit behind each other on the top of the slide, choosing the adventurous side of sliding down, going down backwards.
"Nick, I don't wanna do this!" One of the blond boys complained as he tightened his grip on the blue slide, sitting in the middle of the two. "Come on Matt, we're not gonna die!" Another argued back, your small brain lost track of who was who, but your attention didn't shift from them.
"Let's go, Chris, push me and Matt–and then–and then super quickly jump behind us and go backwards with us!" The blond boy urged and you watched as the boy in orange sucked in a breath, making up the courage. You wished you were playing with them, the happiness glittering in their eyes remarkable from miles away.
You somehow felt sadder.
All three giggled before anything even happened. It started off as small nervous giggles, before the others caught on and full-blown laughed, their eyes squinting as they lost their scared demeanor. You laughed along, watching the humor radiate off them and onto you. Joy shot through you just looking at them, you were giggling with them unknowingly.
"Okay! Okay! Chris, three.. two... two and a half..." They were pushed down the slide in an instant, their backs aimed right to the ground. "I didn't say go!" One screamed in a mix of utter horror and excitement, clearly taken by surprise at the sudden push.
They laughed their entire way down the slide, falling to the ground and piling on top of each other.
They stayed on the ground for a moment, soaking up the sudden adrenaline as they laughed. It looked fun, you felt excitement build up in your chest just looking at them. "Chris!" one laughed, "Nick didn't say go!"
"Yeah!" the other agreed, "I said two and a half!"
"Two and a half? What kind of dumb shit is that?"
"Chris, next time when I say 'go' you push us!" The one in the purple got up, getting rid of any dirt that stuck to his clothes.
"No! I don't want to push you guys again!" The one in the orange crossed his arms over each other. "Matt?" The one in the purple raised an eyebrow.
"No way, José!"
They fall into laughter at the use of 'no way, josé'. You didn't understand why it was funny, but you grinned with them. 
"Fine then! Let's find someone who will push us!"
"Why can't it just be you, Nick?" The one in the blue sighed.
"I don't wanna."
Moments longer of dialogue are exchanged between the three as you study them, unable to take your eyes off them as they begin searching around the playground.
They ask multiple children the same question, but the kids were all caught up with their own thing. That was, until they approached you.
"Hey!" The purple one ran toward you as his brothers followed behind. "What's–" He swallows quickly. "What's your name?" He wonders, catching his breath. Your heart skips a beat and you're suddenly sitting straight up on the wooden bench.
You mutter your name, and wide smiles are exchanged between all three. "Well, I'm Nick!" The one in the purple points to himself, "This is my brother Chris," He points to the one in the orange, "and that's Matt!"
"You all look the same." You point out unapologetically, they just shrug. "We're triplets." Chris says as he squinted to look at you, the sun hitting his blue eyes directly. You nod, "Like twins but three?"
"Yes! Like twins but three." Nick confirms and Matt just lingered behind him. "Wanna come play with us? We need somebody to push us down that slide." He perks up from behind Nick, pointing to the slide as you feel yourself getting excited. Since the moment you sat there, all you wanted to do was play with them.
"Yes, I'll help you guys." You get up from your spot on the bench as they give each other looks of victory. "Follow us!"
In seconds, you were seated backwards on the slide, between Nick's legs as you all slid down the tall blue slide at ultra-speed. Or, that's how it felt like for your child-like minds. "Are you ready, guys!?" Nick called out. "Yes! Now go! Go! Go!" Matt called out, and you pushed them with you in an instant.
You all yelled out giggles of shock, falling on top of all of them last as they rolled around the ground, trying to get up and do it again.
"Again! Again!"
"It was so freakin' funny falling on top of you guys." You wholeheartedly giggle, fixing the skirt of your dress as you took Matt's hand to help you up. You were beaming, the first time in your element.
"What!? Now I wanna push you guys!" Nick said, running to the ladder of the slide. "No! I want to!" Matt argued, letting go of your hand as he tried to make it to it before Nick did.
14 years old
You blew out a ragged breath, watching as it turned to cold frost in the air. You weren't sure how they could allow this, but you had been one of the only girls in the hockey team, ready to be drifted off into the ice rink.
You watched as Chris quickly swerved on the ice, passing the puck to Nate who made it his complete mission to score. They were blocked, the opposing team snatching the puck out of Nate's grasp and darting for their net.
Panic set in your stomach, wishing you could hop on the ice and take the puck from them. You sat on the bench beside Matt, you two were up next, and you shot him a worried glance. This wasn't going too well.
Your team was down a score, and there were two rounds left, including this one. You had already scored once before, other teammates alongside you and Nate. You were on the edge of your seat, watching as Chris stole the puck back and swiftly skated past the opposing team, fast and stealthy, pushing past a few shoulders, bumping them off to the side.
You felt proud of him, your gloved hands screwed tight into a fist as he was moments away from scoring. "Come on, Chris." Matt whispered from beside you, just as attentive as you. "Come on." You mutter, repeating his words, hoping the universe would listen and hand him the goal.
As the words leave your lips, Chris makes a swerve and a turn, pushing past a tall player and lifting his stick for a quick push, ultimately scoring the goal.
You and Matt jump up immediately, cheering and praising Chris with pride alongside other teammates. He and Nate skate toward you guys with sheepish grins after celebrating with their team as the crowd cheered. It takes you a moment to realize you and Matt were up now. And the scores were tied.
"Up to you guys now." Nate says lazily, giving you two an all knowing smile as he takes his helmet off. "They got this," Chris puts a hand on your padded shoulder. "Right?"
You nodded. "We got this." You breathed in, looking at Matt for some sort of agreement. He was just as terrified as you. "We got this?" He questions. You secure your helmet on. "We totally do, don't we Matt?" We're fucked. You thought.
"Yeah, yeah. Heh."
"Matt, don't let her get squished in the rink, okay? Those dudes are huge." Chris said as everyone got ready for the next round. "You saw how well she did a few minutes ago, I wouldn't be worried." Nate said with a shrug, and the pressure on you felt outweighing, although there was no pressure at all.
"Nah, either way, I will. The size difference is wild." Matt shook his head, securing his mouthguard. That reminds you, you put yours on too.
"Thenth when thid they allow girlths to play againthst boyths anyway?" You wonder out loud, immediately regretting deciding to speak after securing your mouthguard on, giving you a built-in lisp over your teeth. The boys around you erupt into immediate laughter, and you roll your eyes.
Their laughs are so loud and ridiculous, the teammates around you stare, and you can't help but chuckle along. 
"Yeah, yeah. Okay, laugh ith up."
-
The helmet pressed against your forehead, you were on the ice but you were beaded in sweat, your face completely flushed as you were beyond concentrating on the play in front of you. You watch the puck switch between teammate to teammate all from the otherside of the hockey pitch.
You swallow built in saliva in your mouth when you see the puck being passed onto Matt. He looks up, maintaining a balance between keeping the puck with him as he searches for you, eventually landing his eyes on you. Your eyes widen.
This round has been going on for so long, everyone had quickly begun to run out of comfortable time to score. It was either now or never. Matt pushed against the ice, skating to you before abruptly stopping when someone tried stealing the puck from him. He was still so far, but he still did it. He flung the puck to you and you were moments away from getting the score for your team.
You pushed past male players, it was a struggle but you managed. Cold wind prickled the tip of your runny nose as you pushed through it. Nick watched from the crowd, seated by his parents and older brother, Nate's parents and siblings, and your father. Everyone was watching, and it was all up to you now.
Your ears rang, everything went silent, and you scored. It felt like a blur. Your senses come back to you in an instant. Noticing just how loud everyone is and how bright everything was, you realize you have won your team, a chuckle escaping your mouth.
In seconds, your entire team comes swerving in, lifting you up from a crowd and cheering your name. It takes you a second to realize that Matt and Chris were the ones who held you up, the rest volunteering, keeping you steady. You shove your helmet off, spitting your mouthguard out and cheering.
You searched the crowd, seeing your dad give you a wide and proud smile, chanting your name beside your best friend Nick, who was doing the same.
16 years old
You cannot believe you had just watched your best friend's house just burn down.
Your father was out of town, trusting you little enough not to let you stay home alone, not wanting to come home to a mess of a house-party. Whatever.
You were staying with your best friends, which was better. Nick was off at some pool party you didn't want to go to, the girls there didn't particularly like you. It's not that you cared, you just wished they'd give you a chance. All you wanted was a girl friend who didn't see you as competition. You weren't sure what you did, but it hurt.
In seconds, the house was smoked up with gray fog and flames, making it hard to breathe and see. You ran out of the house in your pajamas as Matt and Chris ran out in their underwear in panic. A helicopter flooded the scene and firefighters broke in. It was all happening so fast you felt your heart fall to your ass.
The entire neighborhood came out and watched the scene, a neighbor offering Matt and Chris some clothes, which they gradually took. "Where's Justin?" You ask, referring to their older brother in worry. "Yeah where–" Chris wonders, out of breath before landing his gaze behind you. You turn around to see Justin, completely dripped out in swag with a backpack over his shoulder, unfazed.
"Your house is on fire." You try reminding, looking for some sort of panic in his eyes. He just pops a shoulder.
Apparently he was aware, in his room picking out an outfit and collecting everything he needed in a backpack, taking his sweet time. You laughed. You had to give it to him.
The scene however, was overall traumatizing. You were watching Chris play Fortnite with Matt and friends when realization hit that the house was on fire,  and now you guys were on your way to Nate's house, who'd heard the news.
They shoved the clothes over their heads in the car, asking you over and over, "Are you okay?" You were still pretty shaken up, but managed to give them a smile. "Other than the fact I lost all the clothes and stuff I brought, I barely even have a scratch."
"Hey, we lost all our shit too, you know." Matt says, you spare him an apologetic look. If this was hard on you, this must've been 10x worse on them. You sat between them, laying a head on Matt's shoulder and hand on Chris's knee. "I'm sorry."
"You weren't the one who started the fire." Chris laughed. That's true. It was his aunt who dropped a lit cigarette, but still, guilt settled in your stomach. You felt sorry for them and wanted them to know.
"The time will pass." Their dad said from the driver's seat, his accent boring into your ears as you nodded. "Damn straight, Dad." Matt agreed, sighing. They needed all the comfort they could get now.
You reach Nate's house and you all jump out in an instant, greeted by his family first before looking for him in his bedroom. Walking in, you see him playing Fortnite on his computer, making you three chuckle.
You all stand behind him, watching him play. "Bro, you're only level 27?" Chris questioned with a mock. 
"Your house burnt down." Nate answers blankly.
Now
They were thriving. Their careers reached an all time high and their fame beyond measurable, even if it didn't feel like it.
A-list celebrities recognized them, praising their humor and content. Living in LA now and never leaving the house without getting recognized, a photo being shot of them next to one too many strangers all the time as you would tag along, trailing behind them.
You've never had an interest in being the famous one, beyond okay with the fact that they were the ones in the limelight, not you. But, just being friends with them had its consequences.
You didn't run in the channel, but you were referenced a lot, even when you weren't around. If you weren't making an appearance in the channel, you were brought up, a common topic between the three. The fans knew who you were, and while half loved and praised you, the other half hated your guts. You grew to accept it, the more people like you, the more people hate you. That's what your father would tell you.
The fans were harsh, constantly scanning everything you'd do or say to your best friends, analyzing every word that comes out of your mouth. It had gotten to the point where they'd zoom in on your hands in videos, disgusted with the fact that your hands were shaking, or the way you were picking at your nails. Nothing went unseen.
Although your best friends were in the limelight, you fell victim to it too, but never for the right stuff. The fans were hypocrites, toying with your emotions. The same day they would express their disgust in your behavior, was the same day they would praise a new photo that was posted of you. It felt overwhelming and confusing, making an ugly mix of anxiety in your stomach.
Now, you were seated on the couch by Matt, who was scrolling on his phone mindlessly. Multiple people were over at their house, hanging out, playing games, and overall having fun. A majority were influencers, you being one out of a very little who was only there because you knew who the triplets were, not because you had an active social media.
Your thumb taps on the comments of your new post. You didn't post regularly, very rarely at most, your excuse being that you weren't an influencer. You didn't need to. But the pressure was just as bad. It felt just as bad.
You knew you shouldn't open the comments, you knew it was the number one rule not to scroll too far down under your own post, but your thumb insisted. The curiosity in your chest begging to know what the judging eyes think of you now.
You smiled at a comment, but dropped it at a negative one. Comments brought up the way you were acting in a recent video, or how flimsy your hair was in the photo. They pointed out stuff you hadn't even noticed about yourself. Your chest felt heavy but hollow.
You hear your name being called, turning your head to find Nick motioning you to come over. "We're gonna film a TikTok, wanna be in it?" He wore a wide smile, and he was excited. Chris looked over at you, with a crooked grin that signified he was going to be in the TikTok, waiting for your response. The influencers surrounding them all collectively turned to look at you, and for the first time, you didn't feel like wallpaper. Their stares are intense on you, you almost choke up on your own words.
"Nah, I'm okay." You smiled, dropping your head to look back down on your phone, a silent way of telling them they could look away now. Matt however, was now the one looking at you as everyone turned to look away. "You okay?" He asks, keeping his voice low enough so no one around can hear him. Your eyes flick up, and you fake a confused look. "What?" You wonder.
He's known you 14 years of your life, and you still wondered how he'd figured out so quickly that something had been on your mind. "Something's wrong." He points out, his phone screen shutting due to lack of touch. Your eyes dart around him, flicking from his eyes to the blank wall behind him, to the cushion between you two. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He studied your face, like he was looking for something he could see right through. You shoved your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. You had a bad habit of picking your nails when you were lying or anxious, and everyone close to you knew that. His eyes dropped to your pocket-covered hands, and he swallowed. If he was aware of the fact that you were picking your nails right now, he didn't show any signs of it. "Okay." He muttered, letting you go. You felt as if bricks were being lifted from off your chest, letting out a held in breath.
He goes back to using his phone before he's interrupted by a pretty content creator, you noticed she's had her eye on him for a while and you weren't fond of invading privacy, so you get up and navigate to the kitchen where everyone radiates with happiness. They were laughing, genuinely glowing. You smiled. Their joy rubbed off onto you, and after a few minutes, the thoughts about the negative comments left your mind, and you were now making clay shapes with Nick and some friends.
Chris stood behind you guys with the male friends he invited over, playing rap music from his phone as he watched you shape a carrot. "What the fuck is that?" He laughs as everyone, including you, bop their head to the music playing. "A carrot, what else would it be?" You roll your eyes, fixing the point of the orange clay.
"Looks like a..." His open sentence leaves his mouth empty handed, making everyone turn to look at your sculpture. They burst out into laughter and you can't help but chuckle along. "What is it? Looks like what?"
"Looks like fuckin' male genitalia." Nick laughs, and that makes you lose it, full blown laughing with Chris, who found the way Nick worded that hilarious, before hearing your phone ring.
You force yourself to swallow your laugh down, taking out your phone and looking at the contact. It was your mother. You felt your heart drop. Every humor in your body now dissolved.
You never spoke to your mother. You don't even have her contact saved, but you memorized her number, knowing exactly who it was. Nick and Chris watch you swallow, trying to read the look on your face due to the suddenness of your quietness. You drop your eyes back to your phone, watching it ring. You hated her. But you had to pick up.
"Excuse me." You spare a grin to the table, pushing yourself off the chair, the girls and guys nodding their heads like they understood you had to pick up an important phone call, but Nick and Chris just gave each other a shared look.
You walk to the nearest empty room, which happened to be Matt's. You closed the door behind you, making the friends out seem a lot quieter than they actually were. You swipe on your phone, lifting it to your ear.
"Hello?" You utter, your tongue feeling heavy on your mouth. Long, dreadful seconds pass, and you begin to think this was a prank call, someone with a similar number as your mother fucking with you.
"Your father died."
That was it.
No, Hello. No, How are you, daughter?
Just, Your father died.
Your heart seemed to respond faster than your mind, feeling it boom louder and louder in your chest as you responded with a "What?", unsure of what you just heard.
"He died yesterday morning." You couldn't read the expression in her voice, she sounded nonchalant, almost like she didn't care. He died yesterday morning. You repeated the words in your mind, trying to find some sort of verbal error in what you heard.
He died yesterday morning.
And you just sat around laughing. You were having fun with your friends, laughing without a care, when your father had died. The closest one to you, gone without your knowledge, the only way of learning about it through your mother.
Every negative feeling hits you at once, your eyes glassing in guilt, shame, hurt, loss, everything in between. "How?" You felt yourself asking, your voicing coming out more vulnerable than you'd like your mother to hear.
"Seizure. No one was by his side when it hit him, he was found lying on his bedroom floor." She didn't sound like your mother, she didn't sound like anyone you knew. She sounded foreign and disgusting.
No one was by his side when it hit him.
You were just visiting Boston last week. He had been fine, ecstatic and joyous to see you. He had looked up at you up and down, his eyes watering at how much you've grown and matured. He spoke to you about his excitement for when he becomes a grandpa, you had told him to calm down, reminding him of how young you actually were. How it won't be happening anytime soon.
Now it won't be happening at all.
"I assume nobody told you, little one?" You felt your heart clench in anger, the nickname coming out of your mother's mouth sounding ugly and stenched. You didn't answer her, giving her the answer she expected.
You were frozen in shock, and the hand holding your phone shaking beyond control as burning tears found their ways down your cheek.
"He left you everything in his will. Which, of course, isn't much," she clicked her tongue, "but enough to last you the next few decades. A lot of it is his retirement money, so lucky you."
Lucky you.
"I wish it was you instead." Your voice was barely even audible for yourself, but your mother had heard it, and you hung up before she could respond. Your stomach felt like it was burning its insides up, and your chest felt like it was caving in on itself. You didn't know how simple words that made its way through your ears had affected you physically so much, your knees almost losing balance as you tried to swallow down the tears. You couldn't.
It was impossible to keep yourself from crying, no matter how hard you tried to hold in your breath or push it down, the tears came out faster, hotter. You were forcing yourself to sob in silence on your best friend's bedroom floor, your father dying without you even by his side, and the news coming to you by the only person you've ever declared your hatred for. You felt pathetic, and so fucking guilty.
The pain unbearable all at once, you accidentally let a yelp of a cry slip from your mouth, immediately lifting both your hands to shut your mouth up, pressing your palms on top of each other as you forced your mouth closed, saving yourself the embarrassment of anyone hearing you on top of that.
No matter how long you stayed on that floor, the tears wouldn't stop. They couldn't stop, your heart ached so much to the point of physical pain. You get sick of it, wiping your tears off to the side and forcing yourself up, a pang of utter dizziness hits you in the head, and you lean on the wall for a moment.
Your nose was running, your eyes mimicking the action as you blinked all the tears away temporarily, needing to find a way to leave without anybody noticing your sobbing face. You shoved your hands in your pockets as your mind began to scan all the possible ways for you to leave unnoticed, picking hard at the side of your nails. You scan the room, as if it would give you a suggestion for something.
You lost control of your tears a while ago, now they were just sliding down your face because they can. The side of your finger stings, taking your hands out of your pocket, you swallow. With uncontrollable shaking hands, you notice the blood dripping down your thumb. You had picked on your skin a little too hard. Yet you couldn't feel it, your senses all too focused on your emotional pain, rather than your physical.
Sniffing, you let the blood drop before wiping it, blinking away your blurred eyes. You reach for your phone, hoping Nick would see the text you're about to send him.
i'm going to leave matt's room, please distract everyone with a joke or something.
You knew you'll regret the message later, but you were desperate. You wanted to leave as soon as possible, depending on your best friend to help you through it. But quickly, you feel the utter pain of needing him by you. Now may not be the best time, considering how much fun he was having with his friends, but disregarding the feeling of selfishness weighing in your stomach, you needed your best friend with you.
or come see me. i need you, nick please
A tear dropped on the screen of your phone. Standing there, you waited for your message to be read. 2 minutes pass of damp staring, before giving up, seeing that he was too busy to see your message.
Your palms were cold but sweaty, your tears have calmed down and you were now battling a runny nose. Maybe, if you keep your head down, you can run through without anybody paying any mind to you. Wiping your palms on your pants, you build up the courage, your heart feeling too heavy for your chest. 
Placing a hand on Matt's door knob, you're about to pull it open before it pushes open on you. Instinctively, you panic. You can't have anybody seeing you like this. That was until you realize it was Chris who had entered the room, closing the door behind him. He lifted his eyes to you, widening his eyes after taking in your appearance. You hold your breath, feeling his surprised stare burn holes into you, mimicking his look, just as surprised as he is. But not for the same reason.
All it took was for Chris to mutter your name and you burst out crying. "Oh, oh," He murmured, a hand leaning behind your neck and head, pulling you into his chest as you cried harder, in desperate need of any form of comfort. He hugged your shoulders, as your tears seeped into his shirt.
"I saw the text you sent to Nick's phone, are you okay?" He kept his voice soft and quiet, sending small strokes through your hair. You shook your head. "No." You were practically out of breath, your meltdown taking all the energy out of you. "I'm not okay, Chris." He held you, keeping you close to him as he listened to you cry. Waves of sadness and hurt immediately fall through him, unable to see you like this.
Chris was an empath at heart, he spent a lot of his time reminiscing about the past, whether the memories were fond or dreadful. His mood would change depending on his loved ones' moods. He couldn't help it, you meant the world to him.
"What happened?" He whispered as you felt his hand glide down your hair, smoothing it down in comfort. You forced yourself to utter what had happened. "My dad." Was all you managed to weep. All your mouth accepted to let out. You couldn't see him, but Chris's eyes flew open. 
His stroking stopped. What had happened to your father? He wondered. He cared for him just as much as you did, the bond your father had with the triplets was strong. "Your dad?" He repeated, his voice laced with more worry. He felt himself get more nervous as you took your time to answer.
"Gone, Chris." You pulled away, looking up at him with wet glistening skin that trailed under your eyes, down your cheeks, and under your nose, your eyes bloodshot red. He gave you a worried and puzzled look. "He died." You gasp, "And nobody told me but her." He watched your lips tremble as you lifted your hands to cry in them, the news feeling more real to you now that you've muttered it out.
All the blood flushed from Chris's face as he processed your words. He was no Einstein, but he automatically knew who "her" was, and his mutual distaste for your mother. "He died. Your father died." He repeated your words, shocked in place as you nodded.
"I need to get everybody out of the house." Chris swallowed, quietly talking to himself. You lift your head up, "What?"
"I need to get everybody out of the house." He said only slightly louder this time, getting out of Matt's room as you just watched him.
-
That had only been a taste of the beginning. Weeks have passed and you've fallen into a hole of severe depression, everything becoming harsher and worse for you after you attended your fathers funeral, your best friends obviously coming along. Your mother hadn't gone though. You felt sick to your stomach.
The days went by slow, and the three closest people to you watched you fall victim to sloth. You had trouble getting out of bed, showering, prioritizing yourself, it had come to a point where the ability to get up and grab something to eat had become a chore. You did nothing all day but sleep and waste your time away. They tried everything in their gut to help you.
Matt would cancel important plans to look after you, Nick would come in and clean your room, catching you up in everything, Chris would make you food and sit down with you. It was all useless, it was if you didn't exist. You were there, but gave no response. They had no idea what to do, unable to watch you do this to yourself, but also unable to help you. They began falling into their own sadness, watching their best friend in such effective agony.
A knock went through your door, you didn't respond, but the door still opened up anyway, revealing Matt. He looked horrible, his hair messy and his eyebags dark. "How are you feeling?" He questioned, he asked this every single morning. Not a day would go by without him asking that. You didn't say anything. He hadn't heard your voice in weeks. He swallowed, your face pressed against the pillow and you blinked lazily and sadly at him. Just as much as he expected.
"You need to shower." He said sternly, the idea already weighing on you like a job. You turned to the other side of your bed, facing the wall instead. "I know," He sighed, getting closer to you. "But I need you to cooperate, please." He begged, taking the blankets completely off you. You squirmed, groaning in annoyance and going to reach for them again. "Ah, ah ah." He warned, scooping you up before you could get them. You yelped at the sudden action, hooking your arms around his neck as he took you to the bathroom.
"Matt," You actually said his name, taking him by surprise. "Put me down." You huffed. "I can't." He said, almost like he wanted to listen to you, but knew he couldn't. "I can't keep feeding into this."
"I'm fine, Matt."
"You're not, and you know you aren't. You are one of the most self-aware people I know. Why are you just watching yourself do this yourself?" He was hurt, his voice cracking as he put you in the empty tub, clothes and all. You were about to protest before you're suddenly sprayed with freezing cold water, gasping.
"I'll bring you a new set of clothes." He says. "Nick will come in here and monitor you." And he's gone.
-
You numbly sat in the fully filled up bath tub of water, watching Nick wipe away a tear from his cheek. He'd just seen the scars on your body, and it was only a matter of time until he would tell Matt and Chris. You had no energy to hold yourself up, and Nick forced himself to move past the subject, lingering feelings of betrayal in his stomach. Why would you do this to yourself?
It all hurts, for everyone. He sniffed from a red splotchy nose, "Hands up." He ordered with a soft cry. The least you could offer him was listening, doing as you're told as he takes a washcloth and begins cleaning your body. "I'm sorry." You spoke into thin air, your voice barely audible. You told yourself he didn't hear you, but he did. He very much did, he just didn't respond. He couldn't respond. He continued cleaning you.
He washed your hair for you, cleaned your body for you, brushed through your hair before finally handing you a towel.
"I miss you." He murmured after a long silent while, and it felt as if a knife had twisted in your heart. I'm sorry.
"So much." He gulped, his pale complexion red with the amount of blood rushed to his face, in nothing but sadness.
Nick left you alone in the bathroom, just your physical body and your mental thoughts.
You felt shameful and selfish, but you had no idea how to go about it. How were you supposed to heal when you'd caused this much damage? To them, every corner of their minds and memory, you were permanent. What if you became temporary.
You were there from the beginning, but what if you didn't make it to the end?
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irisintheafterglow · 9 months
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coparenting!megumi with satoru where one of you gets lost after school supply shopping it's not the actual child that gets lost
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"megs, where's satoru?"
"i thought he was with you."
"that's a problem, then, because he hasn't been with me for the past ten minutes." you plop down next to him, sliding your sunglasses to the top of your head and taking in the busy park in front of you. the weather was comfortable today, cool enough that you weren't sweating but warm enough to have megumi's ice cream dripping down the cone toward his little fingers. you wordlessly hand him a napkin and he takes it without looking at you, continuing to observe the people throwing around a frisbee or having a picnic in the sunshine. there was a playground on the other side of the field and you could vaguely make out the blurry forms of children running about. "you can go play, if you want. i can stay and watch the stuff."
"i don't really want to," he replies. "i like sitting here with you." the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile. he was barely big enough for his legs to touch the ground and he absentmindedly kicked his feet back and forth under the bench. "do we need to go anywhere else today?"
"i don't think so, no. i think we got everything that you'll need for next week." he nods in assent and the toes of his shoes brush against the plastic grocery bags holding his new school supplies.
you could tell megumi was excited, in his own quiet way, when the car pulled into the parking lot of the store. as much as he acted as the bane of satoru's existence, you knew he liked spending time with both of you. you stopped satoru with a gentle hand on his shoulder when his lanky legs ran for a cart, gesturing toward megumi heading down the first aisle, basket in hand. you barely had to do anything for most of the trip; at most, you'd remind the boy of a specific type of pencil or notebook he needed and provide feedback if he was split between two different designs. any additions by satoru were pointedly ignored by the boy unless they were reiterated by you. "if you need anything else, just let satoru know and he'll bring it to your school."
"you can't drop it off instead?"
"i know i usually do, but i have an assignment that's sending me out of town. you'll have to make do with your esteemed mentor for a bit." you smirk and nudge his shoulder with your elbow, chuckling softly when he frowns. it was a little funny, seeing a child have the expression of a businessman desperately waiting for retirement. "what is it, megs?"
"he scares all my teachers." you choke on the sip you take from your bottle, jolting forward and laugh-coughing your way to normal breathing again. it didn't surprise you, what megumi said; it was the incredibly straightforward, slightly amused note in his voice that had water going down the wrong pipes. "i'm serious. whenever you're visiting, people always gush about how well you take care of me."
"and when satoru comes around?"
"they hide." a prideful noise escapes your throat and the two of you have identical smirks as you sit on the bench. your eyes carefreely scan the field for any bright white hair or screams of commotion that could indicate your boyfriend's presence, but there are no such things. nonetheless, you're not worried. he always found his way back to you somehow.
at least, that's what you think.
you feel the telltale buzz-buzz-buzz of your phone in your back pocket and roll your eyes when you see the caller id.
"hello?"
"i'm lost."
"mmm, poor baby," you deadpan, glancing at megumi to see a small smile on his face.
"aren't you going to come find me?" his voice is teasingly playful, implying that he disappeared on purpose just for the hell of it.
"i'm not playing hide and seek with you, satoru. just come back to the ice cream cart."
"but it's so much more fun if you come get me instead," he argues, his voice slightly too insistent for you to think that he's joking. he better be kidding.
"satoru."
"okay, fine. i actually don't know where the hell i am." he is not kidding.
you sigh, standing and taking megumi's hand. "just retrace your steps, sweetheart." you stand and walk a random direction in hopes that your navigationally-challenged boyfriend would find his way to you. the plastic handle of the store bag digs into the crook of your elbow as you continue to hold the phone up to your ear. "can you describe your surroundings?"
"uh, trees."
"those are everywhere, satoru. we're in a park." you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips towards the tail end of your sentence. the irony of the most powerful human on earth being lost in a park was priceless. "any specific monuments or something that i can head to?"
"there's a big field-"
"again, baby, this is a park. look, i'm just gonna do the thing. if you can't find us from that, you might need to rethink your career choice." megumi stifles a snicker from next to you and you abruptly hang up, cutting off the distorted protests blaring from your phone. you have a seat on the grass and megumi mirrors your position, taking your hand when you offer it to him. "just like we practiced, okay?" he sighs impatiently, but you knew it wasn't you he was irritated with. "alright, i'll go first and then you add on to me, yeah?"
stretching your neck from side to side, you close your eyes and slowly channel more cursed energy until it engulfs your entire body. soon, you feel megumi's faint but determined aura bump against yours. after less than a minute, instinct tells you that satoru received your beacon and you look over your shoulder to see him strolling casually across the lawn. he's tall enough that, when he finally stands above you and megumi, he blocks out most of the sun. you can barely see his eyes, but you know he can see the exasperation on your face. he merely beams at you like you produced the oxygen he was breathing.
"found you."
"took you long enough." he effortlessly pulls you up from the ground and you stumble, nearly slamming into his chest. "where did you end up going, anyway?"
"there's an old daycare center towards the back of the park. sensed something there and wanted to kill it before it bothered us," he explains, humming when you brush your fingers over the fabric covering his eyes. he delicately takes your hand and presses light kisses to your knuckles, so dotingly you'd think either of you had just come back from war. you're about to kiss him properly when a small voice clears its throat some ways below you. your face heats, suddenly remembering megumi is still there.
"are we ready to go, or should i give you two a few minutes?" satoru's jaw drops in indignancy.
"watch it, megs, or i'm gonna have satoru be the one dropping off all of your things during the school year." your hand ruffles the black spikes of his hair and he pouts.
"please don't."
"wait, what's wrong with me bringing your things?" megumi exhales tiredly like he'd clocked out of his 9-5 and walks ahead to the parking lot. you and satoru lag behind, his arm wrapped around your waist and matching his steps with yours.
"i'll explain in the car. will you be able to find it okay, lost child?" you raise your eyebrows patronizingly, putting on your best doe-eyed gaze. he scoffs, but you're not done making fun of him just yet. "whatever shall i do if you were to suddenly disappear? i may be forced to find another...suitor." you bat your eyelashes dramatically and you can see his eyes rolling behind his blindfold.
"ha, ha. very funny." his hands ever so slightly squeeze the flesh around your hip and you jump. "now i know how it feels when i start reciting shakespeare over minor inconveniences." you laugh and melt a little when his thumb draws apologetic little circles on your waist. god, he's so in love with you.
"i'm surprised you didn't start monologuing on the phone. it worried me."
"you don't ever need to worry about finding me because i'll always come back."
"you promise?"
"on the moon and the stars."
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prompt is from @youneedsomeprompts because coparenting megumi inspiration comes and goes from my mind like an endangered species :))
hope you enjoyed ! likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated <3
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hemmingsleclerc · 3 months
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I'm really loving the dad max content, your style of writting is amazing
I don't know if it's possible, but could you do something where Olivia is hanging out with Checo's kids (Chequito, Carlota, Emilio) and causing chaos in the paddock
I think it would be cute and fun
Lost in the Paddock┃MV1
Omg I love this idea I just imagined it and laugh!😭💕
summary:where max and checo lose their children in the spanish grand prix
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It was a sunny morning in the paddock and the excitement for the Spanish Grand Prix was growing. Max Verstappen's daughter, Olivia, and Checo Pérez's children, Chequito, Carlota and Emilio, were full of energy and looked at everything with curiosity. The sound of the engines echoed throughout the place, but the children were more interested in playing hide and seek.
As their parents prepared for the race, the four quickly came up with a plan to explore the paddock together. Unbeknownst to their parents, the mischievous group ventured out, carefully checking all the places.
The paddock was a maze of trailers, trucks and equipment, a perfect playground for the kids. Olivia, being the oldest, had convinced the others to follow her and explore the secret corners that she had already seen before with her father. Unbeknownst to their parents, the little ones had wandered too far and were soon lost in the maze of racing equipment.
Meanwhile, Max and Checo finished their conversation and turned around to find that their children were nowhere to be found. Panic set in as they frantically shouted their names. Max's heart almost burst out of him as he screamed his little girl's name while Checo was just as bad or worse than him.
"Olivia!''
''Chequito! Carlota! Emilio!" echoed through the paddock, but there was no response. The two parents exchanged worried glances and quickly ran out of their garage in search of their children.
Meanwhile, the children had managed to find their way to the center of the paddock, laughing and laughing as they explored the different areas of the different teams. Chequito, Carlota, Emilio and Olivia were in their own world of fun, oblivious to the chaos they were causing.
They managed to reach a place where photos of their parents were displayed on a wall. ''Look! There's my daddy!'', ''Ours too!'' Suddenly, a great idea had occurred to Olivia, what better idea than to leave a nice message for her dad and for everyone to see it, so carefully she took out of her small backpack the markers that her mother had given her on her birthday and with a huge smile, she began to draw hearts on the wall, among other things, while her other three companions saw her laughing.
Meanwhile, Max was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown himself while Checo was madly asking anyone who crossed his path if there was any sign of his children.
Charles, Daniel, Lewis and Carlos had joined the search for the little ones to cover more space and narrow down the possible places they could be.
''Via!Your favorite uncle is looking for you!'' Daniel shouted
''Carlota! Emilio! Checo jr!, Come here! We have a special surprise for you!'' Charles said
''Kids! Roscoe wants to play with you!'' Lewis' turn
Just as concern was reaching its peak, a track official informed Max and Checo that a group of children matching their descriptions had been seen near the merchandise area. With a sigh of relief, the parents rushed to the scene, their hearts pounding in their chests.
There they found the quartet, happily surrounded by team merchandise, trying on oversized caps and sunglasses while devouring different flavored ice creams. The children looked up with innocent smiles as Max and Checo approached, a mix of relief and exasperation on their faces.
Max and Checo shared a look that conveyed relief and amusement at the same time. When the chaos calmed down, the parents couldn't help but smile at the getaway their children had made. With a laugh of relief, they escorted the boys back to the Red Bull Racing garage, ready to focus on the race ahead.
Max lifted his little girl in his arms while he covered her face with kisses.
''Were where you all this time angel?, and who bought you those ice creams?''
''!Uncle lando and uncle oscar daddy!'' Olivia exclamed
''They also bought us these cool caps dad!'' Chequito said to checo
''Yeah, you're not wearing those mclaren caps on our watch kids, redbull ones are better''
As the paddock returned to its normal bustle, Max and Checo were grateful to have their children back safe and sound.And listen to all the mischievous they got up to in their absence.
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bakutreats · 4 months
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matchmaking. bakugou katsuki x fem!reader
BAKUTREATS .ᐟ navi. bnha m.list. bakugou 'asot' m.list.
synopsis .ᐟ pro-hero dynamight likes to do one (1) type of pr event, and that's going to schools and talking with kids. when dynamight visits your twins' school, the twins hatch a "perfect" plan between dynamight—bakugou katsuki and you—their mother.
content .ᐟ fluffy, fluff, kids. fraternal twins, single mother!reader, older!reader, pro-hero!bakugou katsuki, ooc bakugou katsuki, flirty bakugou katsuki, shy reader lmao, marupok ka bai, reader is 33, bakugou is 27, extrenely self-indulgent hehe
word count .ᐟ 2.0k+
chapters .ᐟ one | two | three
tag list .ᐟ open! ask and you shall receive ^^
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Bakugou Katsuki is usually not the biggest fan of anything related to public relations. He feels as though it's a waste of time trying to look good for the public, maintaining a spotless image and a fantastic reputation, just so that some random people will think positively of you. So what if they do? All he wants to do is be a damn hero. The other shit that's apparently needed to be done is extremely unnecessary in his eyes; sometimes it even feels fake.
But there is a silver lining.
The PR shit that his PR manager makes him do—he hates everything—except going to schools and talking with kids. Sure, they can be little brats, but kids are kids. They're usually more honest and upfront, not really caring about what other people think. The questions that the kids would ask would never be left unanswered (can't say the same for interviewers and reporters, though). This man is pretty honest with his answers too (though with some, he keeps them brief or vague).
So, on a random Wednesday, his PR manager (who finally caught on that he likes being around little gremlins more) told him that he'd be visiting a school around 10 AM. With events like these, it's always a surprise for the kids, because Bakugou absolutely forbids announcements of any kind, not wanting the kids' experience ruined by the paparazzi and rabid fans. The only ones who are informed are the school staff.
It's 10 AM, and Bakugou Katsuki waltzes into the school in his Pro-Hero costume. His PR manager and personal assistant were just right behind him. They met with the principal of the school, a small old lady with a soft smile on her face. She greeted them as well as thanked the Pro-Hero for giving some of his time to entertain the kids. She led them to the first classroom of the day, the old lady knocking on the door before stepping aside, gesturing for the Pro-Hero to stand in front of the door and wait for it to open.
The door opened, and he was greeted by a mature woman with a small smile on her face. "Class, someone's here to talk with you for a little bit. . ."
When Bakugou stepped inside the classroom, the kids immediately shrieked with happiness. Both boys and girls flail their arms wildly and stand up, some even kicking their seats in the process, to go and rush over to the explosive hero. Bakugou picked up one kid, a little boy with a wide, toothy grin on his face.
No one understood how Bakugou Katsuki and his extreme personality would have such patience and understanding with kids. He's rough and gruff, with an attitude that can either make you cower or want to try to fight him—and yet, here he is, standing front and center of a classroom with a rare smile on his face.
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"I'm picking up the kids—I'm already at their school—Mina, we can talk about that condo later—why are you so excited. . . ?"
You walked briskly to where the playground area was in your kids' school, more focused on the conversation you were having with Mina, your cousin. You kept walking, seemingly in a sort of trance, or rather, muscle memory, because you've been doing the same routine since they started preschool. It's as if your legs had a mind of their own at this point. But something was amiss. You slow down when you realize there aren't any children playing around and laughing and screaming. Haruki and Harumi weren't there. Your heart skipped a beat.
Luckily for you, there was another mother who was walking away from the playground area, seemingly calm. She has a kid who's in the same classroom as your kids. You were about to walk towards her to ask what was going on when the woman took notice of you, noticing the panicked expression on your face. "Don't worry, dear, the kids are inside talking to a Pro-Hero. I've been informed by a friend of mine who's already inside the school. Our kids are in the same class as hers; they're fine."
Relief washed over you, your shoulders releasing some of the tension they've been holding since your realization and your assumption (though no one can blame you). You nodded and smiled, mouthing a 'thank you' before walking as fast as you could to the entrance of the school.
You opened the double doors of the school, looking left and right before pausing for a moment. You walked straight ahead before turning left, your eyebrows raised in slight surprise when you saw parents gossiping in (somewhat) hushed voices. You heard the words 'Pro' and 'Hero', along with the name.
'Dynamight'.
You couldn't help but slow down, listening to the mothers and fathers gossiping about the Number 2 Pro-Hero. They talked about how surprisingly calm he is around children, how he answers whatever question he throws at them, and how he would even smile sometimes. You make a quiet sound of amusement before going back to your task at hand: seeing if your kids are really inside their classroom.
Lo and behold, there they were. Haruki and Harumi stood tall and proud, shouting out their names to the Number 2 Pro-Hero, Dynamight.
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"What're yer names?" he asks the two kids, who were standing with determined expressions on their faces.
"Haruki!"
"Harumi!"
They shouted their names with bright, wide eyes that looked as if they were sparkling, their cheery tones making Bakugou chuckle. "We're twins!" Harumi linked her arm around her brother's, eyes closed as she smiled wide at the blond.
"Yeah, twins!"
Bakugou leaned back against the back of the chair their teacher provided for him, crossing his arms on his chest, his foot tapping the tiled floor. "Whaddaya wanna talk 'bout, squirts?" he hunched over, uncrossing his arms and clasping his hands together. The twins looked at each other as though they were communicating with one another, their brows slightly furrowed, like they were serious and focused. They looked towards Bakugou, who was waiting patiently for them to come up with their questions—
"Are you married!?"
Bakugou was taken aback, his eyes widening slightly as he raised his brows. It wasn't the first time he was asked this question, but it always got him. Kids usually ask about his fights and his quirk, even wanting a little demonstration of how he controls it so well. The very, very few kids who ask this question are either extremely curious or have a crush on him.
"Nope."
Just like that, the twins had huge grins on their faces, nodding to one another before facing the Pro-Hero. Bakugou quirked an eyebrow, straightening his posture and crossing his arms once more. They looked like they were planning something. Haruki and Harumi walked away from their seats, their focus on the door. "Where are you going, kids?" their teacher asked, confused but also curious. She's known them for a few months now, and in those few months, she's learned that these twins always had a knack for stirring up some chaos.
When the teacher opened the door, Harumi bowed before peeking outside and looking left and right to see if their mother was there. Harumi's face brightened when she saw you, and she immediately rushed towards you. Haruki followed afterwards, giggling loudly. "Mama!"
You stumble when you catch them, giggling as they hug you tightly. Before you could ask them if they were okay, though, they immediately grabbed your hands and turned their heads facing the opposite of you, pulling you towards the classroom. Your eyes widened as your affectionate expression turned into a more confused one. "Hey, what's going on?" you ask them gently. They turn their heads back to face you, innocent-looking smiles on their faces. But you know better; they're your children, after all. You knew they were up to something; the smiles on their faces and the shine in their eyes were already a dead giveaway.
And well, since you know them like the back of your hand, that also means they will absolutely not relent on taking you into their classroom. You sigh in defeat, letting them drag you over to their classroom in giddy excitement. When you finally enter the classroom, your eyes immediately lock with Bakugou Katsuki's scarlet eyes. They were so intense and full of fire. You see him eye you up and down before maintaining eye contact once again. Oh. . .
"Marry our mom!"
Your attention snapped away from Bakugou and went to the twins, who were grinning as if they had just made a perfect match of a couple. "Haruki! Harumi!" you scolded, although you couldn't really scold them properly, not when you're all flustered and embarrassed and ohmygod—
Dynamight was laughing—Bakugou Katsuki was laughing. You don't know if you should be honored or even more embarrassed than before. The twins were giggling themselves. You were just standing there, in front of a lot of kids, their teacher, the school's principal, and the parents, just outside the classroom—
"You squirts want me to be yer mama's husband?" He asks with a smirk on his face.
"YEAH!"
"Kids!"
Now you were embarrassed to the third power, good lord.
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After that whole fiasco, you retreated back outside the classroom, your head hanging low. The parents were all teasing you to hell and back, and all you could do was cross your arms and grumble incoherent words. When the whole event was done, you wanted to wait for the Pro-Hero to apologize. All of the kids and their parents were mostly gone now, leaving only you and your twins, waiting outside the school, sitting on one of the benches.
You were a little nervous, though. It's not exactly every day you could meet a Pro-Hero in the higher ranks, much less the Number 2 Pro-Hero. It's also not exactly every day you lock eyes with someone so intense and handsome—oh god, no, stop.
"Why're you three still're?"
Your head turns in the direction of the voice, and you start to feel all flustered and embarrassed again. You stood up and walked over to him, trying to maintain eye contact but failing miserably. "I wanted to wait for you to apologize. . . my kids can be too much sometimes—" you cut yourself off when you realized how close in proximity the two of you were. Did he walk closer without you noticing. . ? Or did you walk too close. . . Oh, great, you're even more nervous now.
"And. . . um, thank you for uh—thanks for doin' this for the uh. . . kids, yeah."
You hear him chuckle, and it makes you feel fuzzy. 'Oh my god, what's going on with me!? Why am I acting like such a teenager who's freaking out over their crush!? This is crazy. . .'Sure, you've had your fair share of crushes on Pro-Heroes before, but this was the first time you felt like a schoolgirl trying to have a nice conversation with her crush.
You snap out of your thoughts, with his fingers snapping in front of you and his face right in front of yours.
"Don't be sorry 'bout the kids. It was cute," he tells you, his voice deep.
Bakugou catches the twins out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep their laughter down and their hands on their mouths. He smiles softly before returning his attention to you. "Besides, 's not a bad suggestion."
"W-what?"
"Marryin' ya."
The kids shriek and squeal, running towards the both of you. They spin around yours and Bakugou's legs, intentionally making the space smaller and smaller and. . . oof!
"Yer kids are pretty good with the whole matchmakin' thing, huh?"
Your hands were on his chest, and his hands were on your waist. You already experienced their matchmaking thing before, although they would never go to this extent. You concluded that they were more adamant about Bakugou being with you because, well, he's Dynamight.
"I'm thirty-three. . ."
"So? I'm twenty-seven."
"You're actually considering it."
He flashes you a toothy grin. "You bet I am."
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all rights reserved © BAKUTREATS. all fanfics belong to me. do not repost or claim my content as yours. do not recommend on any other platforms any of the works seen here.
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xrenjunniesx · 3 months
Note
BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS OF DREAMIES 🙏🙏🙏 it can be 0T7 or just chenle!! (maybe jeno). please make it delicious thanks wookie. i hope you're doing well with everything.
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nct dream boyfriend headcannons
a/n : Hii, I’m doing well other than the fact that school is after me. I’m sorry this took so long for me to do :( enjoy the silly little headcannons :D
mark
there was snowman, sitting perfectly made and constructed on a ledge, and along with marks enthusiasm, created the perfect spot to take photos together. you and mark had just finished dinner and decided to go for a walk, just to enjoy each others company a little more in this cool environment and to talk about what’s been on your mind. the two of you start doing silly little poses for your camera, blowing snow at each other and getting amazing shots of the snow in action. it wasn’t until you tried to go up closer to the snowman that you realised - oh it’s slippery. very slippery. you fell over, kicking into mark by accident making him falling over as well. people walked past, laughing at the two of you as you both practically screamed out your own laughters. and oh? you accidentally recorded the whole thing? even better.

renjun
you loved going to the photo booths with your friends, so when your boyfriend wanted to take you to one during a day out you agreed in an instant. before it started you took a seat, looking into the camera and fixing your hair to fix it up. renjun watched you in awe, simply admiring you. when it started you led the way, telling him how to pose quickly before the photo was taken each time. you got the cute set of photos but renjun wanted another set, this time without any accessories. you agree, placing the accessories back and joining him in the photo booth. you are all over each other in the best possible way in this set of photos. hugs, loving stares, kisses, brightest and most genuine smiles. he loved you more than you could ever guess.
jeno
“it was just a joke” you scream, running down the road towards the playground. jeno was hot on your tail, having the time of his lip chasing after you as you fear for what he will do what he catches you - hug you to death? who knows. despite the playground clearly not being for people above the age of ten, you were running up those stairs and sprinting towards the slide. he was below the slide, simply waiting for you to slide down.
“Leave me alone you psycho”
“take it back and it’s all okay”
“okay…. um…”
“you can’t even be genuine” he cried out before making his way up the slide. you wanted to laugh at the silly action but you chose to run instead, giggling as you jumped off the playground. however, you failed to notice that jeno was already back on the ground.
he wraps his arms tightly around you, squeezing you against him as you giggle and push at him to get free.
“apologise.” “no.” he kisses your lips and then looks at your with a forced angry expression. “apologise now.” “another kiss and then maybe.”
haechan
you were exhausted at this point. It was 4 am and this trip was supposed to be a time to rest. but instead haechan had you at the karaoke room making you sing all the songs possible together. you weren’t expecting him to go on for this long, usually it was only a couple of songs before he got sick of the karaoke, but tonight he just kept making you both sing.
you were sure your voices were giving out, you were out of breath from the failed rap attempts and you had somehow made a choreography to a song that he sung twice in a row.
“babe, I need a break please.” you huffed out, placing a microphone down and breathing out heavily.
he sat down beside you, also breathing heavily. he looked at you for a full minute. just looking as you breathed and tried to ignore his stare. he then brought his hand up to your chin and turned your face to look at him, moving forward to place a gentle kiss on your lips and then pulling away.
“let’s go back and sleep, I’m exhausted.”
jaemin
you laid in bed, unable to sleep from the pure excitement of what jaemin had planned for you tomorrow. he had booked a hotel in another city and brought the flight tickets. this was to the exact city you had wanted to visit for ages. you needed to wake up in a few hours for the airport, but you just couldn’t fall asleep. jaemin woke up due to your constant moving around.
“why are you awake?” “I’m too excited I can’t sleep..”
it brought a smile to his face, but he knew you would really need to sleep at least a little bit now.
he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around you and bringing your face towards his neck. you inhaled his scent and tried to relax yourself. “try to sleep, you will regret it if you don’t.”
“I am trying.” you said trying to move back and look at him but he kept your head there, not letting you move. “go to sleep.” he said, half asleep himself. you did fall asleep shortly after, thanks to his comforting hold on you.
chenle
you wanted to be FREE. he was feeling like a menace. he was cuddled up to your arm, not letting go of it for the past hour. you tried to free yourself multiple times but it didn’t work. he kept finding excuses to bother you. it was all because he liked your reactions. you scoffed and laughed in annoyance at his behaviour and that was enough to make him laugh at you and continue. it wasn’t until you started actually trying to free yourself from his grip that you both ended literally wrestling each other.
you were sat on the couch, chenle clinging onto you with his arms wrapped around one of your arms and his leg placed on top of you. he laughed at your expression, not caring that you were annoyed.
“It’s not like you are doing anything important.” he claimed, and you just closed your eyes and leaned your head back.
“why are you doing this?”
“honest answer or the lie.” “honest.” you say with a sigh.
“haechan bet me that I wouldn’t be able to stick to you for one hour straight and I said I could do two hours.”
“lele… it’s been like almost three hours now.”
“he will triple the money if I make it to three hours baby please just 20 more minutes.”
“spilt the money and sure.”
“the money is all yours baby. I’m doing this to prove a point.”
jisung
you and Jisung were growing impatient with the food. It was in the oven, cooking away, but you wanted it now. you stood in the kitchen, tapping your feet on the ground and fingers on the counter, creating a beat by pure accident. Jisung noticed the beat and started dancing to it, not seriously of course but just a silly little dance move for pure entertainment. you giggled and stopped the beat and he whined at you.
“aye keep the beat going.”
“I’ll get the kitchen beat going hold on.”
the pots and pants and spoons all came out and before you knew it, you and jisung were a two person band creating the worst music alive with the goofiest dances possible BUT you were having fun. so much fun that time just went on and on until you realised oh shit the food will be ready and turns out you almost burnt the food. it’s just a little bit extra crispy.
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casiia · 4 months
Text
༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; cooties.
warnings .: x reader, dad simon, afab ! reader, soso much fluff, unedited.
.: masterlist.
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imagine simon’s daughter coming home with tears just running down her face, you’re trailing in behind and trying your best to hide your laugh as you console her.
“it’s just a myth, dear.”
but that only makes her cry harder, because she’s 7 and doesn’t know what the fuck a myth is. who is she supposed to believe…her loving mother who raised her and has never lied to her a day in her life, or the girl she’d met just an hour ago on the playground.
“it’s true!” she gasps out, wiping her wet cheeks with her palms, dramatically dragging her hands down her face as another sob wracked her tiny body.
you could only snicker silently as you brushed away baby hairs that clung to her cheeks. frankly, you didn’t know what to say; you’d tried everything to help your daughter and ease her of this new world ending conflict.
simon’s on immediate alert, normally he’s welcomed home with kisses and hugs and bottomless babbles about pointless things. hearing his baby’s loud cry followed by her quick and urgent footsteps makes him panic and his mind instantly goes to the worst.
hurriedly, simon makes his way down the stairs nearly breaking his neck when he trips over a stray toy — but he manages to grab the banister before falling to his death and peaks into the living room.
you’re sitting on the couch with her cradled in your arms, a tender and gentle shush whispered off of your lips as you untangle knots in her hair. your attempts to calm her down don’t, she’s as stubborn as her father, if not more.
“what’s going on, sweet pea?” simon asks, treading carefully as he inches closer to you, his eyes clouded with a mix of worry and question.
before he can sit down, the girl in your arms shrieks so loud he can hear it ringing in his temple. wincing at the loud intrusion, simon watches as his daughter shoots from your arms all the way across the living room, her back pressed to the wall and eyes wide with what seems to be horror.
now simon’s afraid, is there something on his face? did he forget to shave? is he even simon?
you only snort behind your palm, furrowing your eyebrows and returning back to your playful yet serious expression. “go on, babygirl. tell dad what she said.”
his heart is hammering in his chest now, what did she say — who are you talking about?
and he doesn’t know if that scream altered him deaf but all he can see is her lips moving. the sound of your quiet giggles calms him though, and you have to ask her to say it again.
“she said boys have cootie!” she screams, looking horrified — looking at her dad as if he’d grown a third head and eaten all of her halloween candy.
simon begins to open his mouth to say something, something along the lines of “who fuckin’ told ya that.” although the more he thinks it over he’s compelled to play into the roll. he pauses for a moment, concentrated on weighing out the pros and cons.
on one hand, it breaks his heart to see his girl avoiding him like this. going to the edge of the earth just to distance herself from him. crying out because her world is shattered, her dad? having cooties? what nonsense.
on the other hand. simon’s been hearing about this ‘jack’ boy that she’s been in love with on the playground, he even proposed to her with a fucking stick. his daughter can do better than that. and hell, she’s too young to be dating, she doesn’t even know her alphabet!
so with some quick thinking a small smile paints his lips, he opens his arms and watches as she hesitantly takes a step forward. his heart leaps at that, she’s willing to catch a fake disease of cooties just for a daily hug from her father.
“boys do have cooties, but not me, see this?” he reaches inside of his shirt and pulls out the dog tag that hangs around his neck, he gives it a nice tug and smiles a bit. “it’s cootie-repellent.”
another step, hesitant but slowly the small girl is inching away from the wall and closer to the awaiting arms of her dad. “r-really?” she asks, a hiccup following her shaky breath as she calms down.
simon only nods, he’s grateful that your daughter isn’t one to question much. a hard believer in anything she hears, to this day she still believes that fairy’s live in the freezer. he’s not sure what story he would make up if she began questioning him, maybe something with fairies. they were always his go to.
“y’want it?” simon begins to take the necklace off, holding it out to her. shes just an arms reach away, but she’s curious.
“yes.” she mumbles, her heartbroken expression from moments ago turning into that beaming smile that warms simon’s chest. “i’ll give it to jack!”
simon stills. fuck. no way was he going to lose his girl this soon. “nuh uh.” he laughs, quickly tucking the chain back under his shirt and pulling his daughter into his chest.
you watch as he ruffles her hair, her muffled screams falling onto deaf ears as she squirms and punches her dad, begging for him to let go. simon only tightens his arms around the flailing girl, peppering kisses all over tear stained face, watching her once glossy eyes crinkle with joy at her dad’s affection.
thank god for cooties.
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astraltrickster · 11 months
Text
I feel we're at a point where we need to step back and consciously remind ourselves that posting ANYTHING personal online is a risk. It should be a calculated one.
Companies that run major websites HAVE to stay above board with the law, no matter how shit that law is, unless they're small enough to just dissolve and hide and pop up again under a different name later (usually meaning sole proprietorships) or big enough to be granted an unofficial "yeah we'll just look the other way because we want that sweet sweet lobbyist money" exception (in which case it's usually NOT gonna be the shit laws they're breaking). Meaning you should REALLY think twice about posting about anything illegal, and you should NOT be shocked when posts recommending illegal activity get nuked from a semi-major website.
This also means that if you're on a platform that's not DESIGNED for privacy - which, in many cases, includes the implicit purpose of enabling breaking certain laws the platform creators think are stupid, though they can't admit to it (just like how you can sell bongs in states where weed is still illegal but you have to SAY they're "for tobacco use only") - you have to operate under the assumption that ANYTHING you say can be intercepted and monitored. Again - unless the platform is explicitly there for privacy, unless your communication is end-to-end encrypted, unless the cops have reason to understand and believe that the logs don't EXIST, assume ANY platform host will hand over a complete log of everything you've said there and where you said it from to the cops upon request.
In addition, posting publicly about things that are typically protected by certain privacy laws can undermine the protection from those laws. "Reasonable expectation of privacy" is a legal term. You have it with things you say in private in your home. You have it to an extent with quiet conversations you have with a friend at a coffee shop. You DON'T have it with things you scream on a public street - and you DEFINITELY don't have it with things you post online with your legal name and actual human face attached.
I say this, because for the past few years I've noticed a disturbing trend of people assuming this is a uniquely bad EXCEPTION to a general free-for-all, and not...the rule. This is the default! This isn't a uniquely evil thing about Facebook or Twitter or Discord or anywhere else! It's not a "tumblr is secretly betraying us right under our noses" thing! This is just the reality of operating a website under the legal systems that exist! Even if it's a site whose operators' internal values are truly aligned 100% with yours, you STILL have to assume they're going to sing like a canary because, come on, do you really expect them to sacrifice themselves over one (1) user? Maybe a tiny forum of friends would, but no company is going to do that.
And that's not even getting into what happens when it's not a host/operating company or organization, but just some individual asshole other user with an axe to grind.
Tl;dr remember that We Live In A Society, stop expecting people and companies not to cover their asses, be careful about what you share online, and learn to use actual encrypted services. Sure, Facebook and other shitty entities like to pretend the internet is a super cool safe playground where all but doxxing yourself does more good than harm, but they're blatantly fucking lying. Talking about your disabilities is a risk. Talking about being queer is a risk. Talking about anything that might become illegal in your area is a risk. CALCULATE THOSE RISKS BEFORE YOU TAKE THEM instead of doing the shocked Pikachu face when your post of detailed instructions for how to firebomb a police station gets taken down and you get put on a list because you left it perfectly traceable to your real identity.
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multifandomwhore-003 · 6 months
Text
Forever —Drabble
Pairing: Lando Norris x female! reader
Summary: First time watching your boyfriend crash during a race? Rough.
Genre: angst, fluff.
Waring(s): Mentions of the Las Vegas crash.
Taglist: @ join taglist here
A/N: This is by far the most poetic work I've ever put out (I think), that being said. WHATEVER TF THIS IS, BLAME ON HIM, THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS
Gif credits to whom it belongs
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED
THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK
Even through ringing ears and a dazy view, he could clearly hear you, wondering then how it was even possible, he heard beyond the arguments and strong footsteps; the flare of your nose, the shakiness in your breath, the hamering in your heart, he swore he could feel it. And with that in mind, he sighed in relived, he could feel something after all, the last thing he remembered, the last thing he perceived was dread, flashing through the last few hours of his life, could those be his last?
Shaking, on the verge of tears all he could do beyond gathering the last remnants of strength in him, was think of his family, you right beside his parents, you.
Minutes passed before he realized he blinked forcefully, perhaps one of these times he'd actually lose consciousness, or worse, be gone for good. His usual dramatics and the painkillers were dancing around his brain, making it their playground. Against all of this, he tried to organize the sound with letters, letters into words, and words into speech. Speech, Could he speak right now?
He prepared himself for the task by trying to stand on his elbows.
"Mr. Norris, please lie down," the nurse guided his head back into the pillow.
"My girlfriend," his throat was hoarse strangely enough.
"She's right outside," the nurse's undertone confirmed his bare train of thought.
"I have to see her," he grabbed the woman's arm, he was pleading.
She whispered something under her breath, clearly giving in to the situation, "I'll let her in," she grinned.
He could recognize something now, your stance, firm in shape, trembling with every motion, you stepped in asking, no, demanding the nurse to close the door behind her, avoiding her gaze in plain coldness. You said nothing for the first few seconds, breathing deeply.
"I'm okay," he let out.
"I know, they've already explained everything to me," you covered your mouth.
His fingers reached for yours, longed for them, interlacing with one another, perfectly, like every time before tonight.
He took some awareness of his surroundings, as much as he could without pushing to the edge, how horrible of a might he had over his head, effective, but far too harsh, far too overwhelming.
"We're going home in a couple of hours, they just wanna make sure, you're going to be fine," you knew you were failing at reassuring him, he didn't need it, but you did.
"I gathered that, otherwise you would still be outside yelling at everyone you could,"
You chuckled, not proud of your actions, but finding them rather hysterical at the moment, "I'm sorry you had to hear that,"
"It was music to my ears," he joked.
"Having my screams flood this place?"
"Having you care so much about me,"
"Always," was all you could answer biting down a sniffle.
It was not so long ago when you quietly promised yourself to give him your heart, the one thing you'd never thought you'd offer, let alone to the guy the Russells so kindly invited to a tennis event, to the guy who over a few drinks and laughs without a sense of shame in the world asked you to dance messily, making of those videos something for the internet to cut and explore. He was so much more than that now, and even to put it into those words was the understatement of a lifetime.
He could say the same thing about his side of the story, to explore a rather rushed friendship before diving, completely submerging, was something he'd labeled as a blessing. To fill his hours by your side in talking, and talking until you had everything to learn from one another laid out and displayed in string lights. Neither of you looked for this, flowing like every bottle of champagne you saw him pop, like every shot of Tequila you drank during Mario-kart nights, like every tear of Rosé you spilled all over your couch in the middle of the night.
And to think that both the most infamous people of their career found in themselves something far more valuable than money, fame, even transcending. Comprehending during the first years of your adulthood what it all meant to allow yourself to be completely consumed with love. So unexpectedly both your reputation and his infinite rumors could all be proven wrong. Through the worst of the trials and tribulations of being committed, you still survived.
His head rested in all the calmness you made by moving heaven and earth to have, in the crook of your neck, never letting go of the sensation of his breath, his life. How funny was it to trust someone enough to keep you alive, physically, mentally emotionally; how funny that none of them could think of how to prove something as mysterious as love to be true, in themselves, in one another, in other people past the centuries, yet they believed in, that's what they invested their faith in.
Admitting you were never fools, but only to each other, you could almost touch each other's soul, finding it far more familiar than your own.
"I'm okay," he'd been repeating the same words like a prayer since the night before.
"I know," you gulped, letting go of a choked exhale.
He read you, "Trust me?"
"Forever," you reminded your thoughts, clearing them out with just one.
—If you can't trust yourself, trust him, forever—
"I'm okay," he tested the words against your sleepless frame.
"I belive you," you finally admitted in peace before giving you lips to his.
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mandosaur · 7 months
Text
This Little Slice of Life (Mike Schmidt x Reader)
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Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Film
Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader
Word Count: 1,025
Estimated Reading Time: 3:43
Summary:
A tiny little drabble that takes place before the film's events.
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When you imagined what your life was going to be like as an adult, you didn’t imagine this.
In your dreams, you saw yourself as a world famous pop star. You imagined yourself in sequin dresses that would cost a fortune standing before a stage of wild fans all screaming your name. You saw yourself on every magazine cover, touring every country, and attending the Met Gala. Paparazzi would flash your photos in your day dreams all while you rode in a limo spending thousands on any little thing that caught your fancy. You had always imagined a life of luxury and wealth for yourself as an adult.
You never imagined your current life.
You never imagined that you’d be in your mid twenties still living in the same street you grew up in. Never imagined that the fancy little college degree you got to appease your parents would bring you nothing but student loans that kept piling on. You didn’t think you’d be working some dead end job for minimum wage at a company with a shitty boss and worse hours just barely scraping by.
However, despite the huge deviation from what your childhood dreams believed would be a good future for you, you find you can’t be happier.
There’s something warm and familiar in the way your life works. Like a puzzle piece clicking together, everything just seems to work. Your life isn’t glamorous or extravagant the way your elementary school dreams all mapped out, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Hell, you wouldn’t trade Mike or Abby for the world either.
Mike and Abby were perhaps the greatest riches you had. Mike had been your childhood best friend. You’d met him in the first day of Pre-K. A little boy holding a metal, superhero lunch box while his mom and dad kissed him goodbye. You’d befriended him on the playground of that first day and formed a friendship that had lasted all your lives.
You’d known him forever. Been there for him when Garrett had been taken, when his parents had died, and when he’d become Abby’s guardian. You’d always been there at his side.
First as a friend, then as a lover.
When you both turned 16, you had started dating. A simple choice between you both. By then, you’d both loved each other and had been pining for years. It was only natural for the two of you to start dating. Both of your parents encouraged the shift and the two of you were very happy.
10 years later, and the two of you had been together for a long time. You’d moved into the little home he shared with Abby. You shared his bedroom and was there to take care of Abby when Max couldn’t. Abby too was a joy in your life.
She had been born when you two were older and you and Mike had become her guardians. Abby really only knew the two of you. She doted on Mike, treasured him deeply if her drawings with him center stage were anything to go by, but she adored you too. She talked to you more than other kids her age, liked you staying home with her when your work allowed it, and drew you in some of her drawings holding hands with her and Mike.
She was a little gift in the life you had just like Mike. You loved them both deeply to the point where nothing else mattered.
To you, it didn’t matter that both you and Mike didn’t have money. Between your student loans and both your minimum wage paychecks, you two weren’t raking in much. Neither of you could boast being wealthy, hell, sometimes you couldn’t even boast being comfortable either.
But that didn’t matter.
Every day that you woke up to that poster of Nebraska on the ceiling and Mike next to you, every day that you got home to Max and Abby in the kitchen table working on homework, and every day that you were able to kiss Mike when he got home from work from the mall covered in fast food stains and all, none of it mattered. Not the debt, not the hardships, and not the struggles.
This little slice of life you’d built with Mike and Abby were paradise. Even if Mike’s aunt threatened custody every once in a while, even if Mike sometimes came home flushed and upset with a new termination notice in hand from his current job, and even if Abby sometimes preferred to talk to her imaginary friends than join you and Mike for dinner. Despite it all, this little home the three of you shared was your personal heaven.
And when Mike came home one day and suggested the two of you marry after talking to Abby, your little paradise increased.
Your wedding wouldn’t be anything that would elicit chatter among your friends. At most, you two would just wear your nicest clothes in your closet and walk down to the court house with cheap rings from Amazon. At most, your honeymoon would be a day where Max took Abby to her house and you and Mike ordered some take out from that Italian place in the mall that was about as fancy as any other fast food place. At most, you’d probably have one weekend to celebrate being married before Mike went to work at the mall and you back to your shitty job.
But it didn’t matter.
You loved Mike and Abby enough to the point where all of that sounded like a luxury. It might not have been the fancy delusions child you had about your future, but it was home. Mike and Abby had always been your home and any moment spent with them was better than whatever money could buy.
So, smiling, you had accepted Mike’s proposal and enveloped him and Abby in a tight hug. Had laughed when you felt Mike’s grin against your cheek and heard Abby’s little giggle against your arms.
Your life might not have been much to someone else, but to you it was paradise. A treasure nothing could ever replace.
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brucewaynehater101 · 1 month
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i keep seeing the hcs (the tim seeing bruce as his son ones) you post and had an idea
so like bruce is like,,, grieving bc sum1 died (who is your choice) and tim js goes back to the behaviors he had when bruce was grieving originally like and every1 is like tim wtf???
i can imagine tim standing off to the side (like a parent watching their kid on a like,, a playground or smth) thinking how he’s going 2 drag bruce upstairs to sleep and sum1 (again your choice) comes up and asks “tim why the fuck are you acting this it makes not sense”
tim’s like “don’t ask”
srry if was confusing
I completely understood. You're good 👍
However, let's explore the angst potential ~
Bruce and the entire Bat family is grieving the loss of their family member (extra points if it's a pivotal role like Dick or Alfred [everyone would hurt, but the family relies on these people]). Everyone is visibly having a rough time.... except for Tim.
Tim cried when the news came (or when they watched the person die). He cried when his family broke down screaming, begging, and sobbing. He cried when he watched each and every family member lose a vital part of themselves.
And then he stopped. He crammed those pieces of himself together and gathered everyone up. He got them home, and his calm facade hasn't broken since.
It's worse this time around because he knew the person who died personally. He loved Jason and was devastated when he died. However, he didn't know Jason personally. He hadn't had his hair ruffled as the individual gave him a fond smirk. He hadn't been left a steaming mug of coffee as a silent sign of support. He hadn't been pulled into a hug or found himself startled into a laugh. He had never heard his name uttered by the person who died like he did this time.
There's a piece of Tim that died when that family member stopped breathing, but it's okay. He's used to that by now. Bruce and his family need him.
So, Tim gives B sympathetic smiles before shoving him into the batmobile for the car rides that help the man fall asleep. He clicks his tongue as the man comes back with too many injuries. He invokes the sticker charts again and the spray bottle. He ruthlessly utilizes emotional manipulation and sharp words until Bruce stops destroying everything around him (both in the literal and metaphorical sense). He provides Bruce with healthier outlets for his grief.
This time, though? He checks up on the other family members as well. He ensures that no one left in his family is alone. He makes sure that everyone has someone to lean on, that they support each other, and that they don't lash out at each other.
It takes a while, between the waves of grief everyone is drowning under and struggling to find the surface of Tim's efforts get overlooked.
Eventually, when the family starts to heal just a bit more, they notice Tim standing with his hands on his hips as he glares at Bruce.
"Bruce Wayne. If you do not strip off that armor, consume your entire dinner, and get into your bed upstairs, there will be consequences. Do NOT make me count to three."
The other Bats watch as Bruce winces, sighs heavily, and then drags his weary body to the changing room.
Someone points out just how weird that is.
It's the first time in months that the family acts with the chaos it usually has.
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yournowheregirl · 1 year
Text
Eddie used to be a pretty fearless person.
He ran red lights almost on the daily, provoked his bullies while his bruises from the last run-in were still healing and agreed to shady drug deals in the dead of night.
Having a kid changed all that.
As soon as Hayley was born, Eddie found himself riddled with anxiety every waking moment of the day. Scared to drop her, scared she’d get sick, scared she’d break something, scared that someone’d take her from the playground if he looked away for just one second. Even Wayne had to pry Hayley out of his arms when he had to go back to work and assure him that everything would be fine.
Lucky for Eddie, none of those fears ever came true. Until today.
They’d just gone through Hayley’s night time routine - reading a chapter of that Narnia book Jeff had gotten her, singing her good night song together, kissing her forehead and sharing I love you's - and Eddie’s about to close her bedroom door when Hayley’s squeaky voice suddenly speaks up.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, sweet pea?”
“I wanna join the soccer team.”
And just like that, with six little words, one of Eddie’s personal horrors suddenly becomes a reality.
His daughter is a jock.
“Uh, let’s… let’s talk about that in the morning, okay? Sleep tight!” Eddie says quickly and closes the door behind him.
As soon as he knows Hayley’s fast asleep, he dials one of the two numbers he knows by heart.
“Hello?"
“What have you done to my daughter?” Eddie seethes.
“Well, hi to you too, Eddie.” Chrissy says on the other side of the line. “What’s up?”
“Hayley wants to join the soccer team and it’s all your fault, Chris!” Eddie is pacing up and down his living room now, trying to calm himself down without reaching for his cigarettes - he quit when Hayley was born and this is not going to be the reason that’ll end his seven year streak.
“And how is that my fault, exactly?”
“You- you have poisoned her mind with your jock ways! Hayley isn’t a jock! She likes dragons and castles and fantasy worlds, as is her right as my daughter. I mean, her middle name is Arwen for fuck’s sake, being a nerd is in her goddamn DNA!”
“Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Chrissy says calmly. “Hayley’s always been a curious kid, it’s in her nature. She always wants to try new things and then move on to the next big thing. Remember how she wanted to become a drummer after she saw Gareth play? And then she abandoned the drum kit after two weeks?”
“Right.”
“Maybe this is just another phase, maybe she overheard some classmates and wanted to join in on the fun.” Chrissy says. “Just take her to try outs and see what happens, there’s always a chance she doesn’t like it.”
Eddie lets himself fall onto the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in defeat. “Fuck, you’re right.”
“I’m always right, Eddie, how have you not learned this yet?” Chrissy giggles.
Which is how Eddie finds himself waking up at the crack of dawn that next Saturday. Well, he was supposed to sleep in for another thirty minutes or so but Hayley was so excited about try-outs that her high pitched screams and jumping on his bed woke him up regardless.
Hayley’s excitement carries on during breakfast and she barely keeps still as Eddie braids her hair. She’s even dead serious about the color of her hair ties, saying that they have to match the colors of the soccer team (aptly named the Purple Cobras, so obviously the hair ties have to be purple as well).
And any other morning, Eddie is trailing behind his daughter, making sure she hurries up so they’ll get to school on time, but not today. Now, she’s already got her coat on and bouncing from one foot to another in the hallway and calling him out instead.
“Dad, come on!” Hayley whines. “We’re gonna be late.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Eddie huffs as he puts on his trusty leather jacket - if he’s gonna freeze his balls off by being outside all morning, at least he’s gonna do it in style. He can’t help but laugh at Hayley, who’s now jumping up and down from excitement. “Geez, you better save some energy for the try-outs.”
“Can we go now?” Hayley sighs and scrunches her nose in annoyance and yeah, she really is his kid.
“One ride in the Munson Mobile, coming right up!”
Hayley doesn’t shut up about the intricacies of soccer the entire drive to the local soccer club, apparently Chrissy (the traitor) had helped her read up on the rules and now obviously Eddie had to know all about them as well.
Half of what Hayley’s saying flies over his head, partly because he’s never really cared for sports but mostly because he can feel his anxiety growing with every passing second.
What if Hayley gets injured? What if some tackles her and she breaks her leg? Or worse?
What if she is an amazing player and she needs all these fancy soccer supplies and training clinics and Eddie’s forced to get another job to just to keep them afloat?
What if she’s weak at sports, just like Eddie was while growing up, and all the other kids will make fun of her and laugh behind her back?
What if-
“Dad, look, we’re here!”
The van barely comes to a screeching halt and Hayley’s already halfway out the door when Eddie grabs her by the collar and pulls her back into her seat. This obviously annoys Hayley, judging by the furious look on her face. If Eddie was a weaker man, he would’ve cowered in fear, but he invented that look so he barely feels a thing.
“Sweet pea, listen to your dear old dad for a minute, alright?” Eddie says softly. “I know you really wanna be on the soccer team but it’s still okay if you don’t make the team, you know that right? I won’t love you any less if you don’t make it or you don’t like it, just try your best, okay?”
Hayley’s face turns serious, as if the words are slowly sinking in. “Okay.”
“Pinky promise?” Eddie asks, holding out his pinky finger. Within a split second, Hayley’s tiny finger links around him and she sends him a toothy smile.
“Pinky promise.”
“C’mon, let’s kick these kids’ butts!”
Hayley giggles. “You’re supposed to kick the ball, dad.”
“Oh, right, silly me.” Eddie grins and follows his daughter outside.
But right as his anxiety has died down, it comes flooding right back as soon as Eddie lays eyes on the soccer field. There are so many kids. So many balls being kicked at full speed, with no time to duck. So many sneering soccer moms who look at him like he’s the devil incarnate. So many dangers just waiting around the corner and Eddie just want to turn on his heel and run. Hayley’s inevitable temper tantrum be damned, at least she’ll be in one piece and-
“Hayley Arwen Munson?”
Both Eddie and Hayley whip their heads around at the same time, only to be greeted by one of the coaches and shit- Eddie’s suddenly very interested in soccer.
With a chiseled jaw, soft hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the coach looks like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad rather than a little league soccer field. He’s wearing a wind breaker, white knee socks and bright purple shorts (that cling deliciously tight around his thighs), which shouldn’t work on him but it does and Eddie just can’t look away.
Hayley (thankfully) doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and instead happily waves at Hot Coach. “Over here!”
The coach writes something on the clipboard and walks towards them, crouching down in front of Hayley. “Hi Hayley, I’m coach Steve, nice to meet you. You here to try out for the soccer team?”
“Yes!” Hayley replies brightly.
“Well good, you can say hi to coach Robin and the other girls and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?”
“Okay.” Hayley nods and turns to Eddie. “Bye dad!”
“Hold up, hold up, hold up.” Eddie says quickly, once again grabbing the back of her t-shirt to keep her from running off. He kneels down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. “Be careful, okay, baby? And if you don’t like it you can just yell and I come and get you, no questions asked. And if your laces get loose, you can yell too, literally if anything goes wrong you can-”
“Dad…” Hayley interrupts him and puts her tiny hand onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Eddie laughs and ducks his head. God, this is like kindergarten all over again, when Hayley just skipped to Miss Coleman without a care in the world and Eddie was sobbing into Wayne’s shoulder as he watched her go.
“I know it will be, sweet pea.” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to Hayley’s forehead. She takes that as her cue to go, skipping across the field towards the gaggle of girls that surround another one of the coaches.
Eddie feels his heart burst as he sees Hayley smiling as she greets the other girls, she seems to fit right in. He sighs deeply and stands up, trying to keep his eyes on Hayley, when a voice suddenly speaks up.
“Arwen.”
“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps because shit, he totally forgot that Coach Steve was still there as well. “Yeah, she’s named Arwen. What about it?"
Eddie wants to eat his foot as soon as he utters the words. He’s always been defensive when it comes to Hayley, being a single dad who doesn’t look like your standard suburban dad next door will do that to you. But to do it in front of a cute guy like that? It makes him want to kick himself. Repeatedly.
But much to his surprise, Steve doesn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “That’s from Lord of the Rings, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Eddie replies dumbly. He feels his walls lowering down - holy shit, this Steve guy is hot and he knows Lord of the Rings? If they weren’t around a bunch of kids right now, Eddie would’ve dropped to his knees already.
“Cute.” Steve chuckles and are Eddie’s eyes deceiving him or is Steve actually checking him out? Before he gets a chance to wrap his head around all that, Steve gestures back to the field. “Well, I gotta jet. Soccer waits for no one. See you around, Mr. Munson.”
“Ew, no. Mr. Munson is my dad.” Eddie winces, remembering all the times his neighbor growing up came by to help Wayne out and refuses to call him by his first name. “I’m Eddie.”
“Well then,” Steve smirks as he walks backwards. “see you around, Eddie.”
As Eddie tries to look like a normal human being instead of a total creep - which proves to be terribly difficult when Steve turns around and puts his ass on fully display in those damn shorts - he slowly begins to realize one thing.
Maybe Hayley’s decision to join the soccer team is the best idea she had in a long time.
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