#yeah i know the knife is different. sue me

[ew-selfish-art]

DCxDP AU: Danny and Damian are actually twins but were never raised together- Talia would divide her time between bases, spending time with them separately (but spending more time with Damian). Jason technically only met Danny in his time with the LoA.

It still a very tenuous truce that Jason has with his family when he finally joins them for breakfast after a late night of busting a drug ring. And sue him, he's never cared to look at the little one that closely when he's not pointing a knife in his direction. But then the little Bat Brat turned his face towards the ray of light streaming into the family room of the Manor and Jason caught a closer look to the… green color. Huh.

“Hey demon, when you died did you come back with those green eyes?” Jason calls out, and perhaps it’s a little antagonistic but something deeply unsettles the crime lord about this.

“Tt. I’ve always had green eyes Todd. Your observation skills remain dulled-“ Damian begins to berate him but Jason’s scowl deepens and he interrupts.

“No, they were definitely Bruce’s color blue when I met you with Talia- I punched your lights out because of it remember?” Jason supplies, looking perturbed and having a small child look equally perturbed back at him.

“You never met me in Nanda Parbat. And mother would have never allowed you to attack above your station and live.”

“Kid I literally have the scars from my punishment. My memory from that time after the pit might not be great or even good but I know, I know I punched your lights out.”

“No doubt you have been fooled by a clone then-“ Damian says but he looks upset.

“Talia called you Dami then, you’ve never let us call you that.” Jason supplies further, he was certain that Talia had introduced him as her son.

“I was never called such an informal name.” But Damian looks disturbed more than he looks like he wants to fight.

Eventually, after combing through their collective memory of Talia's where abouts and Damian's lack of interaction with Todd, it’s decided that they have to talk to Drake who was there the most recently. Neither wants to add the fact that he's also the most knowledgeable family member when it comes to the LoA now.

“Huh? Yeah, it looks like Talia kept ledgers dividing her time between two places- the journal reads like there is Dami as Damian but… maybe it’s Dami AND Damian…” Tim reviews the books he robbed them of with a fine tooth comb and suddenly this pattern of using the “nickname” and the “full name” start to show a “first child” and a “second child”.

Damian was clearly the favorite. The ‘Dami’ kid was sent away on a suicide mission pretty early in their lives, he would have left right after Todd did at the age of 8-ish. They all groaned at the cold trail following this assignment he failed to return from- it meant that they had to involve Bruce with a DNA search of the local areas the kid had been sent to across the globe. One of which, weirdly enough, was in Illinois.

…

“My name isn’t Daniel” Danny sighs at yet another event the Mansons brought him to with Vlad looking over his shoulder every five minutes.

Then the weird skinny kid who’s the big talk of the town approaches him with some guy built like a tank and says: “It’s Damian, isn’t it?”

Danny literally sinks through the floors, but in his attempts to run out the back door he’s stopped- By a guy that has Danny's own face and a very sharp looking knife pressed to Danny's throat.

In short- Danny introduced himself to the Fentons as “Dami” but they misheard him and called him Danny and fuck it, it’s close enough.

Now it turns out that their mother only planned on one surviving the artificial womb and gave them very different amounts of her time- so she just gave them the same name and reported it like she only had one child.

[pavlovianfuckery]

i have abandonment issues and anxiety and now so do you

MASTERLIST

linky for those AO3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42270144

just my brain going "but what if dream is a complete banana lady about time because he values it differently from everybody else and gets absorbed in his work and fucks off for months on end like a big fucking idiot, what then?"

also he is so very pretty when he cries and i wanted another go at writing some quick stair sex, fucking sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i was so sleep deprived when writing this and it shows but what can you do, 2.6k sad sad sexing under the cut

It's been weeks since you slept unaided, the use of pills keeping any dreams at bay, so when you finally enter the Dreaming only to find yourself in the throne room of all places, it gives you pause. Everything looks much the same as you remember. When you finally lay eyes on the aloof figure on the throne it feels like being kicked in the chest, which is less unexpected. You had imagined what it would be like to see him again many times, but nothing you had planned to say comes out, the words turning to ash in your mouth.

"Leave us." His gaze is fixed on you as he orders everyone out, and it feels as if an eternity passes between the closing of the massive doors and him speaking to you. "Do you know why I have brought you here?" Just hearing his voice again is painful, but you refuse to let it show, squaring your shoulders but not meeting his eyes, not bothering to keep your tone civil.

"I do not presume to know why you would do anything, so no, I don't." The glibness doesn't seem to amuse him, and he steps down from the throne. "That is not quite true, is it?" His voice is flat as he approaches you unhurriedly, step by inexorable step.   "If accusing me of being a liar is all you dragged me here for, I'm just going to go." You turn to go, to wake up, to be anywhere but here, but he calls out to you. "Stop." You were planning on leaving, and yet. And yet.

"Why?" You whirl around, facing him. It's a struggle to keep your voice from cracking, but you manage it, somehow. "You don't want me here." He frowns, moving closer until he's only a few paces away. "I assure you, that is not true, despite your lack of loyalty." "What in the world is that even supposed to mean?" Now you can't keep the anger out of your voice, "Since when have I ever been disloyal to you?" "Since you abandoned me to cavort with a mortal." The words are full of contempt, and it almost makes you physically recoil. "I abandoned you?" It comes out as a disbelieving laugh, more callous than you had intended. "No, you left, without so much as a word. I didn't hear from you for 6 months! I don't know if you had gotten bored of me or what, but you were gone."

"Bored?" His frown deepens. "There were matters of great import that required my attention." "Of course there were."  You had always been painfully aware of your own unimportance to a being like him right from the start but nevertheless, his words still hurt. "What did you expect me to do then, spend the rest of my life waiting for you? I didn't even know if you were coming back at all."

"You certainly wasted no time before giving yourself to another." "Did you miss the part where you up and left me for months? Not that it's any of your business anymore but yes, I slept with someone else, to try and get over you forgetting me!" "I did not forget you." Somehow, the words make it worse. "Yeah? Because that's what it looked like." Your eyes sting and you wipe at them angrily.

He's frozen, unmoving at the bottom of the steps. Bathed in the soft light from the stained glass windows he reminds you of a marble statue. Beautiful. Cold. It cuts at you like a knife until you can't stand to look at him any longer, and you turn to leave again. The way his fingers snag your wrist takes you by surprise, not expecting him to reach out. "Wait." "I did." You yank your arm back, but he grabs hold. The touch is gentle, but it might as well have been a firebrand. "Let. Go." For all their vehemence the words feel like a lie on your tongue, and as you glare at him it's obvious that he doesn't believe them either because his grip only tightens. The way he looks at you hurts, it burns and something inside your chest just shatters.

The slap is loud in the empty room, neither of you expecting it. Even though your palm tingles from the open-handed strike there isn't a mark on him of course, but that doesn't make you feel any better. When he pulls you to him, most of the fight drains out of you. "You don't get to do this, you know," you punch his chest weakly, just once as the first tears start to fall. "You can't just dump me by the wayside when you get tired of me, I'm not your fucking pet." "No, perhaps not. But do not doubt this; you are mine."

Despite everything, the close proximity has the same effect as it always has, as if he'd never left. As he tightens his arms around you his familiar scent envelops you, making your head swim. You're not sure what possesses you to brush your lips against his throat, but you do it anyway, despite your every sense screaming at you that it's a bad idea. "Forgive me." For a moment you're sure that he'll send you away, that you'll wake up alone in your bed again and the thought makes it hard to breathe. But then his fingers ghost over your cheek, brushing your tears away before guiding your mouth to his. The kiss is a brief, unspeakably tender thing, over much too quickly. Brows knitted together in something like confusion his eyes are heavy on you, searching your face. "What is there to forgive? If I had known..."

You don't wait for him to finish speaking, pulling him back down by the lapels of his coat. His lips are as soft against yours as they've ever been as you pry them open, like it would be possible to push every shred of angerpaingrief into him that way. As if he could somehow understand your hurt if only you could force him to taste it. And he lets you, even as you nip at him until you taste blood, like bright copper pennies caught in your teeth. Lack of air makes your head spin but you can't stop clinging to him as if he'd turn to smoke under your hands, to slip between your fingers to be gone by morning. "Don't leave me like that again..."

You breathe the words into him like a prayer until your knees go weak, and even then he holds you to him still, not letting go. The descent onto the stairs is a gradual one, made clumsy by the reluctance to let go for even a second. Straddling his lap is a graceless affair, but you're beyond caring.  Feeling the fabric of his coat under you is a bit unsettling, the way it cushions your knees from the unyielding stone beneath a bit too well to be quite real. It makes you feel as if you could fall into the sky of the lining of it if you're not careful. "You are aware of my responsibilities; I can offer you no such promises."  That hurts to hear more than you would like to admit, but then he continues, "I can however endeavour to inform you when my work requires my full attention."

It's not quite an apology, but it's as close to one as you're likely to ever get and still more than you dared hope for.  As the hem of his shirt rides up exposing the skin there, the urge to be closer is overpowering. "I have missed you." The way he says it is quiet but fond, the words soft enough to rival the feel of his skin under your questing hands.

Wanting to lay any claim on him that you can you suck at the sensitive skin on the side of his neck, which surprisingly does leave a mark, one that doesn't fade. When the realization dawns that he's doing that, he's keeping it there on purpose for you, lust pools molten in your belly. Repeating the action on the other side makes him groan, the sound vibrating against your lips as he tips his head back and grinds his hips up against you, giving you all the permission you need.

The bruises bloom nearly instantly, another one of his tricks, offered up almost like a gift. They dapple the flawless column of his throat prettily, but it's still not enough. The seams creak in protest as you pull the collar of his shirt down to get at more of him, but he doesn't seem to mind.  After being apart for so long, suddenly having him this close when you thought you never would again is overwhelming and you're unable to hold back a few errant tears.  "Do you have any idea what it was like with you gone?" Giving his hair a pull, you force him to look at you. 

He wets his lips before responding, an uncharacteristically human gesture. "It was never my intention to cause you harm." The tremble in his voice is barely perceptible but still undeniably there.

His lips yield to yours so easily when you kiss him again, pressing the heel of your hand against his fly. "Help me forget?" As you breathe the words into his mouth you can feel him pulse through the fabric. "Please?"

Even with his hands aiding yours it's easier than it should have been to pull his jeans down, the stiff material offering next to no resistance, a convenience courtesy of the Dreaming. Rather than removing them completely, you push them only as far down as is necessary.

His cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, you'd almost forgotten that. The skin is silky in your palm as you give him a few slow pumps, just as a reminder of what he feels like.  "Let me see you." His words make the rest of your clothing fade away like morning mist leaving you completely exposed on his lap, another perk of his realm that you had missed. The way he touches you borders on worshipful as he presses a soft kiss over your heart, gentle as a butterfly wing.

Sinking down on him slowly is difficult when you're aching like this, but you want to savour it. For now, he simply leans back and watches as your body swallows every inch of him. The way he fills you so perfectly is intoxicating, addictive. It feels like coming home. For a while you don't move, just enjoying holding him inside like this, buried to the hilt as you squeeze around him. The intimacy of it is almost unbearable, nearly making you choke up again as he gently grabs hold of your hips and guides you into a languid pace.

"Tell me he didn't make you feel like this." The words are quiet, almost pleading, his eyes shining as he looks up at you. You had thought something like that wouldn't matter to a being like him, but his fragile expression tells you otherwise. "I need to hear you say it," he gasps, the stars in his eyes finally falling. Seeing him like this nearly breaks your heart all over again. As you kiss his face with all the tenderness you can muster, moisture stains your lips, making him seem remarkably human in that moment. "You know he didn't," you fail to keep your voice steady as you stroke his hair. "He wasn't you."

The way his chest hitches does nothing to douse the desire burning its way through you, not the way it perhaps should have done. He's so lovely like this, all dishevelled, cheeks shining. It's wholly unexpected, the vulnerability of it all, making the tension in your core coil tighter. The salt of his tears burning on the tip of your tongue makes you feel like consuming enough of him in any way you can would somehow erase your stupid mistake. As if he could fill you up until there would be room for nothing else, and he would push the memory of it out of you. 

"Please come in me," you roll your hips, pleading. "I need you to."

That you would ask for it so bluntly makes him let out a desperate little sound and thrust up into you ineffectually, the bunched-up fabric around his knees making it close to impossible to gain any proper traction on the smooth stone steps. He grasps your hips more firmly, spurring you on. "Move for me." It's still a fairly leisurely pace, neither of you so much chasing release as letting it arrive in its own time.  Pleasure washing over you in gentle waves makes your thighs quake as it brings you close to your peak before pulling away, time and time again.

The squelching noises as you ride his cock are embarrassingly loud in the empty hall, but you're beyond caring about anything except that you get to have him like this again. One of his hands moves to where you are joined, clever fingers circling your clit, not directly touching you yet.  "You make such a sweet mess of me, my love."He murmurs, voice strained as he continues, "I've missed that." The words alone are nearly enough to put you right back on that precipice, making you pull on his hair with a frustrated little whine. "Morpheus, please." At that, he goes completely still, his grip like iron as he holds you in place. You can feel his cock straining inside of you, nearly spilling but not quite. "Plead with me like that," he chokes out, cheeks high with colour, "and you will receive me sooner than you might hope."

Being the one to make his composure falter has never failed to drive you wild and this time is no different. Seeing him like this after your time apart, balancing on that edge right along with you, is very nearly enough to bring you off. Furrowing his brow he bites his bottom lip, fighting to keep his control from slipping, and you realize that you're going to come regardless of if he moves or not. It's like a tidal wave on the horizon, the pull relentless long before it arrives.

"I'm going to," you struggle to get the words out, "fuck, I'm..." The way his eyes bore into yours is almost hypnotic, drawing you in. "Go on," he breathes, egging you on, "come for me." Then he flexes inside of you and with a whimper, you're lost, walls spasming around his cock. There is no way to ride the wave of pleasure and nowhere to hide from it, the only thing you can do is slump bonelessly on his lap and let it wash over you, because he isn't letting you move. He's only a few seconds behind you though, pushing in as far as he can go and emptying himself there with a strangled sound, as if he really could wash every trace of the other man's touch out of you that way.

Spent, he rests his head against your shoulder, stroking his hands down your back soothingly as his come starts seeping out of you. For a while you simply stay like that, holding each other close.  Now that you're thinking more clearly reality starts to set in, and you can't help but dread waking up. Because in your heart of hearts, you know that you will wake up alone, no matter what just happened. It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest and without meaning to, you start to tremble.

Realizing with rising horror that this might just be A dream and not your Dream, you do the only thing you can think of; you flee back to the waking world.

[kassies-take]

If You Are The Last Man Standing

<Prev || Part 24 || Next>

~Years Later~

You: *wears a rosewood and silver wedding ring and works the wood shop connected to the Quileute community center*

Sam: *spots of grey hair, leads a tourist group* this is (Y/n), she is also a wildlife conservationist, our youngest tribal leader and she’s good with a wood saw.

You: *head nod towards Sam*

Sam: *leads the group away*

Leah: *walks in from office* I would’ve never thought Sam would lead tourist

You and Leah: *snickers*

You: it’s a good look on him, probably gives him a break from his sons

Leah: if anyone needs the break it’s Paul

You: I do not know how Rachel popped out three kids at the same time. At least Jared and Kim have one.

Leah: they’re trying again

You: I hope it’s a girl… the pack seems so much better without the Cullen’s here

Leah: everyone’s fine. Seth and the others work with Rosalie and Embry says all is well at the Makah tribe. Though Quil and Claire had a huge fight recently.

You: Yeah, he stayed at mine and Rosalie’s place last night. the girl is running him into the ground.

Leah: how is Rosalie?

You: she keeps herself busy. Running her auto-shop and being a nighttime nanny. The Cullens do a collective video call a week, it’s fun seeing those guys try to figure out how technology works. It must be weird for Bella and Edward having an ex lover pine for their daughter

Leah: yeah, but not our problem. Some higher power’s punishment for him, you know Jacob’s always going to love Bella even if he did imprint on Rensesmee.

You: *growls* don’t remind me. I can’t believe my idiot of a brother was about to hurt my wife!

Leah: okay *takes carving knife out of your hand*

You and Leah: *sits in silence*

You: who would’ve known we would be the last man standing

Leah: yeah about that… I. Well with your permission-

You: *sighs* you don’t need my permission to stop phasing Leah, I’m surprised you stayed this long

Leah: we’ll it was mainly for selfish reasons… We are suppose to be old crone buddies… and I know about your worries of seeing the pack, your family, grow older

You: *puts down your wolf carving and hugs her* you don’t have to worry about me. You deserve a life of your own and you know I’ll always be here. Plus this would be a good reason to pull the pack together!

~~~~~

You and Leah: *running Leah’s final patrol together and reaches the path towards Sam and Emily’s house*

The Pack: *stands in their ceremonial shifter capes*

Sue: *holds a ceremonial shifter cape for Leah*

Sam: *holds ceremonial beads*

Leah: ‘Thank you (Y/n)’

You: *nods*

Leah: *shifts back to human facing away from the boys*

Sue: *drapes the cape over her, in Quileute language* the ancestors, the elders, the pack and the spirits above thank you for your service in protecting the tribe

Sam: *puts beads on Leah, in Quileute language* These beads restore your cultural ties and spiritual beliefs, may the great wolf spirit forever guide and protect you.

The Pack: *wolf pack call chirps*

You: *howls and runs the patrol path to the end*

Rosalie: *walks up to you and brushes your fur with her fingers* this one is different isn’t it

You: *shifts back into her arms and cries*

~~~~~

You and Rosalie: *makes it back to Sam and Emily’s

Leah: *hands you an envelope and winks* you’ve done a lot for the tribe

You and Rosalie: *confused*

Paul: and for the pack

Embry: we wanted to make sure you could have anything you could have possibly wanted

Sam: Leah and Carlisle have been in contact

Jared: we were all in agreement

Quil: it’s a thank you gift

Seth: for you and Rosalie

You: *opens it, reads the letter from Carlisle and tears up*

Rosalie: *reads it from behind your shoulder and gasps* this will work?

Leah: you’d have to stop shifting for a bit. And your kid would hold the shifter gene. They’ll stop aging like Rensemee, they won’t be venomous and will have a human diet

Rosalie: *throws her arms around Leah* thank you! Thank you!

Paul: if there’s anyone to deserve this it’s you two. Plus we will spoil them to be like us so you won’t miss us too much

~~~~~

You: Alice, we don’t need a gender reveal!

Alice: I can’t hear you

You: Carlisle tell her we don’t need a gender reveal. Rosalie is a woman, I’m a woman. We only have X chromosomes! I don’t care that we have 24 pairs of chromosomes that doesn’t mean we carry the Y chromosome!

Rosalie: doll you need to calm down.

You: I will calm down when Alice is reined in. *whines* why aren’t you stopping her

Rosalie: sometimes you just let it happen.

Edward: *across the room* Rosalie thinks it’s cute seeing you waddle around after Alice

You: I do not waddle

Leah: you kind of do.

You: *glares*

Sue and Charlie: *enters*

Sue: *hugs you* congratulations

Alice: *skips over to you and hands you a photo*

You: *gasps*

Rosalie: *snaps at Alice* where did you get this!

You: Babe! You’re so cute as a baby!

Alice: I have my ways! I have more of these if you let me do a gender reveal

You: *cooes*

Rosalie: No, we don’t need a gender reveal *pulls you away*

You: but there’s more! You got to see my baby photos!

The Cullens and The Pack: *playing baby shower games*

Rosalie: *looks around for you and walks away from the group* doll?

You: *looks at the Guess who baby board, smiles and caresses your baby belly*

Rosalie: your smile says you’re happy but your eyes tell a different story *hugs you*

You: I love you, and I love the family we are building but

Rosalie: but we will always be like this, frozen.

You: yeah… how did you do it? Live knowing you’re the last to remember your family, your home?

Rosalie: spite… I also have my sister with me

You: *chuckles* sounds like you

Rosalie: someone doesn’t truly die until they are forgotten

You: it feels heavy

Rosalie: *lifts your belly*

You: I was speaking metaphorically but this helps too

Rosalie: *hums* yes but you won’t be carrying those memories on your own*

Billy has been transcribing everything going on with the pack since you guys shifted. I’ve kept a diary since I was old enough to write.

You: and I’m just knowing about it now? Baby we’ve been married 10 years, together for 11… Anything I should know about? Perhaps about a certain female shifter?

Rosalie: hush you. *slowly lets go of your belly*

You: *groans*

Rosalie: I’ll help you remember them. I promise. *leaves multiple kisses on your face*

Quinn: I found them!

[troublewithvampires]

@little-creatures-in-my-head said:

Silly little headcannons I have for Sal (though it's a bit unfair since we ramble a lot to each other)

He uses an old barber's knife to do all of his shaving. He gets nicks here and there but doesn't mind because he likes the ability to do it himself. Maybe his Uncle taught him.

I know he reasonably never had a chance to, but I can see him playing jazz or blues on piano or guitar!!

idk why, but after he's out and free and cleaned up I think he'd have that characteristic smell of lilies and cinnamon. Like, very flowery fragrant with a punch of heat. Maybe some flint in there too.

--

(you send ME headcanons now - open)

//format here is a bit fucky but y'know what that's ok <3 anyway since you're the one who receives most of my salvatore rambles it *is* a bit unfair of you to hop in here like that :/ you know him very well so you have an unfair advantage in this (kidding <3)

anyway. rating your headcanons.

oooooh yes yes yes this is very accurate, especially pre-vampirism. sal's uncle clarence is absolutely the one who taught him how to shave, and he took a lot of pride in doing it himself. and post-vampirism, he still takes pride in it, but for different reasons. previously, it was just a part of being a man that he enjoyed. and now... it's part of being able to actually take care of himself and his appearance, to look how he wants.

oh fuck oh god oh fuck that's a good idea.... i really like that. yeah, he never had the chance pre-vampirism, but maybe that'd be fun to explore in one of his verses? band au coming to a tumblr near u

mmmm y'know, i don't think those would be his natural scents, but i definitely think in terms of cologne i could see him leaning towards cinnamon scents. he does enjoy wearing cologne! he likes smelling nice! sue him!!

overall: 10/10, but you know enough about him already that i think that's a given LMAO.

[mikeo56]

Everything was going fine until Grandma brought out the roast Palestinian child for dinner.

“Who’s hungry?” she chirped, a small honey-glazed human corpse on a platter in her arms.

“I am!” said Grandpa.

“Oh boy!” said Tommy.

“OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK??” Susan shrieked.

“Jesus, Sue, my ears,” said Ellen.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Grandma asked, frozen in shock.

“That’s a dead kid! Why the fuck is there a dead kid on that plate??” Susan yelled.

“Hey, you can’t talk to your grandmother like that,” Grandpa warned.

“Yeah, Sue, watch your mouth,” said Stanley, covering his daughter’s ears.

“It’s — oh my God! It’s a dead kid! Why is everyone acting like this is fine?? What the fuck is happening??”

“Oh, Susan, sweetie, are you a vegetarian? I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” said Grandma.

“Did — did you kill this kid??” Susan asked, struggling to catch her breath.

“Oh Christ, no!” said Grandpa. “Is that what this is about? No, it’s some Arab kid that got killed in that Israeli war. They started selling them by the pound at Costco last month.”

“YOU MEAN THE GENOCIDE IN GAZA??” Susan bellowed, falling to her knees and sobbing. 

“Oh, here we go,” Tommy sighed.

“Can we please not get all political at the dinner table?” said Stanley.

“Yeah, no politics!” said Grandpa. “We’re all here together as a family, let’s just try to have a nice time.”

“Politics??” Susan screamed. “I’m staring at a dead Palestinian kid right in front of me and it freaks me out! How the fuck is that political??”

“I mean, calling it a ‘genocide’, Sue?” said Ellen.

“Look, we can sit here arguing about the war and who started it and whether Israel has a right to defend itself and whether Jews have a right to exist in their homeland, or we can all just take a deep breath, and relax, and enjoy this delicious meal Grandma spent hours in the kitchen preparing,” said Grandpa, reaching for the carving knife.

“I swear to God if any of you so much as touches that kid I will never speak to you for the rest of my life,” said Susan.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Tommy.

“Tom!” said Stanley, putting down the knife to again cover his daughter’s ears.

“God, Sue why do you always gotta be such a hysterical drama queen?” said Ellen. “We’re just trying to have a nice meal together and you gotta come in playing Woke Police on everyone.”

“It’s a victim of genocide! You want to eat a human child who was killed in a genocide!” screamed Susan.

“You say it’s a genocide victim, I say it’s dinner,” said Tommy. “But nobody can be right except you, right Sue? Only Saint Susan gets to decide which opinions are valid.”

“I think we just need to have respect for one another’s different political opinions, Susan” said Grandma. “We’re not all going to agree on everything, and we need to be able to set that aside and get along together. This is a complicated issue. Who’s to say who’s right?”

“But this isn’t political!” wailed Susan. “How can you guys not see that?? There’s a DEAD KID on the dinner table! A dead kid!”

“I think they’re right, Aunt Susan,” said Morgan, taking off her headphones. “I didn’t want to say anything but a lot of the stuff you’ve been saying online about the war is really problematic and antisemitic, and actually kind of borderline fascist-adjacent. The kinds of things you’ve been saying about President Biden and Vice President Harris are going to land Trump back in the White House.”

“Alright, alright, what did we just say about politics at the dinner table?” said Grandpa. “This is what it leads to. A bunch of hurtful words and hurt feelings.”

“Fuck. Your. Feelings,” said Susan.

“Okay, well, dinner’s ruined,” said Stanley. “Morgan, Louise, come on, we’re getting McDonald’s. Thanks a lot, Sue.”

“Yeah, Sue,” said Tommy. “Selfish bitch.”

Everyone left, leaving Grandpa and Grandma alone with Susan — who was still crying on the floor.

“Susan,” said Grandpa. “Someday you’re going to have to learn that other people have feelings just like you, and that we all deserve to be treated as human beings, just like you do.”

“Really, sweetie, you’ve just got to learn to have a little compassion,” said Grandma, picking up the platter with the Palestinian child on it and carrying it into the kitchen. 

“I guess we can use all these leftovers for sandwiches later,” she mumbled, shaking her head sadly.

[lexosaurus]

Birthmark

Phic Phight oneshot for @datawyrms: Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone.

---

“Shit,” Valerie cursed, deactivating her hoverboard and gently placing the figure on the ground. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Bright green liquid soaked the ghost’s body, dripping off his waist and painting the grass in a steady stream. It was ectoplasm, something inhuman and twisted, and yet when Valerie looked down, all she saw was how closely it resembled blood. 

She raised a shaking hand and attempted to brush away some of the green on her suit. But she looked more green than red at this point and all she could think of was how much ectoplasm was outside the ghost’s body. 

It was too much.

They’d been ambushed after a ghost fight, the Guys in White having caught them in one of their special nets. Valerie had tried to yell out that she wasn’t a ghost, she was human, but it was no use. They zapped the net, and her vision was shrouded in darkness.

The next thing she knew, she was in a van, trapped with her biggest rival in Amity Park. Phantom was awake, but he didn’t know how long they’d been in the van for. Hours passed before the van stopped at last. But at that point, they had a plan.

As soon as an operative opened the back, Valerie was on him. She knocked him out, stole his gun, and bolted.

Apparently, Phantom wasn’t so useless without his powers either. By some miracle, he managed to find a way to remove his inhibitor collar and take flight.

But that was when all hell broke loose. Right as he’d paused to free Valerie from her inhibitors, someone landed a shot on him.

And he fell.

Valerie didn’t have time to think. She just grabbed his body, activated her hoverboard, and flew, not sure where she was going but unwilling to stop until she was sure she’d lost the agents. 

“Fuck.” She threw off her helmet and looked down at Phantom’s unconscious form. There was a hole in the stomach of his suit, and ectoplasm bubbled and sparkled in the harsh sun.

He was going to die, Valerie realized. What happened when a ghost died? Could they even die? 

“Stay with me,” she whispered.

She shoved a hand in her belt for her emergency supplies, but her glove was too slippery, and her hand trembled too much. She couldn’t do this. She ripped off her glove and tried again, trying to ignore the way the ectoplasm trickled between her fingers.

She had a bit of gauze, a tube of instant clot powder, a few butterfly clips, and a few large bandages. It wasn’t much, but it would have to work.

Because the alternative…

She set the supplies down and turned back to the unconscious ghost. His glow was almost nonexistent, and for the first time she could see his face clearly. All the grooves of skin, his pores, the individual hairs on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He had freckles. That tiny, human detail Valerie would have thought impossible for a ghost. 

Even the more humanoid ghosts always had some slight haze to them, something that just made them more like a realistic doll than a person. But not Phantom. If it weren’t for the white hair and ectoplasm, she would have thought him to be just a regular teenager.

“Stay with me.” 

She needed to take his jumpsuit off. Could she even do that? Was it attached to him? Would taking it off just hurt him more?

For a moment, Valerie knelt there frozen, unsure of what to do. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of burnt battery acid and lime, and she could only stare as the Phantom’s face slowly grew paler and paler.

She pinched herself. “Snap out of it.” She’d dealt with worse, this was just a ghost. A ghost that she didn’t even like. A ghost that she’d spent the last two years chasing out of Amity Park.

She could do this.

Grabbing her swiss army knife out of her belt, she began carefully slicing through the fabric. Her damp hands were immediately filled with green goo, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that her fears were correct and that the jumpsuit acted like a second skin for Phantom.

But then she saw a black t-shirt peeking out underneath the jumpsuit, and she realized with a shaky breath of relief that the suit simply melted if it wasn’t attached to the host.

Of course, that made sense. She’d seen Plasmius rip off his cape before and it had dissolved in thin air. How could she have forgotten?

She made quick work with removing the jumpsuit, and had started on the undershirt as well when Phantom groaned.

She froze, unable to move the slightest muscle, as she watched Phantom’s drunk green eyes slowly flutter to life. 

“Don’...” he slurred.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. “You’re hurt, I’m sorry.”

She tried to resume cutting his shirt, but he lazily swatted her hand away. “Don’...”

“Phantom, stop. I need to get this off you.”

“Stop...”

“I gotta do this,” she said, tearing his t-shirt. “It’s just a shirt.”

“S’ugly,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling back. His head lolled to the side, and he was out again.

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be—” 

Her voice cut off, and she sucked in a breath. Tattooed on Phantom’s skin were glowing lightning figures that branched from his shoulder, snaking around his chest and stomach as if they were alive.

Valerie had never seen anything like it before, and she could have dismissed them as just ectoplasmic tattoos. But from Phantom’s reaction, she had a sneaking suspicion that these were something much more serious. Much more personal.

Something that she didn’t have time to think about right now. Something that was getting covered by ectoplasm, something that was losing its bleak glow as the aura around Phantom faded to nothing.

Time was up. She needed to act now.

Ripping off the packaging, Valerie got to work.

---

The sky was clear, glittering with thousands of stars. It was one of those rare nights where the milky way was visible, arcing the sky with its brilliance. 

Valerie had never been one to care about nature. Growing up rich in the city, her focus was always materialistic. She just wanted to fit in with the other girls, so she’d been more than willing to follow along with their hobbies and model her life after their trends.

Nature? Space? Stars? She never gave them a second thought.

Until her life was turned upside down, that was. Suddenly, Valerie went from hardly spending time outside to now soaring through the sky every night, weather be damned. It didn’t take long for her to appreciate the beauty of a clear, warm, night sky.

She landed on top of a building and collapsed her hoverboard. It had been quiet thus far, with only a few ambient blob ghosts roaming around a warehouse. Although at the beginning of her ghost hunting career, Valerie had spent each night painstakingly capturing every ghost in sight, she’d grown since then. She wasn’t so angry, so vengeful now.

And aside from being completely harmless, even Valerie had to admit there was something almost cute about the tiny bulbs of ecto energy.

Her suit dinged, signaling a ghost nearby, and Valerie groaned. There really was no rest for the weary, it seemed.

She raised her radar watch to her eyes to see a familiar ecto signature reading pop up in the corner.

One that was heading towards her.

Shit.

She hadn’t seen Phantom since that day. He’d been avoiding her. And maybe a few months ago she wanted him to avoid her, but now...

That day had changed her.

It was terrifying the way the government had so easily lumped her in with the ghosts just because they detected ectoplasmic readings from her suit. She woke up not knowing where she was, where she was going, if she’d ever see her father again.

Part of Valerie had insisted that once they saw her without her helmet, they’d call her dad and drive her back. It would have all been a big misunderstanding.

But a different part of her, one deep down inside, knew she was just lying to herself.

The government operated the way she did when she first started ghost hunting. All black and white, no room for grey. Ghost were evil and all ectoplasm needed to be destroyed. Period.

After she patched Phantom up in that grassy field, she flew and flew until she stumbled across a nearby town. She hid Phantom in a warehouse and sat with him for hours, forcing herself to stay away and stand guard in case the GiW found them. 

He didn’t wake up until the next morning, taking one look between Valerie and his exposed torso before panic struck his features and he simply disappeared. Before Valerie could gather her wits to hunt his ungrateful ass down and kill him again, he reappeared, suit intact, and began leading their way back to Amity on instinct alone.

Phantom refused to look her in the eye for the entire trip home. And when they finally got to Valerie’s apartment, left her with a “get some sleep” before disappearing once again.

Her watch buzzed lightly against her skin, signaling that he was close. Valerie leaned back, waiting. Seeing if he’d actually come to her, or if he’d bail and pull the vanishing act he was so famous for.

But then he appeared. Right in front of her. His glow was vibrant against the night sky, covering his body in a shimmery aura. His acidic green eyes glistened in the dark.

He really looked no worse for wear after his injury. That kind of hit would have landed Valerie in the hospital. And yet, Phantom was back the next day, full of bright smiles and puns for the people of Amity.

She wondered how often this kind of thing happened to him. Just how many times had he been nearly slaughtered only to pop back into the public eye pretending like nothing happened?

He gave her an awkward wave. “Hey, Red.” 

“Phantom.” She greeted cooly.

Just because lately she’d been seeing Phantom as someone who didn’t have an inherently evil Obsession didn’t mean that she liked him. At best, he was cocky, arrogant. At worst, he’d dumped her back at her apartment and left her by herself after the complete shit show that was their kidnapping.

So yeah, maybe she was a little bitter. Sue her.

“Uh, do you mind if I…” He gestured to the roof.

She pretended to mull his proposition over, watching as his ghostly tail flickered in anxiety.

He was ready to bolt, and she didn’t blame him. They’d never really talked before.

“Do what you want. I don’t feel like fighting tonight,” she finally conceded.

Relief spread across Phantom’s features, and Valerie was once again reminded of how human he was. She once thought that ghosts couldn’t feel any emotions. While it was doubtless that the way they experienced emotions was different than how humans did, there was just no way that Phantom was able to nail all those tiny details so accurately. Even if he was one of the more powerful ghosts out there, it would have been near impossible to mimic the full range of human emotion so quickly and precisely.

He settled down next to her, his tail morphing into legs positioned criss-crossed against the concrete. He turned to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

Valerie said nothing, just allowing the blanket of awkwardness to settle over the pair. If he wanted to say something, he could say it. Valerie wasn’t going to hand-hold him through a conversation.

When the tension was reaching the point of unbearable, Phantom finally broke the silence. “It’s a nice night.”

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t—uh, seen any ghosts. Tonight, I mean. Like outside. Or inside, too. Uh...it’s a quiet night. Ghost free. Well, except for me, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

He ran a gloved hand through his white hair. “Not that I’m really complaining. It’s kinda nice to have a break for a change.”

Valerie grunted in agreement, even though she was sure Phantom was lying through his teeth. Ghosts lived for their Obsessions, and Phantom was no different. She knew that deep down, he reveled in ghost hunting even more than any human ever could.

The duo was lapsed back into another tense silence, one that Valerie didn’t try to break. She didn’t understand what his goal was with the petty chatter. Did he think they were suddenly friends now? After he discarded her back at her apartment like she was a used rag and disappeared without a hint of remorse?

After she carried him hundreds of miles away from the Guys in White compound, bandaged his wounds, and then stayed up all night just to make sure he was safe?

She could have left him there. She could have been home before her father had woken up the next morning in a panic because his daughter was nowhere to be found. She could have avoided the phone call to the police, the missing child report, the whole mess that had followed.

And he couldn’t have even been bothered to say thank you afterward. Just dumped her and left.

So if he thought she was going to help him out now, he had another thing coming.

“How have...um, how have you been? Since…”

“Fine.” She said. “My dad’s been better.”

He winced. “Yeah…”

“Not that you care.”

He jolted up, turning around to face her. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about, spook.”

“I thought we were over the whole ‘spook’ thing,” he said, his face twisting in annoyance.

“And I thought you were over being an inconsiderate jerk. But I guess I was wrong.”

“Listen, Val—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Okay, Red. Listen, I’m sorry. Okay? I got freaked out that you—you saw…” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry you got caught up in my problems, I’m sorry they thought you were a ghost, and I just...yeah.”

Valerie sat there for a moment, glaring out at the night’s sky. “It was a big mess, you know.”

“I know.”

“The police were involved and everything.”

“I heard.”

“And you know the worst part? I couldn’t even tell them the truth.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I got kidnapped by my own government and I couldn’t even tell my dad. I had to lie and say I got lost while out on a nature hike. How stupid is that? I nearly got killed by the freaking government and I haven’t been able to say a damn thing to anyone.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet.

“Yeah, well…” Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat. “You know. Hazard of the job, I guess. Still would have been nice if you hadn’t just left on me. After everything.”

Phantom lowered his head, allowing the white strands of hair to cover his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was a dick move.”

“It was.”

“I just wanna know why.”

He looked up, startled. “Why? Why you were captured, or—”

“Why the silent treatment? Was it because I saw those glowing lightning tattoos under your jumpsuit?”

He flinched back as if he’d been struck, his body lifting to hover over the cement. He stared at her open mouthed, as if he didn’t think she’d even dare to mention it.

But Valerie couldn’t find it in her to be joyous at his hurt expression. “Seriously? You were mad about that? Like I care about what you put on your body.”

“No, no.” Despite looking like he wanted to take flight, he managed to lower himself back onto the roof. “No, they’re...it’s complicated.” 

“Oh, wonderful,” she said sardonically. “So let me get this straight, ghost boy. I save your ass from the government, pull an all-nighter guarding your lifeless body in a warehouse, and the best you can give me is an it’s complicated? Thanks a lot. It really makes me feel better.”

“No, it’s…” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyebrows were pinched and he looked almost sick. When he finally spoke, his voice was small. “They’re not tattoos.”

“Oh? What, an unlucky birthmark?”

He didn’t respond.

Valerie turned to him, realization hitting her with full force. Unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, she said, “Really? That’s it?”

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. His eyes were distant, far away. Lost in some other world.

He’d been electrocuted. Struck to death by lightning, or something similar. And now it was branded on him, as some twisted reminder of the ugly creature that extended its spindly claws and ripped his humanity from his body.

“Damn.” Valerie blew out a breath. “Of all the ways to go, huh?”

“I—Yeah…”

She couldn’t help herself. “Do all ghosts have one?”

“No.”

Valerie didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Questions swirled through her brain, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t know much about ghost culture, but she was fairly certain that there was a taboo against asking ghosts about their deaths.

So she stayed silent, pretending to focus back on the stars but stealing glances to the teenage ghost beside her. His brows had furrowed, as if he were having an internal war. Whatever it was, Valerie didn’t pry. Even if her curiosity burned brighter with each passing moment.

Finally, he sighed, dropping his forehead into his knees. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice sounded anything but. “You can ask.”

She hesitated for a brief moment before relenting. “Why do you have a mark?”

“They’re called Lichtenberg figures,” he explained. “They just happen. If the shock is bad enough. But they, uh, are supposed to fade in a few days. You know, if you’re...human.”

“But yours didn’t.”

“No, mine didn’t.” He raised his head, opening his mouth slightly, before slamming it shut.

This was unmarked territory she was stepping into. Hell, she doubted even the Fentons had ever talked to a ghost about their death before.

“Do you remember it?” she tried.

“Yeah.” 

That surprised her. She’d read some of the Fenton’s papers, and even they were uncertain of how much a ghost remembered about their death. 

The question must have shown on her face because Phantom added, “Not everyone does. I think...I think it has to do on their power level. And, uh, how old they are. I think some of the more ancient ghosts just kinda...forget. But I don’t know much. We don’t really talk about it.”

“Oh.”

Phantom nodded, staring down at his gloves. He sighed, and then started pulling one of them off.

Valerie froze, her eyes locking onto the movement. She’d never seen Phantom remove them before, and frankly she wasn’t even sure if they could be removed.

The glove left his skin and dissolved into ectoplasm, splashing onto the concrete roof. And there, left on his otherworldly skin, were the cobwebs of the lightning scar that covered his torso. It was brighter, glowing with more precision than Valerie remembered from before. 

He pushed his sleeve up to his elbow, revealing more of the Lichtenberg figure. It traveled up his wrist, spiraling throughout his arm before it disappeared into his suit. The branches were thin, glowing with the same ectoplasmic energy that ran through the ghost’s core.

Valerie didn’t know what to say. Here Phantom was, her biggest rival in Amity Park, revealing his creation, the moment that turned him into what he was today.

“It was an accident.” He finally spoke. “I was being stupid, I don’t know. My friends and I were fooling around with this...this machinery, I guess, that we knew we weren’t supposed to be near. I grabbed a malfunctioning piece of equipment—I didn’t realize it was plugged in—and that...was it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” Phantom pushed his sleeve back down. He closed his eyes, willing the glove to  materialize back onto his hand. He looked at her and offered a feeble smirk. “Teenagers, am I right?”

Valerie forced a polite smile in return, hoping it didn’t look too pained. 

He cleared his throat. “But, you know,” he said, allowing some of that familiar cocky energy back into his voice. “It’s in the past now. I’m over it.”

Valerie doubted that much. After all, he was still a ghost.

“I mean, I get to do really cool things now. Like helping people. Protecting the town. You can’t exactly do that as a human.” He froze, his eyes flickering to her. “I mean, aside from you. You’re great at it!”

Valerie flipped him off. “Whatever, ghost boy.”

“No, I’m serious! You’re really good as a ghost hunter.”

“I know I’m good! I don’t need your flattery to give me self-esteem.” Her voice sobered. “But really, Phantom. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He frowned, and looked up at the sky. The brilliance of the stars reflected on his form, giving his body an almost ethereal presence. 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

---

Thanks for reading!

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

[tavern-aa]

hii !! i hope youre having a great day/night. 

can u do the prompts “Wow, i didn’t realize you were that…flexible.” and/or  “Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” “Yes we can.” for zuko atla ? maybe hes the firelord and they go on a trip to the woods with the rest of the gang ? male reader please.

A/N: Yo…Leviathan wrote this with the help of a friend. Teddy was gonna write this and then said, nah. Not my ZuZu so I was tasked with editing our friends draft and I…may have gone overboard and just like rewritten it even though I have a distaste for smut.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Smut, +18, voyeurism, tons of subtle fire puns sue me

x Male Reader

-

-

-

Smut Prompt: 63

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that…flexible”

-

Smut Prompt: 110-111

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?”

“Yes we can.”

-

-

-

They had travelled for hours to make it to the Western Air Temple, their feet heavy and their heads warry, and yet as soon as they set their belongings down, Aang suggested a sparing match. For fun of course, to blow off steam, get everyone a little sleepy so that they could rest a little easier that night. Zuko agreed, partnering up with the air bender whilst Sokka turned to Y/N, the only other non-bender in their group.

Y/N let out a hefty sigh at the look of tired determination on his friends face, “don’t go easy on him, Y/N,” he heard Katara call from where she was setting up the fire to cook for the Gaang’s dinner. Toph walked over to the side and stomped her foot on the ground erecting a tent of rock just large enough for her to fit inside.

Sokka huffed before approaching Y/N for their fight, both landing blows with fist and weapon though the two seemed evenly matched as usual. That changed the moment Y/N’s gaze drifted towards the other men’s fight, his eyes watching as Zuko moved unaware of his stare. Sokka took the opportunity of Y/N’s distraction to land a particularly hard blow to his friends leg swiping it out from under him.

“Point to Sokka!” He exclaimed in excitement as he danced around Y/N’s prone being.

“Shut it, boomerang boy. I was distracted,” Y/N pouted not having noticed the other two had finished their sparring match. Aang laughed loudly at the nickname for Sokka causing him to blush a deep red.

“Stop laughing, Aang! And it was fair, doesn’t matter if you were distracted or not!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

With that, Y/N used his leg to swipe Sokka’s feet out from under him before clambering over and holding the blade of his knife to the other man’s throat.

“How ‘bout that for fair?”

Sokka huffed before pushing the knife away with his finger, pushing Y/N off gently and getting up.

“Yeah yeah, your win again…I’m starving!”

Y/N watched Sokka run over to the camp fire and start bothering Katara before he too made his way closer to the others, grabbing his tent supplies to set up his and Zuko’s shared tent. The two were forced to share a tent due to lack of space; Sokka, Aang, and Katara were sharing the larger tent and Toph made her own so the other two males were left with the smaller tent.

The non-bender tried to set up the shelter as quick as possible, but we all know that tents are stupid and never want to be easy. His ear perked up as he heard the others laughing with eachother, but he paid no mind, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand.

A hand on his shoulder a moment later startled him out of his trance like state of trying to put the pole into the fabric.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you, it just looked like you needed help with the tent?”

Zuko.

Y/N’s heart hammered in his chest as his eyes turned to meet the other’s.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that would be great,” he muttered. It’s not like he was nervous around Zuko because he was a fire bender, no he was nervous for a much different reason. Zuko had been so kind to him ever since Y/N joined the Gaang, like sure he was close to everyone but Zuko was especially sweet to Y/N and the non-bender didn’t know why.

“Hey, are you feeling okay…by the way? I uh…I noticed you took a pretty hard fall earlier when sparring with Sokka,” Zuko questioned, raising his head momentarily to glance at the smaller male.

“Oh…ha, you saw that huh? Yeah I’m fine, a little sore, but I’m fine.”

“I could stretch you out if you want?”

Y/N’s face grew bright red, his grip on one of the poles turning white as his head snapped in Zuko’s direction.

“Huh?” He managed to squeak out in shock as Zuko looked up in confusion.

“What? Did I say somethi- oh…oh no that’s not- I-…” Zuko quickly cut himself off, his face also a deep crimson color from realization.

“No, no you’re fine, I’m sorry that was on me,” Y/N awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before standing up from the now pitched tent.

“But I do think I’ll take you up on that offer, I have some really bad kinks in my neck and back.”

Zuko’s face turned a deeper red as he heard Y/N’s words leave his mouth this time causing the smaller man to sputter and stumble over his words.

“Wait- I- no…I just…”

“This is so awkward to watch…” Sokka commented from the campfire, a spoon being held in front of his mouth. Y/N immediately flipped him off in response, his eyes cast downwards in embarrassment.

“Come on Y/N…let’s just get in the tent and stretch your muscles,” Zuko suggested, gently guiding Y/N into the tent before he zipped up the entrance, “So just uh…take off your shirt and lay on your stomach I guess.”

Y/N’s face stayed the crimson color as his hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in a quick swipe. His hands shook as he tossed it to the side of the area before lowering himself onto one of the sleeping bags on the ground, shivering slightly as the cool material of the fabric.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, a pair of warm hands made contact with Y/N’s back.

“I’m gonna start now,” Zuko whispered as he slowly dug his fingers into the smaller males back. Y/N let out a soft gasp as he felt the man’s fingers press into the sore sports of his body.

“Tell me if it hurts okay?”

“Y-yeah, it feels nice so far.”

Zuko nodded in response though he realized a second later that Y/N could not see him and blushed in embarrassment. After working on his back for a few more minutes, he tapped on the boy’s side.

“Can you turn over, I’m gonna do your legs now.”

Y/N felt his face flush before he slowly nodded into the fabric of the sleeping bag rolling his body over to expose his bare chest to the older male. Zuko’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the pink nubs that stood erect on Y/N’s chest wanting nothing more than to reach out and grab them, play with them, and have them in his mouth, just to make the smaller boy squirm in pleasure.

He quickly shook the thought from his head as he let his gaze trail down towards the younger male’s legs, eyes pausing only momentarily to stare longingly at the bulge in Y/N’s pants.

“Can you uh…can you take your pants off too? So I can get to the skin! Not anything weird!”

Y/N let out a nervous giggle before sitting up slightly and tugging off his pants revealing his briefs.

“A-alright, thank you,” Zuko breathed, his eyes trailing along Y/N’s legs in awe of the color and how incredibly soft they looked. He gently placed his hand on one of the smaller boy’s legs, gently lifting it to get it into a position to stretch out the muscle. This particular stretch has Y/N’s leg up in the air with Zuko’s body directly pressed against it and situated between his legs. Zuko felt his heart start to hammer against his ribs as he began to push Y/N’s leg towards his torso causing a small whimper of pain to release from the smaller boy’s mouth.

“Was that too far?”

“N-no it felt good, keep going.”

Moving on, he continued to push Y/N’s leg all the way up to where the boy was almost doing the splits.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that…flexible,” Zuko gulped, his eyes staring directly into Y/N’s. Y/N blushed deeply as he raised his hands to hide his face from the other man.

“I was close friends with Ty Lee and her family growing up so…” the younger male stated, his body shaking in nervousness.

“You’re shaking,” Zuko observed, pulling back from the stretch but keeping the smaller boy’s leg propped over his shoulder, his finger’s slightly digging into the skin.

“A-am I? That-that’s strange, ahaha.” Y/N felt time stop as he watched the fire bender turn his head to look at the smaller boy’s leg before placing a gentle peck against the skin. Not to be cheesy, but the place where his lips touched felt like a flame had been placed and spread from there sending a heat to his stomach.

“Zuko?”

“Hm?” Zuko hummed in response, slowly leaving more burning kisses along the length of the smaller boy’s leg, “What is it, firefly?”

The was it, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Y/N was hard and obviously so especially since Zuko was still pressing his body against the non bender’s.

“Zuko…” Y/N breathed, an argument playing out within his head debating on whether or not to continue with the actions the two were about to partake in. There were so many possibilities that something could go wrong, but…he could be with Zuko finally. His head felt light as he weighed the options before he finally made up his mind.

Zuko watched slightly amused as Y/N dropped his hands from covering his crimson face and sat up so that their faces were centimeters apart.

“I want you.”

Zuko’s face flushed softly across his cheeks before he nodded slowly, using his free hand to cup the younger man’s face, bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. Y/N let his shaking hands slide into the silky hair of the Fire Lord. A grunt left Zuko’s throat as he adjusted his position, accidentally not so accidentally grinding his growing bulge into Y/N’s raging hard on.

Y/N’s lips parted in shock, a gasp escaping him before Zuko plunged his tongue into the younger man’s mouth. Their tongues seemed to wrestle for ages, but soon Zuko won out before he gently guided Y/n’s body back onto the sleeping bag.

They parted for a second to catch their breaths, Y/N’s entire being seemed disheveled, his hair was a mess, his clothes were missing, and his lips were glossy and swollen from their passionate kiss. All in all, Zuko was close to going feral over that sight alone.

Y/N’s hand reached out and gently stroked the scarred side of Zuko’s face before he pulled the older man back down to him to place a few soft kisses against the scar.

“You’re so handsome…” he whispered against Zuko’s skin causing the Fire Lord to shiver.

“I could say the same to you,” Zuko chuckled, his fingers gently tracing over the smaller mans face before he trailed his hand down towards Y/N’s exposed chest.

The non bender’s back arched into Zuko’s hand as soon as it made contact with the pink bud, a whimper leaving his lips, begging him to touch him properly. Zuko let a smirk cross his face as he took the bud between his fingers, gently tweaking it carefully and yet enough to make Y/N squirm, soft breathy moans escaping his lips.

“Zuko, take your clothes off too…” He whined, reaching up and tugging at the Fire Lord’s tunic. Zuko shook his head in amusement before he stopped his actions, letting Y/N’s leg fall beside him as he pulled his tunic over his head.

“You’re so cute, Firefly.”

Immediately, Zuko was back to attacking the smaller man’s nipples though this time he used his mouth, sucking and gently nipping at the hard buds. Small sounds of pleasure left Y/N’s mouth at the assault, his fingers gripping at Zuko’s hair. The taller man raised an eyebrow at the action, lifting his head slowly to gaze at his partner with a slight smirk.

“What is it now, hm Firefly?”

“I-I wanna touch you too…”

Zuko’s eyebrows raised higher in shock before his smirk grew exponentially.

“If you want to baby, I’m not gonna stop you,” he chuckled, sitting up slowly to allow the other man room to move if he so pleased. Y/N took the opportunity to sit up before switching up his position to be on his knees. He then crawled toward Zuko slowly before letting his hand rest just above the waistband of his pants.

Y/N looked up at the Fire Lord for any hesitation, seeing none, and then continuing to grab both the waistband of his pants and his boxers, slowly pulling them down to expose the older man’s length. The smaller boy felt his heart stop at the size. It wasn’t the longest he had seen but fuck, it was a girthy motherfucker. He swallowed harshly before taking it into his hands, slowly pumping the length of the shaft before leaning his head towards the tip.

His tongue slipped from between his lips, letting it kitten lick the very tip of Zuko’s cock before he slowly engulfed the head with his mouth. His head was spinning as he began to pump his head up and back down the shaft, though he couldn’t get very far seeing as his mouth was slightly small for the width of his cock. A few seconds into the endeavor, Y/N felt Zuko’s finger’s slide into his hair causing him to glance up at his partner.

Zuko’s eyes were glazed over in ecstasy as he stared down at the smaller man, his teeth harshly bit his lip as Y/N ran his tongue up the side of Zuko’s cock once more before traveling down to his balls. His mouth continued to roam the areas he knew were weak points, exploiting them and causing Zuko to groan a little too loudly.

Both males froze in sudden fear of their friends hearing them. They stayed frozen for a few seconds before Y/N looked up at Zuko with concern.

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?

“Yes we can,” came Toph’s response causing both men’s faces to flush violently as they jumped away from each other.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Y/N squeaked out before sliding into his sleeping bag and hiding his face from Zuko. The taller male’s face was in no better shape than Y/N’s was but he let out a soft chuckle before crawling back over to Y/N.

“I didn’t get to finish,” he whispered in the smaller man’s ear causing him to tense, “What are you gonna do about it?”

~

The next morning, Zuko and Y/N woke to the bleary, dark circled eyes of their friends. 

“Good morning everyone,” Y/N chirped happily, his face seemed to be glowing after the previous night. The four people sat around the camp fire sent exasperated looked back at both him and Zuko who had just ducked out of the tent.

“Yeah, morning guys,” He stated before slinging his arm over Y/N’s shoulder nonchalantly.

“I hate you guys,” Sokka stated before turning back to his food.  

[jungxk]

crush

filed under. i totally forgot i wrote this. also i like the name eunmi sue me 

notes. thank you to @lonelyending for reading thru this crusty story and making me feel good enough about it again to post it. also @suga-kookiemonster bc im pretty sure i sent u this like a year ago and u told me to post it it but....i forgot abt it shdgjsgd. writing/life in general has been hard recently so pls accept this kookfic to hold yous over until i update just one

genre. fluff, light comedy, light angst, smut

warnings. smut (oral sex: f receiving, penetrative unprotected sex) 

length. 5.1k

the first thing jungkook thinks when he sees you is wow.

he hasn't been up for very long, and you don't even know he's looking at you through the window. yoongi-hyung has wrapped you up in his arms as you sob and sob, muted behind the protective hospital glass. even with messy hair and wet eyes he's starstruck. it's why he recoils slightly when jimin and namjoon explain to him that you're his wife.

"my," he can't even say the word. "my..."

"your wife," namjoon repeats. "you know what a wife is, right? marriage?"

"yes," jungkook huffs, digging his nails into his scalp. "i lost my memory, hyung, not my fucking brain cells." 

he suddenly registers the gold band glistening on his left hand, simple and heavy. he has to take a second to collect himself. "but...but i'm twenty-three. right? i am twenty-three, yeah?"

"yeah. you are," jimin says softly.

"then how the fuck am i already married? not that i'm complaining i just," he suddenly turns pink at the thought of you in a wedding dress, clinging onto his arm, breakfast dates, late night ramen runs at the convenience store, painting the living room in a house you probably share, naked in bed on top of him. jungkook clears his throat. "it just seems a little out of character for me. i can't commit to a pair of shoes for a week let alone-"

"i think it's best if you just spoke with ____," jimin finishes before jungkook can work himself into a frenzy, a comforting hand laying on his shoulder. "you two need to talk anyway and it's best if all these answers came from her."

jungkook gulps at the thought of speaking to you, seeing you face to face. suddenly he's a cripplingly shy fourteen year old again.

"okay." he croaks. "okay."

x

x

x

you were even more beautiful up close.

your tear stained cheeks are glowing and blotchy when you perch on the chair beside his bed, big eyes fluttering up at him nervously. you're soft and plush and shorter than he thought and jungkook has to fist his hands in the sheets and play a counting game with the heart rate monitor in order to maintain eye contact. he feels himself start to sweat when you smile sadly at him. "sorry, i just...i don't know how to be around you normally without making you uncomfortable," you say quietly, wringing your hands together to avoid touching him.

"uncomfortable?" he queries, gaze latching onto the ring on your hand. seeing it on you gives him a nice feeling.

you nod into your lap. "yeah, um..." you look at your scuffed shoes, searching for the word. "we're usually very...touchy."

he can feel himself turning red again. "t-touchy?"

you meet his eyes and a pretty smile breaks over your face at how bashful he looks, making jungkook's cheeks tinge even pinker than they already are. you nod cutely so your earrings tinkle, eyes shining, and suddenly he understands without any context why he fell in love with you, why he married you so young. you let a comfortable silence settle over the room before taking a deep breath, bracing yourself. "how much do you remember, jungkook?"

he tries not to cave under the weight of his guilt. "not a lot about...you, that is," he finishes with a wince, your sad eyes immediately making him wilt with shame. "i remember everything up until a couple of years ago. we had a show at the japanese dome, debuted in america, and then...nothing. and now..."

"and now," you echo softly. your eyes look distant, staring at the floor.

"i'm sorry," jungkook whispers, chin touching his chest. "hyung told me...they all told me how much i loved you and...and i'm sorry i don't remember any of it. i'm so sorry."

you shake your head gently. "don't be sorry, jungkook-ah," the pet name makes his ears perk up. its a familiar, calming sound. "none of this is your fault. you didn't ask to get hit by that car." your expression turns remorseful, tugging at his heart. "if anything, this is because of me. the only reason you were out was because i asked you to go and get eggs and formula even though i should've remembered to pick some up on the way home and-"

"no, no! please don't blame yourself," jungkook tries, wishing he was close enough or even brave enough to take your hand. you look up at him and he catches a glimpse of the endless pool of love you harbour for him, like a punch to the chest. "i don't ever want you thinking this was your fault. so ple-" he pauses. "wait, formula?"

the door bursts open before he can finish, pitter patter steps rounding his bed until it reaches the other side, where you sit. a little girl with big dark eyes and curls of dark hair stares at him in wonder and elation, her cheeks dimpling just like yours before she screeches, "appa!"

jungkook's mouth goes dry. appa?

you're quick to intervene, putting yourself in the toddlers path to scoop her up in your arms. her grabby little hands struggle over your shoulder, fingers wriggling in attempt to get as close to jungkook as possible. he only stares with wide eyes and an open mouth, heart hammering in his chest when he sees the uncanny resemblances: his round nose. your brown skin but just a twinge fairer. his hooded eyes. and his stomach lurches.

"shhh, eunmi," you coo as you carry her away even with her squirming. "remember what i said before? appa is sick. appa is sick, baby-"

"we have a child?" jungkook wheezes, eyes starting to glaze over. there's a bout of silence when you look back at him guiltily, the baby's fumbling grinding to a halt when she registers the tension in the air. jungkook's breath is barely a whisper. "is that my daughter?"

your face crumples with a fresh bout of tears and eunmi looks on worriedly. she pushes her little lips into your cheek in a baby's kiss, like she's seen her father do so many times to get your attention. the word "amma," is muffled into your skin until you get yourself together and press a short kiss to her head.

yoongi rushes in, face twisted in apology. "i swear to god i turned around for one minute and-"

"it's okay, yoongi," you say quietly, stroking the baby's head. "eunmi, stay with uncle just a bit longer, okay? amma will be back in a minute..."

"appa," she whines over your shoulder, reaching for jungkook who sits helplessly in his bed. he watches with tears wetting his eyelashes, heart twisting in agony at the sight of his child he doesn't remember stretching her arms out for him. she begins to cry when he doesn't react or coo her. like he used to.

"take her, yoongi," you say shakily, passing the baby to him. the sound of eunmi's crying makes your heart shatter all over again, yoongi's quiet hushing doing nothing to qualm her sobbing as the heavy door closes behind them.

the silence that falls between the two of you is nothing short of excruciating. jungkook's head spins, completely overwhelmed: is that why you both got married so young? because of a child? was this why jimin and namjoon wouldn't say a damn thing about his life until he spoke to you first?

and then all the other questions that followed: was he a good father? when was his daughter's birthday? did she like kimchi and banana milk too? did he sing to her? read to her often?

would she ever forgive him for not being able to remember her?

"her name is eunmi," you say, looking down at the floor when jungkook starts to cry.

x

x

x

jungkook doesn't understand how his baby could be so pretty. she's golden brown like those sandy beaches on postcards, with chubby cheeks and twinkling dark eyes that resemble yours to a t, and that's when he realises of course she's beautiful. she's yours. you balance eunmi on your hip while you make coffee - decaf, since you're still weaning - and despite the amnesia jungkook feels like he's been here before, in this warm, happy place that is the kitchen.

"she got your nose though," you remind him, dumping the baby in his lap upon her fussing. she always seemed to wind down under his touch, and although nervous about the sudden responsibility of fatherhood, jungkook is compelled to give it. eunmi doesn't understand anything's changed so he doesn't see why he should act like it. "she's whiny before her milk too. like you."

"hey!" he retorts, but can't exactly defend himself. he twirls his fingers around her curly pigtails until she catches on and tries to stand on his thighs, reaching for his hair to yank. jungkook lets her. he's barely known his daughter a week and he's already so smitten he'd let her gut him open with a butter knife.

"she missed you, you know. when you were in hospital all this time," you say, making him look up to watch you stare into your drink. the fear still lingers in your eyes, faint and persistent. he can see it every time you look at him and it makes his body yearn to touch you like he once did, like he once would have before his brain unlearned everything his heart didn't. you laugh while watching eunmi pull his hair again, making him hiss. "even yoongi tried but no one coddles her as much as you."

"really?" he asks, face lighting up. he's so happy to hear that. jungkook hates the way the question bubbles up in the back of his throat, like it'd make a difference or it'd change how he felt. but he has to ask it. "is that why...is that why we got married so early, then?" he says, trying to sound as offhand as possible. "because of eunmi?"

you chew your lip. "yeah. i mean, you said it wasn't a big deal. because you were going to marry me eventually so it didn't make a difference, but...it doesn't really matter i guess, because that's not what everyone else thinks," you pause, tracing the rim of your mug again. "that's certainly not what your fans think."

jungkook doesn't even want to think about it. the backlash, the gossip, the name calling and dehumanisation. for the first time in his life jungkook couldn't give less of a shit about his reputation. "i'm sorry," he says, feeling like the word has lost meaning by now with how much he's said it. "i'm so sorry. not for this, for us or for eunmi. i don't regret any of that i just," he shifts the baby in his lap, still getting used to her weight. "i can only imagine what you went through."

you look a bit bewildered. "...you said that last time too." you smile again reassuringly. "please don't feel solely responsible, kook-ah. you didn't exactly get me pregnant on your own."

he flushes tomato red and you giggle at him until eunmi joins in too.

x

x

x

jungkook can't keep his eyes off you while you play with the baby, comb out her hair, sing her lullabies while you bathe her together. he'd always wanted a whirlwind romance as a teen and it looks like he finally got it, because he can feel himself fall head first in love with you (all over again). it didn’t make sense for someone to be so collected and easygoing after having motherhood forced onto you so abruptly. you tell him often that he's a picture-perfect dad, but jungkook still doubts he compares.

"does she need a change?" he asks, struggling to keep all of eunmi's wriggling limbs in his grip.

"nope, just hungry," you say, reaching out when he passes the baby to you. you're about to stand up and go to the guest room to feed her, but jungkook is already arranging the pillows next to him for you, grabbing a baby cloth on the side too.

"do you need another pillow?" he muses aloud, but he's already grabbing the ones on his side of the bed before you can answer, forming a wedge for you to sit nicely beside him. he looks up at you when you fail to move. "are you okay?"

"yeah i, um," you chew your lip nervously. "you don't...mind me feeding here?"

you immediately regret the question once it leaves your mouth. jungkook's crestfallen expression hits you right in the stomach, round eyes glittering up at you. he hasn't looked this upset since he woke up nearly a month ago. "why would i ever mind?”

"oh jungkook," you sniff, sitting beside him. he pulls you into the nest of pillows beside him, arm winding protectively around your shoulders. your eyes brim with sympathy tears, tired and angry and upset with treating him like a stranger.

"if i make you feel uncomfortable, i can go," he offers quietly. "if it makes you feel weird i understand..."

"no, not at all," you rush to stop him, suddenly realising how close you are. you could kiss his pink little lips if you just tilted your head up. "i just didn't want to make you feel weird. all this new stuff is happening to you, you're suddenly a husband and a father with no recollection of signing up or it and i just...i don't know how much you want to invest the second time around," you scramble to finish your sentence when he pins you with a concerned expression. “as in, i understand if you don’t want to make the same choice twice. it’s a big decision.”

he shakes his head dismissively. there wasn't a thing in the world that could make him turn his back on his family but it looked like you still needed convincing. he peers at you curiously when you position the baby. "so i can stay?"

you smile at him eagerly. "of course," you undo the nursing strap of your bra before the baby finally latches. "i actually prefer it when you're here. it makes me feel safe."

jungkook watches quietly while you hum for the baby, playing with her little hand while she drinks. the adoration seeps out of him in waves, how serene you look while you rock her, how angelic eunmi looks while she blinks her big doll eyes up at you both. she won't stay this little forever. he feels so overwhelmed by it, gathering you further in his arms with the urge to hold his family in his hands like a diamond. you don't question the little sniffles jungkook buries into your hair, resting your head on his shoulder wordlessly. you missed being held by him, missed his cotton scent and gentle breath.

"i love her so much," he whispers into the shell of your ear, entranced by the baby's little gurgles and gulps. he reaches out to run his knuckle over the velvet of her cheek, round and stuffed with milk. "i feel like i'll die, i love her so much."

"me too," you smile. "it was scary and hard for a long time but...i'm so glad we had her. i wouldn't trade her for anything."

you feel jungkook's lips trace your temple, heart stuttering upon the sudden contact. you hear what he doesn’t say: i wouldn't trade either of you.

x

x

x

"why are you so sweaty?" jimin scowls, noting the dark patches under jungkook's t-shirt when he tries to take the baby from his arms. "it's not even humid today."

jungkook doesn't do anything but gulp and cuddle a sleeping eunmi closer to his chest. she's become somewhat of a security blanket for him; even if she wasn't awake to play, he was always itching to hold her and nuzzle into her head when he's tense or embarrassed. like now.

"leave him alone, you know he sweats when he's shy," yoongi grins.

"stop it," jungkook mumbles.

"shy? what for?"

"because he's got a crush on his wife," namjoon snickers, knowing jungkook would whack him one if his arms weren't around his kid. "why are you looking at me like that? it's true!"

"but you can't just say it! she'll hear!" he hisses.

"you're married," jimin deadpans but it only makes the younger boy curl in on his baby more. "god, this reminds of when you two met. remember how he used to hide behind manager hyung every time ____ came in? and then i had to listen to them fuck in the next room for a year only to end up back here all over again-"

"jungkook," you call. "where did these come from?" you walk into the sitting room with a bouquet of yellow roses nestled in your arms. "did a fan send them? i didn't see a note they were just on the worktop-"

"th-those are for you," he mumbles. "i got those for you."

you look so pretty when you stare it makes him sweat harder and the three older boys all but burst a vein in their head trying not to laugh when leaving the room. there's an awkward silence where you clutch the flowers and he clutches the baby. "thank you," you say finally. "they're beautiful, i love the colour yellow..."

his big doe eyes round up to look at you even though the lower half of his face is smushed into pigtails. "you're welcome."

"can i kiss you?" you blurt out, too fast to stop it. your cheeks are still stinging and you're pretty sure you have baby powder in your hair but jungkook looks at you with awe as he nods so vigorously his earrings shake.

so you do, leaning over the arm of the sofa to press your mouth over his long enough for both your breaths to catch. you pull away, moving to sit next to him so his free arm can wind around your shoulders when you kiss him again. "please," he mumbles when you part. "please don't ask to kiss me. just do it," he leans for another long, warm kiss that leaves you light headed. "stop tip-toeing around me, okay? we're married. i know i scare easy, but not that easy."

you feel giddy, finally feeling the weight being lifted piece by piece. "okay," you peck his mole endearingly before scooting up for another kiss. "i missed this."

"me too," he hums into your mouth. "it feels like the first time but also...not the first time, you know? not just because i don't remember but like," he doesn't know how to say it, wetting his lips thoughtfully. your chapstick is cherry flavoured, his favourite. "like we've been doing this for longer than both of us even realise. longer than this life."

"i know," you nod. "i know."

x

x

x

after a while, you forgot about jungkook's amnesia altogether. even though the chances of him making a full recovery were slim, it all felt so normal and back to routine, all the kissing and the cuddling and the playing with eunmi. there was almost no room for trepidation anymore. until now.

you moan into jungkook's mouth when he pulls you onto his thighs, big hands palming your ass when you grind into him. he's only mildly concerned that he'll cum in his pants at this rate but he doesn't fret too much: that was secondary to undressing you and touching you and pleasing you and making you scream as loud as he could make you without waking the baby. he has nearly three years of re-learning your body to catch up on and he's eager to start.

he's quickly reminded during this process that you are a master. you know exactly where to kiss him, exactly how much pressure to kneed into his cock with your hips, exactly how much tongue he wants in his mouth until he's whining and damp for you. of course you know his body like the back of your hand - your child wasn't conceived from thin air. it makes him all the more desperate to learn, almost antsy to get his mouth and hands on you until you're writhing and breathless beneath him.

you gasp when you feel his hand slip between your legs, rubbing his fingers over your shorts. you automatically rock your covered wetness into his touch, the long whimper you muffle into his neck sending jungkook soaring through the clouds with pride. you're so lost in the feeling, having missed it so much, you're barely able to squeak a stop! when he hooks his fingers inside the waistband of your panties.

his eyes shoot open. "what's wrong?"

"j-jungkook," you shuffle in his grip, feeling so embarrassed under his scrutiny you don't know where to look. "it's not that i want you to stop but. listen, just," you cling to his shoulders, shivering when his hands drag reassuringly up to your waist. "just remember that...i've had a kid, okay? i'm not gonna look like before."

he blinks. "i don't remember what you looked like before."

"no, i mean like," you lick your lips, tasting him there. "it's still something to keep in mind. i'm not gonna be as smooth and perky in places like all those idol girls you perform next to, so just-" he watches you fumble nervously in his lap, the growing disbelief making him blink. "don't expect too much okay? things might not look the way you imagine them to and i don't want you to feel-"

"stop," he cuts off, tugging you so you're seated over his erection again. the look jungkook pins you with is so intense you can feel your pulse thrum in your ears, the harsh rise and fall of his chest making him appear that much more passionate. "this body," he slips his hands up your top, palming your skin. "made my child. i take offence to it being spoken about with anything less than admiration, even by you."

"kook-ah," you say nervously, but still let him remove your pj top over your head before you laying you under him on the bed. you don't know why your eyes suddenly prick with tears when he traces over your stretch marks and discoloured skin with his smooth lips. "this kept my daughter warm," he kisses under your navel, sliding up to your heavy breasts. he kisses each darkened nipple, swollen from the baby's mouth. "these feed her." he rises further still, before planting his mouth on your forehead in a short peck. "and this raises her. so how can i be anything but proud to touch you?"

"jungkook, stop," you sniff, tears wetting your lashes. your eyes fall shut when he wipes them away with his thumb, lips ghosting over your cheeks and nose.

"what did i say about tip-toeing around me?" he whispers, forcing you to look him in the eye. only then do you see the tears there, all the ardour and respect he holds for you pooling in those brown depths. "i'm your husband. let me be your husband."

you kiss him before you can start crying again, letting him part your mouth and taste you long and hard before finally undressing himself and slipping your shorts off. this is all a first for him, and it's been so long since you've done this it's almost like a first for you too, frantic and messy and desperate to feel jungkook lodged inside you where he belongs. you know he must share the sentiment when he splits your thighs over the narrow of his hips, hooking them there while he gets a good look of his erection rubbing through your slick.

no wonder i knocked her up, jungkook muses faintly. i don't think i can ever stop doing this.

"jungkook, please," you run a hand through his hair, grinding against his cock in encouragement but he still won't take the plunge. instead, your voice reminds him of his initial objective, causing him to saunter down between your legs faster than you can process. he's licking into you before you can have a second thought about it, mouth falling open with a loud moan when he traces around your clit in firm circles.

he has your knees over his shoulders and his arms wound around your hips so you have nowhere to go, nothing to do but buck into his attentive mouth, jungkook's groans vibrating against you until you can barely keep yourself together - he's always enjoyed this as much as you have. which is why he takes his time, explores every crevice and subsequent response, relishing in the gush of wetness when he does something right. he even goes as far as holding his tongue stagnant against your folds so you have no choice but to rub yourself into him for friction, so entranced he is by your invigorating reactions. only when you're squirming and whimpering with deliriousness does he finally give in and resume a steady pace over your swollen clit, two fingers sliding in home so you have something to come around. and you do.

messy and wet and shrieking into the pillow by your head so that you're muffled enough to not wake the baby down the hall, your orgasm drawing out longer than normal as you do your best to ride it out. jungkook carries you through it, gulping down as much of your arousal as he can manage until your hips finally drop back into the bed in post-climax exhaustion. on the contrary, the only reason he stops lapping at you is because you tug him away by the hair, bringing him up to you and between your legs again before he can do anything about it.

he splutters with a moan at the sudden contact of your wetness against his cock again, eyes fluttering shut and allowing you to bring him in, arms and legs winding securely around him so that you're flush against each other, hips rocking in tandem. jungkook is so caught up in the feeling - not the sex but the safety of being held, being connected like this - that you're the one to reach down and position his tip against your hot center, before finally running your hands down your husband's back to cup his ass and shove him into you.

jungkook gasps, breath shaking at how tight you are. you're so hot, so snug around him his eyes shut upon instinct, letting your hands guide his hips and showing him how to move in that perfect rolling motion that you're only familiar with after years of practice. and jungkook, of course, is a fast learner. it doesn't take long for him to take the reigns and fuck you just how you like it, adding in a sharp snap of his hips every now and again just to listen to you squeak in surprise. the wet sounds of your joined arousal coupled with you moaning under him is near cathartic, sending him hurtling to his finish line.

but before he can get there you shift him over, thick thighs helping you roll and pin him under you on the bed. jungkook grapples at your waist when you resume a slower but harder rock of your hips that has his length grinding against your clenching walls, his head thrown back at the intensity of it. you ride him through it, peppering the moles on his pretty neck with kisses and sucks, mouth finding his stiff little nipple to give it a swirl too. it's exactly what he needs to finish off, fingers digging into your flesh as he bucks wildly, filling you full of his seed while he calls your name. you slow to a stop when his hands finally fall limp on your thighs, his chest heaving under you and covered in sweat. you giggle. he always got so sweaty.

"you did so well, kookie," you whisper, kissing his damp neck and collar bones. his arms are suddenly around you again for comfort. "you were so good for me...always so good to me..."

"you," he croaks finally, eyes half lidded and a little delirious. "you didn't finish?"

you giggle at his genuine concern, pecking his wet lips. "i got mine, remember?"

"how many times?" jungkook is suddenly alert, tugging your wrist to get your attention before you can climb off him. his other hand is still around your middle so moving was out of the question until he allowed it. he was still inside you. "how many times do i usually make you come?"

you blink in embarrassment. you never really thought about it, let alone counted. "um...i don't know..." he waits for an answer, awfully serious about it. "a-at least two or three, i guess."

you yelp when he flips you back over, fingers immediately prying your cum soaked folds apart to nestle inside. "then don't act like we're done."

[amberwild420]

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 2)

Masterlist

College Françoise DuPont

** **

College Françoise DuPont, a place that gives chances to many talented young people.

 That’s what was written on the pamphlet.

 Kaylan felt a part of her sanity leaving her, when she sat in front of the owlish principal.  He was incompetent, useless and down side money lover.

  How did she know that?

Perks of having her abilities.

And then came the teacher.

IN.COM.PE.TENT.

She was sure that one word was definitely not enough to summarize her ability as a teacher. And the living proof of her incompetent behavior was her new class. She felt like tearing her hair out and banging her head on the wall.

At least Marinette was nice.

Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Eyes wide open and jaws dropped Kaylan looked at the bakery. She than looked at the girl who brought her here. Marinette was smiling like an angel.

 When you said you were taking me your place I was expecting a house or an apartment, not a bakery.

Was she drooling at the thought of heavenly sweets she can get from them? Well sue her for having a sweet tooth that no one but her mother knows about.

Marinette giggled then gestured the other girl to come in. Inside were her what looked like her parents behind the counter.

 Maman, papa, I brought a classmate.

 Her parents frowned a little but it changed to cheerful smiles when they noticed Kaylan.

 It’s nice to meet you sweetie. I’m Sabine and this is Tom. Hope our Marinette is kind to you.

The said girl whined. But Kaylan was sweating bullets. Dear god who was that giant of a man? Why was he so tall? And what’s with the woman? Why was she so intimidated by a woman who was smiling like sun? AND WHY THE DANGER BELLS ARE RINGING IN HER HEAD?!!!

 I-i-it’s nice to meet you! Please take care of me.

She squeaked pathetically before a look of horror came on her face and she was bowing rapidly.

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I don’t believe that happened. I’m sorry I disrespected you. I’m really sorry.

Hey it’s no worry. Stop.

Kaylan groaned and hid her face in her hands. Her ears were red telling them that she was just embarrassed.

 I haven’t lost my cool in my entire life.

Well, we tend to make people show their different sides.

 Sabine chuckled and welcomed the girl in. Marinette showed her way to her room. It was pink. But the half-finished suit on the mannequin was what caught her attention.

 This is good. Definetly better than most that i have seen. You made it yourself?

 Marinette flushed a little.

Ye-yeah! But it’s not that good. Just something to pass time. Not like its commissioned or something. N-no that’s not it. Oh Kwami!

 Can I commission something from you? I need a gift for mom in a few months so can you make me one. I’ll pay for it. You just have to tell me the advance for the material and I’ll pay you by the time you need to find the material and…..

 The knock on the door stopped their conversation and they realized their positions. (A/n: not like that you dirty minds. Get your heads out of the gutter)

 Kaylan was in her personal space, both hands on Marinette’s shoulder. They jumped back with loud apologies. Sabine entered with a smile carrying a tray of sweats.

 _I hope you enjoy. You can come anytime you want Kaylan. _

She gave a smile to her and a wink to her daughter. Both girls settle down to eat. Taking the first bite, Kaylan felt herself blown away.

This is soooooo gooood. I have never eaten something so tasty.

Marinette giggled and started telling or more like advertising and praising her parent’s bakery. Not that Kaylan minded that was so good that she had no problem admitting all.

Since Kaylan was new to Paris, Marinette told her about akuma and the Paris situation and how many things work. Though the things looked far-fetched but when she saw the video of a fight, it looked real. She had no choice but to ask about the do and don’t.

By the time they finished, they were returning school. They talked about minor things. then it turn towards Lila being liar and Kaylan telling her about jobs.

So, it was suppose to be a prank but Bryce thought it was funny to hug with all the paint dripping off him...…..

it was washable paint! We’re not that heartless!

…..and yet you still had to record. isn’t that...…..I don't know a disaster

In my defense, Cherami egged me on and i was feeling rather bored.

Kaylan, you did realize you worked with Bryce Papenbrook and Cherami Leigh.

Says the girl that designed for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale.

Touché.

Since there was sometime before class, they decided to separate for the moment. Marinette wanted to check the art class and Kaylan turn towards bathroom. What they didn’t realize was the certain liar stalking the new girl.

When Lila opened the door, Kaylan was washing her hands. She locked the door, as quietly as possible. Not that she noticed the light twitch of her target’s lips. She knew or at least had an idea on what the Italian liar was going for.

Kaylan Fox, I’ll give you just one chance. Either you surrender or I’ll turn everyone against you.

Pfft!

A snort left her lips making the Italian surprise. Her laugh got louder until it was a full belly laugh.

For anyone outside it would be just a hearty laughter after listening to a really good joke. But Lila felt it. The insanity in that laugh. Suddenly she stopped and in a blink of an eye she was in her face. The cold sensation on her neck and pain in her scalp told her what actually happened.

The knife on her neck was like it came out of nowhere. She was being threatened. She was being threatened at the tip of the knife and by a new student no less. (here)

She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. She won’t get away with it.

Oh I can get away with it, darling. And I will.

That’s when Lila realized that she had said it out loud and worst is that she can’t get away from her predatory gaze.

But that’s not the problem is. The problem is that you, a mere fox dare to threaten me, a wolf.

That’s right. I, despite the name, am a wolf. I lurk in the shadows, play with my prey and when I get bore I kill it. You, a mere fox who had to hide behind a lion, is daring to threaten me. That’s funny. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. It will be just a waste of my time and efforts.

She pushed her away and put the knife in her pocket, acting like she didn’t do anything wrong at all. Lila stayed pathetically on the floor.

I-I will tell everyone that you threaten me in the bathroom. And tried to attack me with a knife. When they search you, they will find it and you’ll be taken away as a murderer.

Oh! Will they? And do tell me how will they find it?

The gleam in her eye made her shudder. The angry response died on her tongue. She only made a few questioning noises. 

I mean they won’t find it, at least not on me. Do you know why? Because it will be in your bag.

What?

I can give you a lot of scenario. More than a hundred. Hmm……… how about a demo! You run out of bathroom yelling that I tried to kill you with a knife, the students will panic and try to run away. The distraction will be enough for me to put the knife in your bag. By the time authorities, come to search me they will find nothing and then I will just casually add that it must be some other person, they will get suspicious of you because you were so sure that it was me and the search turned to you. Then there will be a knife in your bag and you will yell that you are being framed. The police will start with finger prints and there will be none and with no choice they will start questioning...…..

….But that won’t be all. Just today in the class you were telling about how one of your uncle was in the military and he loved you so much that he taught those fancy moves because he didn’t wanted you to get hurt and I’m pretty sure it will casually be mentioned. and thus the suspicion will solidify. you will be treated as a villain or worse a murderer …. or a possible one in the future. I’m pretty sure you can imagine what could happen next?

Kaylan said with a smile, like she didn’t just turn the threat around. Lila grit her teeth but she couldn’t do anything. The story wasn’t too elaborative but the way this new girl was talking with her, she knew, she would also do it as she said.

Wait did she said one of the scenario? Were there more of it?

Lila didn’t stay for too long but she left rather quickly, nearly forgetting that she locked the door. Once she was gone, Kaylan looked at the stall from the corner of her eyes.

Aren’t you gonna come out? She’s gone now.

A moment pass and the stall door opened.

previous

next

taglist

 @itsmeevie01

@michaelshadow7779

@peterxwade24

@bookssetufree

@ramos123

@thenewwearsoff

@lonestarfangirl2014

[alitaimagines]

“I don’t give a fuck about you anyway, whoever said I gave a shit about you? you never share your toys or communicate, I guess I’m just a play date to you.”  

character: bakugou katsuki, dabi - MY HERO ACADEMIA 

note: if any of you have any suggestions on any MHA characters you’d like to see written for, DM me or send me an ask!

“you are kidding me Bakugou?” his face scrunched up at the sound of you using his last name, “you can’t decide what’s best for our relationship when I have no say in it!” 

he scoffed, “stop trying to save this relationship! we’re going to be heroes! you know heroes can’t handle relationships!” you gripped his wrist as your eyes darkened, “yes it can! how would you know! we haven’t even tried it!” you retorted. 

a few of your classmates watched as the two of you bickered. it was odd for the two of you to fight so openly in front of everyone. out of the three years that the two of you were together, they maybe heard both of you argue once or twice? if even that. 

“because our relationship was doomed to fail from the start.”

your eyes widened at what he said as you heard Mina and Momo loudly gasp. you had no idea how to respond to his comment but the anger inside of you was very evident on your face. 

“sometimes I wonder how you’ll be a pro hero with an attitude like that. maybe you were right. maybe you were the reason why All Might retired.” 

Midoriya’s and Kirishima’s mouth dropped. everyone knew that was an extremely sensitive topic for Bakugou and you hit him right where it hurt. 

the both of you stared at each other before everyone watching realized that the both of you were activating your quirks. 

“hey! hey! don’t!” Kirishima screamed as he stood in between the two of you, “walk away! one of you walk away!” Kaminari added as you scoffed and shrugged Kirishima’s hand off your shoulder and walked away.

-

graduation finally happened all of you were packed and back home. you had found an apartment a few towns over to start your career. you had a few agencies to choose from and you decided to treat yourself to a night out on your own. 

you had found a bar not too far from your apartment. the lights were dim and you could hardly see any faces in the crowd. 

“never seen you around here before,” you heard a deep voice say behind you. you looked up to see a man with bright blue hair when you realized where you were. 

you were in a villain bar. you knew you moved to a pretty rough neighborhood but you didn’t expect to be in the yakuza and villain district. 

“just moved across the street, what’s your name?” you asked grabbing his hand. you knew exactly who you were talking too but you decided to act extremely dumb to it, “Dabi, what’s yours?” he asked.

you hesitated before shrugging, what was the worst that could happen?

“ ( your name ),” you said giving him a soft smile, “nice to meet you!” Dabi felt his heart skip a beat. 

he never had anyone be so nice to him. if anyone ever was nice to him, it was because he probably threatened them. but you? you had no ‘idea’ who he was and truthfully, he wanted to find out how long it would take for you to find out his real identity. 

“why are you on this side of town?” he asked as you sighed, “the apartments are cheap. graduating school and trying to find work on limited sources led me to these apartments.” 

Dabi nodded as you ordered a drink, “would you like one? they’re cheaper than I anticipated,” you offered Dabi. he remained silent before picking some random drink on the board. 

“DABIII!” he heard a girl behind him say. you looked at the ash blond girl before giving her a nervous smile, “oh, you’re cute! I see your busy so I’ll tell you later!” she exclaimed before prancing away. 

you gave him a look as he sighed dramatically, “don’t mind her....she’s special,” you giggled as the bartender gave you the drinks. you held up your drink and did a small toast before chugging the shot back. 

“oh, this is strong!” you giggled as you tried to hide your cringe induced face, “yeah, you’re drinking straight tequila, what did you expect?” he joked. 

you rolled your eyes before ordering another two, “well, not this however, it wasn’t bad!” you added, “so, Dabi!” you said as he rolled his eyes at the nickname, “what do you do for a living?” you asked innocently. 

his eyes widened, “stuff that you don’t need to worry about,” you pouted as Dabi sighed, “princesses like you don’t need to worry about such things,” your face immediately warmed up to the nickname. 

you moved your way onto Dabi’s lap as he wrapped his arm around your waist, “aw, here I thought you were going to open up to me,” you joked as he raised an eyebrow, “I’m a dangerous person sweetheart, you being in the same building as me could get you into trouble.” 

you laughed before holding him closer to you, “who cares?” he was surprised by your response but didn’t say much. all he did was hold you by the waist and watched the people in the bar make a fool of themselves. 

-

you watched as your friends tried to stop the villains on the screen. word around hero agencies is that a former U.A. student turned to the LoV. some thought it was a rumor while others thought it was true. no one could figure out who exactly it was though. 

the rumors surrounding your sudden disappearance was that you moved to another country to do hero work there. you had no idea who started the rumor but you could help and laugh about it. 

Dabi watched as you watched your former friends struggle to fight the villains. he knew you had turned to the LoV for your own personal reasons but he could tell that a part of you was still struggling to fully turn to villainy.

“those idiots have no idea what they’re doing,” Dabi inquired as you laughed, “no, they do. they’ll defeat them, I can assure you.” 

he grabbed your hand and stared at you, “don’t tell me you’re rooting for them!” he exclaimed as you shook your head, “I’m not but it’s the truth. you want to know how to defeat them? I’m your only gateway in and I’m telling you, these next generation heroes aren’t going to be easy to defeat. they know what they’re doing and it’s going to take a lot of us to be able to defeat them.” 

Dabi knew what you said was true. your turn to the LoV was a big one for the league. they reeled in someone who knew the strength and weaknesses of the next wave of heroes. 

in retrospect, he knew how wanted you were going to be once you made your first attack. you knew the power you held and you kind of used it to your advantage. 

dating Dabi and having Shiggy at the palm of your hand, you felt on top of the league. any little thing could turn you back to heroism and that was something no one wanted to happen. by now, you knew a lot of the deep secrets going on inside of the league and could possibly be the downfall of it if you turned back.

“guess you’re right,” he muttered as you rolled your eyes, “I know I am but that’s why I’m here to help you. especially you,” you whispered as you gave him a peck on the side of the lip, “and to help Shigaraki,” you added on knowing he was going to get annoyed by that. 

Dabi brought you on top of him as you gave him a quick kiss, “but don’t worry! I’ll pick my little fire boy over handys mcgee any day,” Dabi slapped your ass making you groan, “damn right you will,” he stated before grabbing you and wrapping you into his arms. 

“now let me remind you that you don’t belong to anyone besides me.” 

-

this was going to be the first mission you were going to be on and actually ‘show’ yourself to the world. you felt nervous jitters running through your body as you put on your very unique uniform. 

Toga had helped you pick your uniform out. you went with black leggings and a blue baseball-esque jersey. the color was very reminiscent to Dabi’s fire and he couldn’t help but poke fun at you when he first seen it. his second immediate thought was possessiveness. 

you were a new villain. a new cute villain. wearing clothes that honored him in a way. and the cherry that could go on top of that sundae would be you fighting your former boyfriend. 

the mission all of you were going on was a simple one. going to save Twice from prison and cause a little havoc while your add it. 

you were going to partner up with Toga as Shigaraki and Dabi partnered up and went a separate way. you were going to be the little chaos that was going to in sue so you could get your five seconds of fame. 

while Dabi and Shiggy made their way inside, you and Toga started to attack the prison guards. you were going to give them a small five second window to save Twice. 

you grabbed one of Toga’s knifes and stabbed one of the guards before doing that to the next three. Toga had never seen someone as cute as you stab so many people before and if she had to be honest, she found it extremely hot. 

“if Dabi hadn’t gotten to you first, I would have taken his place,” Toga winked at you as you rolled your eyes, “maybe you can join us one day,” you joked back as her pale face went a deep shade of red. 

“STOP FLIRTING!” Shiggy screamed through the earphone piece as Dabi agreed, “you touch her and I’ll burn you alive,” Dabi simply said making the two of you laugh. 

once you finally met up with Shiggy and Dabi, the four of you shoved Twice into one of the unnamed cars and sent it away before making your grand exit. 

you grabbed Dabi’s hand as you and Toga pranced to the front of the building. Dabi had to light the building on fire as the final act of the mission and during that time, you three fought the heroes who tried to attack him. 

“no way,” Bakugou heard Deku say as he gave his friend a confused look, “what?” he asked harshly as followed Deku’s eye trajectory. 

you had stabbed a guard in the gut making the person fall to the ground, “she’s the former U.A. student!” he screamed to the rest of the heroes. 

they all watched you stab, punch, and slice different people in horror. Bakugou was mortified. he would have never thought that it was you who had made the turn to villainy and if he was being honest, a part of his heart broke.

someone he once loved was now his enemy. not only that, as they moved in to attack all four of you, he watched as you gave Dabi a passionate kiss. 

“hi boys!” you exclaimed as you watched Toga’s eyes light up with excitement at the sight of Deku, “how are you!” you asked as they walked up to you in nervousness. 

Bakugou immediately walked up to you but before he could even get the chance to be six feet in front of you, Dabi let out a ball of fire. 

“sorry Katsuki, you don’t get that right but the right you do get is to face me one on one!” Toga and Shiggy laughed, kind of interested in seeing that fight, “I won’t. I can’t.” Bakugou said as you pouted. 

“aw, that sucks! I really wanted to pound you to the ground! but I guess that’ll be for another day,” you mocked as you gave him a smirk before dropping the bloody knife on the ground, “I guess we’ll see you later?” you asked as you ruffled the ash blond’s hair. 

Deku immediately went to attack you but Dabi pushed you back into him before feeling Shiggy and Toga shove you both inside of the car. 

“until next time sweethearts! can’t wait to see all of your pretty faces again!” 

the last sight that Bakugou had of you was kissing Dabi as he deepened it rather quickly. if there was one thing about Bakugou, it was his will and determination. 

and now he was determined to bring you back. bring you back to the side you belonged. to heroism. and even more importantly, back to him. 

ALITA

[mitchelljoni]

Hey, I wanted to leave a comment right after reading the new chapter but I needed some time to process it. I reread it just now. It's beautiful, you know. The thing that I noticed first was probably the striking difference between this chapter and last chapter. How much both of them have grown since the events of ch8. How painful ch8 was and how safe this one felt, it was like coming home indeed. Which all speaks how well you've written it. A couple more things. That break from Sam. Whereas in ch7 during the dinner, Sue had to spend all night looking at Emily talking with Sam, this chapter there was no such thing. Sue was looking at Emily again, but this time Emily was looking back. Another thing is they are sober the entire chapter. It doesn't sound big but it is a change. And of course they are not having sex. This is the first chapter where it really feels like they're actually communicating in a healthy way.

Emily, I'm so proud of her. All the things she said and did. The patience and the devotion we see her showing. Emily in this chapter understands Sue. At least better than any time before now. The beginning with Emily being sick and Sue taking care of her. Sue making chicken noodle soup. And the bread. You know that felt like home. Sue taking care of Emily and doing it with so much love and affection. Sue is good at this stuff, taking care of people, caring and loving so much. It's crazy. I love that she's a good cooker too. Like hey how can Sue Gilbert be any sexier?? Well, imagine her also cooking so good. Yeah, yeah okay.

I feel like the more I write here the more I lose the train of the thought I had when I started writing a comment. There is a lot to be said about Sue and Austin's conversation. I love their relationship. Also, I love Sue's friendship with Ben. Like in the show they don't talk with each other, but this version of them, I dig it. I want it to be that way.

Sue's feelings during ch8 and after it. How she tried to put distance between herself and Emily. How this was her last visit to New York?? Pain. The change that Emily for sure has felt. Then the decision to live together. And them coming together again. The way Emily'd be the one to initiate things but most of the times it's Sue who takes them further first. That first time in their new shared apartment and the tenderness of it. And Emily saying we've tried everything, we've tried the distance and the closeness, we've tried other people, I don't want to try not loving you because I love you and I love loving you. I think this is all Sue needed to hear to gather to courage and I guess now it's all up to her. But this one was big for them. Like I was afraid they'd keep twisting the knife. But this. This is good. And though Sue's eyes is def so easy to see how much Emily has changed, how much she's grown.

Thank you, thank you!! Every update has been a pleasure to read. I'll write here again when I feel like I can formulate myself better and this got so long again, sorry. But thank you for this fic!

OKAY SCREAM WHY ARE YOU SO INSANE OMG.......ok ok ok bullet pointing again bc u drive me crazy f.r.

ok yes yes 😩😩😩 COMING HOME YEA!!! lol me when u mention the lines i wrote into the chapter: YEAH EXACTLY!!! but also....EXACTLY!!! so glad it felt that way - the idea of ch9 is not just this feeling of safety and internality (which u noted with the break from sam thing!!!) but also a sense of the WHY, like, not just why of why emily loves sue (which ok will address next bc u have pointed that out) but like... why their love is valuable to them and therefore why they kept like. going with it, even in its worst moments, it was really about building value around their relationship in a way that went beyond "they're IT for each other" (bc like thats bullshit anyway lol but also its LESS FUN!!) and part of that was like. trying to create a window into their home/life which is what sue values too much to give up (which she thinks a romantic relationship will) but emily, conversely, thinks should be the REASON they embark on a romantic relationship), blah blah blah. anyway YES. exactly. the safety the purity behind it. kind of almost wanted to bring it back to a more youthful/innocent setting for both of them because obviously their childhood is something they share too. but in doing that it invokes sue's trauma etc etc...anyway spoilies for ch10 but yeah u get it u get it so good 🤠🤠🤠

emily best woman in the world!!!! yes i hoped this chapter would really reflect the growth shes had over the couple of years between ch8 and ch9, i.e. ch8 interval is "please tell me what you want/ok i guessed what you want/ok even when you try to tell me im only going to process it in the way i want to and hear what i want to hear" and ch9 is "hey, i see you, i know you, i'm not using that to hold you hostage, i want it all, i love you". which is Brave as all hell but also (at least i hope) tender and not pressuring/pushing in the same ways she had previously. i really wanted it to be a sense of emily standing up for herself and reaffirming her devotion to sue but not in a way that compromised her own self-respect (because you can only get strung along for so long!!! lol). and i hope that came across.

yes sue is a good cook! this to me is so so essential! firstly i believe it feels canonical in its own way. secondly i like the idea of her having cultivated it essentially as a result of a bad thing (i.e. the loss of someone to cook for HER at a young age) but using it almost without thought to keep hold of everything good to her. whenever sue is in a bind or wants to express something she finds herself in the kitchen and i wanted that to be internal (i.e. she clears her head through cooking or washing dishes) and also external (i.e. how do i apologise to emily? i make her clam chowder. how do i tell emily i love her? i make her soup. how do i give something to austin/give my love to him? i make dinner with him. how do i share in something with lavinia? i split a bottle of wine with her). ch9 for me really feels like the realisation from sue's POV that the people she loves actually do already know how much she loves them and they understand that. that was also partly the reasoning behind emily's choices in this chapter. i don't think she would have gone in as honestly and plainly as she did if she didn't already know that sue loved her. thats honestly never in question!! it's just trying to figure that out. anyway yeah also it's sexy. lol. we love a chef

also aaahh aahhh yes i LOVE sue and austin's relationship in the show (the eventual resolution they reach in s3 and in the series finale feels so right to me and also!! is actually quite accurate to how they were irl despite him later cheating on her lol) and i really enjoy the opportunity to explore it in fic. also just having sue make connections with other characters in the show is v fulfilling to me so glad u like reading it as much as i like writing it!

also sdclkjflkgj yeah honestly....thats enough twisting the knife. theyre friends w benefits and the benefits are love :)

thank YOU for reading and writing this gorgeous ask. i love it as always <3

[supernova-cas]

S01 E01 PILOT

Okay so! starting a rewatch and I thought I’d do a little missing scene from each ep. So here we go starting out strong with some Dean on the road. You can read it here on tumblr or here on AO3!

The road stretches ahead of him, long and empty and Dean speeds up, hits the accelerator, trying to lose himself in the motion, synch up with the car and just glide. But it’s getting harder to focus now, when his destination isn’t some monster or creature from a nightmare. No, he’s not going anywhere so easy.

It’s stupid really, to feel like this and Dean knows it. He’s dealt with much worse than a trip to a college campus. This time last week he’d been over in New Orleans, moments away from being stabbed by an intangible knife. He ignores the slight pain that lingers in his side. As far as hunting injuries go, well it hardly qualifies. Point was Dean wasn’t a kid anymore. He was old enough to hunt on his own now and definitely old enough for this.

And yet, if he was a kid, if they were both kids, he wouldn’t have to be doing this. If they were just a few years younger, Sam would still be right there with him. Sitting next to him and spouting some stupid fact about old lore or just burying his head in one of those trash novels he pretended he never read. They would be together, and for all he knew, if Sam was here, if things were different, if they all stayed together this wouldn’t be an issue at all.

But it’s been years since any of Sam’s shit had cluttered up the backseat. The car’ all Dean’s now, his tapes in the front, his gear in the back, the car was big enough to contain everything he owned and more. All Dean’s possessions, packed into her tight. He wonders if Sam drives. Not that he’d need a car to contain his belongings anymore. No, Sammy’s got a new home now. Proper shelves to line his books up on instead of the corner of the trunk, clothes hanging in a closet instead of piled up on top of a false bottom opening. Yeah, Sam doesn’t need any of the space he and Dean had spent so long arguing over. They’d squabbled for years, each trying to get a little more storage space. And Dean won.

To the victor the spoils. An empty car with all the room in the world. He doesn’t have enough to fill it.

He’s been trying, definitely. Even just now in New Orleans he’d picked up a couple of pretty pieces, a silver knife and some more bullets. His collection is growing, he’s got rifles and handguns now, small knives and machetes, bags and bags of rock salt. Enough iron he’s pretty sure he’s causing some kind of disturbance in the Earth’s natural magnetism. He’s even collected some books of his own. In the trunk is a mixture of a couple of old lore books and some classic literature. Dean may not be going to some fancy college but he sure loves to read. It’s a ragtag little library, taken from old garage sales he passed or the occasional thrift store.

He’s not sure what John would think of them. It isn’t something he’s mentioned. Not because he’s keeping it a secret from him! He just hasn’t had reason to bring it up. It’s not a distraction though, he has that answer locked and loaded. He barely ever reads them, they’re just there in the car. For the long nights when the cards are all frozen and his hustling hasn’t been quite enough to afford to buy dinner and a motel room. When he’s lying back in the impala, waiting to be exhausted enough that sleep overtakes him, sure, he’ll turn a few pages.

Dean passes another mile marker and tries not to see it as another chance to turn back now.

He wonders where Sam sleeps now. If he’s got a little bedside table, he can put his books on before he falls asleep. If his room has thick curtains, if he never has to ignore neon lights flowing through thin curtains or broken blinds. He’s got a home now, the address Dean is driving to, he doesn’t have to sleep in a car.

He wonders if Sam has a car.

The end of the cassette brings him back and for a moment he considers pulling over right there to flip it around. There aren’t any other drivers out here at this time. But if he does pull over, he’s not sure how long it’ll be until he can bring himself to keep going again.

So, he drives in silence. It’s not too far. Which is a good thing. He wants to be there already. And maybe if he tells himself that one more time it’ll make it true.

He slows down as he gets off the highway. Into the residential area of the college town. Sammy’s home neighborhood. He hates how little he hates it.

The impala is silent as he parks her right in front of Sam’s home. She’s beautiful and brilliant and he’s not sure why suddenly she feels small.

A quick knock doesn’t garner any response and Dean is too curious not to take the chance, to test Sam’s defenses.

There aren’t any.

His door is locked and that’s it. He’s not sure what he expected. Sammy definitely doesn’t want to have to explain to all his college friends a line of salt in the doorway, he doesn’t want to carve a sigil in the doorpost. But this, it’s a simple lock Dean gets open in moments. A challenge even Sam would be able to master without trouble.

He moves through the apartment quietly, looking around. It’s bigger than he thought it would be. And there’s so much stuff. He wonders how much of it is Sam’s if he actually owns all this. He probably should have been more focused on his surroundings but with all this, well it was easy to get distracted. Sue him.

So, Sam’s attack takes him by surprise. Not enough of a surprise that Dean doesn’t react well, but enough to get him off balance for a moment. Sam still fights well. Or at least, well for Sam. Dean’s still got the clear advantage as he shoves him right into the other room. The light from the window (framed by thick curtains, he notices) illuminates his face for a moment and Sam falters. Dean gets him pinned down in moments.

“Whoa, easy tiger.” He manages, trying to catch his breath.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is shock, but not instantly hostile and Dean can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam’s voice is his tried and true bitching about being beaten tone, and Dean falls into his own role easily.

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.”

He’s goading Sam and it works, always does. It actually surprises him how fast Sam is, how quickly their roles are reversed.

“Or not,” he admits. Sam hits him twice and Dean rolls his eyes. “Get off of me.”

Sam gets off of him and extends his hand to help Dean. Sam pulls him up and then stands back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam’s voice is upset now and it’s suddenly too real. Sam’s no longer the brother Dean reaches to poke and annoy in the car, he’s no longer an abstract figure too far away to reach. Sam is here, right here in front of Dean and he is angry.

“Well, I was looking for a beer.” He tries with a grin, grabbing hold of Sam for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam repeats and Dean needs to tell him.

“Okay.” He answers. No jokes this time. “We need to talk.”

“Uh, the phone?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised.

“If I’d’a called, would you have picked up?” His tone is light but it’s a serious question and they both know it. Dean thinks for a moment that Sam won’t answer and for another, worse moment that he will.

But he doesn’t get the chance. The lights flick on and Dean spins to see the blonde woman at the switch. She’s pretty, too pretty to be in Sam’s apartment anyway, and more then anything else she’s an interjection into the situation. A distraction and Dean pounces.

“Jess.” Sam speaks up next to him. “Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

“Wait, your brother, Dean?” she asks and where ever that’s going Dean wants to cut it off before it has a chance to begin the trip.

“Oh, I love the smurfs.” He gestures to her crop top and he can practically feel the disdain and anger rolling off the two others in the room. That’s fine. He expected that. “You know, I gotta tell you. You are way out of my brother’s league.”

Jessica looks at him like he’s just confirmed Sam’s reasoning for leaving in a single moment.

“Just let me put something on.”

No. He isn’t staying, they aren’t staying. This isn’t some long conversation to be had. And Sammy definitely didn’t want his girlfriend in on it.

“No, no, no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He says with an easy grin. “Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.”

“No.” Sam speaks up and Dean watches as he walks away from him, as he goes to put his arm around Jessica.

“No whatever you want to say you can say it in front of her.”

Dean looks at him for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated this. But he can’t very well walk away now.

“Okay. Um.” He looks at them straight on, trying to order his thoughts. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“So, he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift.” Sam says, and his words are heavy and disgusted. His hold on Jessica seems to tighten. “He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean ducks his head. Trying to let that one go. It’s not that he’s wrong exactly, it’d happened before. But it wasn’t something they’d say. Not like this. And besides this time isn’t like that at all. This time is different. This time, John is in trouble. And Dean’s not going to let him down. He’s going to get his baby brother and he’s going to get the family together and safe. He looks back up at Sam, his gaze hard as he says,

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

[dastardlydandelion]

Billy having the bust appendix episode?

so i combined these into one thingy??

also the latter, uh, it's. like?? i played w ur prompt, dude, chose to focus more on the concept of "not lasting" w susan and max tho bc if i write neil for too long it'll inevitably turn into another murder fic.

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced/discussed abuse, brief suicidal ideation

“Day four of fever, fella. That’s no fun.” Susan sets the thermometer aside with a frown and brushes the back of her hand over his cheek.

Billy blinks slowly at the touch. It wasn’t that long ago that he would’ve pushed her away. He hasn’t exactly enjoyed having the Stomach Flu From Hell for the better half of the week, but he supposes if there was ever a time to get sick, it’s now. Because these past few days have been the last few days he’s ever going to get with Susan and Max. He can use being sick as an excuse to let them get close like this. He can let himself let them close without feeling defensive or embarrassed because after tonight, he’ll never see them again.

“I feel better,” he mumbles as she brushes his fringe back, pad of her thumb gingerly lingering over the nick in his brow. “Really, Sue, s’not as bad today.”

And it’s not. Today’s Wednesday and he’s been feeling shitty since Sunday night, sluggish and nauseous with a nagging stomachache. He managed not to puke up Sunday dinner until Monday morning, although he didn’t actually make it to the bathroom. Susan scrubbed it out of his bedroom carpet even though Billy told her to leave it. Max stayed home from school to keep him company, which really…genuinely meant a lot to Billy, considering skipping school meant sacrificing some of the little time remaining with her friends. And she did it to just to hang out with his sweaty, grouchy, probably contagious and definitely less sociable self.

His stomachache got worse throughout the day but he hadn’t said anything about it to anyone. Didn’t say anything on Tuesday either, even though by evening it hurt so fucking bad it was like there was an invisible knife carving into his guts, blade twisting so terribly the only thing that helped at all was curling into a fetal position. Billy was almost frightened, actually. He doesn’t believe he’s ever felt worse than the torture he went through Tuesday, not even at his father’s hands.

But he couldn’t say anything. Not with everything going on. He wouldn’t do anything to possibly compromise the plan. Couldn’t let himself do anything that could delay their escape. So he sucked it up and kept his mouth screwed shut, endured in silence.

The relentless agony of nonexistent knives twisting through his guts kept him up all night. Then very early this morning, just as the sunrise’s first rays began to lighten the sky, the pain subsided. Billy still feels uncomfortable and he’d probably hurl again if he got a whiff of goat cheese or canned sardines, but it doesn’t compare to the misery of last night.

“How about I put the kettle on? Ginger tea is good for stomach bugs.”

“Nah.”

“What about chamomile?”

“No.”

“Peppermint?”

“Stop, Sue. I don’t want tea.”

“Please. You’ve barely kept anything down all week and you’re sweating like a turkey at Christmas. You’ll feel even worse if you get dehydrated, Billy.”

Susan retracts her hand with a fretful noise in her throat and turns to the door. With a sudden spike of panic that she’s— she’s leaving —he frees an arm from the blanket and grabs her wrist. Susan jumps as though she’s touched a hot stove. Billy immediately lets go. He wasn’t thinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Susan, I just…”

Chewing her lip, she nods down at him. She carefully sits on the edge of his bed, one leg folding on the mattress, opposite foot still on the floor. She takes his face in her chilly hands and Billy heaves out a sigh.

“I wish things were different,” she murmurs. “If the, uh…if the p-place Max and I are going accepted boys your age, you’d be coming with us. I promise I’d take you with us if I could.”

The shelter doesn’t allow male children over age twelve, Susan had informed Billy the night she told him they were leaving. She’d said it apologetically, eyes sorrowful like the look she’s giving him right now. She’s said it like it scraped her throat on the way out, tragic and grave as though she were reading him his own obituary.

It was the oddest thing Billy couldn’t begin to comprehend. He wouldn’t go with them even if going with them was an option. And never had he ever expected it to be an option. He doesn’t understand why Susan is looking at him like that.

“I just grabbed you. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Susan’s face twitches like he’s the one being weird, like it isn’t she who’s looking at him with all these things he never wanted from her.

“You didn’t hurt me, Billy, just startled me a bit. I’m as skittish as a doe and of course today is…it’s a big day.”

“…what time?”

Susan spares a glance to his door. Still shut. Neil’s getting ready for work and he wouldn’t dare enter Billy’s room right now anyway. Wouldn’t risk catching whatever Billy has. He’d sent Susan in the bathroom Monday after Billy had barely stumbled out, wan from the latest round of purging, in drill sergeant mode and demanding that Susan bleach every contaminated tile.

“Noon. I want to drive in the daylight. Max is staying home from school. I told your father she caught your bug.”

Billy raises a brow.

“She didn’t,” Susan clarifies. “But he didn’t question the excuse. She’s sleeping in, I think it’s best to let her sleep in. It’s a big day.”

“Big day,” Billy repeats quietly.

Susan’s hands are still on his face, gentle and cool. Billy feels hot. The past few days he’s felt too cold or too hot, no in between. He’s either burrowing under the blankets to ward off the icy chills or laying on the bathroom tile to ease the sensation of roasting in his skin.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? You don’t have to drink it, but I’d appreciate it if you did. Fluids are important, Billy.”

Susan slides her hands off and Billy wonders if perhaps that’s the last time she’ll ever touch him. She leaves his room. Quietly closes the door behind her. Billy rolls onto his side and wraps his arm around his stomach, wondering if he should’ve let her closer before. If he should’ve let Max closer too.

Maybe it’s better he didn’t. Maybe losing them would hurt more if he did. And it does hurt. Even when the minutes tick down to the time they will exchange their final goodbyes, he’ll never say it out loud, but it hurts. It’s going to gut him when they go.

But it’s good that they’re going. And it’s good that he’s not. Billy ensured early on that Susan knew never to act like his mother. And Susan never seemed particularly passionate about trying, maybe there was even some relief for her that Billy had shut down every feeble attempt, that she never had to claim him. Billy never asked for Max either. The responsibility of a little sister. The pressure of having to set a good example for her, more reasons for Neil to be pissed at him whenever he inexorably failed. Max thought he was cool when they were younger, then there was that really rough patch after the move, and now things are better.

Things are probably the best they’ve ever been between him and Susan, between him and Max, and he’s going to miss them. Billy wants them to leave. Billy wants to be left. But the separation, the severing, the knowledge that he will never see them again pounds his heart like brass knuckles. He’s never going to watch Susan take another spider outside in a tissue, humming her weird little singsong. He’s never going to have to groan and roll his eyes over being Max’s designated chauffeur to the arcade, the park, the monster movie matinee.

He’s going to be alone with Neil.

Susan brings Billy a ceramic mug of steaming tea. She feels his forehead and probes at the sides of his neck, humming in concern. He would never let her fawn over him without a fight on a normal day. He’s only receptive now because he knows they aren’t going to be in each other’s lives anymore. He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he kind of likes the fawning, but maybe he wouldn’t— maybe he wouldn’t like it at all if she wasn’t leaving, maybe the leaving makes it special. Or maybe it’s easier to think of it that way than to wonder if it would’ve been better to have this kind of relationship all along.

Billy watches the steam rise from the mug. He doesn’t touch the tea. He’s exhausted and he finds himself drifting, dozing off…

When Billy blinks his eyes back open, he’s dismayed to find his stomach hurting again. It might actually be the stomachache that wakes him up. Either the stomachache or Max in the doorway, hand on the knob.

“Are you awake?”

“I am now.” Billy begins to push himself up on his elbows, pauses when his gut lurches.

So much for that plan.

He settles back, and rolls onto his side, tucking his knees up to his chest under the blanket. Some of the pain abates. This position is still the winner.

“Are you okay?” Max rests her hand on the mattress, cocking her head to the side. “Do you need the trash can again?”

“Nah.”

“Okay…My mom’s loading up the car.”

“Yeah?” Billy really hopes she isn’t here to ask him to help. If she does, he will, but just the idea of rolling out of bed sounds like a grandiose effort.

“Yeah. Can I hang out for a little bit?”

Something thick rises in his throat. “Sure thing, shitbird.”

Max climbs onto the bed and over Billy, jostling him enough to make him queasy. She sits at his back. He can’t see her but he feels her hand settle on his shoulder.

“Your room smells like gym socks and barf,” she remarks, scowl audible in her voice.

“When you catch this from me, your room’s gonna smell the same way,” he mutters. Only after the words have left his lips, does Billy really realize what he’s said.

Max’s bedroom here on Cherry Lane isn’t really her bedroom anymore. Susan’s putting her belongings in the car. The next time Max gets sick, maybe it won’t be in a bedroom of her own at all. Or it will be her bedroom in a house far away from here. It’ll be a room Billy will never go in and he’ll never have the opportunity to tease her.

“I’m kinda nervous about the shelter, Billy,” she admits, voice quiet and unsure. “I was nervous when we first moved to Hawkins too. But this is a different kind of nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Billy mutters. “You’re gonna be safer there than you are here.”

“Supposedly,” Max huffs. “You know Neil’s going to be pissed when he finds out. What if he comes after us?”

“I won’t let him,” Billy declares, meaning every word.

“Could you really stop him?”

Billy curls a little tighter in an effort to ease the pain spreading through his stomach. It’s beginning to be more than a nuisance but he’s doing his best not to be distracted. Max needs him right now. This is the last time he’ll ever be an older brother. That’s more important, that’s the thing he needs to devote his attention to. He never asked for the job and he hasn’t been exceptional at it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to soothe his soon to be ex-sister’s worries with her small hand shaking ever so slightly on his shoulder.

He cranes his neck back to meet her eye and flashes a winning grin he hopes looks less forced than it feels.

”Let’s put it this way, he’d have to kill me to get to you.”

Instead of being reassured, Max looks spooked.

“I really thought he was going to, you know. That night.”

Ah, that night. Billy knows which. He was feeling pretty ballsy, feeling strong and bold after a good workout and a couple of beers. When Neil got in his shit that night, for the very first time, Billy threw a punch.

He remembers thinking that things would go in his favor if he could just get Neil to the ground. That’s the last thing he remembers, actually. Thinking that. And maybe it really would’ve gone in his favor if he’d gotten Neil down. But he didn’t.

Billy doesn’t actually remember what happened. But it definitely wasn’t that.

“He wouldn’t really go that far, Max. Neil talks a big game, but I’m all he’s got and he knows it.”

Max doesn’t seem convinced in the least.

“I think that’s what made Mom decide we had to go,” she says quietly. “That night.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Billy says, tone sharp.

Max glowers, clearly disagreeing. Billy matches her stare.

“…I wonder if there will be other kids my age,” Max murmurs eventually, changing the subject.

Evidently neither of them want to argue their remaining time together away.

If there are kids her age, they’ll be girls, like Neil always wanted. No boys over twelve permitted stay. Billy shifts his head back, eyes sliding from Max and off to the wall. He’s starting to feel Tuesday night’s painful sort of nausea. Like his guts are going through a meat grinder.

“It’ll suck if I’m just surrounded by adults the whole time. However long that’s gonna be…Mom wouldn’t say.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know yet, Max.”

“Maybe not. She’s trying to keep her cool but I can tell she’s nervous. Even more than me and I can’t let on that I’m nervous at all, not to Mom, because then she’ll really flip her lid. She tried so hard to convince me everything will be okay at the shelter. She’ll feel like a failure if she knows I’m scared and Neil’s already made her feel a failure over and over. I won’t do it too.”

This is the last conversation they’re ever going to have. This is the last time they’re ever going to talk to each other. Max is on the precipice of another massive move to somewhere new. All the secrecy and uncertainties surrounding it make it all the more of a transition and Billy’s last job as her older brother is this conversation. He’s trying to focus on it, on her, but the pain in his stomach is growing more insistent.

“Billy?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

Billy curls his fingers in the bedsheets and silently begs for it not to get any worse. Not now. Max is leaving, Susan is leaving, fuck it— his fucking family is leaving and he can’t do this right now.

“…uh…yeah. I’m gonna get out of this Hawkins dump as soon as I can. And I bet you and your mom will find somewhere for yourselves better than this dump too, without Neil steering the wheel…how about, five years from now, we meet up in Cali? At least you and me, Sue can come too if she wants.”

Billy doesn’t think she would. Things have been better between him and his stepmother, yeah, but. He knows what he is. And Max— Max too, really. She thinks she’ll want to see him again now. Things have been better and maybe there’s even a part of her that still thinks of him as her cool big brother, but when she gets some distance, she’ll get some perspective and neither of them will want anything to do with him anymore. By then he’ll just be one more ugly part of an ugly life, the wayward offspring of the enemy.

By then he’ll be nothing but a reminder and no one wants reminders.

Max hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. We could do that, right? I always wanted to go back to San Diego…”

She squeezes his shoulder and Billy shuts his eyes. It’s getting harder to ignore how awful he feels. His whole body sagging with the overall illness laying him low. The torrent of nausea washing over him even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything left to puke up. The vengeful reprisal of the invisible knife, carving into his guts with a silent wrath.

“…does that sound good? …Billy?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly.

“The zoo, sick brain.” She huffs a little and gives his shoulder another squeeze. “In five years, let’s meet up at the zoo. In the gift shop where you stole the lion keychain.”

“Hey, you remember that.”

“You stole a gag giraffe toy for me too, the squishy one. When you squeeze it, the eyes pop out.”

“Pfft, yeah…I said, ‘look, it’s your mom’ and slipped it in your backpack.”

“I still have that giraffe, Billy,” she continues, voice determined. “I’m bringing it with me. I’ll look at it every day so I don’t forget our meeting place.”

Billy doesn’t really feel like talking anymore. He just wants to shove his head under the pillow and sleep it off, sleep it out. Wake up when his stomach isn’t being stabbed and his heart isn’t being strangled.

It’s a shining fantasy, that’s all. A fuzzy, glowing thing that will never happen. He’s just playing along for Max’s sake.

“What day, Max?”

“I was thinking the Fourth of July. You dad always made sure the fourth was the biggest Hargrove household holiday.” Billy can hear her roll her eyes. “Neither of us will ever forget that date, not even in five years.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Sounds good. We’ll meet again at the San Diego Zoo gift shop in five years, on the fourth.”

“Pinky swear?”

Moving makes the pain worse. Any movements, even small ones.

“Nah. My hands are all sweaty and contagious, you don’t wanna touch ‘em.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m not getting you sick, Max,” Billy states firmly. “You’ve got enough going on.”

There is a pregnant pause.

“I really do,” she says eventually, her tone wary. “I hate Neil. But leaving him means leaving you and my friends, and going somewhere with a bunch of total strangers who have their own Neils who might come after us.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“It could! Stranger things have happened! Stranger things happen all the time!”

Max smacks her hands together and does something with her arms that shifts her weight and in turn, shifts the mattress. The minute movement multiplies the knives and the stabs, and Billy agonizes, grinding his molars against a hiss as those knives in his gut twist so hard he’s already seeing fireworks.

“What���s wrong?”

It hurts so bad. This isn’t the flu. Billy doesn’t know what it is, but it’s definitely not the flu.

“Billy?”

Christ, is he dying?

“Hey.” The back of Max’s hand rests against his cheek, smaller and warmer than her mother’s was, fabric bandaid under her knuckles now protecting that scab she wouldn’t stop picking at. “Geez, you’re burning up. Are you dying?”

He’d gibe back at her if he wasn’t seriously evaluating this possibility. He momentarily considers telling her that he is, that it’s so fucking bad it’s like knives. Then he blinks and Susan’s here, half-in-half-out, one foot over the threshold of his bedroom, the other still in the hallway.

“Time to go, Max.”

Max inhales sharply above his ear. Billy composes himself. He clears his throat and does his best to keep his voice steady.

“You heard her,” he mutters. “Get your ass outta here, lemme sleep this off.”

Abruptly, Max’s weight flops over his torso, arms squeezing. She’s hugging him. She’s hugging him and the pain is so bad it’s blinding. Billy traps a scream between his teeth, burns with shame as the tears spring to his eyes. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to push her off. He can’t bring himself to uncurl enough to hug her back.

“Germs,” he manages to grate out, hoping it’s enough.

Max’s arms unlatch and she climbs down from his bed. Billy’s head spins with reeling pain and nausea as she trots across his floor for the final time. She stands at her mother’s side, no longer his responsibility.

“Bye, Billy.” Max’s lips twitch in a sad smile, her hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

Susan steps aside to let her through and lingers for a heartbeat, frowning at him.

“I hope you feel better, Billy…”

“Your tea was bitter,” he gripes even though he hasn’t taken a single sip.

Susan’s eyes sharpen. She sees something, Billy isn’t sure what. Her lips part but he speaks first.

“Please get out.”

So he can cry. So he can scream. It hurts, he hurts. His stomach, his heart. It’s horrible, he’s horrible.

Susan bobs her head and obliges, making herself scarce. Billy hangs onto the sound of steps getting further away. He doesn’t let the tears fall until he hears the door close and then he’s smashing his face into his pillow to smother his sobs in cotton stuffing. Forces himself to stop because crying’s making it worse, much worse, his shoulders are hitching and moving is anguish.

Something is so very wrong.

Billy can’t even think around its wrongness. Last night the pain was sharpest in his side but right now it feels like his whole stomach is burning. He shifts even slightly and his stomach burns with white-hot pain but he’s so cold everywhere else.

Billy lies still and curled and quiet, impatiently waiting for it to get better. If he doesn’t move, it should get better. Curling like this helped last night and then this morning, the pain went away.

Will it go away again if he just keeps waiting?

He’s already waited so long.

Will it come back even worse?

Could it get worse?

That’s a stupid question, everything can get worse. If there is anything Billy has learned in his life, it’s that there’s no real rock bottom. It can always get worse.

That shove will turn into a slap. That slap will turn into a punch. That punch will multiply into many punches. The opposite arm will lock around your throat so those punches can keep pummeling the breath right out of you and the night you think you’re gonna punch back—

No such thing as bad as bad gets, no limits, maybe if he really is dying, it’s for the best. Maybe dying is the best goddamn thing that can happen to you in a world where invisible knives slicing into you and screams shriveling like dead leaves—

(everyone leaves, doesn’t matter if it’s autumn)

—behind your chattering teeth could very well be the least of your suffering. It hurts so bad he can barely breathe.

Billy forces himself out of bed anyway. He always gets up even when he doesn’t want to, but today he’s outstandingly bad at it. His organs must be pureed from all the silent stabs and his legs buckle under him. His hands fly out when he falters, ceramic mug knocked off his nightstand.

When the tea spills on him, it’s cold and Billy’s confused because it’s supposed to be hot tea. Then he’s confused at his own confusion because no fucking shit it’s cold now, it’s been out for hours.

How many hours?

When did Susan put the kettle on?

How long has Susan been gone, Max in tow?

It feels like an eternity but Neil isn’t home yet, so Billy knows that’s not true. He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’d know if Neil was home. Neil makes his presence known. Neil doesn’t set foot in this house without immediately staking claim to everyone’s attention.

Everyone?

There is no everyone anymore. Just Billy and Neil now. Billy got out of bed with the intention of finding his keys. Driving himself to the hospital. Because it’s been hours, how many he isn’t sure, but enough of them to mean he needs to go to the hospital. Go to the zoo?

No, he— he can’t go to the hospital.

He could make himself get up. Demons slice their claws through his stomach with every chill that wracks his frame and garble their guttural taunts right into his ears but he could get up. He could but he won’t, he knows better.

If Billy goes to the hospital, they’re going to call Neil. It’s a small town. Someone will know who he is even if he pretends to be too out of it to say. Someone will know he belongs to Neil and then Neil will be called. Then Neil will find out even sooner that he’s been left, and he’ll get mad, and Billy doesn’t know what he’ll do with the anger but it won’t be good.

Max and Sue need as much time as they can get, as much distance between him and his dad as possible before he finds out. He’s going to find out but they got a head-start and Billy won’t sabotage that. It’s better for him too, in case Neil decides to turn the rage his way. Neil takes responsibility for jack shit, he might even decide it’s Billy’s fault they're gone, because he got left behind to blame.

Billy could make himself get up but he won’t. He just pulls the comforter off the bed and over himself on the floor. It’s so bad he could writhe but that too, would make it worse. He’s waiting to watch a demon claw its way out of his stomach, like that scene in that one movie he watched with Max.

It wasn’t the last movie he watched with Max. Billy doesn’t remember the last movie he watched with Max, the last movie he’ll ever watch with Max. He’s never going to see her again. If he dies here on the carpet, he supposes he’ll never see anyone again.

Crying about it won’t help. Crying doesn’t solve anything.

Something is making a horrible yowling sound. There’s a stray cat in the neighborhood, it must be right outside his bedroom window. Or else it got inside somehow, it sounds so close. Its cries sound so wretchedly human.

Billy isn’t a brother anymore, he has demons twisting their pitchforks in his stomach, he’s too cold to catch his breath, and his cheeks are very wet. He doesn’t have any time or energy to chase around a stray cat, to stop it from making a mess.

Billy does not die on the floor. When his father comes home at first his yells are angry and then his yells are fearful. He calls an ambulance and cradles Billy close until it comes.

Billy loses himself in the whirlwind of activity that follows. He gets poked and prodded and jabbed, and someone blessedly takes his pain away but Billy doesn’t know who because everyone’s faces blur until they all look the same. He has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration.

Dehydration, that’s deja vu. But it’s not Susan talking about dehydration this time even though he wishes it was. He wishes it was?

Yes. No. She needed to get out. Max needed to get out. Billy has too many white blood cells and not enough hydration, and his fever’s so high they might as well bake cookies on him and— and if his mother were here, she would like that one, yeah, he definitely got his dry wit from her. Sardonic snark is right up Mom’s alley. But she had to get out too, everyone has to get out.

Except Billy. He’s fine. Well, he’s not fine, apparently he needs surgery, but he doesn’t need to escape. One day he will, but he doesn’t need to. It’s not a necessity. No matter what Max saw That Night he doesn’t remember, Neil would never kill him.

Neil would never, ever kill him. Billy is his only legacy. Piss poor legacy from Neil’s standpoint, sure, he’ll never let him forget it. But nonetheless, it’s the only one he’s got. Billy may blow his brains out when he gets bored of his twenties (if he even makes it that far) just to spite the bastard because he doesn’t want to be his good-for-nothing piece of shit legacy, he never asked for that.

But now is not the time to begrudge all he didn’t ask for, now is the time to count backwards.

“Dad?” Billy calls into the quiet nighttime of the room, blinking fuzzily at the figure slumped in the chair beside his bed. His throat feels like sandpaper, he swallows with an effort and tries again. “Dad?”

Neil stirs this time, eyes brightening, alert on Billy. “I’m here. Do you need something?”

Billy pauses. “M’sick, right?”

“Sure as shit you’re sick,” Neil huffs, eyes narrowing. “Almost lost all three of you in the same day.”

The words bounce around Billy’s skull.

“Susan left me,” Neil continues slowly, anger shimmering like hot coals underneath the veil of weariness. “All her stuff is gone, she took Max too. I don’t expect you knew anything about that?”

“No, sir,” Billy denies. “I thought they went shopping.”

“No. They certainly didn’t go shopping. They cleared out and left us behind. No explanation, no letter, not even a note.”

So it’s ‘us’ now, huh?

Billy widens his eyes, does his best to seem surprised as he attempts to sit up. Then he really is surprised, first at how awful of an idea that is, and then at realizing the blanket covering his hospital bed is one from home. One of Neil’s, fleecy and worn.

“Grabbed a few things from home. Needed something to do to keep my mind busy. You were on the operating table twice as long as they told me you were gonna be, Bill. Scared the hell out of me.”

“…why?”

“I’m told your appendix ruptured before they opened you up and that complicated things…you’re gonna be here for a little while, bud.” Neil gently rubs his shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He answered the wrong question. Billy wasn’t asking why it took longer, he was asking why Neil was scared. But he doesn’t correct him. He swallows and hopes Max and Susan are safe. He wonders just what time they got to wherever they were going. Susan never shared the location or ever alluded to the distance from Hawkins. He hopes there were no mishaps along the way, no flat tires or fender-benders, or murderous traffic in backed up lanes.

“Not a baby,” he mutters. “Not gonna bitch about a stupid stomachache.”

At that, his father raises a brow. He gives a shake of the head and his hand leaves Billy’s shoulder. He makes a low noise in his throat that almost sounds like approval and covers Billy’s forehead with his hand. The heel of his palm is calloused and Billy knows he’s been hitting the bottle when the unmistakable scent of warm beer wafts over his nostrils.

“Well, it’s just us now, tough guy. You need to speak up if something’s really wrong, capeesh?”

He said it again. Us. They’re an us once more. Billy tiredly lifts his hand, bracing his elbow on the mattress to give his father’s forearm a squeeze.

“Yes, sir.”

[albertasunrise]

No More - Chapter 9

Summary: Frankie has been your best friend since you were in the 2nd grade. You were each other’s first’s, he, your first love and as you’d both gotten older you always somehow fell into bed together after one too many drinks with the boys. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up but fate has other plans for you both and events are set in motion to decide for you.

Warnings: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hospitalisation, Descriptions of childbirth, Smut 18+ 

Pairings: Frankie/ Reader

~

You’re pulled back by invisible hands as you watch Frankie gasp and choke for air, lips turning a sickly shade of blue and you feel yourself losing control. What was happening? You watch as one of the men that helped him lowers his ear to his chest, closing his eyes in concentration as he tries to listen past the wheezing.

‘Ribs punctured his lung.’ He states as he looks at the man beside him ‘Anyone see an ambulance?’

‘Yeah, it’s coming.’ Chime’s in one of the women that are holding you.

Then you hear the sirens, you hear Brad’s screaming, Frankie’s gasping and Emma’s cries and you feel overwhelmed by the noise. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You bounce Emma in your arms as you try and calm her cries but she won’t stop, her eyes fixed on her dad. Suddenly the ambulance is there and the EMT’s are swarming, getting to work on stabilising Frankie and you decide you can’t watch, you can’t do this again.

‘Ma’am?’ A familiar voice calls and you turn to see the officers that had been looking for Emma ‘Is this Emma?’ Asks the female officer as she smiles at you and your baby.

‘Y-yes.’ You stutter as you try to keep yourself calm.

‘Hello, Emma.’ She says softly as she lets the infant wrap her hand around her index finger ‘You’ve had us all very worried. I’m glad to see you, sweetheart.’

You find her words oddly soothing. She looks at you and gives you a warm smile and you find yourself relaxing a little, able to calm your mind a little from the chaos that surrounds you. You see her partner taking Brad to the police car and you lock eyes with your ex, your blood running cold at the look in his eyes.

‘That should be my baby.’ He growls before spitting on the ground and being roughly shoved in the back of the vehicle.

‘What does he mean by that?’ The female officer asks, noting the sudden panic spreading across your face and placing a comforting hand on your arm.

‘I uh… We’re expecting another baby.’ You state as you finally tear your eyes away from the space that Brad had occupied a few moments ago ‘Brad had been replacing my contraceptive pills with placebos.’

‘It’s not…”

‘No it’s Frankie’s.’ You assure her and she gives you a warm smile.

‘Well, congratulations.’ She says, giving your arm another squeeze ‘He’s going away for a long time. You can rest easy knowing he’ll not hurt your family again.’

‘Thank you.’ You reply as you nod and give her a small smile, before turning to look at the EMT who’s walked up behind you.

‘He’s stable. Few broken ribs, one pierced his lung. Are you going to come in the ambulance?’ They ask, eyes flitting between you and the officer.

‘Yes.’ You reply plainly before placing a small kiss on Emma’s cheek.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Yells a familiar voice and you see Benny and Will sprinting towards you.

You’d forgotten that you’d invited them over this evening but you were so happy to see them both. Their eyes grow even wider when they see Emma in your arms and Ben is quick to pull her from your grasp and hug her tight, weeping as he breathes her in.

'Fuck I missed you Em.' He says as she cradles her head against the crook of his neck.

‘Brad must have seen the baby announcement.’ You start ‘He turned up with Emma and beat Frankie within an inch of his life. I need to go with him will you take care of her. Please.’

‘Of course.’ Nods Will as he takes Emma from his brother and hugs her tightly ‘We’ll get her cleaned and dressed and come by later.’

‘Thank you.’ You give them both a quick hug before sprinting off to the ambulance and clambering inside.

~

He’s going to be okay. Those words keep running around inside your head as you watch Frankie sleep, waiting eagerly for him to open his eyes again. He looks a little better now he’s been cleaned up. His eye’s still swollen and he has a large cut just by his hairline but his face was otherwise okay. His ribs were a different story. Brad had broken several which had lead to one puncturing his lung. You’d been advised that he was fine and that they just wanted to keep him in for a few days for observation to ensure he didn’t develop any infections. They said he’d be out for a few hours due to the strong pain killers they’d given him but you’d sat and waited anyway, hand resting on your small bump. You’d had time to contemplate things. You’d thought about how Frankie had done nothing but put you first in the past few months, despite his internal struggle. He’d cared for you when you were ill and he’d consoled you when you’d learned that you were pregnant again. He’s never once pressured you into anything, just supported you and cared for you and you’d come to realise. He really is in love with you. Once the initial shock of baby number two wore off he’d embraced it, shown you that it was nothing to be ashamed or worried about. That it had been, if anything, a blessing in disguise. Something to hold on to in those hard times and you’d eventually come round to the idea of having another baby with him. Now you couldn’t wait.

‘You’re thinking loudly.’ He grumbles and you practically leap from your seat, grabbing his hand as you watch him slowly come around ‘Where’s Emma?’

‘She’s with Will and Ben.’ You reply, smiling sweetly at him ‘They’re going to bring her around later but I needed to stay with you.’

‘I’m sorry I-.’

‘No shhh…’ You hush as you stand and start to stroke his unruly curls ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Brad’s gone and we're a family again. You, Me, Emma and this little Bean.’ You finish as you lay his hand on your stomach.

‘We?’

You lower your lips to his, careful not to hurt him and you kiss him sweetly. He doesn’t react at first, shocked by this sudden change but then he’s kissing you back, moaning when your tongues collide and fight for dominance. You pull away, lips swollen and cheeks flushed as you catch your breath and look at him sheepishly. Forming your next words carefully.

‘I love you, Francisco Morales.’ You start, raising your finger to quieten him when he goes to speak ‘And I’ve come to realise that you do love me too. I want to raise this baby with you. I want to raise Emma with you. I want us to be a family.’

‘I want that too.’

‘I’m sorry it took my ex beating the shit out of you for me to realise but I do know now… And if you’re not too fed up of waiting, will you have me?’

‘Definitely.’ He replies, yanking you down into another kiss more passionate than the first.

‘I love you, Lazo.’ He mumbles against your lips and you grin and each other like lovesick teens.

~

You were shocked at how many people turned up for Emma’s first Birthday. You’d decided to throw a barbecue and invited all the neighbours who had helped you when Brad had turned up. You'd become quite close to them all, disaster does bring people together. Those neighbours turned up, bringing along their kids and a few had even invited friends who had children Emma’s age. It was fortunate that Frankie had gone overboard on the amount of food he’d bought. You’d gone all out. A petting zoo in the yard, a bouncy castle which Ben spent most of his time on, with Emma of course, and for the parents a camper van bar that was complete with a vast selection of Gin. You were of course six months along and starting to feel it. You’d decided to combine the party with a gender reveal of the new baby so whatever the colour of the sponge in Emma’s cake was, that was what you were having. It had killed you both to wait this long but you wanted to make it special.

‘When are we cutting the cake it looks amazing!’ Questions Benny as he pulls you into a sideways hug and kisses you sweetly on the cheek.

The cake was amazing. You’d found a bakery in town that made the most incredible cakes and you’d commissioned a zoo-themed cake, Emma loved animals.

‘We’re cutting it in a few minutes. Will’s still okay to film it yeah?’

‘Defo babe.’ He replies ‘I reckon it’s another girl. Fish's got feminine swimmers.’

‘Fuck you, Ben.’

‘Nah I reckon it's a boy.’ Pipes up Will as he swans up beside you all ‘This is a great party sweetie. Got some great neighbours here!’

‘That we do!’ You reply with a smile ‘Where’s Emma?’

‘Over there with Sue. I’ll go fetch her.’ Says Frankie as he kisses you softly.

‘I can’t believe you waited two months to find out what the sex of the baby is.’ Says Will as he grabs the camera and tripod to set it up.

‘Right everyone if you could gather around that dashing gentleman just there with the camera. We’re going to cut the cake.’ You exclaim, making your way over to Frankie who’s waiting with Emma in his arms.

Everyone gathers, smiles on their faces and excited chatter filling the air as Will gives you the thumbs up to go.

‘So this isn’t just any ordinary cake.’ You start as you quickly glance at Frankie and Emma ‘It is indeed Emma’s first birthday cake but inside also holds a clue as to whether she’s going to have a little brother or a sister.’

There are a few cheers and a few shouts of ‘Girl’ and ‘Boy’ which elicit chuckles from you and Frankie, Emma clapping with excitement at the sight of her animal cake. You grab the knife and carefully cut a slice before sliding it underneath and holding the top so that you can lift it and reveal the colour inside.

‘FUCK YEAH.’ Shouts Ben and everyone laughs ‘Knew you had girly swimmers, bro!’

Sure enough, the sponge is pink and everyone erupts into cheers and claps, Emma screaming with excitement although probably to mirror everyone else reaction. You place the cake down on a plate and turn to face Frankie and Emma, grinning at them both as she wriggles in his arms.

‘You’re going to have a sister Bean!.’ You say excitedly as she claps her tiny hands ‘Sorry Frank. Maybe next time.’ You wink as you kiss him softly.

‘Next time??’ He exclaims ‘How many kids you planning on having?’ He chuckles as you kiss him sweetly before kissing the top of Emma’s head.

‘Maybe one more.’

‘Congrats Guys.’ Says Will sweetly as he gives you a friendly kiss on the cheek and a hug before turning to Frankie ‘Are you excited Emma?’

She giggles at Will’s question and he laughs at her reaction.

‘She doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on man.’ Frankie jokes as he kisses the apple of her cheek ‘Do you Princesa?’ She reacts the same way and everyone laughs a little harder.

~

You're a week late now and you're miserable. You've tried almost everything you can think of you coax the little one out but she's having none of it.

'It's her stubborn Latino blood.' You grumble as you rub your aching belly.

'Hey don't go hating on Latinos!' Frankie chuckles 'Look at Emma! She's the happiest baby on the planet.'

'Yeah... I'm convinced you're giving her pot when I'm not around.' You joke 'It's not normal for a kid to be that laid back. They certainly shouldn't love nap time as much as she does.'

'That, she got from me!.'

'No arguments there.' You reply with a wink.

Frankie booms at that and you laugh along with him before pushing yourself to your feet and waddling to the kitchen.

'What are you doing?'

'Making myself some tea Francisco.'

'I can make it for you.' He says as he walks up behind you and rests his hands on your hips.

'I do nothing but sit and bake this child. Let me make some tea.'

'You do look particularly beautiful today.' He growls in your ear as he pulls you closer to him.

So you'd learned for definite with this pregnancy that Frankie has a pregnancy kink. He couldn't get enough of you and you'd be lying if you said you could get enough of him.

'There's one thing we haven't tried.' He whispers against the shell of your ear as his hand slips down the front of your legs and he strokes a finger along your sex.

'We should try everything we can.' You mumble as you feel your arousal pooling in your core.

'Definitely.' He purrs as he slips two fingers into your heat.

He starts painfully slow and soon you're begging for him to speed up, one hand laced in his hair as the other holds onto the counter for support. He does as you ask and within minutes he's pulled an orgasm out of you. You shiver as he pulls down your leggings along with your panties before you finally kick them off and then you gasp when you feel his length nudge against your folds. He grabs your hips and pulls you back a little, wrapping an arm around you to support you as he pushes himself in. You both gasp together at the feeling, taking a moment to revel in each other before he's snapping his hips back and forth. His pace is maddening and you soon feel yourself approaching another peak, eyes rolling back as he hits that spot inside perfectly with each rock of his hips.

'Shit.' You whimper as you cum hard, your release gushing over him and dripping onto the floor.

'Fucking hell.' He breaths as he speeds up, chasing his release as he tries to pull just one more out of you.

You cum together, moaning loudly as you both hold onto the counter for support, legs shaking from the mind-shattering orgasms you both had. As Franke pulls you he grabs a cloth from the side to clean you up.

'How long does it take to work?' You ask, chuckling as you lean against the counter.

Frankie simply shrugs, pulling up his trousers before bending down to do yours.

'Um, babe.'

'Yeah?'

'I think it worked.' He states and you look down to see a pool of clear liquid beside the one you'd made during sex.

'Great!'

~

Frankie and Will help you to the car as you try to breathe through the contractions, Benny holding onto a fussy Emma who’s trying to wriggle from his arms.

‘You can’t go Em but in a little while you’re going to be a big sister.’ He says softly in her ear as he watches Will and Frankie help you into the car ‘Until then we’re going to play and eat cake.’

This seems to grab her attention as suddenly she’s beaming at him and he chuckles as he looks into her eyes, Frankie’s eyes. He looks up when he notices Frankie sprinting towards him, looking a little frantic as he plants a kiss on Emma’s forehead.

‘You sure you’re going to be okay?’ He asks as he looks at Ben with a panicked expression.

‘We will be fine man.’

���I’ve left instructions on the table and all her-.’

‘Go before she gives birth in the car.’ Ben interrupts, patting his friend on the shoulder ‘We will be fine. Call us when the baby's here!’

‘Yeah.’ He nods, kisses Emma again and then sprints to the car, cursing in Spanish when he forgets it's a button start, not a key.

The drive to the hospital is chaotic. Your screaming means that Frankie’s swerving as he tries to keep you calm and focus on the road. It’s no surprise when the flashing lights appear and he’s being pulled over but as soon as the officers see you, red-faced and furious in the passenger seat they’re soon escorting you the rest of the way.

‘Well, this is something to tell her when she's older.’ He jokes and you managed to let out a small laugh before another contraction tears through you.

‘FUCK!!’ You scream, knuckles going white as you grip the dashboard in front of you.

‘We’re almost there baby.’

Sure enough, 3 minutes later you’re pulling into the hospital behind the flashing cop car, a nurse with a wheelchair waiting for you.

‘Wow, door service.’ Frankie jokes but you’re in too much pain to see the humour now.

He hops out of the car and runs around to your door, helping you out and into the wheelchair that’s been pushed over.

‘You head in, I’ll park your car for you.’ Says the officer and Frankie is quick to toss him the keys ‘I’ll leave them at the nurse's station.

‘Thank you so much.’ Frankie says as he shakes the officer's hand before following you inside.

You’re quickly taken to a private room, the nurse helping you out of your clothes and into a gown before she, along with Frankie, helps you lay down in the bed.

‘A doctor will be along shortly to see how far along you are.’

You can only nod, tears streaming down your face as you try to breathe through it. This is the first real labour you’ve experienced as you’d passed out during Emma’s. It’s hell and you’re pretty sure you’re crushing every bone in Frankie’s hand but he doesn’t complain, just stands there and takes it.

‘Right I understand a baby is coming.’ The doctor jokes and you glare at him but Frankie laughs.

‘She’s not in the best of humour right now.’ He says and you do manage a chuckle at that.

‘Right well you’re around 8 cms so she’s well on her way.’ He says, giving you both a smile 'I’ll be back soon so see how you’re getting on.

Another half an hour and you’re in the delivery room, holding onto Frankie’s hand for dear life as the doctor tells you to push. You do. Over and over you push until suddenly your screams are replaced with the cries of your newborn daughter and then you sob, your whole body shaking with exhaustion as the nurse hands you your baby. Frankie wraps his arm around your trembling shoulders and rests his chin on your head, looking down at the tiny infant in your arms and he suddenly can't stop the tears that fall. Neither of you had been able to experience Emma’s birth so this was a truly special moment.

‘Has she got a name?’ The nurse asks you both and you suddenly realise you hadn’t agreed on one.

Looking down at her you see that she too has Frankie’s dark hair and golden skin tone but it’s a little early to tell who’s eye’s she’s inherited.

‘I think she looks like an Ava.’ You say as you look lovingly up at Frankie.

‘Yeah.’ He replies, returning your gaze ‘I think so too.’ He finishes before kissing you sweetly.

~

‘Right you all ready?’ Calls out Will as he gets the camera connected up.

‘Yes.’ You all shout in unison.

‘Ava and Emma are getting fussy. Hurry the fuck up Bro.’ Grumbles Benny as he holds a bouncy toddler in his lap.

‘Right.’ Will sprints over to where everyone is sat patiently waiting for him to get the camera set up.

You are sat beside Frankie, his arms around you as you cradle Ava in yours and Ben is then beside him with Emma. Will sits down next to you and clicks the shutter button on his phone before telling everyone to say cheese. The shutter goes and he brings the image up on his phone.

‘First time!!’ He exclaims and you all breathe a sigh of relief before.

‘Pool!.’ Emma shouts at her uncle Ben and he chuckles.

‘Why couldn’t your kid’s first word be normal?’ He chuckles as he chucks Emma in the air and catches her.

‘POOL POOL POOL!.’ She keeps squealing and Frankie grabs her from his friend.

‘We don’t have a pool but you can have a bath?’

‘NO!.’

‘Well, that’s a new one.’ He chuckles as everyone looks at her in surprise.

‘Where did she even learn pool from anyway?’ Enquires Will as he plugs his camera into his laptop.

‘Greg across the street had one put in and he invited everyone round last weekend.’ States Frankie as he pops Emma down and watches her waddle towards Ben ‘Turns out she’s part fish.’

‘Seems apt when her dad is called Catfish.’ Ben jokes, his brother snorting in response.

Frankie just rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself as he gathers the cushions and throws you’d decorated the bench with. It had been Will’s idea for the ‘family photo’ as he’d put it and you’d thrown yourself at the idea. Frankie had never been one for photos but he liked the idea of putting it on the wall amongst the photos of you, him and his family. You had ended up selling your house and moving into his. It was larger and better suited for a growing family but you’d also liked the idea of your children growing up in the same house that you and Frankie did. It felt like everything had come around full circle. All the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place and now you were exactly where you were meant to

[yourdeepestfathoms]

so are we just not going to address that Sue didn’t even TRY to save Carrie

like, this drives my anatomy-nerd self up the wall, so i’m going to evaluate a lot of the different Carrie: The Musical death scenes and see if they would actually be as fatal as they were shown to be and if Sue could have saved Carrie if she hadn’t been a bumbling idiot

(i’m not doing the movies because in 1976 she dies from the house collapsing, in 2002 she’s actually saved, and in 2013 Sue couldn’t really do anything with Carrie using her powers on her)

also i’m not saying any of this is completely accurate. i’m not a med student, i just did a lot of research and am in an anatomy class. i could be wrong BUT here’s my shot at it

Broadway Kids

okay, so, at first glance, this one looks like it could be very much fatal. you can see that Carrie gets stabbed near her spine, on the (if i did my directions correctly) left side, which is where the heart is located. HOWEVER, she is stabbed in the upper part of the back instead of the center, so it would have missed her heart.

in return, the uppermost part of the left trapezius would have sustained the most damage. the trapezius’ main function is to support the weight of the arm and control the movement of the scapulae, so a puncture wound would have most likely caused it to seize up in the reaction to the pain, resulting in the inability to lift the left arm above the shoulder. a stab to the upper part of the back would also most likely puncture the left dorsal scapular nerve, which provides motor innervation to muscles, allowing them to move the scapula.

additionally, underneath all that muscle and tissue, we come to the skeleton.

depending on exact location, Carrie most likely would have been hit around the second to fifth rib. these upper ribs are incredibly tough. to cause actual damage to the organs they protect, you would need to go between the ribs. however, you can see that Margaret stabs vertically, not horizontally, so the knife would not go in all the way. that bone is going to do its job and protect the lungs and heart by blocking it from entry. the most that could have happened is that maybe the tip got through and nicked one of the lungs, but not nearly enough to be fatal. damage would lie mainly in the flesh, muscle, and tissue.

for example:

i don’t think Carrie would be able to prop herself up on her arms like that. all her weight is going onto that injury and causing it to bleed even more, which could have been the thing that actually killed her, but not as quickly as it did.

and then we see here that she shifts all of her weight onto that injured side, which would only deepen her pain. though it is more realistic than her using the left arm to stop Margaret, as she most likely would have not been able to lift it with her injury.

BK Carrie should have survived, but dumbass Sue didn’t think to do ANYTHING, even though Carrie TELLS HER she’s hurt.

like the most she’s doing, MAYBE, is that with the way Carrie is positioned, Sue’s leg may be pressing against the wound, which would help stem the bleeding, but that’s a huge “maybe.”

but yeah, Carrie should have survived this wound.

Seattle!

it’s a little hard to see because it’s so dark, but Carrie is stabbed in the center of her back on what looks like the left side. furthermore, and what makes this version more lethal than BK, is that Margaret stabs Carrie horizontally, meaning the blade would have gone between the ribs and punctured her lung or maybe even her heart. but realistically, it would have been the lung, and this would result in something called a “sucking wound”, which is when holes are opened up in the wall of the lung and cause air to leak into the thoracic cavity instead of the lungs. despite this, they are actually rarely life-threatening. while there may be blood leaking into her lung, Carrie still has another lung to keep her breathing.

unfortunately, it’s most likely her reaction that made the stab so lethal.

i don’t know if it was done on purpose or completely on accident, but the way Carrie doesn’t scream is very much accurate to what it’s like to be stabbed. a lot of times, you aren’t going to feel the knife going in. that rush of adrenaline is going to completely numb your body for several moments. what she is going to feel, however, is her punctured lung beginning to fill with blood and her body grasping for air as breathing is reduced. this causes her to gasp, wheeze, and make strangled noises instead of an actual scream or anything verbal.

whether or not she would be able to prop herself up like that is debatable, as her trapezius was also stabbed and we’ve learned that that restricts arm movement, but it’s that panic that really does a number on her. her heart is going to start beating faster and faster, which is going to increase blood flow. so while her platelets are trying to form a clot over the wound to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible, the blood is just going to keep gushing out and disrupt that process. and to make things worse, she’s breathing very rapidly. that’s going to put a strain on the lung trying to make up for the loss of the other, while also straining that injured lung filling with blood. it’s also just harder to get air when you’re panicking, so she’s not getting nearly as much oxygen as she needs, especially when she direly needs it.

here we see a loss of limb control from the way she lies down, most likely from shock, but also potentially from the crushing pain of her lung collapsing on itself. because while a sucking wound isn’t as lethal as it may seem, panicking is going to increase that level of danger. shock will be actively working against her, but if she kept herself calm, she would be able to stay awake longer. but because she’s panicking, she’s not getting enough air to her brain, thus causing her to begin to lose control of her body.

another big “maybe” if she would be able to life the arm on the side she got stabbed in, but i’ll let it slide.

now, i think Carrie could have survived this wound, even with her panic. the thing that killed her? fucking Sue.

there’s so many things wrong about the way Sue reacted. i mean, they always react badly, but this one especially.

first of all, punctured lung. i know that Sue can’t tell that Carrie’s lung is damaged, but she should have guessed something was wrong with the way Carrie was breathing abnormally. like, the girl could barely even speak without sounding choked up.

and speaking of choking! one of her lungs is bleeding! laying her down is going to make it easier for her to inhale that blood and begin to choke. and just in general, she shouldn’t be laying down. maybe it’s more comfortable for her, but laying down is only going to decrease the room in her chest for her lungs to expand and get air. she should be sitting up.

but most of all,  Sue should have APPLIED PRESSURE TO THE FUCKING WOUND. SHE SHOULD HAVE CALLED FOR HELP. she can’t expect the victim of the injury to do all that for her- she should be smart enough to know to stop the bleeding instead of just sitting there like a useless idiot.

you wanna know what i think? i don’t think Carrie died. not in that moment. i think she just passed out from the shock, but Sue thought she had died and left her there to suffocate, even though she could have been saved.

2012 Revival

really shitty quality because the boot sucks and Marin stabs FAST, but Carrie is stabbed in the lower back, close to her waist, on what i believe is her left side because it looks like the knife is pulled out from the area closest to the audience.

so, Carrie is going to get stabbed somewhere in the left latissimus dorsi, specifically in the middle-to-lower area if i’m correct, but it’s kinda hard to tell exactly in the video. the latissimus dorsi controls several different movements for the upper body and the arms, so being stabbed in that area will most likely cause those muscles to seize up in reaction. it’s probably going to be hard for Carrie to sit up, move her arms, and even potentially move her legs.

in terms of lethality, i think this may be the most fatal blow so far if i tracked the projection of the knife correctly because i’m pretty sure it went straight into where her kidney would be. and the kidneys are essentially blood sponges.

have you ever had a kidney stone before? women who have given birth and had kidney stones say that the stones hurt worse. the first time i had one, it put me on the floor, weeping like a little baby until my mom took me to the ER at one in the morning. they’re even worse than period cramps. so if these tiny, grain-of-sand-sized chunks can cause this much pain, imagine what a knife to the kidneys could do.

the kidneys are full of nerve endings and have a lot of blood flow throughout them. they are also highly sensitive to pain. if you’ve ever been punched in the kidney before, it feels like getting the wind knocked out of you, except it’s not your lungs, it’s your whole body. and if Carrie had been stabbed here, she’s not getting up from it. certainly not as easily as she does in the show.

a shot to the kidney is going to put Carrie into immediate shock. i don’t think she would be able to scream they was she does because a blow to such a sensitive place is going to wind her. the pain would completely render her stunned for several moments. nor do i think she would be able to crawl away as she also does in the show. she should have crumpled straight to the ground after taking the hit and her body probably would have seized up for a moment because of how much pain she would be in.

the way she sits up after killing Margaret isn’t very realistic, either. she wouldn’t be able to get up after taking a knife to her kidney- not that quickly. i don’t think she would have even been able to kill Margaret in the first place. the pain had to be excruciating.

even though Sue still should have called 911 and tried to stop the bleeding, really the only thing she could do for Carrie at that point was make her comfortable. Carrie was bleeding out. so i do think this stab was realistic in how fatal it was, they just need to teach Molly how to properly act with a punctured kidney.

Branching Out!

also hard to see because of the angling, but Carrie does grab at the wound

and it looks like she had been stabbed somewhere in the center of her middle back, close to her spine and sort of where her ribs end, which means it probably struck a kidney. but not only that- the average kitchen knife tends to be eight inches in length. so that’s eight inches down to the handle going into this girl’s back, not only piercing her kidney, but also potentially a part of her large intestines and even maybe her small intestines. the result would be extremely painful, so much so that it would probably send her into shock instantly, as it should have done for 2012. but instead she screams and crawls away, which would not have been possible with such a lethal wound. the more realistic thing would be for her to crumple to the floor and open her mouth to scream and cry, but not actually be able to make any noise.

once again, Sue should have done more to save her life, but the wound was really bad. Carrie was rapidly bleeding out. it was nice that Sue soothed her, but she could have at least TRIED. like, CARRIE is the only putting the pressure on the wound. Sue should be doing that, not the victim.

Off-West End

you can’t see the knife because Margaret actually slashes Carrie’s throat instead of stabbing her, but this actually has to be the most realistic version of Carrie’s death, even though you would think neck wounds would be complicated.

so, Carrie gets her throat slit. the simplest damage she’s going to sustain is injury to her platysma, which serves to produce different facial expressions such as surprise, sadness, and horror, and also helps open the mouth from where it’s attached to the mandible. this would most likely make it painful for her to speak.

even further than her platysma, there’s damage to her sternocleidomastoid, which connects the sternum and clavicle to the skull. this is the muscle that allows the head to turn and nod, so when that gets cut through, she’s going to have some problems turning her head, if she is even capable of doing so in the first place.

and then even deeper and more severe than that are all of the organs in her neck. the most at risk are her larynx and trachea. but most importantly are the two major vessels in her throat: the jugular and the cartoid.

upon getting her throat slashed, Carrie immediately begins to sputter and cough as her jugular was most likely cut through and her lungs begin to fill with blood. despite this, she would actually be able to still talk, as there are many stories of people talking even after they got their throat slashed.

props to them for the realism in making Carrie HOLD THE DAMN WOUND SHUT. when it comes to something that is bleeding or just spilling in general, especially a throat wound, your first instinct is to COVER IT UP and STOP THE FLOW.

even further: THEY HAVE SUE HOLD THE WOUND.

FINALLY.

not only is Sue’s hand over it, but Carrie’s is, too, meaning even more pressure on that wound. this is a good thing because not only will the jugular and cartoid bleed a ton, they will also spray blood like a high pressure hose. of course, this isn’t possible onstage, so i’ll let them slide, but MAJOR points on not having Sue be completely useless. she still should have called an ambulance, especially for a slit throat, but i can give her a pass because she is having to hold the wound shut and hold Carrie’s body up.

speaking of: that’s a good position she’s in. Carrie is slouched at an angle with her head downwards, meaning the blood will fall out of her mouth instead of going back in if she were to cough it up. lying her down or cradling her on her back with her head tipped up will only make it easier for her to choke.

as the scene goes on, we hear Carrie start to gasp and wheeze as she drowns in her blood. very realistic. that’s going to cause a panic, but she probably doesn’t have the energy or blood to even do that.

despite all of these injuries, i don’t think Carrie would have died from them if Sue had just done something more to help her.

here’s my running theory: Sue let Carrie die. she knew she could have done something, she just chose not to. there was a chance for Carrie to live, but she didn’t let that happen. perhaps out of revenge for the massacre? maybe Sue was darker than we all thought...

extreme tldr: Miss Gardener should have gone to Carrie’s house instead of Sue because she would have actually done something