#I expect to write more for him

[vodika-vibes]

This is the Masterlist for all of my Keeli x Reader Fics

Napping Kisses - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) Just Because - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) Snow Day - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) Stay - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) Stay Behind Me - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) First Meeting - Captain Keeli x Reader Protective - Captain Keeli x Reader (request) Confessions - Captain Keeli x Reader The Joys of Dating A Chosen One - Captain Keeli x Reader The Greatest Score - Captain Keeli x F!Reader Rather Be Yours - Captain Keeli x F!Reader (request) - Omegaverse AU

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[uzurakis]

after you reveal the meanings behind his names, michael kaiser’s cocky attitude seems to never not get in the way.

“do you know the meaning of your name?” you ask, glancing up at him. both of you are lounging on the couch, enjoying a rare moment of quiet as kaiser takes a book in his right hand and stroking your hair with his left from behind.

kaiser looks at you, his expression indifferent. “as if i give a damn about it,” he replies, shrugging, back to his pages. “it was given to me by that one hell of a father, and at times, i don’t even like it.”

“hmm,” you smile, knowing you can get a reaction out of him. “well then, 'kaiser' means emperor or a ruler higher than a king.”

a spark of interest lights up his eyes. he leans back, a smirk forming on his lips. “i know i’m the best striker out there, mein liebling. no need to tell me,” he brags, mood visibly improving. “emperor, king, whatever. i own the field.”

enjoying his reaction, you chuckle at his boast. “of course, you do, baby.”

“but do you know what 'michael' means?”

he raises an eyebrow, genuinely curious this time. “no, what does it mean?”

“it means 'gift from god,'” looking at him fondly as your hand touches his cheeks, rubbing them softly. “you're my gift from god.”

his eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, you see a glint of genuine emotion. then, true to his nature, he grins and leans in. “well, that makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? that’s why i am pretty amazing,” he boasts again with a playful wink. “in fact, you should probably start addressing me as 'your highness.'”

you roll your eyes at his flamboyant response but can’t help smiling. “you get cocky too easily, michael.”

“i thought you love me as i am, mein liebling,” he says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “i mean, who wouldn’t love having the greatest striker in the world as their boyfriend? you’re one lucky person.”

“c’mon, mein liebling, say it, 'i am more than grateful to have the world’s greatest striker as my boyfriend,'”

“yeah, yeah,” you say, trying to sound annoyed but failing as a smile breaks through. “you’re full of it, know that?”

“full of greatness, you mean,” he corrects, puffing out his chest. “c’mon, admit it. you’re blessed to have me, for i’m a gift from god itself.”

you tease, leaning into him. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, 'boyfriend,'”

“you forgot the ‘world’s greatest striker’ part,”

“i sorta regret having this conversation with you.”

@uzurakis

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding

John Price x Reader - 1k (on ao3)

summary: You worry that your boss sees your relationship as more long-term than you do. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: implied stealthing, under negotiated breeding kink, one-sided daddy kink

You tell yourself it’s just a kink.

You’re not ready to become a mother - you’d like to be married for at least a year before even trying for a baby, and you’d like to have an established career before even getting married. For you, the idea of a bun in the oven is so far down the line it’s not even visible on the horizon yet.

But you know it’s not the same for Price. He’s older than you, has lived a far wilder life and lost it what must be nearly a dozen times over. He’s a weathered man, with deep lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes, just the tiniest hint of silver creeping into his beard.

You know it’s not smart to have a fling with him. Not only is he your boss and a controversially older man, but he’s also the exact opposite of a commitment-phobe like you. He’s always looking for more commitment in fact, something you hadn’t expected considering the illicitness of your relationship with him.

You'd assumed an affair with your boss would involve mostly quickies in closets, a refusal to be in the same room as one another during the workday, maybe even pretending to dislike each other around other coworkers. Instead, he talks to you more once you start sleeping together than he had before - he parks himself on your desk at any time he pleases, invites you to have lunch in his office with him (alone), and laughs when your co-workers call him your work-husband.

So you know that he wants more, that he wants you to really be with him (he hints at far more than just that, but doesn’t dare say it aloud, which you’re glad for) past just being his secretary and his fuckbuddy. 

In fact, he’d nearly torn you into two when you’d giggled and called him a “bootycall” after he called you back into work hours after you’d gone home. His face had gone from eager and affectionate to what you can only call scolding, and he’d been rougher with you than normal. You enjoy a few smacks to your ass, but that night he’d spanked you hard enough to leave you squirming the next morning when you sat at your desk. You’d been pouty about it, had glared only half-playfully at him when he smirked, but the way he ate you out on his desk for lunch more than made up for the discomfort. 

And he makes these… comments sometimes, while he’s buried inside you. Things that allude to a future you’re not ready for.

Gotta come after me, sweetheart, it takes better like that.

Hips up, don’t let any of me drip out.

Gonna make me a daddy, pretty thing? Huh? Gonna take my cum and grow me a baby?

My good fuckin’ girl, lettin’ me breed her pretty cunt.

Gonna look so pretty, all round for me. Gonna take such good care of you.

C’mon, honey, wanna make sure it sticks this time.

You tell yourself it’s just a kink. He plugs you up with a couple fingers once he’s finished, says “Just to make sure you don’t lose any of my cum, can’t be wastin’ it right now,” and licks your clit until your legs shake. 

He hardly fucks you in any position that isn’t bent over his desk, no matter how much you whine and beg for me. He just smacks your ass, gives you an extra orgasm or two to keep you placated. More often than not he leaves you bent over the desk after he’s finished, tilts your hips up a little higher and gives you a kiss on the temple as he sits back in his seat to get back to work.

You’d told him to use a condom the first few times, even though you’ve been on birth control for years. You’ve always been responsible with flings, been more than willing to send a man packing at the first hint of whining if he didn’t want to wear protection. A baby has never once crossed your mind as an option, and it certainly doesn't now.

So it was instinct to tell Price to put on a condom before he fucked you the first time. And he had, without kicking up any fuss about it past a furrowed brow and a grumble or two.

But then the condom broke, and you were left with his cum dripping down your thighs. You’d had a moment of panic, but he’d given you money for Plan B, and you told yourself the odds of getting pregnant with Plan B and birth control were so low it wasn’t worth stressing out over.

The condom broke the second time. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. And every time after that you asked him to wear one.

At some point you stopped asking, and he never remembered himself. A few muttered questions about what brand he’d been using between fevered kisses, thick fingers at your cunt a distraction, and eventually you told yourself it wouldn’t matter as long as you kept taking the birth control pills.

It would be rude to demand Plan B after every round, right? Plus, asking for cash minutes after you'd both gotten off always made you feel a bit... dirty. When you feel him drip down your thighs, when you pull your panties up and feel the mixture of both of you gather there, you tell yourself that the birth control will surely do it's job, and you try not to worry.

Now, pulling open the drawer where you keep your pills, you wonder if maybe all his talk of babies and his cum taking is more than just heat-of-the-moment dirty talk.

You stare down at the empty drawer and every time he’s called himself Daddy echoes in your ear like a choir.

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[yourdoorisunlocked]

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1

🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.

Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

. . . 

The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill. 

It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night. 

But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.

The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room. 

Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear. 

“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.

Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.

As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.

"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."

“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...” 

The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.

And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.

You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.

A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?

I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.

He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!

With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.

You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite. 

You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape. 

You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.

“Hel-!” 

Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.

"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.

You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."

You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.

As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands. 

Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I- 

AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor. 

“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.

For just a moment, I thought I saw...

With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile. 

  “Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.

Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.

Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!

Ah, his dear mama...

He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.

"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"

He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.

"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!

Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"

"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.

"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.

"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.

Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.

"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.

Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.

Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.

Put your head on my shoulder~

A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.

As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.

Hold me in your arms, baby...

Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.

Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...

He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.

You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.

Show me, that you love me, too~...

"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.

You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.

Put your lips next to mine, dear~...

But... Perhaps this would be worth it.

Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.

Won't you kiss me once, baby~?

Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.

He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?

But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.

You and I will fall in love...

"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."

. . . 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...

Let's just see how far this goes lmao.

[macdenlover]

we don’t acknowledge enough how dee used to be a pageant winner when she was a kid and how much damage it did to her. she worked her ass off and got recognition for being pretty and talented at a young age and it was the only source of self esteem she could garner in a family that constantly berated and talked down to her. she sought after that external approval because it was the only way she could prove everyone around her wrong. her dream of being a performer didn’t come from a self-aggrandizing delusion— she genuinely showed a lot of potential when she was younger. but she went through an unflattering puberty and her spinal condition got worse and that natural talent she had as a kid plateaued way too early. the “former gifted kid” dilemma. she slowly lost the thing that promised her that she was good, but she was so desperate to keep holding onto it that she tried anyway. again and again and again no matter how much people made fun of her because it was always about proving them wrong. but after a while she couldn’t jump anymore without anticipating the way it feels when she hits the ground face first. self-sabotage became her way out, choosing to rather live in the fantasy of her own unrealized potential and blaming those around her for her lack of success, than having tried and crashed again. she’d rather buy lottery tickets over and over and never scratch off the numbers than to see that she lost. that self-sabotaging behavior bled into other aspects of her life too, from friendships to relationships to therapy. her own short lived success is what made her grow into embodying the cycle of failure.

[fatedroses]

Two former military elites taking merc jobs perform absolutely hellish battle tactics together.

[secrescaryat]

// pentiment spoilers (implied ig but still there)

more of these because i was inspired

[tremendously-crazy]

Relationship envy except I envy the bond between iconic fictional characters Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson

[unicornpopcorn14]

Kunikida genuinely snapping at Dazai makes for an interesting scenario...

It isn't a 'haha Kunikida is strangling Dazai for not pulling his weight' moment, but one filled with yells, flailing hands, rage and spilled tears because he's overworked and stressed and Dazai isn't helping and he's just so, so tired.

It could be due to him having no proper sleep all week. It could be due to a failed mission and only him getting reprimanded by Fukuzawa. It could be due to Dazai pushing his buttons too far. It could be the frustration piling up to the brim and finally spilling out.

But all the same, Dazai thinks that it's their typical ritual of Kunikida getting angry at him at first, so he pushes further, until the yells get hearty, the words get harsh, the tears spill, and Dazai just stares, stupified. He isn't sure what to say or do, blanking because things are currently out of his depth. Can't even say a word when Kunikida storms and leaves...

Later, when things settle after Kunikida receives the space he needs, Dazai would try to go and apologize, to own up to his mistakes in the ways he knows how, which isn't to say are right or great ways, but close enough...

Of course, Kunikida doesn't expect Dazai to magically switch from slacker to hard worker just because of this single instance, but he conveys his appreciation for Dazai's apologies anyway, saying sorry himself for the unwarranted yelling and harsh words. They make it work.

And they spring right back the day after...

[oceans-beloved]

Meme dump yayyy🥳✨️

(off to make more now muhahaha >:3)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Why would you—That's not—I just wanted to ask for help, why did you have to go and make it awkward???

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

[corviiids]

hello ⭐star⭐ for that one post about fanfic director’s commentary, hope you’re having a lovely day

thank u so much!!! i hope ur having a wonderful day too :3 ok hmm let's go with death note this time. let's talk about they both die at the end

(obviously death cw and suicidal ideation cw as well and also it's long again.)

so this one is kind of an undignified wrestle with mortality and legacy. no big dramatic strides made in that struggle, because i think getting satisfying closure about the acceptance of your own death is sort of gauche. i prefer a running stream of consciousness where you kinda flop around in the ring and kind of come to terms with things but in a really damp and hollow and itchy way.

throughout this fic i tried to use L's narration to contrast the source of his panic with the source of light's. both of them are acting sort of out of character in the sense that neither's behaviour is really aligned with the way they act in canon, and the reason i did that is sort of as a response to their own impending deaths. nobody's going to act like themselves in that circumstance. i even have them say it outright:

“I’m not really a nihilist,” says Light. “I wonder what you’d think of me if you’d met me on a normal day.” ... [L:] “I’m not ordinarily apathetic, either, by the way.”

one very simple detail showing that contrast is this:

L closes the door without locking it. He picks a direction at random and starts walking.

...

And it’d turned out they were nearby, so now they’re at Light’s apartment. “I didn’t think I’d be back here today,” he tells L, sticking his key in the lock. “Sorry if it’s messy.”

basically, light is in flight and L is in freeze. L doesn't bother locking his door when he leaves the house in the morning, but light does. L knows/accepts/has resolved that he won't be returning home that day. part of light still refuses to accept that, even though he leaves the house with the intention of ending his life.

i don't think it's fair to say that L's acceptance is more mature or that he's more at peace with his fate. it's more like...

so, L approaches situations with the perspective of looking at what is. he's truth-oriented. he accepts the facts of a given matter and then uses them to extrapolate what comes next. that extrapolation is really key to his character so it honestly bugs me a lot when people try to say that L is a purely logical character. he's not! he's running on intuition like 99% of the time and a lot of his extrapolations are wild and not evidence-based at all, but the reason for that is that he has an incredibly strong intuition based on how effectively he processes information. so L understands based on the phone call that he's going to die today, and there's really no point arguing around that fact. however, he can't actually figure out what his next steps are, because there are no next steps. he's going to die today.

throughout the story he struggles immensely with the fact that there is a piece of information he can't attain using the information he already has: he doesn't know when he's going to die, only that it's going to happen before midnight, and so he is completely unable to plan what he should do next, because he can't see any course of action through to its conclusion:

Two. Three. Two. Three. Four. Three. Two. L shakes his head. Can’t count up. Can’t count down. The numbers keep changing, but he can’t find zero. “No,” he says. Deductive reasoning, by its nature, requires premises—in order to find a fact, you must have a fact to begin with. You cannot begin with a baseline of nothing. With no reference, there can be no inference. L keeps counting, but there is no zero, or rather, there is a zero and he doesn’t know where it is. The next second could be his last, or the next, or the next, and all he can know is that at some point the ticking will stop and there is no way to orient himself to it because that point keeps moving .

this drives L crazy. that uncertainty is being represented by this incessant ticking in L's head which won't fade. ok so have you ever used a metronome? say you're counting in 4/4, so the click would play like ONE two three four ONE two three four. the rhythm is steady, but there's one emphasised beat to orient you to where you are in the measure. or, say, a ticking clock, where you can glance at it to see where you are in the 60 seconds that make up a minute. you can count down to when the next minute begins. or a timer, where you can see it counting down to zero. in L's head, he knows the ticking is counting down to the moment of his death, but he doesn't know what it's counting down to because he can't see it. he doesn't know where zero is, there's no emphasis to orient him, and he doesn't know which second he's at in the minute. he could start doing something and then die in the next three seconds, and it would be abrupt and jarring and unsatisfying, like the feeling you get when you take a breath and get winded. so he's in freeze. L accepts that he's going to die today, but he doesn't know when, and the whole time he's thinking about all the things he's never gotten to experience in his life because he's always sort of taken the concept of existence for granted. but he can't figure out how to take steps to try and check things off, because he's never actually made that list. and why make it now? because he might not get to finish them, and that's really unsatisfying. and how do you prioritise when you know you're not going to get to the end of your list and your list is infinity items long? he can't plan. he can't move. he's stuck. he panics, frozen.

light on the other hand has always had a plan for his future, and he's just watched that timeline rapidly shrink and cut all the opportunities off that he'd always been counting down towards. suddenly everything he's done up until now feels like a huge waste, because it was all a run-up to something that now doesn't exist. and he can't bear the fact that the control he'd always taken care to maintain over his life has suddenly been wrested away from him. that's why he starts the story out trying to kill himself - at the very least, he can control the when and cut the fear off.

Light swallows his mouthful of tuna and says, “If I can’t control my fate, I can at least bring it about myself.” “Does controlling your fate matter to you?” “That’s a stupid question,” says Light. “If you asked me yesterday I’d have had a hundred thousand things to say that mattered more to me than choosing how I’d die. My options have just kind of narrowed today, that’s all.”

L's right, though - light never would have done it. light wants to live more than he ever realised. i think light's had this moment of looking down the tunnel (hehe) and staring down his own impending death and realised he's not finished yet, but that's been taken out of his hands. he's realised that the mark he's left on the world has been so small and insignificant, and that if he dies now, that'll be all that's left of him. he's not willing to accept that. but that's the way things are. so he's in flight: run towards his own death so at least he can control the pace at which he dies? try to outrun the inevitable? try to speedrun a meaningful life to see if he can make some kind of mark before he stops existing for good?

“I don't know what we're walking to,” says Light. “I feel like I'm walking closer to my—to my own—” “We can stop.” “That just means it'll happen here instead. I don't want to die here, either.” “Where do you want to die?” “I don't,” Light says. His face crumples. “I just don’t. I'm not ready to be done.”

this is my favourite part of the fic tbh. it's based on a nightmare i had once that ended up changing my entire worldview. wahoo!

not to be a wanker but to an extent this is kind of what everyone's doing, technically, walking towards what will inevitably be your death, since time only moves in one direction and all that. but unlike everyone in the real world, light can see it. he wants to walk in the other direction, but it's all around him. he can see it growing closer the more he keeps moving, and all he wants to do is stop.

“What do I say?” Light asks desperately. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Mum.” Break. “Sorry I'll never give you grandchildren. Sorry I didn't get to graduate. Sorry you'll have to bury my dreams with me. Sorry for nineteen years that came to nothing in the end. It came to nothing.”

re: light refusing to speak to his family: i think he explains himself in the fic enough, but there's also another level where i think talking to his family about it means he'd have to formulate this fact into words which is difficult when he's not really accepted it himself, and on top of that, he would need to carry his family's grief and he's just not ready to do that. there's like a weird thing about talking to people who are already grieving you. i always felt really weird about that when talking to [friends/relations] who were terminally ill. light's relationship with his mother is kind of unexplored in canon but i wanted to go into it i think because your mother is someone who holds a unique spot in your life, i think, assuming you have a good relationship with her, and there is that reported phenomenon where people who are about to die tend to call out for their mothers. i guess this might be controversial but i think it's textually supported that light really cares about his family. i dont think light is ready to look at them and see them looking at him like he's someone who's already gone, and see all the things he never got to do with/for them. i honestly dont think hed survive it

ultimately it was really important to me that light died for no reason and that he didn't really have any material impact on anything. he dies trying to save a child, but someone else saves the kid first. light didn't have to take action at all. but of course, he did

As L stares, reaching hands scoop the toddler off the street from the other side.

i think in a sense it's up to personal opinion whether light had an impact or whether his friendship with L mattered at all before he died. after all, L died like an hour later, and it's not like he had anyone to pass those memories on to. he didn't even know light's surname. the memories of their last day together only exist with each other, and now they're both gone, so did it really matter? what does it mean to matter anyway? do you have to leave a legacy? is it enough that light managed to be L's only friend in the hours before L stopped existing? probably?

It's dark now. Properly dark. It's a new moon tonight, and though the stars do their best, there's little that can cut through the blackness in its absence.

...

L stares up at the moonless sky.

...

It might have been nice to die with the moon.

ofc light's name is written with the kanji for moon. just a silly joke lol.

L's death is something that's more likely to happen when you're alone, by the way. he gets mugged because he's an easy target sitting alone on a park floor. too bad he didn't have more friends and his only friend is dead.

also, the fact that he's a detective who gets murdered in a random act of crime was sort of another nod to the futility of the whole thing that light struggles with in canon. like, work your ass off, solve crime after crime, bring people to justice, but it never ends. crime continues. so is there a point? (yes, obviously.) but that's just a return to the struggle for legacy and meaning, where it's hard not to wonder whether the thing you're doing matters if it's not permanent / if you didn't solve something for good / if you didn't leave a mark that will never fade. i dunno. i think L did enough good in his lifetime. it wasn't enough to save him, but everyone dies eventually, so maybe it doesn't really matter?

i didn't want to give either of them the dignity of a full final thought. light definitely doesn't realise what's happening in the moment before he dies because he didn't see the truck, so i think he didn't have a chance to formulate one.

L watches a look of relief cross Light's face in the split second before the truck horn blares.

L of course gets cut off mid-sentence, just like he'd implicitly feared he might - trying to check things off the list, tie things off, before he's done:

What might a good final thought be? A final sight? He wonders if he could possibly find a star before

hopefully if you read the fic you got something out of it! it is, i think, intentionally pretty hollow and futile feeling, but not in a way that's supposed to make you feel hopeless or nihilistic. well, i hope not. i think there's something really cathartic that comes with the kind of closure you get specifically from accepting that sometimes there's no closure. that's how i felt writing it, so hopefully reading it is something similar. i dunno!

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU - Doctor Visit

*whispers* pppssssttt @spotaus the next one is here :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We do have a warning for this one though, as it will refer child abuse, mental and physical. And wounds and what comes with it.

I am not going to make it graphic but if it bothers you please be careful with reading :)

Otherwise no beta or edits. I write these in one go and just let them live :D

Fun fact, this was originally going to be a Dust pov chapter but I realised that Ngihtmare pov would be more interesting! Also fun fact!! This was suposed to be a lot shorter but then i got typing and i realised some characters were not going to accept certain things without a good explanation and well... here we are.... i regret nothing.

*-------------------*

Nightmare pulls on his shirt as he looks down at it.

Cross hums "Nervous?"

Ngihtmare huffs and shrugs. Yes. but he doesn't want to say so.

Cross gently rubs his spine through the shirt "Yeah I get it. I never liked my health backups either."

Nightmare frowns but feels a bit less stupid about not wanting this health check. It is just stupid! His four... his four already check his old wounds! There is a reason they don't let him bath alone.

Nightmare finally finds the right words and mutters "It is just... not needed... You guys check them."

Cross is silent before Nightmare yelps as he is picked up easily. He shoots Cross a glare but Cross just keeps smiling and hugs him close with a purr "We get it Night. But we are worried too. We need to make sure that everything really is healing as we think it is. None of us are medical professionals." Cross smiles at him "please?"

Nightmare shrugs as he leans into the hold. It is nice. comfortable and warm. He hadn't realised how much he had missed hugs and being held. Last time anyone wanted to hug him this much was when he still lived with Dream and even Dream's hugs had been short or more of just leaning. His four just, hold him for as long as they like. Which can go on for the whole day.

It is nice.

Cross nuzzles his skull "And you won't be alone. Dust will be with you the whole time."

Nightmare nods. He ahd asked the day before why just Dust. Dust had explained they had agreed it would be for the best to just have one of them there to keep an eye on it. Killer hadn't wanted to get attention on him because of his soul and Horror had had much the same reason. His skull may look like a mess but it is very stable. Neither had wanted to take the focus away from Nightmare as he, according to them, needed it most.

And with Cross now again admitting health checks make him nervous. It is no wonder it would be Dust.

Nightmare gives a slow nod "true..." and you can't remove Dust unless he wants to be removed. Nightmare had known that since he first met the other skeleton.

Cross nods and smiles "See? Perfectly okay." he stands up and Nightmare gets lifted wiht him. Nightmare for his part just grabs hold on Cross's shirt to stay steady as they leave their attic.

The week they had been here is honestly amazing. Nightmare gets to relax more and read his book on the couch. At elast one of them is always nearby.

It is still weird that Crop, and his brother Straw, are so... nice. Nightmare isn't used to others being nice to him.

It is weird.

He can accept it from his four. But that is different, they are different. They are special and actually care, that is why they are nice and came back to him... for him.

Nightmare leans against Cross as they get downstairs. Dust and Horror are discussing things as Killer sits by the window staring outside.

Cross grins at the others "All clean and ready ti mingle!" Cross easily walks over to Dust and Nightmare feels himself be handed over to the other skeleton.

Nightmare can feel the difference between their holds and feels the other magic near. It is nice and familiar nad Nightmare just leans agaisnt Dust.

Dust leans close and nuzzles him "You okay? We can still call it off." Cross shoots Dust a disapproving look but Dust ignores him.

Nightmare is appreciates it but shakes his skull "It is fine. It is needed..." He huffs and crosses his arms as he looks to the side "It is just stupid." he doesnt want to do this.

Dust nods "Needed things often are stupid. It is honestly a terrible system." and another nuzzle and Ngihtmare feels a bit better.

Crop, who had been watching from the kitchen, walks over "so... who is gonna go the talking? Do you all want to be there?" and he waits.

Killer doens't look away from the window but answers "Dusty will stay with Nightmare throuhg it all. We will stay in the living room."

Crop nods "Right right." he looks a bit more nervous "You got a story straight?"

Ngihtmare huffs and mutters against Dust's shoulder "There is nothing straight about that story."

Dust freezes before snorting and trying to smother his laughing. Horror, who had been close enough to hear too, grins widely.

Cross and Killer btoh turn to them confused, same for Crop.

Dust snorts and shrugs but Horror answers "We spoke about it before hand." and Horror shoots Dust a look.

Dust looks actively pained "Yes we spoke about it."

Cross smiles at Crop's worried look "it is fine! Dust is great at this stuff. He won't share everything of what happened but will tell the healer enough to really sell it and get rumours flowing."

Ngihtmare nods and feels... happy? Pride? he isn't sure but he always knew his four were special and amazing and this just proves it again.

Crop blinks and nods "okay. As long as that is the case... She should be here any moment. She is the head doctor and head healer in our town and anything in her clinic goes through her. She is really nice and just wants to help though so no worries okay?" and he grins.

Nightmare is once again reminded of what is coming and feels hismelf grow more tense as he turns slightly to be clsoer to Dust. Dust just holds him closer and nuzzles him. Dust doesn't say anyhting but it still helps. it feels nice... it is safe.

Crop looks troubled but before he can say anything Killer turns sharply to the window again "Car just stopped. a deer monster got out." and he glances at Crop.

Crop smiles and rushes to the door "That is her. euh. just act-" he turns but before he can say anything Dust and Ngihtmare are already on the couch, Nightmare is still in his lap and has a book in his hands. Nightmare cna spot Killer by the table wiht some playing cards, already having a few made to form a house of cards. Cross is by the tv playing around with the channels as Horror sets water up for tea.

Crop blinks as he softly mutters the rest of his sentence "-act natural..." moments later a knock on the door.

Ngihtmare pushes closer to Dust and Dust takes the book from his shaking hands and starts reading it out loud.

Crop opens the door and Nightmare can't even focus on the calm voice of Dust or the fact the others are around. as Killer had said, the doctor is a deer monster of some kind. she has rather impressive antlers for her kind as she greets Crop with a familiarity.

Crop turns to the room and grins "Guys. This is Fauna. She is the head doctor in town and she is nice and very profesional!" and he waits.

Nightmare watches as Killer huffs as he looks her up and down "... I see." he walks over to Dust and Nightmare and Nightmare suddenly gets another skull nuzzling him.

Dust chuckles as he calmly puts the book away "Careful Kills, he just had a bath and your goop tends to stick."

Killer pouts at him "kill joy."

Nightmare blinks between them as he lounges against Dust. He glances back and sees a soft smile on Fauna's face. Ah. Right. make sure to show what you want them to see.

Dust looks up at Fauna and nods "I will be staying with him through his checkup." it is an announcement.

Fauna smiles and crosses her arms "oh really? I am sure we will discuss that." she looks at Crop "Where can we have this conversation and checkup?"

Crop smiles "The kitchen! come this way." and Crop leads Fauna there.

Dust rises to his feet and Nightmare cna see both Cross and Killer shoot him nervous glances.

Dust just huffs "I got this." and walks towards the kitchen. Just in time to see Horror pour some mugs of tea and setting two aside.

Horror looks at Dust "Chamomile and lemon." He smiles at Nightmare and points to the other "Lavender and peach." he nods to Crop and Fauna and silently leaves the kitchen.

Dust takes a seat before taking a sip of his own tea. Nightmare grabs his own mug and sips it. It is nice, easily with the intent Horror put into it when he made it. It helps him relax.

Crop grabs a mug for Fauna and Fauna quickly makes her own tea. Then she gives Crop a very pointed look "I know this is your house but just because you are now technically their landlord does not mean you are allowed to have this information. out you go."

Crop doesn't fight it at all "Of course. you know your way around." he grins at Dust and Nightmare "Take it easy okay?" and he leaves.

A long silence in the room.

Fauna takes asip from her own tea and looks at Dust critically "Now. Before we start I have to ask you two a few questions. Foremost and before anything else. I am here for the wellbeing of that child." she smiles at him "That is my goal." she gives Dust a colder look "Understood?"

Dust raises a brow "That is fine." then slower "However. Before we answers any questions I have one very important one for you. What are your privacy policies?" Dust nudges Ngihtmare and Nightmare is quick to take another sip, it helps to calm his shaking a bit.

Dust stares Fauna down easily "Just like you want to make sure he is okay. we just want him safe. If you are a risk to that safety we will not answer anything."

Fauna glares but nods "Insulting to be questioned like that but understanding. When I took this profesion I took a few oaths. One, to always help those in need no matter who they are. Two, to always put the health of my patient first. Three, to never disclose private matters of a patient to other people." she turns her spoon in her mug "I take these oaths very seriously. You can't help people if you are not trustworthy."

Dust rolls his eyes "Of course you took oaths. I mean who will get access to this information? You knowing it is one thing. You making physical notes that someone else can read is another. We don't want... certain people to have access to information about him." and Nightmare feels Dust hug him closer.

Obviously not a lie. They have always been careful with another about his situation geting known to other people. But that is multiverse level. And unless they would visit this universe and ask the right people the chance of the stars finding this file are very low. But... for their backstory? It is crusial. Dust having been on the run with a babybones that had been stolen and he just stole back? That means this type of information is very dangerous to just lay around.

Fauna frowns and seems to make the conclusion that Dust wants her to make. Her voice gets a bit softer as she answers slowly "Patient files are under lock and key... however. I have a special case which only I can access where I keep the more sensitive information that only i know. If i have information that I deem to sensitive for others to hear I make sure to lock it away tightly." hse has a stubborn look "And no one knows where that is."

Ngihtmare considers it for only a moment and assumes it is in her inventory. Slightly high risk as if she were to dust that information would disappear forever and be lost forever. However, no one can force someone to take something out of their inventory.

Dust frowns and gives a slow nod "Ask your questions." then he looks at Nightmare and nuzzles his skull again "If you don't want to answer her you can say so okay?" Nightmare nods and waits.

Fauna stares at them for a moment longer ebfore smilign at Nightmare "Hello... before anythign else... Do you have a name you would be okay with me calling you and knowing you as?"

Ngihtamre thinks it over before answering "My name is Nightmare, miss."

Fauna smiles and writes it on a file she has pulled out of nowhere, see? Inventory.

Fauna nods and looks back at him "How would you like to refer to you? A boy? a girl? neither? both?"

Ngihtamre shrugs as he leans against Dust. "I prefer he... but anything is fine honestly..." an afterthought and he shoots Dust an uncertain look. Dust just gives him a nod. Nightmare looks at the table "Just... no 'it' please." there. He doesn't like that. He knows some monsters are fine with that but he isn't.

Fauna nods "Of course." she smiles "Nightmare. That is not a name i hear often. Did you pick it yourself or was it given to you?"

Ngihtmare holds tighter unto Dust and mutters "Given."

Fauna nods again before smiling "by who?"

Nightmare freezes and turns to Dust for a moment. dust just nuzzles him "Your choice."

meaning he will figure out their story and edit it if he needs to. Ngihtmare feels bad about the idea of not telling his name for given by Nim... she had been his mother! yet... yet...

yet...

Nightmare shrugs as he leans against Dust "What everyone always said i was..." not a lie.

DUst frowns and holds him closer. Fauna frowns as well "Are you sure then you want to be called tht then?"

Ngihtmae nods and spekas with more confidence "fits fine wtih everyone." and more importantly "it is my name." his. Even if everyone always made it out to be something bad. It was his!

Fauna blinks before smiling "Yeah. your name is the first thing that is truely yours. and so that means it is your choice what you do with it." she notes down the name and looks at them "no family name?"

Ngihtmare shakes his skull and looks at Dust and waits.

Dust shrugs "never needed one."

Fauna chuckles nad nods "I can imagine that your names aren't in the list of most popular babynames. This will work just fine for now." she looks back at him "now nightmare. a very important question. Are you really okay wiht Dust being here for your examination?"

Nightmare is alreayd nodding and holds unto Dust tighter. Dust hugs him "I am not leaving unless he tells me to leave."

Fauna nods, not at all btohered by the glare Dust sends her way "of course. Is it okay for Dust to then be noted down as someone who is allowed to know your medical records and information?"

Nightmare nods nad pauses for a moment "So are the others."

Fauna raises her pen and waits.

Nightmare rolls his eye lights "Killer, Horror and Cross. They cna all know as well. They know things." everything he is willing to share that is.

Dust raises a brow "are you done yet with your interrogation? I thought this was suposed to be about how he is doing."

Fauna hums and looks unbothered as she updates the file "I want to be sure that I know who i can share what with." she looks at Dsut "privacy policies."

Dust looks beyond annoyed and huffs before his face goes back to being calm and bored looking.

Fauna nods and looks at Nightmare "Now. We will start easy. an examination can be a lot and with what Crop told me he knew it makes me worried about your health. we will go as far as you feel comfortable with. I will start with asking soem questions, ease you in. okay?" and she waits with a gentle smile.

Ngihtamre thinks it over before nodding.

Fauna nods again as she grabs a list "Does anything hurt?"

Nightmare rolls his eye lights and nods. Duh. He is healing.

She immediantly frowns and pulls out a shard with frowning faces "now... which face would show you how you feel about this pain?"

Ngihtmare knows he is pulling a face as Dust chuckles. Nightmare looks unimpressed at Fauna "It hurts a lot. I would say a ten when it happened. about an eight on days it hurts more and about a six otherwise."

She stares in shock and Dsut shrugs "the.... people.. he was stuck with... did not treat him as a child... we are still working on that." and he looks at Nightmare but Dust can see the pride and amusement.

Fauna frowns but makes careful notes "okay... can you explain to me what hurts? in your words."

Ngihtamre waits a moment before speaking "ribs... always... spine aches easily. legs normally don't hurt unless i walk a lot... skull doesn't hurt unless i use do magic. arms also always hurt but not as bad..." he tries to think what else but then shrugs.

Fauna however looks horrified and moves closer but she immediantly stops. Nightmare only realises later that the second she moved he flinched back and fully against Dust.

Fauna nods "okay.... That is very serious. You say using your magic also harms you?"

Ngihtmare nods slowly "not like... eating and stuff... or lighting up my eyes... but bigger things... spell stuff." it sucks but luckily the balance doens't need him anymore. He hadn't flet any new calling and figures he has time.

Fauna nods and frowns at Dust and Nightmare both "crop mentioned that there had been magic at play. somekind of shielding?"

Nightmare looks helplessly at Dust. he had no idea how to explain that!

Dust nods to nightmare before looking at Fauna "if you don't mind i will answer that." Fauna nods and Dust continues "We aren't quite sure of the details. we never saw the magic or studied the spell up close. We think he got into contact with something very powerful, probably with old magic. maybe an artifect. We never actually saw what it was. But it formed a sort of shield or bubble. It enclosed him, his soul and magic. but eventually it warn off and Nightmare appeared again. I saw him reappear and after some confusion on our end we got to work to get Nightmare back with us for safety..."

Fauna nods "You have seen this bubble or shielding?"

Dust nods "I have, it left Nightmare completely unrecognizeable from who he truly was. You wouldn't even be able to guess he was in there..."

Fauna frowns heavily as she makes notes "That may have impacted his magical growth and development, which may also be part of the reason shy using complex magic hurts him."

Nightmare stares at Dsut in shock. How had he just... made that up?! On the spot? It wasn't even a lie!

Dust sees him look and winks back wiht a grin before pulling his face back to the blank worried one of before.

Fauna nods as she sits up striaghter "okay. that is most of the verbal examination. I am very sorry but I really need to look at the physical wounds and your magic. I understand you have had very bad experiences with others who were suposed to keep your safe. Will you please allow me to see if i can help?"

Nightmare frowns as he thinks before answering "only wiht Dusty here." Dust will keep him safe. he can't keep himself safe but that is okay because Dust will.

Fauna nods "of course. Where would you like to start?"

Ngihtmare thinks before answering "magic and skull." that is easy to do together and as soon as he stops using his magic his skull will be healed again.

Dust pushes the chair they are sitting on a bit backwards and moves them around. Nightmare sits wiht his spine and back against Dust's front and he feels the slow and even soulbeat of him against his spine.

It helps calm his own racing soul.

Fauna sits in front of them. a reasonable amount of space between them.

Nightmare takes a deep breatha dn leans against Dust as he calls up his magic. It is still tought but a bit easier. It answers his call but it doesn't take any shape. It doesn't have a purpose. Nightmare tries to use it to feel the healer's general emotions and his head starts to ache.

He tells them as much and starts to feel what the lady is feeling. Worry, just so much worry and grief. Grief for him.

Ngihtmare doesn't get it. People don't like Nightmare. Ngihtmare is a bad omen and makes bad things happen. Why would she be worried for him? She doesn't even know him.

A loud gasp and even more worry and horrified feelings and Nightmare knows the cracks are visible.

Nightmare doesn't look at her but instead at the table. the light of his scars is bright enoguh to light up the room in a strange combination or purple and cyan.

Dust speaks softly "His own magic is purple... the cyan was from whatever the shielding bubble thing had been." a soft hand rubbing his shoulders. helping him relax.

Fauna swallows before speaking softly "Can I come closer and examine it?"

Nightmare answers himself "may as well... I managed to do it now anyway." it aches so badly "just... quickly please."

Dust mumbles "and carefully. This is very painful."

Fauna moves carefully and even a feather light touch causes agony as he shakes and a whimper escapes him.

Dust pulls him further back "Ngihtamre i think that is enough. can you dispell your magic again?"

His skull is swimming in pain and emotions not his own. He can't feel adn understand them on the same level anymore... can't sperate them from himself as easily anymore.

The light disappears and Nightmare just lays shaking in Dust's hold. Dust frowns at him and mutters "It got worse again..."

Ngihtamre looks away but nods. Dust just rubs his back and looks at Fauna "So yeah... pretty much all his magic still has that... cyan colour to it but as you saw it isn't helping him."

Fauna is writing quickly in her notes "It is almost an invasive magic on him. However it doesn't seem like he makes this cyan magic himself. I think it are still left overs but we would have to try and messure the two different forms of magic which is hard to do in the same person. those wounds..." and she looks at them.

Dust sighs "THe newest... wounds he got on... on his way out... on his way away from those he was with before... We always thought that whatever the magic was it saved him." again, no lies, just selective with the information and how he tells it.

Fauna taps the notes and nods "Well worrying. I think you are right on the magic having saved him. Especially as when he isn't using magic it isn't harming him. What i think that is happening is that the magic is keeping the head wounds close and whole. I think him trying to use his magic makes the cyan magic react as well, but as he can't make that it is pulled from whatever source he has. which in this cause is the very thing helping him." she nods and writes on another paper "For now. don't use any complex spells. only use very light and natural magic. things that don't bother or tire him. This way you can keep his own magic active and practise to help it grow stronger without disrupting the magic in his skull. If he at any moments starts to regularly have headaches we will need to look into somekind of magic transfer."

Dust frowns "why not do a transfer now?"

Fauna sighs "Magical transfers can be dangerous. if your soul doesn't accept the transfer you are suddenly without any magic in you. For children, especially those with very little magic themselves, it has an added risk of completely overwriting their own magic. meaning that their soul will only accept the new type of magic, but as the soul can't make this they will still have the same fate." she gives Dust a cold stare "this is not something done lightly."

Dust nods and mutters "We will keep an eye out for headaches." he give shim a look "any. headache."

Nightmare pouts and huffs at him "Okay. I will tell you."

Dust nods "good."he nudges their skulls together softly. "What next?"

nightmare frowns and sighs "ribs... it is the worst.. if that is okay the rest should be too." even if he hates losing his shirt and showing anyone the wounds and barely healed bones.

Dust nods and looks at fauna "Nightmare is going to have to sit with his back to you. You will need to announce any movement you make and keep making somekind of sound or noise."

Fauna accepts it easily and waits. Nightmare turns to sit towards Dust nad lets Dust help get him out of his loose shirt. Cross had specificlaly picked this one for today to make this easier. It is also why they skipped the bandages for today.

A loud gasp and Nightmare quickly hides his face in the bright red scarf.

Dust rubs the back or his skull "Yeah. we know. We try to get him to take a bath each day to clean the wounds out. He can bath himself but the wounds demand extra attention and care that he as a six year old just doesn't have the dexterity for." hearing Dust talk helps him calm down. he isn't alone. he isn't alone. he isn't alone.

Fauna swallows and speaks in a soft voice "I am going to sit a bit closer and take a closer look at some of your wounds near your spine." slow movements and Ngihtmare feels hismelf grow more tense. Fauna continues to talk "you are being very brave. thank you for trusting me, or at least trusting Dust enough to allow me to try and help you." she sits closer and Ngihtmare cna hear her breathing now. Fauna hums softly "Even if they look bad and still very hurt, which i know they do, they are very clean and seem to be healing well. YOu are all taking very good care of these breaks and missing chips."

Fauna shifts a tiny bit and Nightmare tightens his hold on Dust's hoody. Nightmare relaly likes the material that Dust wears. it is soft and makes it easy for him to sink his tiny claws into. Not let go.

Fauna speaks again "Mayb i touch the bones on your spine? I need to check how sensitive and hurt the still healthy bones are."

Nightmare takes a moment and nods before grabbing Dusts arm. DUst luckily understnads him "He will grip me if it hurts and i will tell you. is that okay?"

Fauna speaks with relieve "That is fine. Thank you for letting me examine this. I am going to touch your spine in 3. 2. 1. now." the touch on his spine still surprises him but aside from the tiny flinch nothing happens. Fauna hums and speaks "I am goign to touch a tiny bit lower." the touch moves but no pain. "very good. a bit lower again." the touch moves lower but his whole spine lights up in pain and Nightmare whimpers as he clams down on Dust's hand.

"It hurts him very badly." the hand on his spine is already gone before Dust finishes his sentence.

Fauna speaks with full praise "Thank you Nightmare. you did amazing. You are very brave."

Nightmare can't help it as he pushes closer to Dust "dusty... it is weird."

silence and Dust hums "what is?"

Nightmare pushes clsoer to Dust "her being nice." people aren't nice to him. they hate him at first sight. why is she different. why...

"Why weren't they nice?" he hates how he sounds but he just wants to know.

Dust holds him clsoer, Dust's hands and arms always know were to hold wihtout hurting him. same for the others. they are safe.

Dust mutters "I don't know. I think they were just dumb." a bit louder "I think we shuld stop."

Fauna is quick to agree "absolutely. I am sorry for not realising we had already hit his limit."

Dust helps him put on his shirt again "Nightmare is an amazing person. but he has the habit of not saying what bothers him." dust holds him close in a hug and dust looks at fauna "the spine is the worst by far. What do you think?"

Fauna writes some things down before speaking "I think you four have been doing a good job with trying to help him heal the pain he was caused. The spine is going to be a slow healing process, even slower because of his magic situation. All you cna do is keep cleanign it daily and making sure it is wrapped up." she finishes writing something.

Dust takes the note and speaks "understood. keep cleaning the wounds daily, wrap them up and check to make sure the wounds don't get bigger. Aside from that he isn't suposed to use his magic aside from easy and stressless things. if he at any moment starts to have headaches we are to call immediantly"

Fauna answers him "indeed. If you have any questions or worries feel free to call. I put the number for my clinic on there as well. Just ask for me and saywho you are and they will call me. I am going to amke sure that everyone knows you are on the emergancy list." slow steps towards the door and exit of the kitchen when she stops "He is a very sweet babybones. I am sorry to hear he got this hurt."

Dust chuckles and just holds him clsoer "we know... we agree..."

a moment of silence before Fauna speaks again "I am going to talk with Crop that you will have to use his bathroom a lot, doctors orders. What else you tlel him is up to you. Have a good day." and she is gone.

They sit in silence nad Dust just helps Nightmare finish his now much colder tea. The taste is still good even when cold...

DUst nuzzles his skull "You oaky?"

Ngihtmare just pushes closer "tired."

Dust chuckles "Yeah... me too... how about this? I am going to help you wrap up your ribs. after that we will lay in the living room together and nap while Killer and Cross get competitive over a card game?"

Nightamre nods and relaxes "yeah" that sounds great. Dust picks him up and takes him to their attic to help him get ready for the rest of the day.

Dust will tell the others how it went and what to watch out for. Nightmare just has to relax and trust him.

And that is okay. Nightmare has gotten a lot better at trusting others.

*------------------*

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