#I scream while pushing the doctors away as they try to sedate me

[angstitty]

Music is music to my ears

Fanfictions are a ballad to my heart

Books are an ode to my brain

Pens and journals are a bridge to my senses

Sometimes even

The world is a choral in my body and the birds are metal screaming in the mic

I wish to hear the pond and the rain

Pounder my brain but all keeps ringing, a beat

With the noise of being

you feel

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 47

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = Ana convinces Tommy to give Michael a shot working for him. Tommy invites a widowed horse trainer to Small Heath without letting Ana know. 

Warnings = Sexual Intent implied...Language...Grammar... Implied cheating? Maybe...Pregnancy...

Word Count = 2542 

Note - =It’s been a hot minutes hasn’t it... But I am back and writing although a bit rusty so yeah, am slowly getting back in but you all want these two adventures to continue so let’s do that... Let me know what you think! 

It has been four days since my parents were admitted to the hospital. I had spent my days between there and home. Tommy had me guarded 24 hours a day if I wasn’t with him – I had two Peaky Blinder boys beside me and not the rookies either but the most trusted.

I found the hospital visits draining, mentally and physically being five months pregnant didn’t help either. It was hard to watch my parents being in this condition. It wasn’t easy.

My mother was constantly being sedated. Every time she woke up, she was screaming so loud she would frighten the other patients in the hospital. And anyone that came close to her was attacked. They were slapped, punched or bitten. So it was decided for the safety of everyone, that she would be sedated. The hoped outcome would be that she healed mentally and physically at the same time. But that didn’t seem like a likely scenario the longer the days went by.

My father, he was terrified the moment he woke up. I was there to witness that. The second his eyes opened he tried to sit up but couldn’t due to the wounds in his stomach and chest. Pushing the tubes off his face the alarms on the machines would go crazy. I remember him looking around, hands clutched together as fists. He was ready to fight, even in his frail state.

I remembered rushing forward taking his hands into mine, telling him he was going to be okay. The look he gave me was one of sheer terror. It sent a chill down my spine. He tried to talk to me but he couldn’t, the damage to his tongue too great.

Today I left the hospital early in the afternoon. The nurses and doctors had decided to take my mother off sedation. I wasn’t so sure but I gave my permission for them to do so when I had left. I had already witnessed my father try and learn how to speak again this morning. It broke my heart watching him try, it was traumatic. It was something I didn’t want to see.

My baby kicked a lot today when I was in the hospital and I took that as a sign to spend some time with Tommy. Since the attack on my parents, we hadn’t spent much time together. I was at the hospital while he was on a manhunt. He was a one-man army trying to rid the world or at least England of all Italians. His ambition scared me. He had already made war with the Sabini gang in London. Something he almost lost his life because of. He had a baby to think about now. We both did. We couldn’t be making stupid decisions, not when it came to the Italian mafia.  

Walking to his office, I turned to his men telling them with my eyes I would be fine now but no. They wouldn’t leave until I was literally in Tommy’s care. I felt like a child sometimes but I knew it was for my safety. With a sigh I walked into the office, smiling softly at Lizzie as I passed her desk before allowing myself into his office.

He was sat hunched over his desk, eyes glued to a mountain of paperwork. For a brief second, he looked at me before back to his work, a stressed huff leaving his lips.

“I’m with Tommy now you can leave...” I smiled softly at my two bodyguards.

“Wait outside boys.” Tommy interrupted. He hadn’t looked up from his desk, just waved his men away with the swish of his hand.

I rolled my eyes at his actions, whispering an apology to his men as they walked out of his office. I closed the door behind them and walked over to Tommy’s desk taking the pen out of his hand.

“Hello love, how are you today? How’s our baby doing?” I growled slamming his pen down on his desk. I glared into his eyes as he let out a frustrated sigh at my actions.

“I’m busy Stace.” He sighed closing the file he was looking at and putting it away in his locked drawer. I noticed it had a big red private stamped on it. He was never so secretive with his paperwork before.

“What was that?”

“Nothing you have to worry about.” His emotionless eyes looked at me, looking almost bored.

“Yes of course not it’s Thomas Shelby against the world isn’t it?” I scoffed, standing tall. My bump popped out from under my dress.

I watched Tommy’s eyes glance down to my bump, a small smile pulling on his lips before he looked up and into my eyes. Leaning back on his office chair, he raised his eyebrows, a smug smirk on his face.

“You have my attention now what is it you want?” He asked linking his hands over his chest and opening his thumbs to emphasise his question.

“Good” I grinned walking around the desk, taking his tie into my hands. His hands came up to rest on my bump. The baby feeling their father’s hands on them gave an almighty kick. “Ow.” I inhaled, and Tommy laughed caressing the bump in his hands.

“That’s my boy.”

“You think it’s a boy?” I asked, leaning back against his desk. My hands left his tie to rest on top of his on my bump.

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know, maybe. It's 50/50” I bit my lip looking down at my ever-expanding stomach. “Maybe I should get Polly to read my tea leaves. She will know.”

“I thought you wanted a surprise” Tommy asked standing to his feet. His hands never left my stomach as he looked down at me.

“I do, no your right I do,” I speak looking up at him with a wide smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, glaring softly at him. He was looking down at me, his eyes staring deeply into mine but his face remain emotionless. He was a hard man to read at the best of times.

Instead of replying, Tommy leaned down capturing my lips in his. The kiss itself was hungry. Possessive almost. His tongue claimed my mouth within seconds, I moaned pushing myself against him as best I could with a five-month pregnant belly in the way.

“Tommy” I gasped against his lips. He pulled away keeping his hands on my stomach as his lips worked their way across my cheek, down my jaw towards my neck.

“Do you know how gorgeous you look with my child inside you?” He asked nipping along the column of my neck, his hands caressing our bump.

I couldn’t respond. My mind was screaming with enjoyment. I moaned softly as he pushed me harder against the edge of his desk. I had no choice but to slip on top of it. His hands left my bump to pull up the bottom of my dress, softly ghosting over my clothed core.

“So wet for me already baby girl.” Tommy grinned pulling at my earlobe between his teeth, my head fell back as he ran the tip of his nose along my neck. It felt completely sensual. He was doing so many things to me, I couldn’t think straight.

“Oh Tommy” I moaned softly resting my hands back on his desk and pushing my hips into his.

Tommy’s hand slipped behind my neck, holding me in place as he ran the tip of his nose up along my voice box, under my chin towards my lips. Pressing another passionate, wet kiss to my lips. His tongue claimed my mouth. His hand held my neck so I couldn’t escape him.

There was a sudden knock on the door and I immediately pushed Tommy away, pushing my dress down over my legs. Standing up I noticed the annoyed look on Tommy’s face as he readjusted himself in his trousers. Within moments, Michael came through the office, holding a peaked cap and newspaper in his hands, looking nervous.

“What can I do for you, Michael?” Tommy asked with a sigh. I smiled softly at the newest member of the Shelby clan as I took a seat on the guest side of Tommy’s office watching the interaction.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Michael asked looking between the two of us. I could tell Tommy was ready with a response so I quickly jumped in to save his cousin any more second-hand embarrassment.

“Of course not. We were just discussing the baby.” I side-eyed Tommy who smirked at my response. His head nodded slightly, blue hawk-like eyes looking back at Michael, sucking his plump bottom lips between his teeth – his mind elsewhere.

“What is it you need young Michael?” He asked standing behind his desk with his hands behind his back.  

“I heard you were looking for an accounts clerk Tommy. I’m good with numbers.”

“The position has been filled, Michael.” Tommy answered quickly.

“Not according to this morning’s paper” Michael answered back making me laugh softly. “I was the top of my class in mathematics in school and I did a night class on accountancy at Worchester College. Mum said you had six different accounts clerks in the past six months.”

I looked between the two, Tommy had turned his back before turning back around leaning against the filling cabinet, his hands still behind his back as he leaned against the metal.

“When respectable men see all the things you do. They leave. But I, I already know what you do.” Michael continued to speak, turning rather confident for a 17-year-old. Completely different from the boy that walked in only moments before. “Mum says you want to be 80% legal within 2 years.”

“Three” Tommy answered.

“I can help,” Michael replied. “I know both sides and you know you can trust me. I want to help you, Tommy. Become legal for your family.” He looked at me, glancing down at my bump.

I bit my lip looking over at Tommy, I liked what Michael had to say. I liked it a lot, I just hoped Tommy felt the same. I could see the cogs working in his head as he thought about what Michael had to say.

“Do the right thing.” Michael pushed. “I want to be proud of this family.” I couldn’t help but smile at that part. The family was everything to the Shelby’s anyone could see that, all you had to do was spend a bit of time with them and it became glaringly obvious.  

“Does Polly know you’re here Michael?” Tommy asked, taking his eyes off Michael and looking at me. I tilted my head to the side, slowly shaking it. We both already knew the answer to that.

“I’m 18 on Friday I go where I please,” Michael responded and I sighed softly, knowing Tommy wouldn’t involve him without Polly’s saying so.

“If he is solely involved in the legal side of business Tommy what’s the problem? It’s a job. Give him a chance.” I spoke up sitting on the edge of the seat. “He is family, he wants and needs this job. Give him a chance to prove himself.”

I watched as Tommy inhaled deeply, pushing himself off the filing cabinet and towards his desk once again. Looking down at the newspaper Michael had brought with him, the job circled in red ink – he thought about what was said. Lifting the phone sitting on the right-hand side of his desk, he dropped it in front of Michael.

“You call your mother, good luck,” Tommy stated walking around the edge of his desk and towards his drinks caddy.

I looked at Michael smiling softly before patting his arm. This was his chance.

*****

A few days later I was tidying up my home after breakfast when a loud knock on the door frightened me until I heard the voice of Esme on the other side. I opened the door immediately letting her inside with a smile until I saw her face.

“Esme, what is it?” I asked instantly panicked something had happened to Tommy.

“It’s Tommy, he is… he is showing that horse trainer around.” Esme wheezed trying to catch her breath. I was confused by her confession.

“Well, he is just being chivalrous I’m sure it means nothing. The man’s probably never been to a place like this before.” I brushed off her concerns. Most people avoided the streets of Small Heath if they could.

“It’s not a man Ana. It’s a young, rich widow from London and from what our John was saying. She wants Tommy.” Esme told me. Her eyes showed nothing but worry and concern for me.

Her words began to embed themselves in my head. Why would Tommy tell me it was a male horse trainer? Why would he lie? Why would he need to show them around a dump like Small Heath? Why did she get the courtesy no one else did?

“Where is he?” I asked, my heart racing in my chest at the thought of catching him with another woman. “Esme, where is he?” I repeated, putting my coat around my shoulders and grabbing my bag.

“I don’t know” Esme shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “They left the betting shop and I instantly came here to tell you. I knew he wouldn’t be honest with you. Fucking men think they can treat us like objects and we wouldn’t care.”

I listen to her rant as I walked down the stairs, the two Peaky Blinder bodyguards waiting for me as soon as I left.

“Have either of you seen Tommy?”

“Yeah saw him enter The Garrison, ten, fifteen minutes ago.” Harry nodded lighting up a cigarette. “Are you not going to the hospital this morning miss?”

“Not yet” I shook my head, walking towards the Garrison.

I pushed open the door, Esme right behind me – a scowl on her face as the two figures came into view.

“Would you like to fuck me, Mrs Carleton?” Tommy asked just as I walked through the door and the hit of betrayal slapped me up the face. I remained silent as I stood by the door, waiting for her answer.

I wasn’t sure if they noticed we had entered the bar or not but I was hurt and angry. A tear fell down my cheek, Esme stood glaring, I could tell she was biting her tongue, giving the woman a chance to speak.

“No, I am here for the horse Mr Shelby nothing more.” The dark-haired, posh woman sipped on the drink Tommy had made her, grimacing at the taste.

“Good cause that’s my woman there…” Tommy pointed at me, his head finally looking in my direction. “And that’s my child in her stomach. So anything other than the horse is off the table.”

My eyes flicked between the woman and Tommy, my head tilting to the side like I was trying to work him out. Esme’s hand touched my shoulder for comfort as I tried to figure out whether that was the truth leaving Tommy’s mouth or just for the benefit of me standing there. Either way, I wasn’t happy.

Taglist 

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein @sydneyyyya @happysparklingshadows @margew76   @midnightmagpiemama  @pierre-gasssllyy    @duckybird101

Anyone wanting on or off just let me know I know I have been slacking and I apologise... 

[ranburgular]

Friends in Warm Places

Written with @vampyr-starr

Read on ao3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

----

“You're going to this school. You will do whatever this man asks of you. You're going to get better here, Wilbur.”

“Like hell I will!” Wilbur shouted, pushing away from Phil and taking off running. His heart was already beating out of his chest, the only thing he could think was run. Run, before those freaks get you and you’re either a lab rat or a lion in a circus for the rest of your life. If you want any hope of ever seeing the sun again after today, you run. Wilbur’s lungs burned already, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, not even if he wanted to, as he reached the treeline. Cement buildings were less than ten yards away, but he didn’t stop, not even as he heard shouts from guards. 

He was so close, so close-

A weight hit him in the side, knocking the air from his lungs as he slammed into the ground. A sharp pain shot through his back, but he didn’t, couldn’t, care about that now. He started kicking, screaming for anyone to help him, he knew he sounded like a crazy person but he didn’t care. He had to get out. 

All of a sudden, another blow struck him, this time in the shoulder. Wilbur screamed in agony as horrific, burning pain blossomed through it, following what he could’ve sworn was a crack. His left arm now lay useless on the ground next to him, unable to move it without making the already excruciating pain worse. Wilbur managed to get his right arm out from under whoever was on top of him, holding him down, and shot a flame directly at what he could see of the man’s head. There was a scream, and Wilbur felt the weight get off his chest. Rolling over, which only irritated his shoulder more, he got up, running with whatever he still had left. Unfortunately, whatever that was, the guards had more of it. 

Just as he was about to make it past the buildings, he heard a zap, and a blinding, intense, cramping pain flooded his entire body. Wilbur froze, unable to move even if he wanted to, his mouth open in a silent scream, when he collapsed to the ground. Twitching, tears going down his cheeks, he heard shouts of congratulations from the guards. As the world started to go dark, the last thing Wilbur heard was 

“Take him to the lab. Dream’ll want to see ‘im.” 

Finally, graciously, Wilbur passed out. 

—

“-vicle is stable, it should be fine in about eight weeks.”

“Good. He’ll have some physical therapy starting in a month.” 

“Got it- Oh. He’s waking up.”

“Why hello there, Wilbur.”

Wilbur opened his eyes a tiny bit, still feeling the burning in his shoulder, and he winced. His body felt like a sack of potatoes, his throat ached with the effort of trying not to cry. Shifting his weight, he opened his eyes more, seeing a few guards standing at the door and two doctors, the one who’d greeted Phil and another with dark hair and thick glasses. Wilbur was lying in what felt like a dentist’s chair, an IV stuck in his hand and his left arm in a sling. 

“...Where am I?” He muttered, everything from before seemed foggy. 

The one who’d greeted Phil, Dream, smiled. “You’re in the Exdee Foundation, and you’re currently in one of our treatment facilities. You had to be sedated quite a bit out there.”

In a rush, Wilbur suddenly remembered. Being tackled, the crack in his shoulder, that terrible, terrible zap-

“No- no, get me out of here…” He slurred, trying to get out of the chair. Dream gently pushed him back before he could fully stand.

“You won’t be getting up for a while. We gave you a sedative, and it won’t fully wear off for another half hour or so.” He explained. 

Wilbur shook his head, a few tears going down his cheeks. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Your brother is fine. He’s at dinner right now, and from what I’ve heard, he’s alright.”

“I want to see him.” Wilbur demanded weakly. “I want to see my brother.”

Dream shook his head this time. “You won’t be seeing him unless you’re both well behaved. From what I’ve seen from you, that’ll be a challenge.”

“No… no, I want my brother!” Wilbur cried out, his voice pathetically weak and cracked. Dream shushed him, wiping his tears away. 

“You’ll go to your room once you can walk, but we have some things to take care of first.” 

“...What things?” Wilbur asked, weaker than he would’ve liked to have sounded.

“Well, usually, we’d have you take a shower and change. But given your…” Dream gestured at the sling. “...situation, we changed your clothes for you while you were unconscious so as to avoid any excessive pain.” 

For the first time, Wilbur looked at his outfit, and saw with horror that his t-shirt and black bomber jacket were gone, replaced with a simple white shirt. His pants had been changed as well, and his shoes were gone. 

“Where are my clothes?” He asked, trying to muster as much anger in his voice as he could. 

“You'll get them back when you graduate, this is what you'll be wearing while you're here.” Dream said matter-of-factly. 

“Give me my clothes!” Wilbur demanded.

Dream sighed. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you, Wilbur? Even when you’ve got dexmedetomidine in your system and can’t even walk.” 

Wilbur didn’t even pretend to know what that drug was, and he couldn’t care much about it now anyway. He shook his head, looking away at another wall.

“I want to get out of here. I want to go home.”

Wilbur could hear Dream sit next to him and take his good hand, running his cold fingers over the IV in it. He shivered, his hand heating up on instinct, and Dream’s hand moved away quickly. 

“Wilbur, what you have to understand is that you’re no longer just living for yourself now. You’re here to help others, to further understanding of others like you. You want that, right?”

Wilbur shook his head weakly. “I want to go home.” 

“I think we both know that can’t happen.” Dream smiled. “For now, let’s get you set up.”

The dark-haired doctor walked around to behind Wilbur’s chair, something Wilbur did not appreciate. He needed to see, who knew what these sickos could be thinking of doing to him. They could knock him out cold, drug him, maybe even kill him, though Wilbur doubted that.

The telltale sound of an electric razor clicked to life, and for once in his life, his blood ran cold. 

“Get away from me!” Wilbur shouted, trying desperately to get out of the chair. If he ran far enough, he thought, the IV would come out on its own, it wouldn’t feel nice, but it’d be better than this. Anything would be better than this. He struggled and squirmed, but then Dream’s hands were a hard weight on his shoulders. 

“I don’t want to have to sedate you again, Wilbur.” He said with a harsh tone. “Hold still, or this will be more painful than it has to be.” 

Shaking his head, Wilbur continued to try and fight, though it was pointless as Dream held him down in the chair. The buzzing got closer and closer, until Wilbur felt a sharp sting across his scalp, causing him to gasp in pain.

“You’re doing this to yourself, Wilbur.” Dream commented. “Even your brother didn’t fight this much.”

“You’re sick! Get off me!” Wilbur shouted, tears filling his eyes at the stinging pain and the thought of Tommy going through this too. There was no way he could’ve made it through this without fighting, he knew Tommy, he wasn’t that kind of person. Dream had to be lying. But as his eyes wandered as he tried to avoid the feeling of his hair being shaved away, he spotted a few spare tufts of golden hair in one of the corners of the room, and Wilbur had to stifle a sob. He knew this was maybe the stupidest thing he would ever cry over, but the idea that Tommy went through the same thing made more tears slip down Wilbur's face. 

It was over when Wilbur was done crying, but he honestly had zoned out, he just realized that he was being helped out of the chair. He felt the IV being removed, catching a glance at himself in that dingy old mirror and fighting the urge to start sobbing again. Wilbur didn’t have the best hair in the world, but it was his hair, and they just stripped that away like it was nothing. Wilbur knew that Tommy loved his hair a little more than Wilbur did, he had hair like Phil’s, bright flaxen colored locks that complemented his blue eyes and fair skin. 

Wilbur actually managed a smile, remembering a game they used to play with Phil. Tommy the prince, Wilbur his musician, and Phil, the king of their realm. Wilbur would give anything in that second to just be back in their yard, shrieking giggles coming from Tommy as Phil danced with him in the air, his fingers picking at guitar strings to give extra ambience. He found himself humming the same chords over and over, mimicking how he’d move his fingers. 

“God, has he lost it already?” One of the guards said in a half-serious, half-giddy sounding tone. 

“Fastest one in a while, I’d wager.” The other snickered. 

Wilbur felt like spitting at them, but he was so weak, he just kept humming, thinking of Tommy and his grinning face. He shouldn’t have ran, he was an idiot. He would go back in time to kick him right in the stomach, the version of him who thought running was a good idea. He could have spent those moments left with his brother instead of trying to save himself. He grit his teeth and kept humming as he was haphazardly dragged to his room. As he was pulled into a hallway, a dizzying wave of heat suddenly hit him, causing him to shudder. Why the fuck was it so warm in here?

“We’re putting you in a room with another pyrokinetic. Usually we discourage such pairings, we’ve had some issues in the past, but you seem like you’re going to be incapacitated for a while.” Dream chirped, happy to report on Wilbur’s misery. “Plus, this one is one of the most well behaved and useful! He can show you the ropes, isn’t that exciting?” 

Wilbur fought the urge to sneer. He just nodded. Dream grinned, always smiling, Wilbur wanted to punch him in his perfect, uncannily white teeth. The guards opened the door to the room and tossed him in, not caring for his still mostly-numb legs and broken collarbone. He would have smacked his head on the wall if he hadn't curled in on himself. Dream waved happily as the door began to close. 

“You’ll be finding out your schedule tomorrow! In the meantime, chat with your new friend!” The door slammed shut, and Wilbur just sat there dumbly, staring down at his own hands, wondering if this was actually real. 

“What are ya in for?” Came the most horrifying accent impression across the room, something close to New Jersey, but so obviously British underneath. Wilbur glanced up, slightly startled. This person was about his age, Wilbur had to wager, maybe a few years older? 

His hair was darker, but it was growing out a little. He had defined cheekbones and nose, and something that looked like thin scars, almost like fingernail scratches, trailed down his face. He was wearing strange glasses, red and blue lenses like a 3D movie’s, but they were framed with thin, shiny, golden wire, and Wilbur doubted there were movies shown in this place anyway. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt with thumb holes that he fiddled with, as well as gray sweats, but they were a little too small for his long legs and Wilbur spotted a nasty burn scar on his ankle. He was also shockingly pale, like a corpse. Was anyone even allowed outside? He had a glare on his face, which appeared to be his resting expression.

“Uh- what’s with the… glasses?” Wilbur gestured with his free hand. 

The boy smiled a little, his glare disappearing. “They used to give them to pyros to help them adjust to other pyro’s fire. Sometimes it can be so bright it hurts our eyes. You can adjust naturally, most people tossed these after a week, but I liked them. They make me feel cool.” He lifted them up as if to prove his point, but squinted as if seeing in all kinds of colors was overwhelming. He quickly flipped them back onto his nose bridge.

Wilbur nodded. “How long have you… been here?” 

The fellow shave-headed boy forced a shiver from head to toe, laughing softly. “Ooh! Digging into personal stuff already?” 

Wilbur had the decency to lower his head, he extended a hand. “Sorry. I, uh, my name’s Wilbur.” 

Slowly, the boy got off his cot-like bed and walked over. Wilbur could hardly hear his footsteps. They shook hands firmly. “Jack. To answer your question, I’ve been here for about ten years.” 

Wilbur’s stomach dropped, then rose into his throat so violently that he thought was going to vomit. Eventually, it settled and he was able to speak. “Ten years?” 

Jack nodded, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I got here when I was nine. Been here ever since.” 

“Why? Doesn’t your family want you back?” 

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll be sure to get out and ask their graves.” 

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Jack shrugged again, going back to sit on his bed. “I’m not the biggest fan of living either. I can’t wait to join them.” 

Wilbur swallowed, suddenly feeling worry and a strong attachment to his roommate, despite only having just exchanged names. Wilbur guessed one could get really attached to any other kind of human when there’s the fear of never seeing others you love again. “You aren’t…” 

“Oh no, they wouldn’t allow that. I’m too useful, after all. They’d find a way to get me back, and just at the ten minute mark too, I bet.” He grumbled the last part, pressing his cheek onto one of his knees that was brought up close to his chest. His red and blue lensed glasses looked uncomfortable crammed up on his face. 

“Okay. Dream said you were going to show me the… the ropes?” 

Jack groaned, rubbing his eye under his glasses. “We can do that tomorrow. I know there’s no windows in here, but it’s fucking late.” 

“Oh, alright.” Wilbur felt so far out of his element, he even felt like he wasn’t talking like normal anymore. He slowly got to his feet, trying to hide how he shook, and held onto the wall for balance. He found his way to his own cot, and lay down, it was uncomfortable, making his body ache already. He closed his eyes, holding one side of his face comfortingly with his free hand. 

He let his eyes slowly move around his eyelids, praying to someone, somewhere, that he’d wake up and this would have all been some insane drug induced nightmare. But even as his breath slowed, and sleep began to take him away, he knew it was real. 

And that made it all the more terrifying. 

[eggcompany]

Doctor Will Make You Better Part 3

“I don’t want it! Get the fuck off of me! Bitch I’ll fuckin-” Frank screamed as someone pushed his shirt sleeve up. The lights were still off and he didn’t hear anyone come in. He hated when they did this. After such a nice day, after such a relaxing amazing day, they had to fucking ruin it. He was asleep. Why did they have to sedate him now? It was nighttime, there was no need.

“Sh sh sh, you’ve got to take your medicine. Nothing to make you sleepy, just for your fever.” A familiar voice rang out and Frank blinked, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. A hand was on his, gently rubbing back and forth. Slim, long, cool fingers rubbing from his wrist across his palm and back down. The rhythm and cool touch calmed him immediately. Frank relaxed back down on his bed and yawned. 

“I’ll give it to you and then you can have a present. Okay? Can you hold still for just a little prick?” Doctor Laufeyson said gently as they came into focus in the dim light. They smiled at the way Frank yawned, all big and goofy. 

“Didn’t hear you.” Frank said as he blinked away the sleep dust from his eyes and watched the doctor smile and nod. 

“Yes, you were sleeping so well I didn’t want to wake you. I should have given you this two hours ago but you seemed to need your rest. Luckily your fever hasn’t risen. Now, may I give you this and give you a present?” Loki said again and Frank swore their eyes glowed. 

Loki was utterly content to watch the shorter man sleep. Frank was sleeping on his stomach, one arm under his pillow under his head and the other loose with his hand by his neck. Frank’s shirt had risen up to show a bit of his stomach Which Loki found… oddly adorable. They’d seen that tummy already but the way Frank looked so relaxed and warm made it seem so cute. Loki had just sat and watched the omega, their omega, sleep. 

“A present?” The man asked curiously. He never really got anything before, only ever had things taken away. What would the present be? Did having another blanket count? More blankets would be incredible…

“Yes, a nice big present and I brought a few snacks since you didn’t have dinner.” Loki explained with a small smile. They would make sure Frank ate enough for three meals a day at least. Since dinner was two hours ago there was no chance Loki would be able to go get leftovers from the kitchen. They’d gone and bought food from the convenience store down the block. 

“Okay.” Frank said and turned his head away from his arm. He didn’t mind needles but he still didn’t like to watch. It was always the worst part if you watched. Of course it was different when he was sewing himself up, then he was in control of the needle. 

“Good, you know how this goes…” Loki said and pulled the scrub sleeves up to expose Frank’s large upper arm and wiped it with an alcohol wipe that they had laid out next to him on the bed. They pulled the blue cap off the syringe full of slightly yellow tinted slightly viscous liquid. 

“Can you do something for me, Frank?” Loki asked when they saw the way Frank was tensing his arm muscle. 

“Yes ma’am.” Frank responded and looked over at the doctor with squinted eyes. Loki gently rubbed up and down his arm trying to get him to relax. 

“I want you to count down from twenty. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, like that. This should be all over before you even get done. You just have to relax your arm while you count though, it’ll make it hurt less. Can you do that for me, Frank?” The doctor spoke in the calmest, gentlest tone. One that floated around Frank’s head making him nod. 

“Good, good job.” Loki said and Frank started his count. Frank’s arm relaxed and the doctor acted quickly and efficiently. They would hate to cause Frank any more discomfort or pain than he would already feel, the medicine usually burned a bit. 

“See that wasn’t bad. Now sit up, I'll get you your present.” Loki smiled as they slipped off their latex gloves. Frank had gotten to seven  when Loki had said they were done. They reached over and opened a blue camo band-aid and stuck it to Frank. 

They walked back to the door, flicking on the lights, and disposed of the trash and such outside the door and grabbed the box that they had sat beside the door. 

Frank looked at his arm at the colorful bandage. They never had these before. He’d only ever even had bandaids the first few days, everyone else just stopped bothering. 

Loki had taken a walk to the pediatric clinic down the street, stopping to get a coffee and sandwich on the way, to get a few things. They had worked there a few times. Special cases, extreme trauma, different conferences for new nurses and doctors, etc. 

He had asked for some patterned bad-aids, a soft blanket, and a departure kit for trauma patients. The people there were happy to help and sent Doctor Laufeyson with all they asked for. Loki promised to come back and visit again soon, saying they were in town for a while. They had chatted lightly with two doctors they had found friendship in when they were in town. They had made sure to tell Loki that, when they were ready, the two would be happy to come over and have dinner. 

“You got me a special bandage? Thank you.” Frank said and smiled at his arm. He thought Loki had gone out of their way to bring him a special band-aid as a gift. Something else to make him happy today. Something someone went out of their way to bring to him. It made the omega inside of him preen, made his heart flutter, made his groin a bit warm. 

Loki looked back and laughed lightly, in a soft kind of way. 

“That isn’t the present, silly boy. I got you a bit of a comfort package.” Loki said with a smile as they brought in the thin cardboard box filled with the supplies they had gotten from the pediatric clinic and a long plastic container. 

Frank looks at him with shock, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth open a bit. 

“It’s mine?” He said he couldn’t believe one of these people really brought him… stuff. But Loki wasn’t like these people. Loki was… an angel. Gentle and caring and giving, someone who cared, someone who… deeply cared. Not just for everyone like some nurses, no, Loki cared deeply for him. They cared for Frank.

He just looked at the things in the box. There was a folded blanket in a soft mint green, a coloring book and pack of crayons, some form of gloves, fuzzy socks, and a tube of something. Frank picked up the tube. It was a medical looking metallic tube, shaped like a toothpaste tube. 

“What’s this?” Frank asked Loki who was now sitting on the edge of the bed. They smiled and tapped the plastic container. Frank looked back down and picked up the surprisingly heavy container, it weighed lopsidedly in his hands. 

Frank opened it, curiosity obvious on his face, the lid was held down using two velcro circles. Inside laid something that made Frank’s eyebrows shoot up. 

Six inches of smooth, soft, forgiving translucent blue silicone with a tube running through its center and a perfectly sized knot at the end. He hadn’t had anything so… perfect. All they ever gave him were knotters that were way too big saying they were correct for his body weight. But this? It wasn’t too thick, it wasn’t solid and rigid, it wasn’t going to make him cry out of frustration trying to get the knot. It wasn’t overly heavy so if he wanted to be on his knees it wouldn’t fall out, it wasn’t so long that it would give him a stomachache, and the knot was perfectly manageable in size that it would satisfy without causing pain when being slipped out. 

“You got me this? Can I use it? My next heat starts soon, it’s supposed to at least.” Frank said and held the toy in his hand. He was almost out of breath with excitement. He felt overjoyed and relieved, he would have a nest, a knot, and a clean scented room for his next heat. He always had horrible heats but this… this one could be managed. 

“I expect you to, and I made you a special solution to put in it, full of vitamins and balancers. It’ll help you feel calmer during your heats and not as… agitated.” Loki explained and pointed to the tube. Frank noticed there was a small amount of tubing which seemed to be able to connect from the solution’s tube to the bottom of the dildo. 

“You just screw this to the top of the tube, this goes in the bottom, and then when you want it in you can just squeeze the tube. Granted it will be cold but it’ll help you calm down.” Loki said and couldn’t help but share Frank’s joy, his smile. 

“Thank you, Loki.” Frank said carefully and shyly looked over at the doctor’s ice blue eyes. Loki reached up and moved their hand to cradle Frank’s strong jaw. 

“Of course. I’m here to help you Frank. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of for now on. Now get some rest, under your blankets this time.” Loki instructed quietly and stood up, trailing their hand across Frank’s jaw to his chin till it slipped from their grasp. Frank stared at them and his eyes dilated and grew fuzzy. 

Float, my sweet dear, just float for me… Loki said in their head as they moved the box to sit under Frank’s cot. They kept Frank’s eyes until Frank was under the covers and comfortable. Frank was so close, almost there, almost floating. 

Loki reached in the box and pulled out the light green blanket, soft as a cloud and big enough to wrap up in, and unfolded it to lay across Frank’s other blankets. They pulled it up so Frank could feel it on his neck, chin, in his hands. 

“Goodnight, omega .” Loki said while staring into Frank’s big puppy eyes. 

There it was. The break. Frank was gone. Loki turned and left, closing the lights out as they went. 

Frank was floating. 

Floating all for them. Frank was Loki’s omega. And they were sure Frank would need them again.

[stella-ignis-rosea]

This bastard doesn’t stop with the insanity, it’s like this guy has no sense of a working brain to be sane. He continued egging on the iron dragon while laughing, while also screaming from the pain of his arms being ripped off violently! Being armless, he screamed in the absolute shock of no longer having any working arms to do his work! Now he begins to get angry

“YOU-…YOU BRUTAL MONSTER!! YOU RIPPED MY ARMS OFF!!…”

He screamed in anger as he starts to try and kick at the dragon but continues to scream in misery as now he was being stomped on and crunched by Gajeels constant stomping! Now he begins to realize that he picked a fight more than he can possibly chew. He’s now scrambling to use his light magic to try and stun the dragon, having his body become engulfed in golden light but the stomping just continued…nothing seems to stop the dragon in his fit of anger!

“..YOU DARE!!…DISARM ME!!…..WAIT UNTIL I GET NEW ARMS!! I WILL SHOW YOU!! YOU WILL END UP JUST LIKE THOSE BRATS WE EXTERMINATED ON THAT STUPID ISLAND CENTURIES AGO!!”

Meanwhile the warms and comforting feeling of being wrapped in Natsus coat and scarf pulled Kohaku back into reality, his eyes slowly opened as he tries to push himself to wake up from the sedation the doctor put him under, whatever the crazy fucker did made Kohaku go terribly out cold and heavily too…but feeling the healing affects of Natsus fire, and the warmth of his coat and scarf, his comforting scent…it was enough to pull him awake as tears welled up from his eyes…was it fear? Was it the fact that he could have literally died had his family not come for him? It was it pure joy that they did come for him…

It was the latter…

He seemed daze, trying to register his surroundings as his body felt so heavy howeberat the same time he could feel something inside him start to boil..the smell..the stench of blood..he can hear the loud screams of agony coming from the doctor that tormented him so much and took away those he held dear…so his attention turned to Gajeel and the doctor

His mind remained on those flashbacks…the images of his friends…Tanji..Kanashi..Mina…

Mina…

For so long he felt like he failed her..he loved her so much..she was his best friend…

She meant the world to him…

And this..doctor…killed her…

He could hear his own heart pounding, the louder it got….the more his magic power started to increase…out of pure and utter rage…

As the crazed doctor continued to focus fully on him, the Iron Dragon would grin ferally. It didn't matter that he was bleeding a little bit. A small amount of damage was fine as long as this fucker ceased existing. Soon.

"I won't even have to use a FRACTION of my strength to tear ya limb from limb!"

An iron clad fist would meet the barely there fist of the doctor, likely splintering the crazed fuckers bones that weren't already in pieces from the earlier blow. The hand not in the fist would dig those SHARP claws into the fuckers body at the shoulder. He'd YANK as hard as he needed to, to rip the fuckers arm right off. He'd then just toss it backward.

"Come on, Ko... you can do it."

Natsu would continue to work on the chains, using his fire to heat them to where they broke. Once his brother was on the floor the Fire Dragon would remove his own coat and wrap it around his brother. He'd do the same thing with Igneel's scarf. He wanted his brother to feel safe.

"Ya hit like a fuckin' limp NOODLE!"

He'd quickly reach out to snatch the doctors other wrist, the one that was connected to the hand that made contact with his fist earlier, and he'd decide to lift and slam the psycho into the ground over and over before cackling like a maniac and working to tear THAT arm off next.

Obviously, the next LOGICAL step was to stomp on the fucker with the spikes coming out of his heels even. Gods above was the man's blood rancid smelling though. He'd continue stomping on the man's legs as the deranged bastard kept muttering about how his research was going gloriously despite his obviously grevious injuries. Oh, and the fact that he no longer had any arms. The sound of a CRUNCH would cause the Iron Dragon to cackle once more.

@stella-ignis-rosea

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Anything you want (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,1 k

Summary: They go home together for an encore. Added content to OH3 Chapter 7

Warnings: NSFW, strong language, by viewing this work, you consent that you’re 18+.  

A/N: The dress in the chapter wasn’t tragic in my opinion but it’s not stellar either - so I went ahead and changed it. 

The entire Diagnostic Team let out a collective sigh of relief when Leland Bloom turned around on his heel and walked away. After a whole evening of schmoozing and rubbing elbows with wealthy morons, all Ethan wanted to do was go home. And take Claire with him, if he had any say in it.

Tobias finished a phone call, turning towards the group. “I think we can call the evening a success.” Harper nodded, slipping her arms into her coat. “Let’s hope this sedates him for a while.”

“If by ‘a while’ you mean until tomorrow, then I think you’re right.” Ethan scoffed, but not at Tobias – and they all knew that, without the need to see a hint of a smirk on his lips. Their boss was getting on everyone’s nerves and the last thing they needed was an inside fight. Claire and Harper were ecstatic about it – maybe they would finally start getting along more and the team could move on from the weird tension that developed with a new addition to it.

“I say, let’s stop thinking about work and just enjoy the rest of the evening, however you might choose to spend it.” Tobias concluded, waving his hand at the group of doctors in front of him, then turned to Ethan with a grin. “I called you a cab too, E.”

Claire scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a challenging look in her eyes. “What about me? Is that some special treatment I’m sensing?”

“Nothing of the sort, Herondale, I just figured that since you two were so handsy with each other all evening, one cab for the two of you would be perfectly fine.”

Her mouth fell open as she tried to answer, but no sound came out. Instead, she laughed, shaking her head at her new acquaintance. Ethan grinned, not even trying to deny it, his eyes finding Claire’s, sharing a private look with her.

As their cabs arrived and they all separated, Harper called out after the couple. “Don’t be late to work tomorrow or Bloom will have your asses!”

“And try to not scar the poor cab driver with making out in the backseat.” Tobias added, winking at them before getting into his cab.

Ethan opened the door for Claire, sitting down next to her in the darkness. Their car turned around and started towards his apartment. The driver seemed to be too occupied with what was happening on the road to notice two doctors that were trying to be on their best behavior. ‘Trying’ being the key word.

They got out of the car as soon as they could, leaving a hefty tip to make up for his wandering hands and whispers that might not have been whispers. He wouldn’t know, he was too occupied with his girlfriend.  

Ethan threw Claire over his shoulder, laughing at her surprised gasp. Henry, a friendly older man that worked in the lobby of Ethan’s apartment building, and who Ethan – and now Claire – were friends with, saw them and smirked, nodding at the pair wordlessly. It wasn’t the first time he saw the older doctor so loved up with his beautiful partner, and he hoped they wouldn’t lose that spark.

Claire did the only thing she could, given how fast Ethan was walking towards the elevator, and waved at Henry with a happy grin.

Elevator door closed behind them, leaving them in the privacy of the four metal walls. Claire slid down his body, stopping right above his hips, knees squeezing his sides as he held her up with his hands, gripping the undersides of her thighs.

Their gazes crossed, want clear in the way he touched her and looked at her. She ran her fingers through his hair slightly, the carefully put together hairstyle now slightly dismantled.

“I think I just messed up your hair.”

“Feel free to destroy it completely.” he muttered, nuzzling his nose against hers. She tried to kiss him, but he shook his head and opted to kiss her cheek instead “If I kiss you now, we’re going to have sex in the elevator.” She opened her mouth to say something - he beat her to it. “I wouldn’t mind, but I doubt Henry would appreciate it.”

“In that case, you better get me home.”

As he opened the door, Claire dug her hands into the pockets of his jacket, embracing him from behind. Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed his ear and whispered. “Hurry up.” He stuttered, the keys in his hands shaking slightly. He made a definitive move, unlocking the door and twisting around. His arms went around her and he pulled her onto him, kissing her with abandon as her body pressed his into the door. His tongue ran along her lips and the moment she granted him access, his hand started searching for the handle in great haste. The door fell open with a quiet hum and they would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for her quick thinking that caused her to twist them around. She pushed him inside, kicking the door closed with her heel, then pulled on his neck to slam them against the wooden panel.

“Do you know what’s been on my mind the whole evening?”

“I have a feeling but enlighten me.”

“Every time you looked at me.” He whispered, kissing her in between his sentences, each kiss more heated than the last. “Every smile you gave me.” His hands found their place at her back, pressing them flush against each other. “Every time you laughed or so much as said a word.” He pressed his forehead to hers, looking deeply into her eyes, growling his last words. “It made me think of the sounds you were going to make for me.” His hips pressed against hers, drawing a sigh out of her. “I would have made you scream back on that balcony if I could.”

“I was hoping you would.” She panted, gliding her hands up and down his arms.

“I still can.” He replied, slowly falling to his knees before her. “And I will.”

Without much of a preamble, he brushed his fingers up her legs, pushing the fabric of her dress upwards until it bunched around her hips. With unhurried movements, he hooked his index fingers into her panties and pulled, dragging them down until they fell to the floor, neither of them giving it a second thought.

Her shoes came next, one after the other, pressing loving kisses to her calves.

He looked at her with a storm in his eyes. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

And then he dove forward, letting his tongue swipe through her folds, lazily, tasting and testing her limits. Her hands grabbed him immediately, a soft sigh slipping past her lips. She’s always been responsive to every little thing he did - and he knew it damn well, judging by the smirk he was currently sporting on his face as he picked up his pace a little bit, moving his hands to the back of her thighs to press her even closer to him.

Chasing the sound he so desperately wanted to hear, he moved upwards a fraction, finding her clit and pressing on it with the tip of his tongue. A broken moan escaped her, her grip on his jacket tightening so much that her knuckles began to turn white.

Encouraged, he fully focused on that spot, closing his mouth around it and sucking gently, then with more force, alternating between the two paces. Playing her like his cello.

Claire moved her fingers towards his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair when his teeth grazed a sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning his name into the dead of the night. He squeezed her ass, staring up at her, savoring the flush on her cheeks, the hungry eyes she was giving him and the absolute look of ecstasy that slowly overtook her features. She was close, so close that keeping her voice down was becoming impossible. And he didn’t want her to be quiet. He moved one of her legs onto his shoulder, then the other, balancing her with his hands.

“Come for me.”

He grinned widely when she gave him a sigh, then went in for the kill and focused on pushing her over the edge. The new position changed the angle only slightly, but just enough to make her sing him praises the moment his lips made contact with her soft flesh again.

Alternating between firm strokes and insistent lapping, he made her rise higher and higher, her voice following suit as she whimpered and chanted his name until she pulled on his hair and came, her eyes falling shut. Ethan squeezed her again, a silent plea for her to keep looking at him as he guided her through it.

Their eyes met and remained locked long after the sparks stopped coming. Claire laughed breathily, sliding her legs off his shoulders slowly. He held her upwards, anticipating the weakness of her knees, stroking her thighs gently.

“How was that?”

“Like you have to ask.” She scoffed, brushing his hair back tenderly. Ethan smirked.

“I just love hearing you tell me how good I am.”

“How about I show you just how good you are?”

Claire pulled him up to his feet, then pushed on his shoulders to guide them towards the bedroom, stripping him of his clothes along the way. His jacket. On the floor. His shirt. Hanging off the door. His pants. Forgotten by the bed.

When she reached for his underwear, he caught her hand. “Not so fast. You’re overdressed.”

“I thought you liked the dress.”

“I do. Which is why I want to rip it in half.”

He reached for the zipper of her dress, dragging it down with surprising gentleness of movements, taking his sweet time to uncover each part of her body. The fabric didn’t even hit the ground before she kicked it away from them. His hands flew up to her sides immediately, feeling every and any part of her he could reach. The tips of his fingers trailed a path up her back, reaching the clasp of her bra, but before he could undo it, she shook her head and moved his hands back to her hips.

“You had your fun. Now it’s my turn.” She muttered, then hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and tugged, pushing it down his legs the same way he pushed hers a while back.

With a sly smirk, she sat him on the edge of the bed and sank down to her knees, once again mirroring his moves. With the tip of her finger, she traced nonsensical patterns along his inner thigh while leaning forward to plant a path of openmouthed kisses from one hipbone to the other. A shiver ran through him, making him realize that he was entirely at her mercy, not for the first time, and – he hoped – not for the last time.

Claire seemed to make it her point to avoid eye contact – she didn’t even so much as glance up before she ran her tongue over the tip of his cock. His mind perked up instantly, acutely aware of even the smallest of her movements.

She closed her lips around him, sucking gently, drawing out a whimper out of him that sounded like a plea. When she licked along the vein on the underside, the whimper turned into a rather insistent moan.

Only when she finally took him into her mouth, inch by glorious inch, did she make eye contact with him. Dark eyes, pulling him further into the whirlwind of ecstasy she provided, the small hums she let out creating the most delicious vibrations that sent him flying even higher off the ground. And a playful spark, telling him that she knew exactly what she was doing when she denied him the luxury of staring into her eyes as she began her exploration.

Ethan’s fingers flew to her hair, guiding her gently as she worked, up and down his length in a slow and rhythmic pattern, familiar sparks of electricity running over his spine. Before he could stop himself, a very vivid and a very insistent image flooded his mind, and his mouth was suddenly opening to speak.

“I had this dream and - fuck - you couldn’t keep your hands off me” he panted, his hips moving off the bed slightly when he felt her tongue join the movements of her lips once more.

“Really?” She murmured, having retreated and resorted to licking him slowly. With her hands, she undid the clasp of her bra and let the fabric fall to the ground somewhere behind them, neither caring where it landed. Ethan swallowed heavily. “You dream about me?”

“Every night”

“Well then, how about you show me what you dream of?”

His eyes darkened, blue turning into a shade so deep that she couldn’t tell what color they were, and suddenly she wasn’t on the floor anymore. Instead, she was seated in his lap, facing away from him, her legs spread wide, knees locking him in place. The mirror on the wall showed them both a picture of two people, perfectly fit for each other – so in love that they could see it in their eyes and bodies, despite having not said a word about the said emotion.

Ethan pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck me, Ethan.”

With a groan, he lifted her off his lap just enough so he could slide into her, letting her sink down with a shuddered breath. They remained that way for a moment or two, just feeling the closeness of one another. Ethan’s eyes fell shut, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, and he wondered what he did to get her. What number of good deeds did he manage to gather up for the universe to set her on his path.

All that debating was cut short when she squeezed her inner muscles, letting him know that she wanted them to move. He opened his eyes again, only to be met with the same image in the mirror. This time, however, it unlocked something primal in him, his body unable to stay put any longer, his brain craving anything she could give him.

His hands fell to her hips and he lifted her up slowly, letting her sink back onto him. And again, with shuddered breath brushing against the skin of her back. Their eyes met in the mirror as Claire picked up the pace herself, rising on her knees and falling.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” He whispered into her ear, looking at her the entire time. She bit her lip, sighing heavily.

Claire’s hand went behind her, reaching for his neck. With her fingers twisted into the hair at the back of his head, she pulled him closer, anchoring herself as he kissed her skin and stroked her from the inside. He had one palm spread over her chest, tracing her nipples and pinching them from time to time, while his other hand found itself a place between her legs, teasing her with fleeting touches.

She gripped his thigh with her free hand, holding onto him any way she could, panting heavily as the sensations continue to flow through her. Flooding her with mind-numbing pleasure, almost blinding her. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she tried to shield herself from it, when Ethan’s voice rang in her ear.

“Open your eyes.”

And she does, staring at the two of them, reflected in the mirror. Two lovers, entangled in each other, hands grabbing and pulling, mouths open in silent pleas. His hips snap up into her and she slams down onto him, the sound of skin hitting skin bordering on obscene. But they were alone, free to do whatever they wanted, even if it was to press each other’s naked bodies onto any surface available.

“Again. Give it to me again.” Ethan groans, unable to stop the urge to bite down on her shoulder when her muscles spasm around him exceptionally tightly, convincing him that he must have died and gone to heaven.

She moaned and stood up, which would have made him protest if it wasn’t for the fact that just a second later, she was climbing onto his lap again, facing him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking down onto him. His hands were full of her once more, grabbing her ass to guide her, giving as good as he was receiving.

With his head buried in her chest, kissing and nipping on her skin, making sure that there was no way she could wear a regular blouse the next day without exposing his marks, he pressed into her deeply, reaching his peak and muttering her name so many times that it’s become a blur with one common theme – devotion.

Claire nodded, pulling him close to her by his hair, her insistent movements helping him ride it out as she searched for the spark to throw her off the edge. His fingers, back in the same spot his mouth was at not that long ago, did the trick, circling and squeezing her until she cracked with a loud sigh.

Ethan leaned away, guiding her towards him so their lips could meet in a lazy kiss. He fell backwards onto the bed, pulling out and twisting them around so he could hover over her, hand on her hip as he explored her mouth leisurely. When they eventually separated, both breathing heavily, a relaxed smile washed onto his face. Claire observed him with a look of wonder.

“I like seeing you like this.”

“Sated after sex?”

“No.” she shook her head, very obviously trying not to laugh at his equally obvious attempt to crack a joke. “Relaxed. Happy.”

“Well, you make me very happy.” He responded, lying down and pulling her to his side, his lips pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, letting her eyes close. Ethan’s voice broke the silence. “Are you?”

“What, happy?”

“Yeah.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost insecure. Like he was afraid of her answer. Claire propped herself on her elbow so she could look at him. Locking her eyes with his, she nodded softly.

“More than you can imagine.”

All the tension left his body, a wonderful smile lighting up his face. He reached up with his hand, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think I can.”

Notes

Until further notice, I’m pulling the Mariah and I suddenly can’t read the ending. The balcony scene was good, though.

Thank you for reading! <3

 Tagging separately

[anthrogothic]

Body/Prision

so, here we go to the second part of the fic. ours has been exciting to write this. I hope you like it <3 (originally written in Brazilian Portuguese. sorry for any error).

Third part here

Pairing: Echo x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, anxiety, panic, a little violence but nothing much and ~some physical mentions~ (and echo being a baby who needs care)

Heading towards the lab, you went through documents and reports on your datapad connected to the data network, finding the files of your newly known atypical clones, seeing that there were still three to meet in person.

One of them, with a rather traumatic past in your opinion. Another look like someone who is difficult to deal with. And lastly, one similar to your fellow nerds from college. Already imagining your scientific conversations.

You find your sweet auxiliary Omega standing at the door of the lab. She is also a clone, young and adorable. With short hair, the same color as the sun (if you remember the last time you saw one).

But with Jango Fett's pure DNA in her cells. Only you and Nala know this. Your conscience always brings you that painful twinge whenever the memory occurs to you.

"Y/N! I was looking for you!"

The girl came running towards you, with a scared face, taking your right hand and pulling you with her.

"Hey Omega, Stars, what's up?"

You almost shuffled your legs trying not to fall.

"I've been sent to help with clone ratings today! But Echo is very upset and I can't get him to calm down!"

Before you could ask for further explanation, you were already being dragged to the door of the room.

Stopping at the door, Omega pushed you inside when you spotted the trembling clone sitting with his back to the door, on top of the gurney, aiming his blaster at the three doctors ahead.

"Echo! I found her!"

The girl's voice was a mixture of relief and determination. The other three doctors in the room are clearly pissed off, hands up in front of the clone.

"Y/N isn't even a doctor, Omega!"

He yelled one of them, straightening and clasping his hands at his sides.

"You should have brought security!" yelled the other.

"She'll do it! She is better than you all!"

Screamed the little girl, pointing a finger at the three. You put a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to calm down. Gently you addressed the clone, froze as he stared into your eyes.

It was him… that clone whose record you were horrified to read. He was pale. With metallic accesses on his shaved head, a cybernetic prosthesis that covered his ears, his right forearm also cybernetic and thinner than most strong clones you know. Only the legs, also robotic, were covered by his blacks. His eyes were frightened and his limbs locked together at his sides, his good hand, shaking, still holding the blaster.

"A-Are you Doctor Y/N?"

His voice was deep, shaky and fraught with anxiety.

You, already with your heart sinking at his state, approached slowly, removing your white jumpsuit and leaving it on a small metal table nearby, catching the clone's attention with your tight black outfit.

"Yes… Echo, right? I assume you have a panic attack due to your accident… you shouldn't be brought into environments like this."

Your voice was calm and sweet. Looking at doctors with dislike in your last words. Echo looked away, clearly uncomfortable. The hand that was armed, wavering, and your hand slowly landing on top of the blaster, lowering it slowly, the clone giving way.

Suddenly one of the already impatient doctors approached abruptly and grabbed your shoulder from behind you.

"Let's go! We don't have time for theaters! Sedation didn't work this time, but nothing a dose would not do well on rebel clones!"

Spotting the syringe the doctor was pulling out of his lab coat, Omega jumped on his arm as she screamed. You turned, startled, seeing the fist that the doctor was already closing to hit the girl. In a rush of adrenaline, you punched him in the nose, he staggered backward, and Omega took the syringe from his hand. The other two came to help the doctor, who pushed them away claiming he was fine, looking at you with hate.

"You're in big trouble, girl! And you too, stuck-up scientist!"

His voice really was scary. But suddenly, Echo's voice came from behind you like thunder.

"Do something with them, and you'll have to come to terms with me and my squad."

His voice, full of hate and gravelly. His arm trembled as he aimed the blaster at the doctor, finger on the trigger.

"Not to mention the possible murder he was going to cause with so much sedative in a clone with a body not yet fully mapped to know the consequences."

Snorted Omega right beside you, all proud with the syringe in her hand.

"Uh, Nala Se will love to hear that."

You said, crossing your arms and looking at the doctor in defiance.

The attacking doctor flinched, growling as he left the room. The other two fearful:

"Please, it's our first week here. Don't hand us over to Nala Se. We just obey orders."

Begged one of the doctors, this one was much younger than the aggressor, probably doing residency with another colleague.

"Withdraw then. And let the rest of the team know the behavior of that bantha in the lab coat! He doesn't deserve to be your supervisor. He is the one who has to be supervised!"

Your voice was authoritative and even. All that remained was for the men to nod and leave the room.

Echo threw himself onto the gurney, breathing wildly and running a hand across his forehead. You stopped in front of the clone and slowly sat down beside him on the stretcher. Instructing him to take a few deep breaths, then slowly exhale for a few more, repeatedly. Echo tried to follow your directions, faltering a few times but picking up his pace eventually.

"There is! We make an amazing team! I told you, Echo!"

Omega's voice trying to bring relief to the tense environment. She continued.

"Y/N is the best! She will be nice to you!"

You, realizing the responsibility that Omega gave you, nodded with the girl's words.

"Well… I'm not exactly a doctor, as we've heard… but I know enough. You can trust me, Echo."

The clone looked at you with less awe, bearing in mind what you did.

"I- I feared that I would go through the physical evaluations again. I know they are mandatory, but... they remind me of the Citadel..."

His gaze roamed the metalized room, filled with stretchers, huge equipment, and light panels.

The doctors just didn't care and sedated him whenever it became impossible to assess him. Putting gadgets into his body, pushing him into big gadgets and treating his cybernetics like pieces of scrap metal.

"I don't want to be a problem again... I know I have obligations as a soldier, but I can't be okay here!"

He squeezed the biceps of his other arm with his hand, trying to stay in control as he felt a new wave of anxiety.

You gently placed your hand on his back, feeling him recoil involuntarily.

"Unfortunately it's standard procedure… but if you promise me secrecy, we can only do the basic assessment, and it could be in your room, a theoretically cozy place for you. I can do that from now on if you want."

Echo sighed, relieved at the option before looking at you again. His expression is lighter. Omega already excited to see her clone brother a little more relaxed. You smiled and calmly guided him to the dorm.

All the way the three of you were shot with stares and comments. You scolding each one with your furious glare, Omega stuck out his tongue at the attackers, while Echo lowered his head every time. His tall stature, allowing you to see his depressed expression from below.

Omega opened the door as you arrived soon after, still next to Echo. Omega pointed to the bunk and you asked permission to sit, Echo, growing more and more stunned by your sweet attitude toward him, nodded.

Placing the small silver suitcase you brought along on the floor, you took Echo by the hand, inviting him to sit beside you.

You asked permission with each movement and touch the soldier's body, trying to be gentle, as if his body were the most sensitive of porcelain. You were curious about his cybernetics, but you chose not to bring it up.

Omega was sitting by your suitcase, legs crossed on the floor, handing out all the little devices you needed to gauge the clone's basic physical parameters, but never looking away from him.

You explained what you were doing and why, warned of any movement or approach of the small devices and their purpose. Echo just nodded, getting a lot more confident in you.

You can't help but notice the tight, visible muscles. The heat radiating from the clone's body. The sharp, attractive shape of his body in that tight black outfit. Feeling the slight reactions whenever your fingertips touched him. The shy look he gave you.

Omega looked uncomfortable, pacing back and forth when you were wearing the last device on Echo's body, checking his heart function.

"Omega, what is it?"

Echo said low but firm, surprising you by the contrast to the voice that trembled earlier.

"I lied to Nala Se, saying that I went to get more supplies with Y/N, that it would take her time to get to the lab, so I could take her to you. If the confusion gets to her ears, she'll find out."

Omega ran her hand constantly over the back of her neck and through hair, the little eyes fearful.

You widened your eyes at the girl, remembering that you was requested earlier and for her boldness with the doctor (as if you didn't know her). Already trying to devise a plan to cover up the improvised procedure with Echo.

"Hm... I can talk to some clone friends to claim that we left Kamino for a few hours… I don't want Nala Se mad at us. And about the fight, well, we just defended ourselves."

You said with a smug smile on your full lips, forgetting your hand resting on Echo's covered chest, your hand already warming the spot. He watched your hand standing there, your skin seemingly smooth, the fingers small and delicate, rising and falling with his breath and causing a strange sensation deep in his racing heart.

The way you welcomed him and tried to keep him safe. You defended him. Just like your brothers before it all happened. He hadn't experienced this in a long time. But like a knife, he slashed his thoughts and threw them aside. He no longer allowed himself to wander through such things, after all, what kind of relationship could he have, being like that.

He came back to consciousness with your movement, withdrawing you hand and standing up, Omega already picking up the small suitcase from the floor.

"A-Are we done yet?"

A slight disappointment was clear in the clone's voice. You crouched down between his spread thighs, looking him in the eye, giving the clone's eyes access to your light cleavage and your silvery cord that went between your breasts.

"We've finished the basics, Echo. You are strong and healthy. I'll be back to do the rest tomorrow, after my shift, if you're comfortable."

Your eyes were like adorable little twinkling stars. So comforting and sincere, just like you, all the time with him. He nodded, a slight smile breaking his pale lips, bringing a slight, sweet swell to his heart.

You stood up, carefully taking the clone's hand, pulling a pen out of your pinned hair, and jotting down your personal communicator code in the palm of his hand.

"Let me know anything, Echo. Drink water and do the breathing exercises before going to bed."

Smiling, you turned around, heading for the door, being caught up by Omega just after she gave your brother a hug. The door closed as you remembered to scold the brave little girl for her attitude earlier.

Echo was left alone. Only with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears in the dim light in the room. The raindrops hitting the glass.

He put his hand where yours was moments ago, reading your code by pulling his palm away from his chest. He was calm. Something impossible after days of evaluations.

But beyond that, he felt real, alive, and eager to see you the next day, as much as his guts and gears wanted to say otherwise.

[kryptsune]

World Building Wednesday! ~Felldritch

🌼I got a request to do a WBW for Felldritch and since there have been updates to the overall world and lore I wanted to make sure this was all in a nice little package! If you have questions and want to learn more let me know the ask box is always open!  So let's get started! Oh and here is a link to the fic! FELLDRITCH

Felldritch

Classification: HorrorFELL

Cult  Alternate “Nicknames”:

Red: Saw Boss: Corvus

Gaster: Sephtis

Asriel: Saber Toriel: Ameria

Asgore: Kirnon

Undyne: Ryx Alphys: Vesh Muffet: Carmilla Grillby: Noire MTT: Faust

Doggo: Croix

Riverperson: Bastet (Tet)

Main Plot Synop: Felldritch takes place after a pacifist run by Frisk. The story briefly goes as follows. Frisk ends up in the Underworld (Underground) and befriends the monsters and wants to set them free. It is basically a way watered down version of WTU in essence. Once reaching the end of her journey the monsters refuse to let her be that final soul. They would rather wait and figure out something else but with her Determination she promises to return to them and set them free. At this point in time she is around 18-19. Asriel sacrifices himself to that end to see her leave through the barrier only for the humans to capture the poor girl after she leaves. They conclude that she is not mentally stable due to her insistence that monsters are real and throw her into an asylum/sanitarium to be “treated”. Nearly 5+ years later and she manages to escape finding herself once again in the Underworld only it is far different from what she remembers. At this point, she is questioning whether anything is real or not. After being “treated” for so long she doesn’t quite know which reality is the true one. As Red (aka Saw) points out:

The Brothers: 

Red: The younger brother of the two. His attachment to Frisk stems into more of a relationship though he blames himself for loosing her all those years ago. This psychological state causes him to throw himself into the problem that is befalling their world. At first nothing seems to combat this intrusive forest and horrifying beasts but he learns to utilize his magic in a different way. Prior to this he is what one would think of a a Red type but after meeting Frisk he promises to not only change his heart but also the hearts of others. Instead of destructive magical ability he follows in his brothers footsteps and takes up healing practice. 

In the world he is known as the merchant, the one that tends to give out healing items in exchange for coin but the bulk of his business relies on talismans or charms to ward off the evil plaguing their home. As far as they all know these magically infused charms are powerful and have incredible protective capabilities. He runs a wagon that travels around the entire Underworld.

In the current timeline he more sympathetic and empathetic. The concept of Kill or be Killed is no longer a factor. This is mainly about survival and for the most part the other monsters are aware that working together is their best option though their heightened paranoia (validly founded btw) makes it difficult sometimes. His personality is lighthearted on the surface, making jokes, and being a good guy. In a way he reminds me of Jester who tries not to dwell on what is going on but is fully aware of the situation. Red wears a blindfold in public to keep up appearances but he has no vision or eye light problems.

Boss: After Frisk’s departure from the Underworld, Boss, takes her words to heart. Unlike the majority of Fell Pap characterization he is very soft. When he feels his brother no longer needs his guidance he begins to feel purposeless until he learns that like his brother he has the magical ability for healing. As Red is the charm merchant of the two, Boss is the apothecary. His design harkens to plague doctors back in the 17th century. He grows all his own herbs and spices but he is particularly fond of tea. He also wears a blindfold just like Red but unlike Red he does in fact have damage to his left eye socket where the teal color of his eye lights no longer inhabits. 

The two combined help their fellow monsters as much as they can but in a world of uncertainty how are you supposed to know who to trust? 

Frisk’s Mental Demons: The psychological toll on Frisk is great as she has been told constantly that she made up her time in the Underworld in order to shut herself away into a fantasy world. A world where she had a family… where she is loved and wanted. This happens frequently as the “Doctors” continuously try to refute her experiences or sensations medically.  Every time she goes to sleep in the Underworld she ends up back at the Asylum tied down kicking and screaming. 

She only wakes up again when she is sedated. Rinse and repeat. The question is… is it real? Or rather which is real. The doctors go on to state that her dark state of mind twisted her original concept behind her “family” making them this eldritch styled horror. He also goes onto explain that the reason she is so drawn and close to Red is that it is her “flirting with death”. That she is accepting that outcome because if she continues to resist treatment she will die and the moment she trusts him in her “fantasy” that will be the end. These kinds of situations happen a lot.

There are also instances when the lines between real and fiction are blurred as Frisk's behavior consists apparently of defensive aggression, auditory, visual, and olfactory hallucination, acute paranoia, anxiety, and PTSD. One such example of this is her apparent psychiatrist, Dr. Cyrus Reycroft, who happens to have an uncanny resemblance to her skeletal friend if he was human. 

The Beasts: Felldritch plays off Eldritch horror aka the fear of the unknown. As Frisk reunites with Red she is subjected to a rather concerning conversation in which he explains the situation they are in. He mentions having crossed into an upside down broken and colorless world which drew both himself and his older brother into. It is implied that the two stepped into a dimensional space that was able to then afflict those within their own dimension. Over time the inhabitants begin to go missing and great otherworldly hellish beasts begin appearing. The inhabitants come to the conclusion that these creatures can not afflict you with their corruption if you can not see, hear, or speak in their presence. This mindset has some rather gruesome implications as inhabitants become irrationally desperate mutilating themselves to adhere to the new "See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil”.

The Occult World: The cult as I keep referring to it as is a group of powerful monsters. After the deposition of the King the other monsters begin to become influenced by outside sources. They begin to believe that any fallen humans are the angels of death and because of this they will kill humans on sight, of course, they want to live in denial of their horrible deeds because monster souls are supposed to be made up of love and kindness. Unlike the cult that wishes to break the barrier, the rest want to stay hidden from the beasts above believing that the humans are to blame for all that has happened.

The senses play a huge roll in this idea as the beasts are rumored to be able to use souls like puppets, as in spys, if they are corrupted. It essentially becomes like a hive mind with the main entity being able to see, hear, and speak through those it comes in contact with. It’s no secret that Red is in fact infected by this entity in some form as this is a quote from the fic:

A set of antlers snagged the velvety cape as he worked the metalwork to release its hold on the material around his throat.

Bony fingers tugged on the bunched up fabric and pulled it back, revealing a charcoal grey sweater underneath. It was soft to the touch but just hidden beneath the wool she caught a glimpse of off white colored bone. There were bits and pieces that had been chipped off, knicks, and cuts. Even before they had met Red had some scars especially around his collarbone but that was not what caused her to gasp. His hood remained over his head as if using it to shield his expression from her view, “See?” He flinched when her fingers traced some of the scars.

She didn’t want to appear like she was fearful of what she was witnessing but her fingers quivered, pulling them back toward herself. A soft whimper of a voice left her, “R...Red…” There intertwined with the magically composed vertebrae of his spine were branches. The same deep blackish red wood that plagued this entire forest. It wove itself through the bone engulfing portions of his ribs, twisting it into chilling patterns. If it was allowed to continue its infestation it would crack his ribcage open in a bloodless gaping fissure. She could just make out that gentle white and crimson glow shrouded by the wood. Was that his soul? There was no other explanation.

It looked like the branches were trying to worm their way toward that glowing heart, pierce it, and absorb it into its oily black, almost pulsating bark. That was only one singular aspect of horror that she was now subjected to. Her eyes followed the trail that crept through the bone following the knots and twists that crept up and underneath where his skull attached to his spine.

The grip that he kept on her hand only tightened while the other shifted to pull the hood off his skull. Her eyes widened, reddish-brown irises wavering within a sea of white. A hand rose to land on her mouth, now agape in a silent gasp. She could see the same strange bark that comprised his antlers exited straight out of his skull. There were fractures that radiated from above the temporal portion of his cranium in concentric circles. The same kind of patterning one would see from blunt force trauma. Only this had pushed out the bone externally rather than internally. His sockets no longer contained those ever dulling carmine eye lights as her own eyes traced the hairline cracks along his head. She could not imagine the kind of pain a transformation like that would have caused him. There were places where the bone had tried to heal and suture itself back together, forming around the bark.

Angel of Salvation (a.k.a. The Eldritch Horror)- What the cult has been working toward is summoning their “savior” with the help of the human souls they are bound to. It gives them extra abilities and power. Each within the ranks is bound to a human soul. Their leader ??? wants to use this power to summon an “angel.” It turns out that is actually an unholy amalgamated eldritch beast/god out for blood instead. Humanity will perish and the monsters will take control of the surface once more. That is the reality. (The cult including Red is told otherwise).

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 3

This part is a little more plot heavy, but I added in some nice Whumpy bits too! I hope you guys enjoy, and thanks everyone for their suggestions!

Also, the next part of this may be a bit late, as I’m planning for my next piece to be the continuation of Villainsicle!

CW//Mentions of law enforcement, mentions of therapy/treatments, restraints, medical abuse, begging, screaming, forced sedation, needles, blood

Open the door.

It would be so simple. The entrance was constructed of little more than wood and a flimsy lock. Even someone without the benefit of powers could break it. And, based on what Hero had seen so far of this place, it may not have even been locked.

Just open it.

Open the door, and they could sleep again.

Open the stupid door.

But...

Hero’s hands clenched into fists, their gaze moving upwards, fixing upon the metal plaque upon the door.

‘43′

Beyond the simple plank of wood, their nemesis was laying. Suffering. Trapped in their own mind.

They could open the door, just twist the knob, and save them. In any other time, any other instance, it was what they would have done. They knew the way the others spoke of them, joked about them. Saying they’d jump off a bridge, even if their friends hadn’t done it first. They couldn’t control their impulses. That was what Leader always wrote, in the reports. Impulsive. Reckless.

That’s what they were. Reckless.

But that was back when it didn’t matter. That was back when the only one in danger was them. Hero. Now that Villain was part of the equation?

They had to think. They had to be smart.

Hero bit their tongue with enough force that the taste of bloody iron washed over their taste buds.

They didn’t open the door.

Around the corner, a doctor in blue scrubs furrowed their brow, and dipped away to make a phone call.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“If I’m being completely honest, Hero, I wasn’t expecting you to contact me again.”

Hacker spoke with their head down, sheepish, as though a child apologizing for breaking a toy.

Again, the two sat in the same diner: It was busy, but crowded enough that they could simply blend into the lunch rush without fuss. To avoid questions, the both of them had ordered an appetizer, though neither of them had much of an appetite to speak of.

“You weren’t? Why’s that?”

“I mean...” They leaned back in their seat, pressing their spine against the padded booth seat back. “I didn’t think you’d care? That sounds kind of rude now that I’m saying it out loud but... The stuff I was showing you, I assumed you were already aware of it.”

“You thought I knew the way Villain was being treated?”

“Kind of? That’s the kind of stuff they tell you, right?”

“Eh...” Hero dropped their gaze. “Not really. That’s not our business. We catch the crook, what happens to them after isn’t really our focus.”

Hacker frowned.

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“So you didn’t know?”

“Not at all. I knew they were at that facility but... I thought it was fine. I thought Villain was fine.”

“Maybe I should have told you sooner, then.”

“You knew?”

“Well.” There came the embarrassment once more, their cheeks flushing. “For the scale of your organization, your cybersecurity is a little... lacking. Everything from that rehab facility, it’s stored on an off-site backup. Their on-site security is decent, but once it goes through that external data channel, it’s caught right in my net.”

“Is that right?”

“Don’t tell anyone, please?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it. I have much bigger problems than low level hackers.”

“Hey!”

“That’s not to say you’re a low-level hacker.”

“That’s better. Then, if you’re not here to like, arrest me-”

“That’s what you thought I was doing?”

“Kinda. If that’s not what you want, what do you want?”

“I want to know more.”

Hero had made the decision upon planning this meeting that they were not to tell Hacker about their visit to the facility. Despite the aid they had already offered, it was hard to trust someone who admitted to criminality with such nonchalance. And, besides, Hero was almost certain that their superiors wouldn’t be happy to know about their distraction.

“More?”

“You’ve been watching them for a while, right? I want to know more. Everything about Villain, everything about the whole place. How much do you know?”

“A lot. I have a considerable amount of files, though I have no way of knowing how many more there are that I don’t have. How many they keep on-site.”

“But you have information?”

“I have a lot of junk. Taxes, insurance, quarterly reports, formalities. Prescriptions for mundane crap like, I don’t know, allergies. But, I think I have a few diamonds in the rough. You’re going to have to be more specific than that, though. I do need something to work off of.”

Hero nodded, biting their lip. They hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

They were getting Villain out of that so-called rehab facility. They knew that much. But they needed to be smart about it. They needed information. They needed to know how they could get their friend- foe out of that place quickly, safely, and with as little noise as possible.

“The facility.” They began. “How does it work? It’s a relatively small facility housing a relatively large number of dangerous criminals. How do they... help them? They’re not all treated like Villain, right?”

“I don’t think there’s enough drugs on the continent to keep them all like Villain. Their methods of treatment are... unclear. The patient reports indicate what therapies each one is undergoing, but they don’t have names. Just numbers. Codes. Whatever they do in there, they keep it in house. My doctor friends have never heard of any of it, before.”

“Then how do they do it? Drugs?”

“If they have some kind of secret therapy, I don’t know about it. But they do have something else. They call it AMRS.”

“AMRS?”

“The Automatic Magnetic Restraint System. A fancy name for a crude practice. They’re vague about it, of course, but from what I can tell, each resident wears these four ring things. Bracelets, it calls them. One on each wrist, one on each ankle. A single push of a button, and they all link together. Any escape stopped in a second.”

“That seems...”

“Cruel? Yeah. But I guess it could be worse. As far as how the facility operates, though, that’s all I have. It’s not drugs, as far as I can tell. I have those dosage reports for everyone, and those that take medicine seem to do so for genuine medical conditions. Insulin, epilepsy medication, that kind of thing.”

“None of the others are sedated?”

“Not officially.”

“But Villain...”

“I think if they were any more heavily sedated, they’d go right from a temporary sleep to a permanent one.”

“You mean-”

“They’d die, yes. It’s called a euphemism, dumbass.”

“I know that. So, what about Villain, do you have anything else on them?”

“They’ve been kept heavily sedated since they arrived. Regular patient records, they just... don’t have them. No behavior reports, no treatment reports, nothing.”

“I guess they’re not really treating them.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve really been kept like this, ever since I- Ever since they arrived?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Then it wasn’t reactionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t try to like, blow up the facility, or kill up all the staff, or anything?! They were just knocked out. Locked up. They weren’t even given a chance to be good?”

Hacker lowered their gaze, nodding.

“Why?”

“Are you sure you want-”

“You know why?”

“I’m not certain, but-”

“Show me.”

Hacker startled a bit, but nodded once more, starting up their beast of a laptop and typing for a considerable amount of time. Hero could not help but hold their breath, and when the computer was at last turned to face them, they felt about to pass out.

“Wait.” Hacker spun the computer back. “You need to promise me something, first.”

“What?” Hero hated how desperate they sounded.

“Whatever you do, after you see this... please, just think it through.”

“Okay.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

The screen was returned to Hero.

They halfway expected another video feed. A video of Villain, destroying and killing and doing something, anything to deserve their current treatment.

Instead, they were faced with an email. Or, at least, a screenshot of one. Passed through enough computers that the jpeg artifacts had begun to show.

An email from Director to Head Doctor.

The text was simple. Curt. A simple request to destroy a life.

“I am certain that you are aware of the new patient you will be intaking tomorrow. I request that you do not classify them among the other patients. Normal intake procedures will be unnecessary. You need only keep them contained. Alive if you can, dead if you must.

Villain must never see the light of day again. I trust that you will be able to accomplish this.

Thank you-- Do not forget that we will be meeting for lunch next Wednesday.”

Not even a hundred words. That was all it took, to turn a spirited fighter to a vegetable.

“Thank you, Hacker. I think... I think I need to go home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hero’s parting from the restaurant was sudden enough to make several other patrons look up. Hacker could not help but feel embarrassment well up in their chest. They hated being out in public like this.

They figured, even with the cold food sitting before them, they should be going. Finger on their mouse, they closed the email on the screen, revealing-

Not their desktop.

They had forgotten. They had meant to show Hero and they had forgotten.

Now, the video sat there, waiting. A chipper white arrow informing them that it was ready to play at any time.

They shouldn’t have. Hell, they could have at least waited to go home. But...

Hacker plugged in a set of earbuds, setting the buds themselves in their ears.

They clicked play.

Even on the rather low-quality security camera footage, the crash was loud enough to make Hacker jump. Three lab-coated figures, a mess of limbs and white coats, leapt atop the hospital gown wearing person like a predator after prey.

Villain was not facing the camera, but it made no difference. Their voice made them more than distinctive enough.

“Get the fuck off of me! Get off get off get off!“ The scream was loud enough to break the microphone’s volume filter, turning into a single, mournful screech.

If the labcoats heard, they did not listen. They positioned themselves along their captive’s body-- one holding their legs, one the arms, and one forcing their face to the tile.

“Please!”

The fourth figure wore a different outfit, a pair of blue scrubs, though the camera quality made them appear almost grey. Represented by only a few pixels, the syringe in their hand was none the less distinctive.

“Hold them still, please.” The doctor muttered, kneeling down beside Villain, their hysterical screaming not missing a beat.

“No! No! Please, please don’t do this! I don’t want to go! Please!”

There were no comforting words. Only the satisfied nodding of the head doctor as their needle slipped deftly to a vein and administered its contents.

“What is that, what is that, no no no please!”

A nurse handed down another syringe, and another, and another. The timestamp in the video’s corner dragged on in agonizing slowness as new pinpricks of blood welled up over Villain’s skin.

It took only a few minutes for their screaming to stop. Then their thrashing. Then, they closed their eyes.

It would be a long, long time until they opened them again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Of course, home was not a place of rest. Not as much as Hero would have liked it to be. They were not a civilian-- they were not that lucky. They did not have the chance to return home to a soft bed and a loving family.

No. When they went home, they went to work.

It was only past noon when they returned home to the HQ. A time at which the towering building stood largely abandoned, its occupants leaving in droves to flood the nearby restaurants like a locust swarm.

Riding the elevator to the floor containing their quarters, Hero hoped beyond hope that their team, too, had gone out.

But, of course, they had no such luck.

They didn’t even make it to their quarters. No, as soon as the elevator doors opened, their heart sunk.

“I saw you walk in.” Leader’s arms were crossed over their chest, a single eyebrow raised. “Let’s go to my office.”

“I was just about to go back to my dorm-”

“Actually, you were just about to follow my orders and go to my office.”

Hero slumped their shoulders. They didn’t have the energy to fight this, especially since they knew it was a fight they couldn’t win.

Leader’s office was a place they had all visited, though never under good circumstances. It was far too immaculately kept for what it was used for, a solid oak desk standing in a room well decorated with house plants and bookshelves. Leader took their seat, and Hero reluctantly did the same, across from them.

“So,” Leader began--they were not one for formalities. “When exactly when you planning on telling me?”

“If you’re going to yell at me about something, you at least have to tell me what.”

“Teammate told me, yesterday. They found out why you’re getting so distracted.”

Hero dropped their gaze. They weren’t exactly surprised about this. They only hoped Teammate had kept their mouth shut about their plans.

“It’s really nothing.” Hero tried. “I’ll get over it.”

“This anniversary you’re getting so upset over was ten days ago. By the time you get over it, another year will have already passed. So, no. You’re not getting out of it that easily. I need to know what’s gotten you so worked up.”

Hero gripped the arm of their chair.

“I’m worried. That’s all. Worried about Villain. It’s been too long. They’ve been so silent for so long.”

Leader frowned.

“I can personally assure you that Villain is being well taken care of. The rehabbers have more experience than you could imagine.”

“That’s just it! Villain spent so long terrorizing the city, and they’re still here. But they’re so quiet.”

Leader sighed, sitting up straight in their chair.

“This isn’t just a minor distraction. You need to know that. It’s reflecting on your performance, and heavily. Enough that Director has noticed.”

“Director?”

“Yes. They asked me about the situation, and I informed them of your current problem. They stated that, if it really is such a concern to you, they can have Villain moved to another facility. Somewhere farther.”

“No!”

“What? They think it would help, really. Out of sight. Out of mind.”

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Leader can help. Tell the truth - Should Hero tell Leader about Director’s role in Villain’s condition?

B.) Leader can also ruin the whole operation. Lie - What should Hero do next?

[morgansmoreid]

Do You Still Love Me • Derek Morgan • Chapter Twenty

Chapter Name: "Awake"

Fic Masterlist

Content/Trigger Warnings: None

---

Everything is so sore. Her throat, her arms, her feet.

The doctor removes his flashlight from right in front of Y/n eyes and scribbles things on her clipboard before sliding it next to the door, leaving Derek and Y/F/N with Y/n while the others speed their way to the hospital.

"Hi love," Derek eagerly, but softly presses his hand to her cheek once more, taking in her warmth as Y/F/N fluffs the pillows and helps her sit up.

"Hi," Y/n's voice is scratchy and low.

"Um, are you ok?" Y/F/N awkwardly asks. "I can get the doctor if you need anything. Ice, more bandages-" He starts to ramble but even though it costs her pain, Y/n reaches out her arm and places her hand on her fathers arm.

"You gave us a scare," A nurse comes in, readjusting Y/n's IV.

It hurts to say more so Y/n only brings herself to a pathetic smile. Once the nurse leaves, it's just the three in the room again and Y/n finds the strength to grab Derek's hand but can't squeeze it as she wants so he does instead.

"Water?" She speaks. "Please." Her eyes follow to the pink cup in the corner.

Y/F/N lifts Y/n's cheek and grabs a straw but the young female can only drink a sip before the water falls out her mouth in her cry of pain.

Both men pat her dry as soft as they can but Y/n pushes them away and turns her head as she starts crying.

She feels weak. She can't drink. She can't hold Derek's hand. She can't even tell anyone she saw her mom. She can't move her own legs and can't smile without her face aching seconds later.

She cries and cries, not being able to wipe her own tears. Her breathing becomes hard and she ignores the pain in her chest as she continues.

Fuck.

It's way to heavy for her and spots appear in her vision. Nurses come in and sedate her, her vision going fully black and her body numb.

"She's stressed right now," An intern, one with a lab jacket of food stains and a hair that looks stiffer than the door writes on her clipboard before whispering to the nurse about adjusting Y/n's meds. They argue before everyone, who is now in the room and confused watch as the doctor shuts down the nurse and changes the medication themselves.

"I am the doctor. Stay in your lane." They point their finger in the poor nurses face.

Everyone, in a better mood listen to Derek and Y/F/N talk.

"She gave us a smile." Derek looks over to the bed, the body in it limp and distressed.

"She tried to drink water but it was to much," Y/F/N explains.

"But she's a fighter," Aaron lets himself crack his own smile before join the side conversations.

The room is no longer tense. It's calm and everyone is waits for Y/n to awake once more while they get food and open her door to the staff that send in gift bags and treats that Y/n could eat.

"God bless you." A technician says.

"May she make it." Another member says.

Engulfed in Derek's hand, Y/n slowly squeezes her partners hand and everyone turns their heads at the new stats.

"Hi!" Penelope says at the y/e/c orbs that look at her. "Gosh I've missed those beauties." She smiles.

Y/n moves her head to the side and looks at the clock. 9:34 AM, it reads.

Early.

It's early.

This time, Derek helps Y/n sit up and even though she doesn't say much, she misses everyone around her as they talk around her.

"Want to try again?" Derek holds up the water cup. And with a small nod, Y/n pulls her head forward and brings her lips to the straw. Derek levers his hand under her mouth but she successfully and surprisingly takes a full sip. She can't take anymore and shakes her head for Derek to pull it away.

Everyone resumes their conversation when Y/F/N, who stepped out comes back with dinner, a warm chicken soup for Y/n.

"Thank you." The raspiness in her voice still shocking everyone.

Derek and Y/n are soon left alone to talk when neither of them know what to say.

"Y/n-" He starts.

"Do you still love me?" She asks, tears stuck in her throat.

"Of course I do!" Derek's baffled at Y/n's question.

"But I-" Y/n can't think of the right words. "I'm not me." She sighs.

"But you are. You're mine. I'll always love you. Look at me." Derek slowly moves Y/n's leg and sits at the end of the bed. "Always and forever." He holds out his pinky.

"Always and forever." Y/n pulls her own finger over his before he kisses her lips.

He's missed them. They weren't her lips before, they were just still. This kiss provides joy.

This kiss gives him life.

This kiss is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Sorry to ruin the moment but med time!" A different nurse comes in and reads the board before inserting the needle into Y/n's IV and changing the fluids.

Y/n quickly feels the difference but says nothing as Derek holds her cheek and she kisses the inside of her hand.

Once more everyone comes back to say good night and head to the new hotel, this time Aaron and Derek being the ones who stay with Y/n.

"Night baby," Derek grins.

"Night." Y/n runs her fingers through the small stubble on Derek's head as he makes home on beside her leg.

He can finally close his eyes.

He can finally stop worrying.

He can-

The sound of the flatline sounds the room and doctors are back in the room, just as confused as the next.

"She was doing good." The original surgeon screams, before looking at clipboard.

"Who ordered this?!" He looks at the meds. "Best bet that she has internal bleeding right now," He screams at the intern who didn't bother to read the file and gave Y/n the wrong meds.

"OR 4. Now." Y/n is carried at the room.

"You're back?" Y/M/N says.

"For good mommy."

[noirineverysense]

Chapter 7

Previous >> Masterlist >> Next

Inspired by @humdrummoloch prompt 1832.

4 years earlier.

Arthur lies on a countryside path, bloody and bruised. His breath rattles in his chest as the harsh sun bears down, scorching and unrelenting. He attempts to move but is met with protests of pain shooting up his limbs.

Am I going to die here?

His mind flashes back to the moments before he is attacked. He had been carrying files he had taken from a facility that a client had mentioned they had heard strange noises from, when a van drove up alongside him. Men in black balaclavas jumped out and ripped the files out of his hand then beat him with fists and kicks. One had a bat that was driven into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Another pulled a blade out and stabbed his side before yanking the knife out. Then they left in the van, as quickly as they came.

There was a coppery taste in his mouth, as he watched a pool of red begin to grow beside him. His phone was too far away for him to reach and call for help.

He hears footsteps approaching, quick and light. Then the intense sun is blocked by the silhouette of a person bending over him. They pull strips of fabric out of a bag, bandages? He winces as pressure is applied to his side. The person, Arthur guesses it’s a woman, is saying things to him but he doesn’t hear it. He passes out at some point while the stranger is on her phone.

He wakes up gasping, head facing a white, tiled ceiling, the same one in all his nightmares. His head twists around to find himself attached to an IV-line; clear fluid being transported into his veins. There’s other medical equipment around him too that he doesn’t how its going to be used on him. His breaths leave his lungs quickly, but air doesn’t seem to return to him. Blood pounded in his ears as his mind raced.

No, no!

D-Don’t hurt me....

I’m not, I’m not a monster!

No....

“NO!” he screams, trying to get himself off the bed, gripping the things in his arm keeping him there. There are shouts, then hands try to hold him down, restraining his movement. Shadows loomed above.

A man in a white lab coat appears in the corner of his eye and he starts thrashing against his captors. He manages to catch one with a flailing hand and there’s a yelp.

“Sedate him!” the man shouts and Arthur feels tears streaming down his eyes.

Please not again, I can’t do this again.

Just kill me! Please!

“Stop it!” A bellow comes from the doorway and there’s a young woman stood there, in a brown jumper and yellow hijab. She’s carrying a sandwich in one hand and looks incensed.

Arthur peers over in fear of another scientist until he notices her clothes and the food in her hand. None of the men in his dreams dressed like that, or came with food.

She storms over to the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she seethed.

“The patient was a danger to himself and others.” The doctor says stiffly.

Oh, it’s a hospital doctor.

I’m in a hospital.

“Does he look like a danger now?!”

“Well, medical procedure states that- “

“I know the fucking procedure!” she yells.

She rushes to the side of the hospital bed, pushing nurses around it out of the way.

“Hey are you okay?” she breathes, bending down to meet his eye-level and holding his hand.

The people at the facility didn’t do that either.

He tries his best to nod and she steps up again, still gripping his hand.

“Did you not think for a second that maybe he was acting like that because he was terrified of being in a hospital? And you holding him down and threatening to sedate him would just make it worse!”

Arthur would laugh if he could, most people didn’t have that kind of perception and it was obvious the doctor and nurses didn’t at the confused looks they gave.

Then he notices the outline of her top half and the medical bag around her shoulder.

“Y-you...” he rasps.

She turns, letting go of his hand. “Me? Me what?”

He coughs, then shakes his head, changing his question.

“Phone?” he asks hoarsely.

“Yeah, I have your phone. You’ve got messed up priorities.”

“C-call Isaac, tell him...”

“I already answered his call, he’s on his way.”

Arthur rests against the pillows, his heart rate finally coming down. The doctor and the nurses glance at him before piling out of the room. He watches as the woman sits in the seat next to him, carefully peeling a sandwich wrapper before taking a bite.

She looks back at him, “What? I’m not giving you any.”

“No,” his voice is still hoarse, ���thank you.”

She keeps her gaze on him, “It’s my job.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“A medic.”

Oh. That’s convenient.

“You looking for a job?”

She looks down at her sandwich and takes another bite.

“Maybe,” she mumbles.

“Work for me.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “That’s very forward of you. What do you do?”

“Hunt ghosts, aliens, werewolves, you name it.”

She sighs and bites her sandwich again.

“Don’t waste my time.”

“I’m being serious.” Arthur frowns.

She looks up in shock, “What?”

“I’m a paranormal investigator. My partner and I solve cases on the supernatural.”

“What?!”

“We get injured on a semi-regular basis and as we take more cases, the chances of that happening are increasing,” Arthur explains. “So we need a medic.”

Isaac bursts through the door, eyes darting back and forth until he sees Arthur’s bed and rushes to it.

“And that’s your partner?” she asks.

“Yep, work with us.”

“You’re supposed to frame it as a question.”

“I can already tell you’re thinking about it.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she points out, “and you don’t even know mine.”

“It’s Nasira, isn’t it?”

Nasira’s eyes widen in shock, “How do you- “

“You have tag on your medical bag with your name on.”

She relaxes in her chair, “If you think I’m impressed by that, I’m not.”

“Why do you carry a medic’s bag if you haven’t got a job?”

“Why do you think? To help idiots like you when no-one else does.”

“Not interrupting anything, am I?”

They both turn to look at Isaac who glances at Arthur before smiling at Nasira’s irritated look.

“He’s hiring you?”

“Trying to.” Nasira rolls her eyes.

Arthur sighs before he lifts his head off the pillows and looks directly at her.

“My name is Arthur Reyes, I’m a detective looking into the things hidden by this city. It’s a high-risk job, but if you give me your trust, I will protect you with my life. You want in?”

Nasira raises a brow at the honesty of the man before she frowns as she thinks.

She looks between Isaac’s grin and Arthur’s narrowed eyes. Her gaze drops to the floor.

Arthur sighs. “Here, take this.” He nods at Isaac who passes a card to her. Then, she gets up and walks away from the two who started to mutter to each other.

While she leaves, Nasira looks down to read the card.

‘ACP - the Agency for Cryptids and the Paranormal.’

There’s a number and address too.

“You came?” Arthur’s eyes widen as he stands at the door of the office that Nasira had knocked on.

“I wanted to give my answer in person.”

“Well, what are you thinking?”

Nasira looks up toward the city skyline behind Arthur, an aloof expression on her face.

“Maybe we could talk about this over coffee?” Arthur suggests.

Her attention returns to Arthur, “Don’t like coffee.”

“Aah, me neither,” he rubs the nape of his neck.

“How about we go for a walk?”

“Don’t like walking.”

“.... Or I could text you?”

“Don’t like texting.”

Arthur sighs in resignation, “So it’s a no?”

“It’s a yes.”

Arthur turns to leave before his head whirls back around.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she quirks an eyebrow and puts a hand on one hip, “I’m in.”

“But- “

“Well, show me around your office then.” She starts to push Arthur back through the agency’s door.

The sun hides away for the day, giving way to a cool night breeze.

Arthur laughs, “Okay, okay. I’m still injured, you know.”

She stops pushing and starts to walk beside him.

“Let’s go, then.”

taglist: @tinyplan3ts

[page-doctor-bekker]

Exposé - msbp!au

(A/N) So this is like, an exposition I guess. It’s necessary for the rest of the story. Ginormous trigger warning for allusions to child abuse, gaslighting + manipulation.

-

-

Sarah's vision blurred, as she faded in and out of consciousness. The pain is intense, and she feels like she might die. This isn't survivable. The worst of the pain hits her all at once, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream into her gag. After that pain, nothing.

"Oh Sarie, I have some bad news," His voice cut through the pain, like a scalpel in her lower back, "You're going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life..."

"Good morning Sarie," Sarah's dad sung, turning on the overhead lights as he walked into her room. He was holding a medium-sized pink bin, lined with a sterile sheet to create a sterile field, with a few syringes and medications, as well as sterile gloves, alcohol swabs, and a few other supplies. Sarah was scared awake, letting out a short groan. Her dad pulled a chair up, before pulling on a pair of gloves and disconnecting Sarah's PICC line from her overnight infusion.

He opened up a 10mL saline flush, screwed it onto the end of her line, and slowly pushed the plunger, drained the syringe into the line. Next, he pulled out another syringe, this time a 3mL syringe, half-full with clear liquid. He connected the syringe to the line, and administered the medication. She almost instantaneously felt calmer and sedated, as the Ativan coursed through her system. He proceeded to flush the line with more saline, then a syringe of Heparin. After that flush, he finished off the line by screwing on a swab cap. He tucked the line under the PICC cover, and pulled off and disposed of his gloves. Lastly, he helped Sarah sit up, and guided a small cup of pills into her shaky hand. He gave her a water cup with a straw, and helped her take her pills.

Sarah's dad moved her wheelchair closer to the bed and locked the wheels. He gently took the blankets off of her body, and threaded his left arm under her knees, and his right arm under her armpits around her body. He lifted her into her wheelchair, and buckled up her seatbelt. He hummed to her as he put her minimalist neck brace on to keep her head from flopping forward. The brace had a strap around the back of her neck, with two hard plastic pieces at the sides of her neck. The top of those plastic pieces split off onto a chin pad to hold her chin in place, and the bottoms of the plastic pieces split off into two rods that joined in a v-shape at her sternum.

Sarah’s dad turned off her overnight oxygen concentrator, and started peeling the cannula tape off of her prominent cheekbones. Sarah coughed a few times as the oxygen stopped.

“Today is tube change day,” Her dad announced, and Sarah was wheeled into the kitchen where she was sat at the table. Her dad started rummaging through the formula cabinet, "Do you want something to eat before we leave for the hospital?"

Sarah was quiet for a moment, trying to process those words through her Ativan-jumbled brain, "...Yes..." She finally decided, speaking slowly, "Can... I have... a..." She paused, thinking of what she wanted, "Cereal..."

"Yes," Sarah's dad confirmed, moving to fix her a bowl of cereal. A few quiet, zoned-out minutes later she was presented with a bowl of fruit loops. Her dad fitted the rings of her adaptive spoon onto her pointer finger and her thumb, and she started to spoon her cereal into her mouth. Her dad sat down to supervise as always, to make sure she didn't aspirate.

He multi-tasked, filling her feed bag with four cartons of formula and 8 ounces of Miralax mixed into water. He closed up the bag, and fitted the tubing into the Infinity pump. He flipped the bag upside down, and pushed the button to prime the tube. Once formula started dripping out of the end of the tube, he stopped.

Sarah's dad lifted her shirt, gently pulled the split gauze off from around her tube, and cleaned the area, "Today we have..." He grabbed the small fabric circle from the table, "Purple and pink stripes!" He fitted the tubie pad around her tube and clipped it together, and let her shirt fall.

Sarah finished her cereal, and watched as her dad tucked the bag of formula and the pump into one of Sarah’s various backpacks, and hung it on the back of her wheelchair. This particular backpack was a pale pink, with a panda on the front. On the lower right side of the backpack there was a plastic port where the tubing came out of. On the right side of Sarah’s wheelchair, between the back of the chair and the armrest was a velcro strap that held the tube out of the way of the wheel. He left her for a moment, grabbing an ice pack to tuck into the bag with the formula.

Sarah watched him, puzzled and confused, “Why aren’t you starting feeds?”

“Yes, we are going to the hospital today, you are due to have your tube replaced,” He started a sterile field, and started to draw up the day’s medications, five IV syringes and one G-tube syringe. He capped the syringes and tossed them into a plastic bag. He put her nighttime pills into a small pill container, and put it in the bag as well, “Just in case we aren’t home in time,” He put the bag into her backpack, “

Sarah started coughing a dry, rough cough. Her dad rubbed her back with one hand, and reaching over onto the table for her portable oxygen concentrator. He tucked the cannula into her nose and turned it on. She started to breathe easier, and her dad smiled.

Once she started to feel better, he spoke up, “I need to stop the machine so I can put this in your backpack and organize the tubing, okay?”

She nodded, and he turned the machine off and unplugged the tubing from the machine. Working quickly, he looped the excess tubing up and secured it with a tubie clip that he clipped to her shirt. He fed the tubing through the the velcro port in the back of her wheelchair, then through the port in her backpack. The oxygen concentrator went into the backpack, and he turned in back on once it was set up.

Once she was all set up, her dad looked at his watch, “I think it’s time to get this show on the road!”

Sarah nodded, and leaned against her headrest while her dad pushed her through the house, then out the door.

Sarah dozed all the way to the hospital, barely lucid enough to realize when she was being taken out of the car, and into the hospital.

“Let’s take a look at the ol’ g-tube then, ready?” Sarah was woken from her daze by the doctor, a brunette woman that Sarah had seen multiple times before, Dr. Manning.

Sarah nodded at the doctor, leaning back and lifting her shirt up to the underwire of her bra, exposing the tube.

“Mind if I give her her 11:00 meds?” Her dad inquired, looking at his watch. The doctor nodded and Sarah’s dad stole a pair of gloves from the wall and started fiddling with her PICC line. He pushed her morphine first, which immediately started to chill her out even more than the Ativan. The next medication was Benadryl, which was followed by saline and Heparin.

As the Benadryl kicked in, Sarah dozed off just in time for Dr. Manning to pull the tube out for the change.

An indiscernable amount of time later, Sarah woke up in a hospital bed, a different room from the procedure room she had been in before. 

“Sarah?” Her dad whispered, looking up from his phone. Sarah made a noise in the back of her throat, feeling a thin tube down her throat, and rubbed her eyes, before looking at her dad.

“Dad?” She croaked, “Where... Why are we here? Why do I have a nose tube?”

“You have an infection,” He explained, scooting closer to her bed and grabbing her right hand, “In your tube. They want to keep you here because of your immunodeficiency, they want to be a little more aggressive this ti-”

There was a knock at the door, and a doctor and a nurse walked in. They both helped themselves to some hand sanitizer off of the wall, and greeted her dad. Sarah settled back down, staying quiet.

“Whenever ANYONE in the hospital comes to talk to us, you stay QUIET. Do you hear me? Sarah, look at me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? You are to remain absolutely silent. Do not tell them anything, you don’t understand what you’re talking about anyways. I’m the only one that can advocate for you. You’re only going to make things worse.”

“Do you have any idea how this infection might have started? Any other signs of illness, maybe another infection that spread? Have you travelled recently?”

“No, none of that.”

“And you’re always touching the tube with clean hands, cleaning it twice a day, using clean gauze, clean supplies, bathing often?”

“Yes, very clean. I’m very careful. She’s immunocompromised, and I would never do anything that could put her in danger.”

Sarah’s stomach churned. No, not clean.

“And you’re the only one who handles her tube? Is mom involved? Home healthcare nurses, babysitters?”

“Nope, it’s just me,” Sarah’s dad laughed, “Her mother took off, left me in the dust. No help I ever see! And I don’t let anyone else handle her tube.”

“Well, I think we’re going to go in for endoscopy to see what’s going on inside, see if the infection is in her stomach as well, maybe bacterial gastroenteritis, ulcers, buried bumper syndrome. We’ll see what we can find and take some more cultures.”

“Dirty tube...”

Sarah’s dad looked at her with a wrath hotter than a thousands suns, and then chuckled at the doctors, “Sorry, she just woke up. Sometimes she echoes what she hears from others, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“My tube is dirty,” She asserted groggily.

“Sweetheart, they just cleaned it an hour ago, it’s not dirty,” Sarah’s dad reassured, squeezing her hand. She sighed, and laid back.

The doctor left, and Sarah’s dad dropped her hand aggressively, “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, “They will take you away from me and hurt you. Is that what you want?”

Sarah shook her head.

“You will die without me. Do you understand? I do everything for you. I care for you, I do everything with no help. God forbid I make mistakes. God forbid I forget things sometimes.”

She looked away.

He grabbed the tube and pulled her to face him, which yanked the tape off of her cheek. She coughed as the tubing shifted in her throat.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He scowled at her, before putting on a worried face, “Nurse!” He flagged down a nurse walking by their door, “She pulled the tape off. Poor thing, she doesn’t understand.”

-

-

(A/N) anyways sorry ava wasn’t in this one, i just needed to set the scene lol. hope you enjoyed!

[writer1]

Reunited

Warnings: Death, lots of death, Angst.

A\N: This is the start of a fic series for my OC Gears, I hope everyone likes it!

Gears opens his eyes to a room filled with doctors, he looks around. They are all studying him, talking about him in whispers that he can’t hear at the moment. He can’t remember what happened, how he got here, or anything. All he can remember is his name, and that he was a clone Commander. He tries to move, lifting up a hand to his face. That’s when he sees it, his hand is robotic! At first Gears believes it's cybernetic, that he was injured during a… a battle maybe? and they had to amputate. Then he looks at the rest of his body, and lets out a scream. “What the hell happened to me!!!” He yells at the doctors as he tries to jump off the table and attack them, but he crashes down to the floor, unable to walk. His whole body is robotic, not human like it’s supposed to be.

He continues to scream until the doctor’s have to sedate him, although he doesn't know how since he's a machine, and his mind promptly falls into darkness.

xxx

Gears fights his hardest as he shoots through the mounds of droids, his battalion and him were on a mission to get data from a separatist base on Queyta, but everything went wrong when the intel didn’t say that there were this many droids. His men had been promptly surrounded, and the battle started. Gears had lost sight of their Jedi General a while ago, and he can’t find sight of her. Gears fights his hardest, doing his best to protect his brothers.

He doesn’t know what to do, this is a losing battle, he watches as some of his men, his brothers, fall. Some fall into the lava when they’re shot, instantly burning alive. He can hear shiny’s that are crying for lost Vod, only being silenced when they are inevitably shot and killed. It makes him angry, those shiny’s had just gotten off of Kamino, they have hardly lived and now it’s just, they are just… gone. Gears tears up as he fights, the gunshots and explosions are raining down around him, as he does his best to protect his remaining men. He feels like he’s failed as he hears the screams, the blaster fire that is taking the lives of everyone around him, Gears prays to the force Rex and the others are okay at the Citadel.

It isn’t long until he’s the last one left, not even the Jedi left alive, he’s exhausted, breathing heavily and unable to fight anymore. He’s finally restrained by two of the droids, and Count Dooku himself walks up to him. “Well, look what we have here.” He says with a smug smile, making Gears growl, staring at the man who did this, killed his whole battalion. “I’ll never tell you anything.” He hisses angrily, and Dooku walks up, ripping his helmet off of his head. He can see the anger on Gears’ face, and his clenched jaw. Dooku just laughs at him. “I know you won’t tell me anything.” Dooku kneels down and places his lightsaber against Gears’ chest. “But I will give you a chance to tell me what you know, or I will kill you.” Gears glares Dooku down. “I'm not an aruetii, not like you.” Dooku smiles as Gears glares. “Your choice.” and he clicks the button.

The lightsaber pierces right through Gears’ chest, making his eyes widen, as all he feels is a burning fire in his chest. His mouth opens in a silent scream, then he knows no more.

xxx

Gears wakes up once again to an empty room, he looks around, then down at himself. He lets out a soft whimper, looking down at a body that isn't his, he shakes his head a little. "No." He whimpers out as he tries to stand up off the table, but he falls to the ground once again, no one is there to pick him up this time.

He starts to cry softly, but no tears come out. It's weird, hearing his own sobs and voice, but not feeling himself breathe, or his mouth move. He can hear gunfire in the distance, the sounds of… the sounds of his brothers yelling out. Memories start coming back to him, memories of younger Cadets. His brothers, and his youngest Vod…. Rex, Rex was his name.

Gears shakes as he hugs his knees close to his chest. "Please…" he whimpers out, so scared. He just wants his brothers. His Ori'Vod Cody, and his younger brothers Wolffe, Fox, Bly And Rex, the young blonde Captain who Cody saved from being decommissioned.

Gears shakes as footsteps get closer to the door, and he pushes himself against the back wall. He keeps his knees close to his chest as he whimpers in fear, his voice sounding exactly the same as when he was human. He hides his head in his knees when he hears a gasp, and looks up to see a Jedi in front of him. He’s holding a blue lightsaber, seeming ready to strike. “P-Please?” Gears says quietly, and the Jedi freezes as his eyes go wide. “Y-You… you’re a clone!” He whispers, then notices the file sitting on the table, his eyes widen as he walks over and picks it up. Gears watches the Jedi, he blinks as his memory of this Jedi comes back, General Skywalker. Skywalker's eyes widen as he looks over at Gears.

“Gears?” Gears' neck snaps up, as he stares at General Skywalker. “General Skywalker.” He says automatically as General Skywalker's eyes somehow widen even more. “No, just call me Anakin, Gears.” Gears nods as Anakin brings a Comlink up to his face. “Rex, I think you need to come down here.” Gears feels fear overtake him as he realizes that his baby brother is coming, that he’s going to see him like… this. Gears hides his head in his knees, scared of what his baby brother is going to think of him.

xxx

Rex races down the halls, wondering what's going on. Anakin had told him that there was something important that he had to see, he told him to get to the medical room ASAP! It made Rex worried, very worried. They had just taken out the Separatists in this base, and if it's something in the medical room. That means it's probably an experiment.

Rex finally makes it to the medical room, and throws the door open. His eyes immediately widen as he sees a Commando droid with its knees curled close to its chest sitting next to a standing Anakin. Rex immediately pulls his Dc-17s out and fires at the droid, but surprisingly Anakin blocks them. And even more surprisingly the droid whimpers… actually whimpers.

Rex's eyes widen as his mouth drops open, the droid looks up at him with almost… Sad eyes?

"Rex'ika?" Rex freezes when the droid says that, and Anakin looks at him sadly, he knows that voice. It's the exact same as his own, but him and his brothers know the difference, Rex can't believe it. He looks to Anakin, who gives him another sad look. "It's Gears, Rex." Rex looks back towards the Droid, taking a step forward and dropping his guns. "Gears?" Gears nods, his head drooping sadly. Rex tears up, then rubs and collapses against Gears. "Ori'Vod!" He cries out as he hugs Gears close, who, after a moment of surprise, wraps his arms around Rex.

"Shhh, Rex'ika. It's okay." The memories of when Rex was a small Cadet come back to Gears immediately as he holds his Vod'ika in his arms. Memories of rocking him in his arms as he cried over having blonde hair, and how the Kaminoans almost decommissioned him. Rex sobs against Gears. "Gears you're… you died… how are… y-you're here." Gears hushes Rex again, pressing a Keldabe kiss to Rex's forehead. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here, I'm different… but I'm here." Gears whispers softly as he lets Rex cry against him, he knows better than others that sometimes, you just need to cry it out. Especially with something as big as this. Anakin watches the interaction with a sad smile, Gears was one of the nicest troopers he had ever met, he had missed him as well.

Rex’s cries turn to small sniffles as he looks up and wipes his eyes, he pulls Gears close to him again. “I… I can’t believe you’re alive! We’ve all thought you were dead for the past six months.” Gears’ eyes would have widened if they could, he can’t believe that he’s been… here, for six months. “I… I’ve been gone that long?” Rex pulls away from Gears and sits beside him, giving a nod. “Yeah, you have. We… we found the rest of your battalion, but you were missing.” Gears takes a shaky breath and nods, as Anakin picks up the folder. “From what this file says, it seems that Gears did die, but his brain was… it was put into the body of a Commando droid as some sick experiment.” Anakin tells them, voice laced with disgust. Rex growls as Gears places a hand on his shoulder, Rex looks over at him. “How are you feeling, Ori’Vod?” Gears shakes a little, but tries to be strong for his Vod’ika.

“I’m missing lots of my memory, but it seems to come back when I see something familiar. I can’t walk right yet either.” Rex nods. “We’ll get you to Kix and Coric as soon as possible, me and the General can help you get to a Gunship and out of here.” Gears would smile if he could. “Good, It’d be nice to see a few more familiar faces.” Both Rex and Anakin notice the little shake in his voice, making Rex place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Ori’Vod. I promise.” Gears nods as Rex stands up, helping Gears to his feet, he allows Gears to wrap his arm around his shoulders as Anakin comes to the other side and does the same.

They help him walk out of the room and down the hall, as they pass 501st soldiers, there are stares, but none of them shoot at the Commando droid, they know that if the General and Captain aren't trying to kill it, then it’s needed for something. Gears stares at the ground as they go, he doesn’t look up at his brothers they pass, he can’t. Once they get outside, Rex and Anakin walk Gears to a gunship. They sit him down outside of one as Rex turns to Anakin. “I can call Fives to help me take over from here, sir, you help the men here.” Anakin nods, handing Rex a folder. “Okay, heres his file they had, the medics might need it.” Rex nods and takes it as Anakin runs off to help get the supplies, then Rex turns and spots Fives. “Fives!! I need your help.” Fives comes running over, he glares at the droid, then turns and looks at Rex.

“What do you need, Rex?” Rex sighs as he looks at Gears. “Fives, this droid. He’s… He’s Gears, Fives.” Fives eyes widen, then he looks at Gears. “What! I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Rex.” Rex sighs, but before he can explain more, Gears pipes up. “It’s me, Vod’ika.” Fives physically startles as he hears his Ori’Vod’s voice. “Gears! No no no, this isn’t possible, you died.” Gears sighs heavily, blinking his eyes off and back on. Rex turns to Fives. “He did die, but the Separatist’s put his brain into a droid.” Fives gapes at Rex as he hears this, then he kneels down and pulls Gears into a hug. “I’m so happy to have you back, Ori’Vod. I’m so sorry about what they did to you.” Gears hugs him closely, rubbing Fives back with the softest touch. It's not as comfortable as it was while he was a human, but Fives doesn’t care, or tell Gears that.

“It’s okay, Fives. I’m okay, Vod’ika.” Gears whispers, and Fives hugs him close in a tight hug, tears falling down his face. “Fives, we have to get him on the gunship and to the medbay." Fives looks up at Rex and nods, then he hooks one of Gears’ arms around his shoulder, as Rex walks over and does the same. They carry him up and onto the gunship, then it goes flying off back to the Resolute.

xxx

As soon as it lands, Rex and Fives help Gears out, He puts his head down as he hears gasps of brothers. He hates this, looking like a… like a droid!! Their enemy. Gears keeps his head down as Rex and Fives lead him to the medbay, when they enter there is a gasp. “What the kriff is a commando droid doing in my medbay!!” Gears looks up, and almost cries from happiness, seeing his… Vod’ika? Yeah, his Vod’ika Kix. Gears sighs, he hates not having all his memory intact, but everything is seeming to come back to him, so that's good.

“Kix… It’s Gears.” Kix raises an eyebrow, and looks at Gears. “Why the kriff are you joking about that Rex, you of all people should know how hurtful that is.” Kix growls through clenched teeth, Rex and Fives glance at each other sadly, then look at Gears. “Gears, I think you need to talk to him.” Gears nods. “Hey, Kix.” Kix’s eyes widen, then they fill with tears. “I… how?” Gears lets go of Rex and Fives and lets himself fall against Kix, hugging him. Kix wipes the tears away, then he frowns.

“The Separatist--” “Yes.” Gears confirms Kix’s suspicions, and Kix growls. “They had no right!” Gears shakes his head. “There's nothing we can do about it now.” Rex smiles, and so does Fives. “Oh, here's his chart Kix.” Kix nods and takes the chart, then he helps Gears over to a medical bed. “You sit here, I’ll read over your chart, and see what's going on… inside you.” Gears nods, and Kix walks away, then he turns to Rex. “I’m sorry.” Rex and Fives both frown. “What are you sorry for?”

Gears lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry for dying, I just… I couldn’t--” Rex slams into Gears, pulling him into a hug. “Don’t you ever be sorry for dying, or for you being like this.” Fives steps forward and nods. “Yeah, you are still our Ori’Vod, no matter what!” Gears nods, wishing he could smile. But Gears then looks at Fives and tips his head to the side, then he asks the question that Rex and Fives hadn’t had time to think about. “Where's Echo?”

Taglist: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @ahsokatano-thetogruta @lightning-wolffe

[dallaswinstonsleatherjacket]

Sedated from hosier prompt list

Death. Ok then.

You didnt say which ship so-D a l l y p o p

also i wrote this at 2am and just edited it in English class so its not that good I'm v sorry-

Soda ran desperately through the halls of the hospital, skidding to a stop in front of a desk.

“Please-” he panted. “Please I need-I need to see my-my friend-”

“Room?” The lady sitting behind the desk seemed uninterested, snapping her gum and peering over her glasses at Soda.

“I don't-I don't know, he just got here-they said it's bad-”

“You have his name, at least?” The woman said impatiently, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah-Dallas Winston.”

He repeated it over and over in his head like a mantra while the woman looked around her desk, shuffling through papers. Dallas Winston. Dallas Winston. Dallas Winston.

“Room 193.” She said finally, and Soda mumbled a quick thank you before running off.

He hated hospitals. Last time he had been in one, his brother nearly died, and the time before that, his parents did die. They seemed like a bad omen, a sign. The white tile on the floor blurred as he ran, as fast as he could for a hospital. 

“190, 192-oh.”

Soda stopped outside the room. He tried not to look at the charts on the door, all reading URGENT and CRITICAl. Leaning his head on the door, he closed his eyes for a minute before pushing the door open and walking in.

It was worse than he ever could have imagined. 

Dally looked small and pale in the bed, weak in a way Soda had never seen him before. The ivory sheets were pulled tight around him, tucked under the mattress as tight as if he was in the army. His hands, which were pale as well, and looked freezing, rested calmly on his stomach, folded neatly. If Soda didn't know any better, he would have thought he was dead.

Blonde hair was strewn out all over the pillow, but less than usual. Some had been shaved close to the scalp near the back, where a few small bandages were placed. Tubes came out of everywhere, and a pale blue, slightly transparent mask covered his mouth and nose. Soda thought it might be for breathing, although he wasn't doing much of that. Dally’s breaths were short and shallow and far between, and if Soda had time to cry he would have, right then.

“Dally..” The words came out a whisper, his chest hurt, pressure sat on it like a rock. His fingers felt numb, and he thought he might faint if he kept standing there, so he walked closer.

He took a seat, the closest one to Dally's bed. He didn't know why the room was empty, someone should have been here with him, but no one was. It was just him and Dally and the beep of the heart monitor. 

“Dally.” He tried again, and it was slightly stronger this time. He grasped one of Dally’s hands and felt its coldness as he wrapped it in his. “Dally…”

The hand squeezed a bit back, and Soda almost jumped out of his chair. One of the fingers twitched, and then Dally's eyes opened.

Soda should've called for a doctor. He was too busy trying not to cry.

“Sodapop.” The voice was hoarse, muffled through the mask. His eyes looked like they hurt to keep open, they kept fluttering shut as if by their own accord. Dally squeezed Soda’s hand again as if to make sure he was real.

“Yeah-yeah, Dally. I'm right here.” Soda stood up and then sat down gingerly on the side of the bed, leaving a gentle kiss on Dally's forehead. 

“What-what happened?”

“I don't know, Dally-” Soda's eyes were filling. “They called the house and said that you got in an accident-I was the only one there, I ran over-god, Dally-I thought-I thought-”

“I know. I know.” Dally's voice was calming, and Soda shook his head. He wasn't supposed to be the crying one here.

“Do you feel okay? I should get a doctor-” Soda moved towards the door, but Dally grabbed his hand again.

“N-no. Please-please, stay here.”

Soda stayed silent, nodding.

“They shaved.,..they shaved my head.” Dally raised his other hand to run his fingers over his bandages. “Now-now I'm as ugly as Two-bit.” He seemed to be having trouble getting words out, but his smirk was the same, even if halfhearted.

“Yes….yes you are.” Soda pulled Dally's hand away from the bandages. “Don't pick at those, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dally shifted a little, and then winced and moved back.

“You okay? You need a doctor?” Soda asked worriedly as Dally moved.

“Naw, I’m fine-the stupid IV-” Dally collapsed backwards, his eyes closing a bit. Then; “I dunno how much longer I can stay awake, Pepsi-cola…”

“You should sleep if you're tired.”

“Will you stay with-me?” Dally’s words were getting more and more slurred. 

“Of course I will.” Soda's voice was clear, he moved back to the chair, still holding onto Dally’s hand.

“I love-I love you, Soda.”

“I love you too, Dally.” 

It was taking everything in Soda not to cry.

Two hours later, Soda woke up to the sound of a heart monitor flatlining. He was drowning in the panicked waves of doctors and nurses around him. One tried to lead him out, but he resisted. Someone was yelling, it could've been him, he couldn't tell. He was crying, he knew it, struggling against someone's grip as he felt the pain shoot through his heart, he could feel Dally leaving in his chest. He was begging him to please wait, please don't go yet, but he couldn't hear a response.

The frantic commotion stopped eventually. The screaming kept going.

Soda returned home that night, eyes cold and tear-stained, surrounded by dark circles. His face was tear-stained, his hands were shaking, his throat felt sore. 

The house was dark, most of the lights were out. Darry was waiting in the chair in the living room, holding the hasty note Soda had scribbled and looking extremely worried.

Soda collapsed into his arms, tears falling once again.

[haro-whumps]

Can I possibly get each of the group whumpees reaction to being sedated/drugged by Galo or someone they think is Galo?

CW: drugging, needles, AU!Galo(?)(We just don’t know)

-

Nyla trotted after Master Galo obediently, if confused. His large hand was warm and gentle around her wrist, and then around her waist as he firmly coaxed her into sitting on the couch. Next to him. touching thigh to thigh.

She did not shake, nor did she protest, but every nerve in her screamed that she needed to get down, down onto the floor. “Master?”

“Hold out your arm for me and roll your sleeve up, okay sweetie?” Master Galo ordered congenially, and Nyla felt her eyebrows dip together briefly before she smoothed her face back into a smile. She did as she was told, nerves rising as Master Galo snapped disposable gloves onto his hands and opened some sort of plastic packaging.

“Master, may I know how best to assist you in... this?”

“Nah, it’s pretty straightforward. You just keep being good.”

“Yes sir.”

Nyla held herself very still as Master Galo rubbed an alcohol wipe over the meat of her upper arm, feeling very much like she was getting a vaccine in the doctor’s office, except she wasn’t due for her yearly checkup for a month yet and Master Galo was not a doctor, nor was this couch an office. “S--” she cleared her throat, “--Sir?”

“Easy, Nyla,” Master Galo said, tapping the syringe so any air bubbles would float to the top and pushing the plunger so a little of the yellow fluid dribbled out. He then braced her arm with one gloved hand and lowered the syringe to her skin, the small prick seeming much louder in her mind than it should have. “There’s my good girl. Don’t worry, things are gonna feel much easier here in just a minute.”

Nyla understood, abstractly, that she’d just been drugged. He’d drugged her. With something. She should be frightened by that. But her mind, her emotions, they weren’t processing that, it was like her brain had run up against a blank wall, some invisible obstacle it couldn’t move past. Master Galo cleaned up the materials and removed his gloves, seeming entirely unbothered, and maybe that was why she couldn’t push her brain past whatever barrier it had smacked against.

She continued to feel nothing but a distant, formless confusion as the fog settled into her bones and she slumped, heavy and immobile, into Master Galo’s waiting arms. He pet her hair and kissed her hairline, crooning out one last, “Good girl.”

-

CW: drugging, pills, learned helplessness

-

Greyson took the two little pills in hand and stared at them, almost contemplatively for all that he didn’t really have many thoughts about the matter.

Mistress Bethany had played this game a few times, when he was young; he’d nearly forgotten about its existence. But he knew what the pills were, well enough. 

He couldn’t really imagine why he was being given them now, when his default mental state was about equivalent to what the pills would drag him down to, but maybe that was the game. To see what effect they would have, if any at all, on someone who was, more or less, already there.

It wasn’t his place to ponder, though. He set the pills on his tongue, took a sip of water, and knelt, waiting for his refreshed purpose as a mindless pawn to settle in.

-

CW: drugging, pills, force-feeding, crying, AU!Galo/Imposter!Galo

-

“S-S-Sir?” Sasha asked tremulously, backing away from the giant who was her master. Her back hit the wall unexpectedly, she jolted, and she squeaked when Master Galo grabbed her by the wrist. He wasn’t hurting her, but he wasn’t letting her go, either.

“Sasha, either you take these yourself, or I make you take them.”

Sasha felt herself start to hyperventilate. She--She couldn’t--She didn’t even know what they--

“Sasha,” Master Galo warned, and Sasha began to cry, trying to stop breathing so hard so she could obey, she wanted to obey, why couldn’t she just obey for once?!

“Aww, Sasha,” Master Galo clicked his tongue, “See, that just seems like you’re trying to get out of this, now.” 

Sasha shook her head frantically, trembling in his hold, her other hand over her mouth as she tried to stop panicking. 

“And resisting,” Master Galo stated, grabbing her other wrist and pressing both above her head against the wall.

“No! No, I w-w-w-wasn’t res-re-r-resis--”

“But see, it looked like you were,” Master Galo stated, one large hand enough to keep both of hers pinned. His other returned to the pills, which he forced past her lips. “So now we do this the hard way.”

His massive hand was large enough to cover her mouth, keep it shut, and pinch her nose at once. Maybe she could’ve given him trouble if she struggled, but she didn’t want to struggle, she wanted to be good. The lack of air rapidly made her dizzy, though, her lungs screaming for air to fuel her panic, but her tongue was sluggish and clumsy and it took her three tries before she finally managed to get both pills down.

She collapsed when he released her, sobbing and shaking and trying to wipe away her snot and tears before her hideous face could add to the trouble she was in.

“There, see?” Master Galo asked cheerfully, hoisting her up over one shoulder. “That wasn’t so bad.”

-

CW: drugging, needles, defiant whumpee

-

“Fuck you!” Evan shouted, thrashing uselessly against the wall of muscle now currently pinning him down. “Fuck you you fucking bastard!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Master Galo grunted, struggling to get Evan in his grip. Evan kneed him just below the ribcage, and nearly wriggled out from under him before Master Galo caught his breath and pinned him again.

“You shit, you fuck, you know I hate needles, I fucking knew your niceguy routine was just an act! I fucking knew it!”

And if Evan had only just started to believe in it, well, he wasn’t going to admit to being hurt.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry Evan, if there was literally any other way to do this believe me I would prefer it.”

“Drink piss and die!”

Master Galo got Evan flipped onto his belly and Evan wailed as he successfully twisted one arm behind his back. Now feeling just how thoroughly he was losing this fight, Evan’s movements lost any semblance of coordination and he clawed frantically at the carpet, flailed, attempted to inflict any damage he could against the man on top of him.

“I’m sorry,” Master Galo muttered, foot pinning Evan’s other hand to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for this and you’ll be right to never forgive me.”

Evan keened as he heard the plastic crinkle, and Master Galo switched the hands he used to pin Evan’s wrist behind his back. He did not let out a raw, terrified sob when the needle sank into his arm, and if anyone else said otherwise they were a fucking liar.

-

CW: drugging, high stakes hide and seek, AU!Galo(?)(Not sure on this one either)

-

Lilah was good at stringing clues together, and this time, she was lucky. She wasn’t really meant to see what Master Galo had bought, but she had, and two and two had added up and she determined it was for her.

The fun thing about being small in a hedge “maze” was that half the plants in the garden were bigger than her, when she crouched down. And by fun, she meant frequently useful. And by frequently useful, she meant the only thing standing between her, and whatever was going to happen to her if Master Galo got that dart in her.

Was this one of his games? Was she being hunted for sport?

...If she told Nyla and the others, would one of them take the fall for her?

Master Galo’s footsteps were getting too close, she needed to move again, switch hides before he checked this one. He’d already checked by the fountain, she could probably dart behind the trellis and sneak over there. He wouldn’t think to double check it for a while yet, right?

She was light on her feet, silent in the open breeze as she moved, very swiftly, to her hide behind the vining plants. Her heartbeat was in her throat, and the holes in the fence meant she was more exposed, but his back was to her, and soon she’d have a chance to check her breath. Which pathway would leave her the least exposed--?

A sharp prick in her shoulder, right next to her neck, informed her she’d lost the game. She pulled the dart out with shocked fingers, and turned as Master Galo rounded past the fence. She tried to summon her courage, the bravado she’d been able to carry lately, as his shadow blocked out the sun. But as her knees began to buckle, all she managed to feel was small.