#being sedated isn’t enough anymore i need to be put down

[feralfangirll]

Denki brainrot bc it’s been so long and I have so many drafts…

Can’t stop thinking about Denki sliding his shaft along your pussy folds, teasing you mercilessly for hours just because you’re his little girlfriend and he loves to make you squirm…

The thick vein along the bottom of his heavy cock parts your pretty little lips ever so slightly, eliciting a hiss from him and a whimper from you. You bite your lip and buck slightly as the tip nudges your sensitive bundle of nerves, slipping over it painfully slowly as his impressive length continues to move upward through your slick folds. His cock is so pretty, pink shiny tip wet from your juices running through your slit over and over. He’s been at this for what feels like hours… or days… you aren’t sure anymore as your head falls back dizzy with lust. You’ve nearly cum so many times but he never lets you get there. Fucking tease…

Finally with a groan, his heavy balls settle over your cunt, resting in the recess of your tight hole, not yet stretched enough to let him in but wet enough he could slip in if he’s not careful. The soft, pudgy skin of his nuts rests heavy against your pussy and your chest heaves at the thought of him finally pumping his load into you. Silver lines your eyes as you wordlessly beg and whine for him to give you reprieve from the aching in your core. Usually he’s the one begging and whining for release but this was revenge. He wanted payback for you ruining him the night before. He only replies with a rumbling chuckle from deep within his chest and resumes his painfully slow torture against your aching cunt.

[fluffypotatey]

Hello hello, S5 ep 9 let's-a-go! Warning, this one is BRUTAL. QXT: Macaque, what are you doing! M: Xiaotian, stop! You don’t need to do this. QXT: I do need to do this! M: I did tell you before to make your own choices, but this isn’t the way Xiaotian! QXT: You don’t understand. If I don’t do this, everyone will be done for! Everything will be destroyed! M: It doesn’t always have to be you! There’s always another way! QXT: But this is the only way! M: That’s not true. You don’t get it! Nines: Who says…*interrupts/traps* ...he doesn’t get it? Not bad. Who taught you that trick? Who did you make a deal with? M: What deal? Nines: Well, that’s not important. Everything’s ending soon anyways. The Harbinger of Chaos knows his mission. Only by sacrificing himself will you all be able to live. Nines is a real piece of work, making it seem like MK has a choice. That he doesn't care what he does, okay bud. Says that he's tired of being controlled by others LOL. Oh, the irony is enough to make this EP taste metallic. Tired of humans locking themselves in cages, ignoring chaos and destiny, etc. The quiet, seething way Macky asks "what deal?" almost seems guarded. Haha, perhaps he knows. MK saying "not this time" feels like a parallel to another episode, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe something Wukong said? Yeah, that sounds right. "Sorry bud. Not this time." Yeah, S3 no? Wasn't there something like that?SWK: Xiaotian, no! Macky, watching this: *sighs* Even if this doesn’t work, I still gotta give it a shot. HELLO SIR YOU TOTALLY KNOW WHAT IS UP WITH YOUR WEIRD POWERS HUH? I'm skipping some parts, mostly the gang and Nine bc this ep is loaded, but note the way Mac's shadows infiltrate and surround the midsection where the power core usually is. SWK: Huh? What? My boi just turned himself into a shadowy nuclear bomb. I don’t like his prospects for the next season. Nines: You- what did you do? Why have I been separated from the chaos? I- I can’t feel it anymore! What did you do?! *screams lungs out as Macky gasps for breath on the ground.* HELLO MACKY IS MY POWER STEALING HC TRUE???? AYOOOOO Nine's is really flipping here, voice going all glitchy, robotic and echo-y. SWK: Macaque, you good? M: What are you waiting for? Stop Xiaotian! It's all about the tentative way Wukong steps forward and asks and Macky is clearly unwell...Is it worse or better than he was down for longer after fighting possessed!Wukong so we couldn't see his half-lidded eyes/struggle for air. He got himself up in the background of the SunBurst hug in a way that could be memed, but this? Nope. I brought it up bc I wanted to see if possessed!Wukong was holding back bc someone said he was re: laser eyes, maybe they meant him not using it until that fight, or the slow way(?) it charged up bc some part of him didn't want to kill Macky, idk. SWK: I won’t let you sacrifice yourself! QXT: Don’t stand in my way, Monkey King. Please. SWK: Not a chance, Xiaotian. You never abandoned me, and I won’t ever abandon you. QXT: Don’t force my hand, Monkey King. EVILLLLLL. JUST LIKE WUKONG SAID TO MACAQUE- don’t make me do this, Liu’er! SWK: No, Xiaotian. Don’t force mine. DOUBLE EVIL OH MY GOSH HE SAID THE THING AND HIS EYES WENT BRIGHT GOLD HE MEANS BUSINESS. They gave us serious scary Wukong FR.

I’m starting to see how things so easily went wrong for Macky. Wukong does NOT play around, even if you’re MK. Seeing him use the same spell LBD used to trap Macky on top of all this is making me LOSE IT.

QXT: No! No! SWK: There is still a lot I haven't taught you yet. QXT: Monkey King, please! This is my destiny! This is the only way! Let me just say I HATE the expressions Wukong has been making this entire episode. They're ruining me. This one too. SWK: Yes. You're right. It seems like this really is the only way to save everyone. QXT: Then- Then let me go! SWK: Nuwa, or destiny. No matter how you look at it, as long as we came from the same stone... QXT: What? SWK: You don't have to bear this destiny. Let me bear it. QXT: No! Monkey King! SWK: This world needs you, Xiaotian. Thanks...for everything. QXT: Monkey King! Stop, please! THE DRAMA FLUFFY THE DRAMA-! AND WUKONG IS CRYING AS HE FLIES AWAY- and then MK USES THE FREAKING SPELL. I swear everybody is trying to hurt each other and squabbling for the right of who gets to sacrifice themselves first and I'm FLIPPING. WHAT IS THIS?!?!?! This is what happens when you put two sacrificial morons with personal issues in a room together. SWK: No! Xiaotian! No! No! Stop Xiaotian! QXT: I'm sorry. I will be the one to bear my destiny. SWK: Stop! Don't Xiaotian! So anyways, Fluffs. We had all this angsty audio about Wukong crying/yelling if MK got hurt taken from Goku...and now we have to HEAR IT FOR REAL. And like, his VA is seriously good and I think I'll be crying for months if I heard that. I'm going to be crying to YOU about it and that is a threat. We'll cry together. I can kind of see Buddhist influence here since the cycle of reincarnation, while normal here for the characters, is actually the goal to "escape from." So to MK, it's not a good thing. Asides from how much angst Wukong gets from it. You would think it'd be like "oh I get to meet my friends in the next life" but nada, MK here is shook by it. Tho maybe it's because it's not natural, letting them live out to the end, but forcing it early?

OH MY GOD EPISODE 9

I TOOK ALL THE SUNBURST DUO SCREENSHOTS THAT MADE ME FERAL

like…..HELLO?????? 911?????? THERE’S BEEN A MURDER

AND THE FUCKING EXPRESSION BEFORE THE FIGHT🫠🫠🫠🫠 I AM SOBBING

[forgive me for the bad quality 🤧]

AND SWK SO READY TO TAKE MK’S OLAXE BECAUSE “hey, we’re from the same stone, so this destiny of yours should also be tied to me” AND WHAT IF I DIED???? WHAT IF THIS DIALOGUE STABBED ME???? LMK ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES

and the way Macky mourned Wukong privately while everyone else cried for MK (bc they assumed the Pillar repairing itsel meant swk failed) since he knew the Monkey King would try to take MK’s place i— 🫠

also Pigsy trying to change MK’s mind and when that didn’t work:

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME 😭

THATS HIS SON!!!! THATS HIS LITTLE BOY WHO LOVES NOODLES AND SUCKS AT DELIVERING THEM AND SPENDS MOST IF HIS WORK HOURS LISTENING TI TABG’S STORIES BUT PIGSY WOULDNT HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY

🫠

also i think @/lunarwandering mentioned this in a post of theirs but Nines is so confusing lmaooooo like bro 🤨 do you or do you not want MK to sacrifice himself???? “i am giving you the choice he free!!! but i will also make sure to stop your friends from stopping me and you from operation Commit Die!”

the way he snaps at being called a monster 👀 Nines please share in a way that isn’t the Allegory of the Cave (like sir, that is Greek Philosophy come on) (tho interesting that the borders of the “cave” from ep8 looked like Nuwa 👀

ans Nines clearly has some beef with Nuwa 👀 so. what’s up with that)

i have so many questions about Nines

[chaotic-orphan]

Hii! So I was wondering if you can do this Sick and Delirious Villain x Hero Story! If you do, there can be a part two. You don’t have to tho but this is what it’s about if you decide to do it. If you don’t wanna read all of it, there is a shortened version of both parts at the very bottom. (But you kind of have to read Villains past to understand)

TW: Panic attacks, SA, Vomit/Throwing up

Villain backstory: Villain had a terrible family. Their parents were neglectful and their brother was absolutely horrible. He would SA, torture (you can decide), and make Villain throw up. Sticking their fingers down their throat and then pulling out just in time to punching their stomach so hard and so many times that they throw up. And Villains parents stood there and did nothing. When Villain was able to leave, they were messed up in the head by the things their family did.

Part 1: Villain and Hero and secretly dating and Hero still doesn’t know how Villains past, and they never pushed. Villain was sick, a fever of 103 and delirious (preferably Hypoactive Delirium), and Hero was at work. Villain woke up from bed feeling really bad and ran to the bathroom to throw up. Seeing their past with throw up, they didn’t want to do it anymore and started crying and hyperventilating. Hero got home five minutes after and was on the phone with Superhero. They heard the villain throwing up and crying so they told Superhero they needed to go. Hero forgot to end the call and shoved the phone in their pocket.

Hero walked into the bathroom and saw a vulnerable, sick, mid panic attack, Villain. Hero tried to comfort them but the were so scared and acted like they didn’t even see Hero. Villain being delirious accidentally told Hero everything that happened in their childhood through sobs and vomiting.

After hearing that, Hero tries to coax Villain back to bed but they felt like they couldn’t move, so Hero carried them. Hero ended up calming Villain down and putting them to sleep.

All while Superhero was still on the phone, realizing Hero and Villains relationship.

Part 2: After last night, Hero decided to take the day off to take care of Villain. Villain was asleep but Hero was up and they got a phone call from Superhero, telling them that they have to come into work today because they are short staffed. Hero tried to protest but Superhero wasn’t hearing any of it. Villain eventually woke up while Hero was trying to sneak out Villain started whining and crying that they need Hero with them but Hero left, but not before putting Villain back to sleep.

While Hero was working, Superhero broke into their apartment while Villain was awake. Villain, being delirious enough as it is, thought it was Hero coming home from work but soon realized that it was Superhero, but it was too late. They were on the floor because Superhero sedated them to drag them out the house. But hero walks in on it.

Short story of it: Part one: Villain and Hero are dating and Villain is sick and delirious and has to throw up, causing a panic attack. Hero walks in on it while on the phone with Superhero and forgets to hang up before helping them. They put Villain back to bed and the next day they decide to stay home.

Part two: Superhero said they have to go in today so Hero does. Superhero brakes into their apartment and give Villain a sedative so they can take them back to their base, but hero walks in on it.

Delirious Villain x Hero, part One:

Anon, talk about putting in the work! This isn’t a prompt but itself a fully plotted out story that you should be proud of thinking of, I would never have imagined this no matter how hard I tried! It is such a fun concept to explore, and I basically have it roadmapped for me— so seriously, thank you for this prompt, it is my honour to put my spin on it <3

I hope you enjoy~ and very sorry for the hUUUUGE delay but part 2 + 3 will come, I will continue this, it was very hard to get the emotion right, so sorry for the delay again I just wanted it to pack the right punch

CW: vomit (described in disgusting detail, it made me a bit queasy ngl), general sickness, fever, hallucinations, distraught whumpee, villain whumpee, past abuse implied, past abuse described, PTSD, panic attacks, hyperventilating, anxiety, past fear, fear of being sick, past trauma, traumatic sickness, forced caretaking, Whumpee doesn’t want caretaking, hero caretaking, hero caretaker, hero x villain, weird listening superhero, being spied on, worried Hero, worried caretaker, familial abuse, abuse of power, vulnerable whumpee, past whump implied, past whump, invasive whumper, invasive Whump (making whumpee vomit physically)

*~*~*~*~*

Hero was checking their phone every five seconds. Villain was currently at home, burning up, after having barely slept last night. Everytime Hero tried to bring them a cool cloth, or ibuprofen or paracetamol, Villain batted their help away, saying with their usual reassuring smile it’s just a cold. I’ll get over it. It’s just a 24 hour bug, I’ll be fine in the morning.

The metro doors opened and the announcer chimed that they were below Hero Tower HQ, South. Hero put their phone away, worrying their bottom lip as they stepped out onto the platform and walked with the crowd up the steps. The bustling streets of Central buzzed around Hero as they ascended to the busy streets of the city.

Hero pressed the button for the traffic light, waiting for the green man to turn on. Hero pulled their phone out of their pocket again.

Still no messages from Villain.

Maybe Hero shouldn’t be here. Maybe they should call in sick and go home and look after Villain. Villain hated being sick, and not in the way that most people did. It was more than just an inconvenience that it would have been to Hero or anyone else. It was an absolute denial and fear, because Villain didn’t want to get sick so they never got sick. It was out of sheer force of will, that in all the four years Hero had known Villain and the last few months they had lived together, last night was the first time Hero had even known Villain could get sick.

The traffic lights changed to red, and the green man for walking turned on and Hero walked across the road, debating whether or not to go home and be with Villain.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Villain had said, their nose stuffy. “You have to work. You like working.”

“Yeah but I like you more,” said Hero. Villain smiled, put a hand on Hero’s knee and squeezed. “Vil—“

“You’re going. End of story. I’ll just be at home making soup and watching Judge Judy or something, I’ll be fine.”

“Why won’t you let me look after you?”

“You can look after me, after work, okay?”

“Vil—“

“Why are you arguing with a sick person?” Villain asked with a lacklustre grin. “Tell you what, if I get bad tomorrow and I need you, I’ll text you, okay Mom?”

Hero rolled their eyes when Villain leaned over and kissed their forehead, as if that was the end of the conversation and Villain wanted Hero to drop it. So Hero did.

And now they felt terrible. They should really go home. Hero turned to cross the pedestrian crossing again when they saw Superhero on the opposite side, grinning at them. Superhero raised a hand in a wave and said: “Hero! Glad to see I’m not the only one running late today.”

Well they were fucked. Now they had to go into work. Maybe they could fake an illness later and get away early. Superhero was beside them then and Hero naturally fell into step with them, turning to walk towards the Hero Tower that rose higher than the buildings surrounding it.

“That villain on twelfth by the docks, Patrelli got a lead in the case so we got a debrief on that this morning,” said Superhero in his thick Italian-American accent. “Plus the mayor has summoned us to City Hall for god knows what—“

“Probably giving out that he’s forced to pay a parking fine,” Hero grumbled, their eyes still glued to their phone as Superhero laughed. A booming, happy sound. Superhero opened the door for Hero and followed through to the foyer after.

“Probably,” Superhero agreed. The pair were stopped at the reception by Conny who held up a pen and a card. “It’s for Creta,” said Conny and Superhero nodded, taking the pen and signing his name.

“She still in the hospital?” Superhero asked, concerned, handing Hero the pen absently. Hero took it and signed their name beside Superhero’s. Then handed the pen back to a sad looking Conny.

“Yeah. She is furious. She hates being useless.”

Superhero nodded sympathetically, saying: “well tell her from me that she wasn’t useless when we put that maniac behind bars.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Conny. “It will mean a lot to her.”

They said their goodbyes and walked to the lift. When they got in, Hero took their phone out again after the doors slid closed.

Then the lift stopped. Hero looked up to see Superhero’s finger on the stop button, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Superhero nodded at the phone in Hero’s hand and said: “what’s wrong?”

Hero straightened on instinct, putting the phone down at their side. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why’re you checking your phone every five seconds?” Superhero asked, arms folded over a broad chest, moulded from years of gruelling training.

Hero thought about lying and playing it off, but they thought of Villain at home alone, sick and they had to tell the truth. Superhero already suspected something was wrong anyways.

“My partner,” Hero sighed, rocking back on their heels and slumping against the metal wall of the lift. “They’re sick at home right now, and they hate being sick and they wouldn’t tell me how bad they were yesterday but I know they had a fever last night and—“

“Okay, Hero,” said Superhero gently. “It’s okay.”

“They never get sick though, and they’re so stubborn that they refuse to accept any help. Last night they wouldn’t even take any painkillers and—“

Superhero put a hand on Hero’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s okay, Hero,” Superhero said again. “It’s only natural to be concerned about the ones we love, especially in our line of work where we can’t exactly turn the hero thing off.”

Hero laughed weakly at that, mumbling a breathy “yeah.”

“And some people are also just bad patients,” Superhero continued. “Some people don’t want others to see them sick because they’re vulnerable and weak—“

“But I don’t think that,” said Hero.

Superhero nodded with that same gentle smile and said: “but your partner probably does. It must be hard for them to know you’re a strong Hero saving people everyday, they don’t want you to feel you have to save them.”

“But I want to help,” Hero pouted and Superhero nodded again.

“I know. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go upstairs and attend the debrief from the docks and after you can go home and look after your partner.”

Hero’s eyes lit up at that, “really?”

Superhero nodded with a slight laugh and dropped their hand from Hero’s shoulder, turning to press the start button on the lift again. “Yeah really. You never take time off, I’ll tell the boss you weren’t feeling great.”

“You’re a good friend, Superhero,” said Hero softly. Superhero shot a grin back over his shoulder, “yeah you’re not too bad yourself.”

*~*~*~*~*

Villain woke from their fitful sleep in a panic, peeling themselves from the sticky sheets beneath them, their body slick with sweat acting like an adhesive with the bed. The movement was too sudden, too much, Villain’s entire world spinning as their knees hit the ground beside the bed.

That horrible, familiar warm feeling crawling up their throat and threatening to burst, but Villain didn’t… they didn’t want to. They didn’t want to.

“I don’t want it,” they said their speech slurred and far away as they swallowed and shook their head, trying to swallow to stop the inevitable. “I don’t want it. Idonwanto please… please don’t…”

A sudden rush from their swirling stomach climbing hot up Villain’s throat and despite themselves they pushed up off their knees and into the bathroom. Bare feet padding against the tile. Villain grabbed the lid of the toilet and yanked it up, along with the seat and grabbed the edges of the bowl, the cool porcelain barely offering any comfort. They were still too hot. Too warm. Burning from the inside out.

“No… no… no… please don’t…I’m sorry for eating, I said I was sorry…. Please…” Villain sobbed to the empty room, snot running readily down their lips and dripping from their chin into the toilet bowl.

A hand settled heavy on Villain’s shoulder, burning them with the touch. “If you don’t throw up in the next five seconds you’ll be sorry, Vil.”

“No,” Villain wail, then gagged on their own tears and saliva and shoved it down their throat again. “Please… I’ll be good. I don’t want… I donwantople—“

Another hot hand on the back of Villain’s neck and their head was slammed over the toilet bowl, pinning them against the bowl and with the force of it, Villain couldn’t fight the feeling that crawled warm and thick up their throat and despite every fibre of their being fighting against it Villain vomited violently into the bowl.

Villain threw themselves back with a sob, their back hitting the porcelain wall of the tub, legs bent beneath them on the cool tile as Villain wiped their mouth with the back of their arm, panicked sobs wracking through their body.

“You have to do it again, Villain.”

“I can’t please—“ Villain begged, pleading with air.

“You can and you will. Look at you. You’re pathetic. Crying and covered in your own snot and sweat.”

“Please brother, please,” Villain croaked. “Please I don’t—“

“You don’t want to?!” Brother snarled, and Villain shrunk back on themselves. Shivering on the floor and hugging their arms around themselves. “Were you going to tell No, Villain?”

“I—“ Villain began then they were on their knees, hugging the toilet as another wave of vomit slid vicious up their throat. They coughed and spluttered and still it came. All the while Brother stood beside them, phantom hand in Villain’s hair, screaming: “I decide what you do and do not want, Villain. You think you can look after yourself? You’re so weak you can’t even fight me off. Can’t even think about trying to fight me. So weak you can’t even tell your beloved Hero about any of this.”

“Leave… them… alone,” Villain said, then hurled for the third time into the bowl, hacking and gasping. Villain sucked in a breath through their clogged up mouth, because their nose was filled with still streaming snot. They were disgusting. They looked disgusting. They should be able to fight this, but no. Brother is right. Brother’s always right.

A phantom hand began petting Villain’s sweat slicked hair and it made them want to gag again. “It’s so cute how you defend your little Hero. You used to do that with Mom and Dad too, do you remember? They still abandoned you after you did that. Just like Hero will.”

“No,” Villain sobbed, their voice a strangled cry as a fresh wave of tears started rolling down their cheeks. “Hero love me.”

“Parents are supposed to love you too, Vil. You’re just… unlovable. Don’t worry, though, when I find you again I’ll love you how you should be loved. We can pick up where we left off… would you like that?”

“NO!” Villain screamed, throwing a weak arm behind them and wacking it off the radiator instead of Brother. “GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME—“ Villain descended into another coughing fit “—ALONE! Leave! LEAVE! You’re not REAL!”

Villain started coughing again, their chest rising and falling heavy from the effort of screaming and they moaned into the bowl of the toilet seat as they felt another gurgling in their stomach and knew they would be vomiting again in a minute.

They were miserable, and feeling sorry for themselves and all they wanted was to be healthy. They didn’t want to dredge that dark hole of their childhood up again. Didn’t want to hear Brother’s voice so clear… warmth creeped up their throat and this time Villain didn’t fight it.

*~*~*~*~*

Hero unlocked the door to the apartment finally. Their phone was between their shoulder and their ear, grocery bags hanging out of them filled with chicken and vegetables, chicken soups and more painkillers. Hero threw in a couple of those gel ice packs too just to make sure Villain would cool down and feel more comfortable.

“No, Superhero, they’ll be fine. You don’t need to come over…”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re sick and they don’t even want me seeing them like this,” said Hero, dropping their bags and their keys on the kitchen counters. “Thank you for the sentiment really— I’ll just need a few days.”

“Of course, Hero—“ Hero blanked the rest of whatever Superhero said as they heard Villain screaming from the bathroom then coughing up a lung.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME—“ Villain cried, descending into a fit of coughs and Hero ran to the bathroom, giving Superhero a hasty goodbye and dropping to their knees beside Villain who was draped over the toilet bowl, vomit crawling thick up their spine like an alien followed by the unpleasant sound in the toilet.

“Villain! Villain! I’m here—“

“Alone! Leave! LEAVE! YOU’RE NOT REAL!” Villain cried, shaking their head and hugging the toilet bowl tighter.

“Vil…” Hero said softly, but they didn’t put a hand on them. Instead they ran back to the kitchen filling a glass with water and took the half melted gel ice packs from the bag and ran back into Villain. They grabbed a towel from the wall and draped it over Villain’s shoulders gently.

Villain flinched at the contact, jerking back violently and swinging a hand out aimed at Hero. Hero dodged it and sank to their knees beside Villain, gently pushing the ice pack to Villain’s forehead. Villain let out an audible sigh and let their weight fall into Hero’s hand.

“Vil… it’s me. It’s Hero. I got off work.”

“He… Hero…” Villain croaked and then broke down into a fit of sobs. Hero didn’t know what to do. So they just gently pushed them away from the toilet seat, let their back lean against the back of the bath and sat across from them, keeping the ice pack on Villain’s forehead.

“You’re burning up, Vil,” said Hero. “You should’ve called me!”

“Didn’t…” Villain said, out of breath and exhausted. “Didn’t wanna.”

“Why?” Hero implored, voice bordering on desperate. Villain put a clammy hand over Hero’s on their forehead and opened their eyes, looking at Hero.

“Didn’t want you to see h-him,” said Villain with an effort. “To see me like this.”

As if on cue Villain jerked forward and hugged the toilet bowl as another round of vomit wracked Villain’s body. Hero put a hand on their back and rubbed soft circles in their back as Villain groaned and spit. Then they started shaking over the bowl, and Hero whispered soothing sweet nothings to them.

Villain shook their head, sniffing. “You don’t know.. you don’t know,” Villain wailed.

“Don’t know what, Vil?”

Villain cried harder at the question, shaking their head.

“I can’t… I can’t… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t want to vomit again please brother, please—“ Villain mewled, sobbing and shaking their head. Before Hero could say anything Villain gagged and another wave of vomit tore through them, shuddering and sobs followed the particularly violent attack.

“Just hit me,” Villain whispered, coughing into the bowl and spitting out phlegm. “Just beat me today, please. Just hit me. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good, Brother, please.”

Hero was sitting on their calves, rubbing soothing circles on Villain’s back and stunned into silence. Hero didn’t know who Brother was. They had never heard that name before from Villain, but whatever they did to Villain clearly traumatised them.

Shocked tears refused to fall from Hero’s eyes, but Villain wasn’t the only one feeling sick as Villain continued to babble and plead between bouts of vomiting. It must have been an hour or two they spent on the bathroom floor, Villain begging with ghosts to stop hurting them, to stop making them throw up. Forcing them to vomit.

It became so heart wrenchingly clear why Villain didn’t like being sick, and didn’t want Hero to be there when they were.

Hero was glad they were there. Helping Villain, being there for Villain trying to comfort them in whatever way they could.

After what felt like years Villain sat back against the bath, smacking their tongue against their dry mouth. They found Hero’s eyes and they tried for a smile, a bit more clarity and recognition in their gaze.

“I… I think it’s finished now,” said Villain and Hero nodded, still frozen in place, but they forced their limbs to move forward. “Hero…”

“Let’s get you to the bedroom, Vil, then we can talk,” said Hero. Villain didn’t fight them, they didn’t have the energy. Hero put an arm behind Villain’s shoulder, gently placing Villain’s heavy arm around Hero’s neck, then under their knees. Villain let out a groan as Hero hoisted them up. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm,” said Villain. Hero didn’t know if that was a yes or no but it was okay.

Villain was dead weight in Hero’s arms, not even having the energy to hold themselves and lighten the burden they were putting on poor Hero. They shouldn’t be sick and they hated themselves for feeling like this, but having Hero see them like this.

They would never forgive themselves.

Hero drew the bedsheets back and lay Villain down on the mattress and pillow. “I’m going to get the ice packs, are you okay?”

Fresh tears were streaming down Villain’s face at the embarrassment… but they croaked out a hoarse: “yeah.”

Hero nodded, going back to the bathroom and picking up the stray ice packs before returning to Villain’s side. When they got back Villain was already asleep. Hero let out a soft sigh, worrying their bottom lip as they watched Villain’s chest rise and fall peacefully.

The ice packs were still cold in Hero’s hands but they were dripping, and they didn’t want to put them on Villain and risk waking them up. So they put them back in the freezer and walked back to the bathroom to clean it up.

They flushed the toilet and opened the window to let out the smell, gathered the damp towels from the ground and put them in the laundry hamper. They cleaned the toilet, and mopped the sweat up from the floor with a towel. They’d actually mop later. They didn’t really want to be away from Villain right now.

Before Hero left the bathroom they saw their phone on the ground and picked it up pocketing it.

They thought they had ended the call with Superhero so there was no need to check the phone.

No need to check the call logs and see that in their panic over Villain’s screaming, they didn’t actually end the call when they thought they did.

If Hero did check their call logs they’d have realised that Superhero didn’t end the call either. A two minute call turned into a forty-five minute call, Superhero too shocked to drop the phone from their ear when they heard Villain’s voice.

Villain.

Their enemy.

The person Hero was so worried about being sick, that they rushed home and left work early for. When Hero never left work early.

It all suddenly made terrible, awful sense to Superhero why they had never met Hero’s partner. Always an excuse made to stop them from meeting.

The betrayal stung in Superhero’s chest and when they finally ended the call, they nearly crushed their phone in their hand with how tight they were holding it.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Second-Hand Goods #2

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: death mentions, human trafficking, dehumanization, nudity

Ander flipped on the radio and hummed, tapping his fingers on the wheel. He already had a customer in mind for the product, but he had the strange urge to keep him. The product was cute, and he liked cute. Polite, too. Usually his products screamed, or fought, or were rude and uncooperative. 

Ander had long wondered what his clients and customers got from murder and torture. It didn’t seem very fun, making gorey messes like that. But if the result was a meek, agreeable thing to toy with, he could see the appeal of suffering. 

This item wasn’t going to go for very much; maybe five thousand. What was the harm in keeping him? Many of his customers kept products alive for months before disposal, and those were typically feisty things. Once they were broken, they lost their spark and died. 

The typical item annoyed Ander. He just wanted them cleaned up and sold. If this one irritated him, off he’d go. But he had a feeling this one would be pleasant. Maybe he’d make him into an assistant. It was hard work, juggling keeping the products alive and appealing enough for customers and getting in touch with clients at the same time.

He pulled in to the back of his house. Ordinarily he would have pulled over and sedated them discreetly when he got closer to home, but this one didn’t need it. 

He popped the trunk and made his way around.

“Did you have a nice trip?” he asked, pulling the product out by the arm. He nodded, and it was adorable. “Great.”

He pulled him inside, and tugged off the blindfold. The product blinked up at him, and his honey-brown eyes made him look so cute. Hmm.

“If I take this off,” he said, tapping at the gag, “will you still be good for me?”

The product nodded, still shy but Ander could see enthusiasm in his eyes. He unclipped the top strap first and placed it on the kitchen table. He unfastened the second strap, and the product was true to his word.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“What’s your name?”

The product looked bewildered for a moment. “Emmett,” he said, still quiet as a mouse.

“Come on then, Emmett.” He pulled him towards the basement, where he stored all of his stock. 

Emmett hesitated on the stairs, which was fair. It did smell rather off-putting, but that’s what happened when many people were living in small quarters. 

He had three in stock right now, not including Emmett. He wasn’t up for sale anymore. But he needed to know who was boss, and the fear of being sold as easy pickings for his customers was sure to make him compliant.

Emmett’s eyes went wide at the setup. It was pretty impressive, in Ander’s opinion. 

Evenly spaced steel floor-to-ceiling poles with various hooks and embedded steel rings lined one wall. That was where most of the products were secured. The opposite wall was lined with extra large, heavy duty dog kennels. Usually they were empty, but one of the products was acting rather nasty, and the kennels were to punish them for being uncooperative.

The misbehaving stock yelled at him, but it was muffled through the muzzle Ander had forced on his head. He tutted, shaking his head at him.

A steel wire wall separated the stock from the stairs. He unlocked the door and pushed Emmett through, closing it behind them with a rattling clang.

It had taken him ages to install everything. The shower and medical section plumbing was especially irritating, the water drainage tricky to get right so it wouldn’t ruin his foundation. But it was worth it; otherwise he’d have to bring the product up and down the stairs to his own bathroom. More chances of escape or injury that way.

“Wha- what are you-”

“Hush,” he said, “If you behave, you won’t have to worry. Isn’t that right?” he asked the room, and his products nodded their heads, staring at either Emmett or the floor. He pulled Emmett along to the shower and cuffed him by a wrist to the pole that ran along the wall. 

He cut away the rope with a pocket knife. “Wait here,” he said. He needed to change into clothes more suited for hosing Emmett down.

___________________

Emmett watched his captor- his owner?- exit the basement. He tested the cuff, but it held firm and so did the pole. 

He looked around the room. People were scattered around, tied down or cuffed to things. Even one person in a cage. Only some were gagged.

But none of them were bloody or had fresh bruises.

If his captor was going to kill him, at least he wouldn’t be tortured like before. It was something, and he’d take it.

He scanned the room, but no one seemed interested in talking to him

His captor came back down the stairs. He was dressed in different clothes, an old shirt, pants, and tall rain boots.

“I’m going to undress you,” he said. “Will you behave, or are we going to do this the hard way?”

“I’ll behave, sir.” Emmett kept still while the man unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his boxers. He flushed, and hoped the others in the room weren’t looking. 

“Good boy,” muttered the man as he dumped the clothes in a bin. 

He reached for the shower hose, and turned the red knob. He pointed the shower head at the drain, and slightly turned the blue knob. He kept testing the water and turning the knobs until he was satisfied.

“Hold still,” he said.

The hot water stung his cuts, but otherwise it felt good. He hadn’t had a shower in so long. He groaned under the spray, and the man chuckled at him. 

“Turn around.”

Emmett obeyed. God, the water pressure was amazing. His captor sprayed down his back, and eventually his hair. He turned the water off, and Emmett shivered. 

“Sit,” He told him. He dumped a bottle of soap on his head and began to roughly scrub his head. 

He sighed into it. What was the point of a few hours of pain-free existence if he couldn’t enjoy it?

The man sprayed the shampoo off his hair, and dumped even more on. He must be really filthy. The soap ran down his chest and back, lightly stinging his open wounds. 

He made him stand up again when his hair was clean, and began to scrub him down with a brush. He felt like a dog at the groomers.

Emmett watched the blood and suds swirl around the drain. God he felt so much better.

The man dried him off with a combination of a towel and a hairdryer. He uncuffed him and then secured him to one of the metal columns. Emmett had enough room to sit as he liked, but not enough to stand.

“Um,” he tried, “can I have my clothes back?” All the others had clothing; it couldn’t hurt to ask.

The man paused. “Ask me nicely,” he said. 

Emmett took a deep breath, forcing a smile, “May I please have my clothes back, sir?” His neighboring prisoner shot him a glare, but the man grinned at him. 

“You’ll have them back as soon as they’re clean.”

Emmett relaxed against the cool metal. Small victories.

___________________

Ander hummed to himself as he portioned out the sedatives for the evening. Emmett wouldn’t get one; he needed some one on one time with him. Dinner would be the perfect opportunity.

He headed downstairs with the syringes. The products knew the drill by now. He had a little trouble with the one in the kennel, but eventually he was able to jab the dose into him.

Emmett watched, and when Ander approached empty handed, he could see the gears in his little head turning.

“Not for you,” he explained. “We’re going to have a little chat before your bedtime.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Emmett, looking wary. Ander crouched in front of him.

“First order of business: you’re going to call me Master. Understand?” Emmett nodded.

“Say it, Emmett.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Emmett, do you know what I do for a living?”

“N- no, Master.”

Ander ruffled his hair. “I take poor souls like you from the jaws of your tormentors, and pair you all up with a more… interested party who will put you out of your misery. Like matchmaking for serial killers.”

Emmett shuddered, and Ander knew he understood. 

“But I like you, Emmett,” he said, softer and sweeter. “I’d rather not sell you off. In fact,” he tilted his face up, “I think you’ll be quite happy here. As long as you’re good for me, I’ll be very nice to you. I’ll even give you treats when you do a good job.”

“I- I don’t-”

“Listen to me.” Emmett’s jaw snapped shut. “There’s nothing for you out there. Let me guess, you worked a shitty job with terrible pay, and you’re lonely and barely scraping by?”

“How- how did you-”

“You’ve been missing for a month, Emmett. But the missing person report was only filed two weeks ago. No one noticed you were gone for two weeks.” Emmett slumped against the pole.

“There’s nothing for you outside. Say it,” he coaxed.

“There’s nothing for me outside,” he whispered.

“Good boy. Now let's keep my business model just between us, okay?” Emmett glanced around the room, but Ander cupped his face and turned his gaze to keep him on task. 

“Y-yeah, okay.”

“Try again, Emmett.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Excellent. See? Not so bad.” Emmett nodded. “Now, I’m going to get you some dinner. I bet you’re starving.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[rivalsforlife]

Kay and Tracy being Christmas FIENDS, like full on blasting Mariah Carey the moment the clock hits midnight post Thanksgiving. They both have always loved the holidays (maybe as a form of escapism for 2 lonely girls who have wanted a loving family for so long and made do with what they had) and the first year (Christmas #1) they are in their lawyer’s lives they were all to busy putting out fires* to properly celebrate or notice anything odd around the holidays in regards to each other

*(literally in Nick and Trucy’s case, girl was trying some advanced fire based tricks and oops, so they had Christmas at Kurain Village and it’s lovely if not the traditional Christmas Trucy wanted. Edgeworth got caught up in a marathon case that ended up chaining into a 3 week slog, crossing so many continents and time zones he ends up in locations that don’t really celebrate Christmas and he’s so lost in the investigation sauce he doesn’t even notice the date until (unless it’s clue based) like January 4th and he’s so tired he crashes in some hotel in Morocco for 4 days. Kay got sent back to Germany to stay with Fran after week one seemingly wrapped up and had to hunt Edgeworth down to help him in the last 4 day of week 3 and went sight seeing while Edgworth slept and lived off of room service at a 4 star hotel in Chefchaouen)

But this year! Christmas #2! Edgeworth and Nick are talking again! Trucy and Kay have meet and are basically sisters at this point! (Nick and Miles may or may not be dating yet??). Anyway, this year there’s going to be so much festive cheer and celebration and togetherness and it’s going to be awesome!!!!

And then Nick has to be like, ahhh girls maybe don’t include Edgeworth in your plans for…reasons? I don’t mind a crazy Christmas, go nuts decorating the office/apartment, but ummmm…yeah.

(Or worse, the girls kept their extensive holiday plans a secret to surprise Nick and Edgeworth and so they get their hopes up WAY high and have so many expectations that involve Edgeworth and uh oh)

In anycase, either they learn about the why, or they don’t because Edgeworth isn’t up for it at this point. Do you think:

They have a good, if less full Christmas that year while giving Edgeworth space

They have a quiet Christmas that does it’s best to accommodate Edgeworth

They have essentially trapped Phoenix and Edgeworth somewhere to celebrate Christmas (think remote cabin for some daft reason) and now they’re all stuck and it’s not going well and they have to confront lots of emotions…

Oops Edgeworth heard about their plans and doesn’t want to disappoint them and tries to force it, and the fallout of when he just can’t anymore taking up the rest of the season

CRAZY CHRISTMAS full of so many called in favours from both Phoenix and Edgeworth that involve magic and circuses and “fine” dining and cop car rides. And everyone is around all the time like Maya and Gumshoe and Larry, all except Edgeworth who is doing his best to rest and heal at home, who called in the favours but won’t partake and it’s for the best. And maybe after all the madness they have quiet 1 on 1 visits until Edgeworth works his way up to having a nice, sedate family night and dinner with no holiday trappings but all the famil he needs? (Maybe this will be Christmas #3 or 4 with them haha)

Unfortunately the first thing I was thinking of is that Trucy's second Christmas with Phoenix would be. um. 2020. so probably nothing asdgffdsfgh

BUT in a perfect world where the pandemic did not happen. Kay is at least a little bit aware of Edgeworth's Trauma, though maybe not likely to directly connect Christmas to it, but I feel like Trucy has so much emotional awareness that as soon as she would start bringing up Christmas around Edgeworth, and he was uncomfortable with it, she would immediately be able to clock that. I don't think Edgeworth is good enough at disguising his emotions to be able to get around most people, much less Trucy with her incredible perception skills. So I think for anything to happen they would have to not bring up Christmas around Edgeworth at all until their plans are in place.

Honestly I'm probably biased because I'm not big on celebrating holidays myself, but I think they'd settle with something more around 1 or 2 of your options. I think Edgeworth's trauma is less Christmas-centric and more Christmas being the big warning sign heralding the beginning of misery about DL-6 which lasts until the end of the year, so he could probably handle Christmas better than the 28th. I also think he does not like processing his trauma around other people, but over the years would be able to work his way up to small gatherings with the people he cares about to take his mind off of it, though I'm not sure he'd be there right away by year 2.

[official-kenralie-fanbase]

oh and when Sophie tells Oralie about him

Sophie doesn’t tell her why she needs to come right then but she does anyway. she walks into the Black Swan’s healing center. there Kenric is covered in burns incredibly underweight, mind broken. Oralie lets out some horrible strangled sob and runs over to sit beside him. she stays with as often as she can without raising suspicion (and does a horrible job at it).

when Kenric is finally well enough to have his mind healed he panics when he comes out of it, because he can’t see and he doesn’t think it’s real. Oralie tries to hug him but he pushes her away repeatedly saying “this isn’t real, this isn’t real” he panics to the point that he needs to be sedated, Oralie also has to be given some exilers to calm her down. a few days later they try again but with just Sophie he has a similar reaction that he did to Oralie, but they manage to convince them Sophie after some work and Sophie inflicting positive emotions on him and transmiting a memory of her and him, probably the first day they met.

it takes a few days before he’s actually comfortable with the idea of seeing Oralie again, because he was told that she was killed. when he’s still closed off to her she asks him what she needs to do to prove to him that it’s her and then he says “tell me something only you’d know”

another ask from @you-have-been-frizzled that I'm combining with this one:

also i see your “tell me something only you’d know” and raise you

Kenric got Oralie an engagement ring and hid it in his house after she didn’t step down. he left her a note about having something for her where it was hidden in his will. didn’t find it until after his planting and wore it on a string around her neck every single day. when Kenric asks her to tell him something no one else would know, she hands him the ring. while he can barely see he’s turned the ring over in his hand so many times that he recognized the feeling. he knows it’s her because no one else could have found it.

Oralie loses it when she sees Kenric. They debated whether or not to tell her beforehand that he was alive because they wanted her to be aware, but there was also something going on so she couldn't come immediately. Eventually, they didn't get around to telling her but she has to come anyway, not knowing what she's going to see.

And when she sees Kenric, starving and wounded and broken but alive, she loses the resolve and hardened walls she's built up over the past couple of years and breaks. She sobs for an incredibly long time, refusing sedatives because she wants to feel, wants to escape from the numb hole of grief and loss she's been in for such a long time.

If it weren't for Bronte helping her, Kenric's existence would have been immediately discovered. He makes excuses for her and updates her on what happens at the Council meetings she misses. She's in emotional turmoil, knowing that Kenric's alive but not knowing if he'll ever be sane again. She doesn't know if she'll have to watch him suffer forever, never having him back even though he's come back from the dead.

When Elwin and Livvy deem him well enough to have his mind healed, Sophie and Fitz work together, trying to forget their disastrous last healing. In his mind, they find the vision the Neverseen put there of her death and try to bury it deep in his memory, but they can't do that while also repairing his broken memories. During the healing, Oralie is watching anxiously the entire time while Keefe monitors her emotions, making sure her mind isn't going to break.

As soon as Kenric wakes up, Oralie rushes over to him, tears streaming down her face, telling him she's here and everything's okay. But then Kenric pushes her away, screaming at the Neverseen to stop giving him these visions, that he knows she's dead and they can't trick him anymore. Oralie tries to convince him it's really her, but not being able to see, he lashes out. It takes both Sandor and Grizel to restrain him, and Livvy has to pull Oralie away from Kenric so he doesn't hurt her while Elwin sedates him. Oralie herself is so distraught that they have to sedate her too.

A couple of days later, they try with someone whom Kenric would have known but wasn't close enough with that the Neverseen would use to threaten him: Tiergan. It goes relatively well, and Tiergan convinces Kenric that he's safe and not with the Neverseen anymore. He seems to believe him, so they try with Sophie. At first, Kenric gets violent again, but Sophie manages to inflict positive emotions on him, which helps him remember the first time they met. He realizes it's really her, after which they bring in several others: Bronte, Grady, Alden, Keefe, Fitz and Biana. He reacts fine to all of them, beginning to realize that he's actually safe now.

And then they bring in Oralie again. Kenric is so desperately wanting to believe that it's her, that she's not really dead, but he's been tricked and lied to time and time again that he doesn't think he can believe. She doesn't try to touch him, just sits there, talking to him. He tells her that he thought she was dead, and she is desperate to convince him it's really her, so he says, "tell me something only you would know."

At this point, Oralie's forgotten that there's anyone else in the room, and she tells him about how she found the engagement ring when she searched his house. He listens, not reacting, as she tells him about the clues he left for her and how she found it.

Her voice breaking, Oralie whispers, "I would have said yes, Kenric." She slips the ring off of her head and puts it in his hand. Kenric touches it, remembering the feel of it and remembering how often he'd touched it, wishing he could see it on her finger. And even though he knows he'll never see it, he's beginning to believe. Because only Oralie would be able to find it. Only she would still have faith in him, in them, after everything they went through.

Slowly, Kenric reaches out and finds her hand. He touches her hands, her face, her hair, tears slowly slipping down his cheeks as he recognizes her. He leans forward, the movement feeling so natural as he kisses her, gently and slowly, but so, so genuine.

And that's when Kenric truly believes it's her. He laughs out loud and pulls her into his arms, and there they stay for a very long time. Eventually, Elwin has to kick her out because Kenric has to sleep and take his medicine, but Oralie promises that she'll be back as often as possible. The two of them are together again, and though they have been separated and destroyed, both of them thinking they'd lost each other, they've gone through the impossible, and they will not lose each other again.

(I'll definitely continue this tomorrow but for now I have to study for a calc test smh)

[whump-a-la-mode]

Do you think you can write something along the lines of a patient either bring put under using medication restraints (like Haldol or something) for their own good- they have a meltdown, ect. And/ or slowly waking up to find they have been strapped down? Their kind but stern doctor comforts them as they wake up. It's all just a stressful and heartbreaking experience for the whumpee. They are usually fairly stoic, but now, they feel so weak and defeated. Maybe include some tears? Sorry if this is too specific!!!

I really like this idea! I didn’t intend to go towards any specific genre of whump, since you didn’t specify, but I ended up going a little in a lab whump direction. I hope that’s okay! Thank you so much for the ask, and, again, sorry these are taking ages.

CW//Medical settings, chemical restraints, restraints, sedation, non con drug use, implied lab whump, syringes

Whumpee was screaming.

That was the only thing that could be processed by anyone in the Emergency Room as the gurney was unloaded from the ambulance and rushed through a pair of swinging double doors. Before the doors could so much as swing their way closed, the patient had already been deposited upon an ICU bed.

Around them, doctors swarmed like locusts. The doctors were swarming, and Whumpee was screaming.

“Hold them down!”

“Haldol, dammit! Get me Haldol!”

“I said, hold them down!”

Yet, to the supine patient, there were no doctors. No hospital. No, as far as they were concerned, this was a laboratory in everything but name. A torture chamber in everything but name.

And such was reflected in their movements.

Upon the bed, already half-laden with various pieces of tubing and wires, Whumpee howled, thrashing their limbs about with wild abandon. To them, movement was an end goal. As long as they were moving, there was hope of escape.

As long as they were moving, the pain wasn’t quite so bad.

“Hold, hold!”

“Where in the world is that Haldol?!”

“Right here!”

Even the words could not make their way into their their mind. No, there was no sense in their mind, only the most vague knowledge of flashing colors, of bright lights, of the horrid stench of antiseptic that they knew all too well. Each time a face appeared to them from the shroud, it quickly morphed into that of their former tormentor, eliciting nothing from them but another anguished wail.

Whumpee was not expecting the pain, though perhaps they should have been. Their arm was pushed down to the bed, half a dozen hands working to stop their ceaseless writhing. First came cold, then the prick.

“There. There.”

That was when the hyperventilation began, thrashing escalating along with it. By then, beyond their knowledge, their scope of sanity, the room had been flooded by eight doctors, nurses, and orderlies, all struggling to stop their emaciated body’s struggling.

Whumpee looked like a lab rat upon that bed, blue lines sprouting from pale skin, practically begging their veins to be pierced and flooded. The thought made their tears start, sobs tearing through their chest, jutting ribs and all, as they twisted back and forth.

Yet, at a certain point, their panic reached a peak. Its crescendo ceased, and its downfall began. Slowly but surely, each of their cells was turned to sand until they were more useless and heavy than a burlap sack.

“Clear. Running the line.”

It was a series of words that they had, up to that point in their life, heard far too many times. But, now, there was nothing to be done. No pleas or threats to be howled. Instead, they only breathed heavily, watching as the long, plastic tube pierced its way into one bulging vein.

“Line in. Clear to start the drip.”

And drip it did.

Drip -

Drip -

Drip -

Out.

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

Whumpee laid upon the beach, their consciousness flowing in and out as the tide.

For one moment, vision gently flowed along the sands, showing them hazy views of sterile lights and clipboards and dangling tubes. Then, once more, it receded, washed away into unconsciousness. The next time that the water flooded in, the waves were higher. Alongside visions of white tiles and dancing monitor screens, there was sound. Beeping and buzzing and voices.

When the tide came in for the third time, it stayed.

This time, the first things that occupied their newly-revived senses were not the lights, the tiles, the buzzing. Instead, they were assaulted by the sights and sounds of their own breathing-- quick, shallow, barely enough to move adequate air into their lungs.

That was, until their thought process was interrupted by something far more jarring. A voice.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

It wasn’t the softest of voices, nor the kindest. Though it wasn’t sharp, it was most certainly firm. More of a bark than a yell.

Whumpee blinked, vision once more threatening to fade. The tide dragged along the shore...

But, they were awake. Wakefulness meant confusion, and confusion meant a sharp terror, gripping at their throat.

Sterile lights. White, tiled walls. The reek of antiseptic. Every hallmark of a lab, and more. In an instant, the subtle wave of consciousness turned to a flash flood as adrenaline eliminated even the most far-off hopes of returning to slumber.

And, too, the flood came with more visions. Imagery striking at them, pounding upon the inside of their skull like a mallet. Lab coats, gloved hands, the bars of a stainless steel kennel. Shimmering needles. Pliers and scalpels.

Upwards, they jerked, a desperate attempt seizing them to sit up, as though they had just been struck by a defibrillator. But, they proved quite immediately unsuccessful, a force upon their chest keeping them held firmly down.

Whumpee knew that feeling well. Even with vertigo making the lifting of their head impossible, they did not have to work hard to imagine the restraint strap, most certainly stretched taut over their chest. More panicked experimentation showed that their wrists and ankles were similarly limited.

“Stop.”

Their wide gaze, eyelids straining to open wider as their pinprick pupils shivered, shot to find the word’s source.

The lab coat sat perched upon a stool, legs curled deliberately beneath themself. There existed a firm, focused stare to those eyes. Whumpee felt as though they could not so much as breathe without being observed.

Then again, that was what the doctor was upset at them for, huh?

Well, if they were going to be in trouble, they may as well give something to be in trouble for. If these wackjob scientists thought that they were just going to sit quietly for another hellish procedure, they had another thing coming! At least they were out of their kennel, out of their cage.

“Let me up, piece of shit!” Whumpee snarled as they made another useless attempt to sit up. Of course, the restraints limited them just as well the second time.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” A moment later, it was no longer simply the pressure of the strap that pressed down upon the chest. Too, a strong hand joined, pushing. “You’re staying down.”

“And what are you doing to do to me this time?”

Though there were a few moments of confusion, there was nothing reassuring about them.

“If you cooperate? What I’m going to do to you is ensure a full recovery.” The restraining hand retracted.

“Torture doesn’t usually help with that, just sayin’.” A weak smile appeared upon their face-- all they could manage.

“You’re not there anymore.” This time... this time, there was the slightest twinge of comfort to that tone. As though they were explaining a procedure. Clinically outlining the process in a way designed to minimize panic. “You’re in the hospital.”

“That hellish lab isn’t a hospital.”

“I’m well aware of that.” They didn’t sound all too pleased at being interrupted. “You’ve been removed. You were taken here in an ambulance.”

“I was-” They tensed.

“And sedated for an adverse reaction to rescue.”

“You stabbed me.”

“It was a syringe.” They countered. “Barely a poke.”

As though Whumpee hadn’t been poked enough.

“Whatever.” They at last hissed. “Let me out of this crap, if you’re so intent on rescuing me.”

“You’re already writhing about like a fish out of water. It’s for your own good.”

They clenched their hands to fists.

“What would be good would be letting me go! I don’t need your help.”

A howl of laughter.

“Yes, kid. Yes, you do.” The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid you have a very, very long road ahead of you. And if you don’t want to spend that journey under the influence of Haldol, you’d better learn to calm down.”

[whaleofatjme1920]

EJ SIMPS RISE 😤😤💪💪💪

may i please request a scenario for yandere ej x fem reader where ej is punishing the reader for escaping ? feel free to go DARK dark with this one <3

Cream Colored Ceiling

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFW - but not for sexual content, just violence, what isn't a warning in this one, mentions of cannibalism (but there is no described cannibalism, just allusions to it), EJ physically harms the reader, amputation, violence of all kinds, throw up, look this is just,,,, it's dark. I repeat, there is no sexual content in here, it's just physically violent]

[AN: yeah. This was uh, yeah.]

Hazy, your mind is hazy. You wake and open your eyes to see that same fucking cream colored ceiling with water damage leaking through the top and dangerously close to your bed, if you’d even want to call it your bed.

You raise one of your hands that feels heavier than stones and wipe quietly at your eyes, dusting them from the sleep. Your body feels heavy, oh so heavy.

You sit up. Nothing strange so far.

Has he really been that gracious with you?

You yawn and stretch, joints and bones popping as you look out the window. There’s that cursed forest. It looks dark, shadowy, misty. The fog is rolling in and you know with it comes the rain. You’re going to be stuck here forever, aren’t you?

The sunlight doesn’t filter through the window, but there’s light regardless. You’re deep into mid Autumn and with it will come winter. It’ll be the third winter you’ve been trapped with this monster.

Your mouth feels dry, much too dry. You smack your lips together a few times, wondering where your saiva has gone and decide to go to the kitchen. It seems like Jack isn’t home right now, which is probably for the best. Alongside him being out, so too is your natural fear of him. You swing your legs over the side of your bed, wondering why you feel so physically exhausted before attempting to stand up.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knees buckle beneath you, your body cascading like a pile of bricks to the floor. Your knees and palms blank onto the hardwood, digging into you most uncomfortably. Tears well in your eyes as you struggle to get off the floor. You continue to curse under your breath as you glance back at your ankles where large surgical wounds lay, covered in stitches and gauze. What the fuck? When did that happen?

Your heart begins to race when you slow, calculated steps padding on the floor. You’re all too familiar with the sound of those combat boots knocking on the floor, pacing back and forth and keeping you awake at all hours of the night. Panic sears itself into your heart as you attempt to get up, pathetically crawling along the floor and reaching for your bedpost.

Jack stands in your doorway, his large form casting a shadow on your throw rug. He tsks, and you can already tell he’s more than disappointed with you. “What did I tell you about getting up?” He asks, voice smooth and clinical, once again padding towards you.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you curl as tightly into a ball as you can.

Jack breathes out with slight disappointment before crouching down and seeing your sorry form. “You knew this was going to happen,” he says, half lidded eyes watching you curiously before he reaches his large, gloved hand out. “Did you pop any of your sutures?” He tilts his head to the side and looks over your swollen, still bloodied ankles. “I think you might’ve.” He reaches to pick you up and you begin to panic, blubbering your apologies.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me-” you begin to babble, your remaining strength trying their hardest to push the behemoth away. Tears well in your eyes as Jack grips your calves, sending pain holting like lightning strikes up and down your lower body, making you cry out in pain.

“You deserve it,” he murmurs, his claws pinching into your skin before he lifts you. A glance of annoyance passes over his face before he yanks your grip from the bed.

You struggle against him as you pound your fists into his broad chest, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks.

The tall demon moves without budging. He doesn’t care, you barely feel like a scratch to him.

You watch your surroundings, still fighting against him and feel your heart sink when you realize he’s taking you down the hall that he’s deemed forbidden. The energy you feel from this specific hallway makes you cry out in fear.

Jack eats it up, his own heart beating just a little faster. You won’t ever do what you pulled last night again. He juggles you into one his arms and uses his free hand to unlock the door, the slight beeps of numbers being added into a keypad making your attention shift ever so slightly.

The inside of this room is like a horror scene to you. You see an operating table, and stainless steel tables, cabinets and countertops. There’s a large trash bin filled with bloody gauze and other things, such as discarded clothes, clumps of hair, things you don’t want to think of. Is this it? Is he finally going to kill you?

Fear overtakes your system again and renders you to nothing but silent sobs as Jack pulls off a turquoise colored sheet from the operating table, placing you down.

You try to get off, wiggling and clawing at him. “Let me go!” You cry out like a broken record of a mantra, your eyes wild and feral.

Jack simply shrugs you off, tying large leather brown straps over your waist and your chest, rendering you immobile. “The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt you,” he hums, his clawed hands moving across your chest to your wrists. He quickly ties you down there as well, your legs numbly kicking at him through the pain due to severed Achilles tendons. He flicks the wound on your left leg, grinning at your pain. “Won’t be needing these anymore,” he chuckles.

“What?” You say in shock, pupils restricting to the size of pim points.

He takes a seat on his wheeled stool and begins setting you up with an IV drip. “Gonna sedate you, and when you wake up?” He warmly smiles, pricking the vein on your right arm with the needle, making you weakly thrash once more. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, pumping some sedatives into your bloodstream.

You feel more tears welling in your eyes as your conscience begins to wean. The world becomes more shapes and colors, merging into brightness and shadows before you finally slip into your dreams.

You haven’t been able to trick Jack like this in the history of well, ever. Almost three years with this nightmare and you’ve finally gained enough of his trust to ask him for some time out.

“Don’t stay in there for too long,” he says, large hand gripping your thigh as you swallow down the feeling of hitting him from where you remain seated in the passenger seat. “I want you back safely,” he murmurs, his other hand gently letting go of the wheel to cup your face.

You do your best to show love and admiration in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s just an hour or so, okay?” You hum, your hand gently holding his and burying your face deeper into his warmth.

“I don’t know why you need anyone else’s company,” he says, a slight acrid venom seeping into his tone. “You don’t need anyone else but me.” It’s almost cute how offended he sounds.

You play the part of loving him. “I know, I know,” you coo, taking his hand from your face and pressing your lips into a pucker. You raise his hand to them, planting a kiss on his palm. “I love you. I won’t be that long.”

Jack’s heart flutters. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” He says, watching you as you unbuckle yourself, his hand reluctantly leaving your thigh.

You flash him a warm smile and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. You try not to spit at the scent of blood and taste of rot before pulling away. You then open up his car, sliding from the passenger seat and to the rinky dink little bar you’d managed to convince him to let you go to. Just an hour - that’s all it was. Just an hour. You’d be in and out, get some drinks, and come straight back to his car.

Due to Jack’s appearance, he had told you he couldn’t go in. They’d know something was wrong with him immediately, and you’d gained enough of his trust for you to be away for just an hour. Come straight back to the car when it reaches 10 PM. You promised him. And he fucking believed you.

It wasn’t that hard finding some idiot down on his luck with the ladies. You cozied up next to him, getting to sit with him at the bar and start talking. He was so attentive and sweet, so receptive to the story you had made up to him.

“That sounds awful,” he says, voice low and sweet. His deep blue eyes look at you with nothing but gentleness and fondness. His hand reaches for yours across the bar and you smile, allowing him to take it.

“I just wanna get away from that brute,” you admit. “I just wanna go home.”

He squeezes you just a little tighter. “Why don’t we go back to my car and call the cops?” He offers.

“Where did you park?” You ask, hoping it’s not in the front lot where Jack remains waiting for you.

“In the back.”

What a relief.

A slight smile blooms on your face as you nod. “Yeah, let’s go,” you finally answer. You hop off the barstool and then grip his hand, letting him lead you through the bar and the sea of people. It smells like sweat, alcohol, and regret - you love it. It smells like the beginning of freedom, something better. Maybe, just maybe…

He opens the backdoor to you, allowing you out first. The crisp night air of autumn greets you with her beauty. You can smell maple leaves and pumpkins out in the distance, the atmosphere is incredible. “That one’s mine,” he says, pointing to his car a little ways down in the parking lot under one of the yellow lights. He continues holding your hand as the two of you walk through the parking lot.

You watch as he unlocks the car door, walking around the side to let you in. You accompany him and slide into the passenger seat. Putting this seat belt on feels almost liberating. You giggle when the short man closes the door before walking around the front of his car.

And then he pauses.

Fear seeps into his eyes and leans forward, his abdomen cutting into the hood of the hunk of metal that can barely be called a car before sweat beads and rolls down his forehead. He begins to cough, violently.

Your eyes widen in shock as he begins to cough up blood, and tears well in his eyes. They roll down his cheeks, fat and crystalline like the beads of sweat. He reaches out to you, mouthing for you to run before finally slumping forwards.

You see him, the behemoth that’s held you captive for three years, a sapphire colored mask boring into your soul and searing into your mind with what you can understand is pure, unadulterated rage. You scramble, panicking as you notice the large blade that’s wedged itself into the man’s back as he seizes on the car, his thick body rolling off from the hood and landing with a large ‘thump!’ as he does so. Foam and the smell of something unpleasant wafts upwards and you palm the handle of the car, attempting to release yourself.

Jack takes slow, calculated steps forwards, his shadow growing larger as he gears up to catch you and claim you as his.

Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, the panic overtaking your system as you finally get the car open. You shoot out of the metal cage like a bat from hell and stumble onto the asphalt, hissing as the black tar digs into your knees and palms. No time for registering your pain, you need to run! Like a freshly born faun, you hobble up and begin to run, wondering if you can make it back to the bar and the safety of other people when Jack’s steps grow quicker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He’s going to catch you and he’s going to kill you!

“You’re such a stupid little rabbit,” he hums, watching as you sorely sprint towards the door. “Look what you’ve done,” he taunts, hand gesturing to the man. “You made me kill him and I’m not even hungry,” he hums. “Maybe I should make you eat it instead,” he muses.

The thought alone makes your stomach retch. You stumble once more, body feeling violently ill as you cave. The alcohol paired with his words has you emptying your stomach of its contents that splash to the asphalt, the sickly acrid and saccharine taste overtaking your mouth.

Jack’s giant form finally overtakes you. He stands with his hands behind his back, peering down at you with disdain. “Fucking disgusting,” he coos in a tone that reminds you of a condescending father. He grips the back of your neck and forces you down.

You screech and fight him, not wanting to touch what came out of you.

“No? No,” he grins. “Fine. Let’s go see your date.” His claws dig into your neck as he drags you back to the man’s car where he’s finally gone still. He’s left a puddle of blood. Jack laughs quietly at your struggling before forcing you to your knees. “Are you hungry?”

“No-”

“I think you mean yes.”

The taste of blood still lingers in your mouth, and it remains even in your slumber.

Of course, you passed out due to your traumatic experience, and threw up again as well. Jack took advantage of your fragile state and brought you back to your home, the place you belonged - with him. He cut your Achilles tendons, just a warm up, really.

“Time to wake up.” Jack’s voice permeates your head, rousing you from your slumber. His gloved hands are snapping in front of you.

It’s bright, much too bright. Your body feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. Where are you? You see that you’re now looking into an operating light, and it’s super uncomfortable. “What did you do to me?” You ask drowsily.

Jack ignores your question and instead picks you up. His footsteps begin to lull you into sleep.

Exhausted, you fall back in again, and this time? This time, it’s dreamless.

It’s that fucking cream colored ceiling again that you open your eyes to. The water damage is still the same, and you realize you’re still stuck. You’re about to get up when you hear your door opening.

“Nice to see you up,” Jack says, watching as you slowly come to. “Did you dream about anything?”

You narrow your eyes recoiling as he reaches his hand out to pet you.

Jack glares at you for a moment, his hand straightening before he slaps you. “Don’t get testy, I’ll take your arms next,” he murmurs.

You’re about to bite back when you take in his words. What? Your heart begins to sink, deeper and deeper as your hand shakily reaches to the edge of your bed sheets. No. No. NO. You hold your breath as you rip the sheets off. Your flesh is swollen, puffy and looks like it’s crying out in its own form of pain. Large, manila colored casts and bandages surround your thighs and what remains of your knees.

You begin to hyperventilate. Your chest begins to rise and fall faster and faster - your body feels like a prison.

Jack only coos. “Stop that,” he says lovingly, hand petting your head as you fall deeper and deeper into despair. He removes the black glove from his hand and grabs your face, his dark, eyeless sockets boring into your own eyes. He looks at you with such adoration that acts as a front for the betrayal and anger he feels for you deep down inside. He draws closer to your tear stained face, a small smile bearing shark-like teeth at you before parting his lips to speak to you. “You’re being hysterical.”

[whatiswhump]

Hydrotherapy pt. 3

Set earlier in the series after Hydrotherapy pt 1 and Hydrotherapy pt 2

-

Sean restrained himself from jogging down the long corridors to Alfie’s room after hearing what had occurred from the nursing staff. He wasn’t a man prone to anger but this- this would do it.

He was so caught up in his concern and utter frustration that he burst into the locked patient room.

Alfie flinched in surprise, awake enough to register the quickness of the entry.

Sean remembered himself and took a deep breath, he couldn’t let his anger show in front of Alfie. With a twist in his chest he conceded that the kid had grown so sensitive, so easily spooked, he wouldn’t understand and it would only rattle him.

“I’m sorry Fie, I didn’t mean to barge in here.” Sean supplied as a means to apologize on more levels than one, he typically knocked, a courtesy most staff members didn’t supply to the patients here.

“S’okay,” Alfred responded quietly and Sean noted with a cursory look that he had been recently sedated despite the fast reflex when he first entered.

“I just- I heard, about what happened… how are you feeling?”

Alfie looked to the floor for a moment, clearly embarrassed to be a victim once again, “I’m okay. But they came in last night and said I was screaming again.”

Alfie knew he didn't have to explain himself any further, his nightmares had been an ongoing supplication for sedation. The night staff really didn’t have a choice and then risk the sleep of other patients, rest was so vital for their stability after all.

“Well we can take it easy today, I could take you to the sun room, would you like that?”

Sean watched as Alfie’s eyes drifted back down to the floor absently. He hated to see him like this. 

“... Maybe later.”

“Sure, bud, is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable? We could go for a hot shower?”

His gaze darted back up to Sean, “No- please, I don’t want to do that.”

So water was a Big No. Noted. 

“Hey, no problem, you’re not scheduled for one, just want to help you feel warm enough,”

Alfie turned sheepish as it dawned on him how quickly his panic had escalated. This was Sean, he would be careful. He would be nice.

He began to finger the edge of the starched sheet as those thoughts churned through his mind leading to a question, “Sean?” he looked up again.

“Yeah?” Sean liked it when he had questions- was trying to communicate and sort things out. It was better than the days he didn’t.

“Do you know Dr. Grant?”

“Sure, he’s a good doctor. Why?”

Sean waited customarily for Alfie to sort through his thoughts and connect them with the necessary words, for anyone else it might be frustrating, but he just took the stalling period to take a seat on the side of the patient bed.

“Is he a…. Good person?”

Sean furrowed his brow for a moment, his patient had never asked a question like that.

“Um, I don’t know, I don’t know him all that well, but from what I can tell I’d guess yes?”

The concentrated look on Alfie’s face softened slightly, “Okay.”

Silence hung for a few moments longer before he tacked on, “He helped me… I want him to be- I don’t know.”

“Everyone here is supposed to help you, him included, it is what we are here for.”

Alfie just kept running his thumb over the hem of the sheet, eyes down.

“You would tell me if anyone ever didn’t do that, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded unconvincingly and for the thousandth time today, Sean felt a twist in his chest. Fie didn’t even seem like he should be here anymore, like he didn’t deserve any of this. Why couldn’t they just help him? It should be simple right?

At that moment, with a buzz and a click Cheryl let herself in.

“There you are! Good morning you, two. Sean I thought we’d get started on our medication rounds.”

“Morning Cheryl,” Sean turned his light back on to greet her, attempting to push down the worry that was threatening the edges of his mind.

“Alfred, how are you feeling this morning? Seems like you need a good rest after yesterday.” Her matronly tone was softer than normal.

Alfie only nodded but didn’t look up, practically drooping under some invisible strain.

“We’ll get you back right as rain buddy,” Sean started again with his characteristically cheery tone.

“That we will, just keep your head up,”

Alfie didn’t acknowledge the last few comments, instead closing his eyes for a few long seconds before opening them again.

Cheryl pursed her lips but didn’t seem surprised as she turned to fetch the morning’s dose from her cart just outside the door.

Sean, however, was disheartened that he wasn’t able to be of more help, he stood and looked back at the young man practically melting into the bed out of exhaustion.

But within the next second he realized Alfie didn’t just look tired. There had been a subtle shift since he had walked in, his patient’s pallor was tinged with unusual warmth dotting with more minute drops of sweat by the moment. Sean silently chastised himself for being so distracted by the topic of conversation to have not paid enough attention to Alfie’s physical state.

“Fie, can you look at me? You look- a little flushed, do you mind if I touch your forehead?”

His patient minutely shook his head no and closed his eyes. Sean held the back of his hand up and sure enough he was burning up.

“Oh Fie, when was the last time  a nurse checked on you? You’ve got one hell of a fever.”

Alfie blinked a few times, “I don’t know- I thought- it was the sedation.”

“We didn’t sedate him last night,” Cheryl piped up as she reentered with the meds.

He looked back at Sean, confused and uncertain.

“This isn’t good.”

Cheryl slowed down to really take a look at the patient for the first time that morning and her expression said it all. Suddenly she was jumping into action, a worrisome new urgency in her voice, “I’ll go let the doctor know and send another nurse over.”

She rushed out and Sean looked back at Alfie, he was so warm… Much too warm..

“Alfie, can you look at me? What are you feeling?”

Those big scared eyes blinked slowly at him, “I don’t-”

“-Sean, Cheryl sent me, what’s going on?” A new nurse, Tillie? maybe, flew into the room with a strict expression of determination.

“Something is wrong with Alfred, he’s burning up.” And declining by the second... Sean thought worriedly.

The nurse reached into her pocket and withdrew a thermometer she had been toting, “Mr. Finch, let me put this under your tongue.”

He didn’t open his mouth, instead his eyes grew foggy and distant again.

“Alfred, can you hear me?”

She moved forward, gripping his chin to open his mouth.

“Here, let me do it- I don’t want him to get scared,” Drowsy eyes lifted again to watch Sean approach, “Here, bud, I need you to cooperate, somethings wrong, I need to see how high your temperature is-”

Alfie just stared at him, Sean recognized this look, nearly vacant and getting further and further away. Something was very wrong.

But he didn’t resist when Sean slipped the instrument into his mouth and then gently held his jaw closed.

“Oh, god, he’s at 106, I’ve never seen that,” the nurse read in a hushed tone after a few moments.

Footsteps announced a new coterie of arrivals, Harris and Cheryl had returned.

“What’s going on here?” Harris looked at Alfie and then his staff.

“Sir, his temperature.. I’ve never seen it, it’s- 106,” The timid nurse answered.

Everyone in the room looked back to the patient, his eyelids were drooping again.

“He needs to stay awake and we have to bring his temperature down.” Dr. Harris announced to the group with a grimace, “Nurse Cheryl, go prep an ice bath as fast as you can and alert more orderlies to assist.”

“But sir, I don’t think we can get him into one without a sedative and we can’t use one with this high of a temp.”

“With a fever this high the first thing we need to do is get him in an ice bath, cool down the dangerously high core temp, then we can think about treatment once he’s stabilized. He doesn’t have a choice.”

“There’s no way we can do that to him again so soon.” Sean said almost to himself, not realizing that he was essentially talking back to the doctor’s orders.

“I understand, If we don’t get his temperature down soon, he’ll have permanent injury,” Harris glared at Sean.

Sean grimaced, no wonder Alfie was always so scared. How was he supposed to trust them when idiots were leaving him in ice baths for hours on end and then winding up with dangerously high fevers to just throw him back in? It wasn’t just irresponsible, it was downright cruel.

More orderlies arrived, and Sean knew Harris was right, there really wasn’t a choice.

Sean knelt down to him fading in and out on the bed, “Alfie- Fie, I need you to listen to me. Your temperature is way too high, if we don’t bring it down, bad things are going to happen, we don’t have a choice, we have to put you back into an ice bath.”

Fie’s eyes were practically rolling back in his head as he was clinging to consciousness, he didn’t seem to understand what Sean was trying to tell him. He was torn between hoping Fie was too out of it to realize what was happening versus being frightened that his delirium was a very very bad sign.

“Get him up,” Harris ordered.

The other men in white approached and they lifted him with no problem.

Alfie only clutched back to them, like he was afraid of being dropped.

They laid him on a gurney and rushed him down the hall at breakneck speed. As they turned a corner to enter the massive tiled institutional bathroom, a nurse rushed forward with crushed ibuprofen for Harris. He hurriedly fed it to Alfie, who did not resist and washed it down with a sip of water before backing away and nodding to the orderlies.

“I’m sorry Alfie,” Sean muttered as he helped to lift the kid off the gurney and deliver him to the tub. 

His eyes went wide at this, as he seemed to understand where he was, “NNNh-!!!!” He began to thrash in the men’s arms, there were four of them to be safe.

“This is for your own good, Alfred,” Harris reminded from above. 

They plunged him into the water and he began to shriek and claw wildly like a rabid animal, out of his mind with fear and confusion.

“Keep his whole body submerged!”

Water and ice cubes were sloshing out of the tub as he struggled but no one let their grips loosen, noises not words were coming out of the patient as his struggling began to slow, exhaustion pulling at his limbs.

“That’s it, good boy, let it happen.”

Alfie’s wild looking eyes scanned all of the people above, far too many, all watching him. After a few frantic moments Sean’s concerned face came into clarity.

Alfie now beginning to shiver, locked eyes and stared at him in desperation, not asking to be released but simply using Sean as an anchor, something to grab onto.

“Open his mouth, let’s see if the temp has gone down yet.”

Alfie blindly started looking around again, trying in vain to understand what was happening- what was being said... none of it was computing, only fear, frigid and raw. 

Anonymous hands wrenched open his jaw and a thermometer found its way in, another pair of hands held his head so that his mouth stayed closed around it, all the while, four men still held his limbs under the excruciating ice bath.

“Down to 102.”

Alfie then closed his eyes, not understanding the words that were being said, just hoping that this was all a nightmare.

-

@cursedscribbles @voidwhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @aliceinwhumperland @whump-it @professional-idiocy @ziptiewhump @angrystudentgoopfire @jaxonjekkels @clubbem @simplygrimly @whole-and-apart-and-between @one-stop-whump-shop @bumpthumpwhump @rosesareviolentlyread @whumpasaurus101 @hurting-fictional-people @burtlederp @thelittlegirlwithcurlyhair @crystalquartzwhump​

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing  the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner @idratherliveinbooks @silver-stardrop @niko-su993 @olivia-grace26 @shigsteranddabstersimp @hawks96@pink-dodo-writes @amishahosein24 @keilemlucent @stargazingaloneatnight @thelilmisskaydesi @morganseeksindependence-blog @teabutnerdy @patchworkpiper

If you’re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 21: Infection

CW: sick whumpee, abdominal pain, medical whump, emeto mention, nausea mention, pet whump references, recovering whumpee, fever, sickfic

TIMELINE: Chris’s first year after rescue

Nat makes the call, her jaw set in a grim line as she puts her phone up to her ear, and Jake has never seen the laugh-lines and crow's-feet wrinkles as clearly as he does in the dim yellowed light from the single lamp in the corner. 

"We can't do this," Jake says, softly, but he's outvoted by sheer necessity and he knows it, he knows before the protest ever leaves his mouth. It doesn’t stop his heart from racing, dread pooling deep inside him. "Nat, we can't, he isn't-... they’ll turn him in, Nat, god damn it-"

"Hey," Nat says into the phone, ignoring Jake entirely. "It's me. Yeah. I'm calling you for help." 

Next to Jake, lying on the couch while the big man balances himself seated precariously on the coffee table, Chris whines weakly in pain, pressing the back of Jake's hand to his clammy, sweat-soaked forehead. Coppery hair sticks to him, soaked the color of old pennies. 

Jake half-expects to see the blue-green tarnish growing and taking over.

"Hurts," Chris whispers, and Jake's heart breaks open. They didn't know - Chris had collapsed this morning, thrown up his breakfast and then blacked out in the bathroom, it was the first they'd seen of his illness.

Only when he'd been bundled down here to the couch, temp taken - 102 degrees Fahrenheit, holy fuck, he’d been fine yesterday, right? - had Chris admitted he'd been hurting for two days, a pulsing pain around his navel that felt like it was taking over his whole right side now. He told them he’d been so scared they would make him take medicine again that he hadn't told anyone. 

When Chris pointed to the right side of his stomach and said that it hurt there, and it kept getting worse... that was when Nat had given that serious, firm nod, said Dr. Masood couldn't help them this time, and picked up the phone. 

"Nat, he still has his barcode, they'll fucking turn him in-"

"My money’s on appendicitis," Nat says flatly into the phone. Her eyes move to Chris, lips thinning at his pale skin, freckles and two bright red splotches standing out on his cheeks, the way his green eyes are glassy, hazy, lost until the pain spikes and they briefly clear, just enough for him to start crying again. "Guarantee it. I can't use our guy." A pause. "Listen, he's eighteen - I think - and was routinely subjected to dehydration, starvation, and sleep deprivation. His medical care inside isn’t exactly nothing, but... this is appendi-fucking-citis and that motherfucker is going to burst if we don't get someone to cut it out of him ASAP. I don't have the time to waste going back and forth on this with you. Take one fucking look at him and you’ll know it!"

Nat never swears like this, with such intense hostility and insistence. Chris tightens his grip on Jake, and moans, frightened, turning to look up at him with wide green eyes far too big for his pinched expression. “S-sorry, I’m, I’m sorry… ‘ll... ‘ll b’good...” 

The plaintive haunted fear and hurt in him makes Jake wish there were an enemy, someone he could fight. Sitting here watching Chris get sicker by the hour, able to do absolutely nothing about it, is so much worse than anything else ever has been. 

“It’s okay,” Jake murmurs, stroking over his hair, carding his fingers gently through the damp, sweaty strands. “She’s not mad at you, little man, I swear. You’re sick and she’s trying to get help, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fuck those motherfuckers who made you too scared of pills to tell us you were hurting.

"Jake-" Chris starts, and then stops, swallows as his face goes a little green around the edges and he tenses, whimpering, torn between nausea and the way muscles tensing makes him hurt even worse. Jake watches his internal battle written openly across his expression. Tears slip from his eyes, running down his cheeks, as he chokes back a sob. "It, it, it hurts so much... Jake, I, I need… I could take, take, could… could could could take something now."

Jake nods and starts to move but Nat puts up a hand. "No drugs," She says, quietly. "They'll give him something there to put him under. We don’t want anything to interact badly.”

“Nat-”

“I’m sorry,” She says, her voice firm and calm. “But nothing until my contact has him.”

“Who is your fucking contact, anyway?”

Nat gives Jake a small, tired smile. “Not yet, Jake. Have to keep these things under wraps.”

"Mom, please," Chris pleads, and Jake and Nat both turn to look at him, shocked, eyes wide. "Mom, it, it, it… It hurts!"

Neither of them says anything at first, and Chris stares at them, eyes pleading but far away. It isn’t them he sees at all.

“Nat-”

“Just go with it,” She says, and goes back to the phone.

“Please, Mom-” Chris whimpers.

"Sorry, we can't," Jake whispers, fighting back the burn of hot tears himself as he goes back to stroking through Chris’s hair. Guilt twists inside him, sharp as any knife. Being helpless is tearing him apart.

Chris’s eyes move, lock on Nat, struggle to maintain their focus, go hazy again. His flush is layered over a gray-green paleness that makes him look like a corpse with makeup, pouring sweat that doesn’t cool him down at all. “Mom, please, please help me, please… don’t, don’t, don’t let them take you out, out of my head, Mom, please!”

Nat listens to the voice on the other end of the phone. Her eyes glimmer and her jaw is starting to tremble where she has it locked, visible in the low warm light coming from the lamps, but her voice stays steady. "No. Yes. Yes, that’s him you’re hearing. Yes… 102.3- yes, I'm sure. Fifteen minutes ago, more or less. Abdominal pain - he even said he thought it was a stomachache at first. Fever. Nausea, vomiting, yes. Getting worse and moving down and to the right. Yeah, I know. So how do we keep my rescue safe without the solution being to sit here and watch him die from infection?"

Jake ignores the cold fear that squeezes bony fingers around his heart and wipes Chris's forehead with a cool wet cloth. 

"Mom, m'sick," Chris whispers. "No, no school. Please, please…" His eyes track blearily over Jake's face. "Dad, tell her. Tell, tell, tell-... tell her m’sick…”

"I know," Jake says quietly, his voice shaking and thin. Nat is speaking softer now, lightning-fast whispers with her contact, somebody she's worked with for years with the hospital. "I know, Chris. We’re going to take you to see a doctor, okay?”

Chris blinks at him once, twice, and then his eyes are gone, shifting away. His lower lip starts to tremble, jerking fast, shallow breaths, nearly panting. “I’ll be, be, be-be, be good, don’t… don’t hurt me, sir, I’ll… I’ll be good.”

“I know, buddy, I know.” Jake can’t listen to this much longer. “I know you will.” Chris’s voice is small, losing all his sense of himself. Timid, scared, sweet.

“Be good… can, um, can, can be good f-for… you…” Chris whispers, eyes closing, new tears run out the corners as he whimpers and curls up against the pain. “Just, just stop… hurting me… b-be good, handler, good for, for, for you...”

Jake’s stomach flips and he has to fight the bile trying to rise in his throat. “Nat-”

“Hush, Jake.” Nat’s voice is still calm, and her attention is on the phone. "Mmhmmm. Christopher, um... say Yoder-”

“Stanton,” Jake says from the couch. 

Nat might smile. The expression is too tight, too pinched with worry, to really be called that. “Strike that. Christopher Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "Eighteen…. We think. No known health problems or pre-existing illness. Autistic."

Jake looks up, blinking, and Nat calmly looks back at him, giving a firm nod while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment of a hospital.” Her voice starts to shift, then, and Jake watches her free hand close into a fist. She speaks with increasingly open anger, badly masking her worry and fear. “For the love of Christ, just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is and he still needs care - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't autistic, god damn it, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time goddamn dithering over whether you believe a diagnosis while he gets worse!"

Nat's voice rises, nearly shouting, and Chris whines and curls up closer to Jake, then winces and cries out in pain, straightening back out again. 

"Sssshhhhh, it's okay," Jake murmurs, but his heart is racing, too, his nerves are jagged with memories of swearing, shouting adults. Some part of him that has never stopped being a child braces for the sound of impact. "It's okay."

Nat is quiet for a long time, then snaps, "Yep, nope, I know, I know you needed to confirm," fast and angry. “See you then.” She hangs up, turning to look at Jake and Chris. "My contact is on their way. If the surgery works, two days and he's home. If his appendix bursts... Could be two weeks in the hospital, Jake."

"No," Jake says, lips barely moving. "No, Nat. Two weeks… he can't fake being someone else for so long."

"He better give it his best shot," Nat says, pushing herself to her feet. "I know this sucks, Jake, but sometimes what we do is make the hard choices they can’t make. And… and even if they turn him in, being turned in is better than dying."

Is it? Do you know that?

"What do we do, then?" Jake says, resting his hand on Chris's sweat-damp hair. Chris doesn't seem aware anymore, staring off into space, weeping silent tears and hitching soft sobs, promising in whispers to be good and obey his handler if only he’ll make the pain stop. “What’s the next step? Give me a fucking order, Nat, because I’m lost, and-” Jake gives a nervous, humorless laugh. “-I’m pretty fucking scared for him.”

"Yeah… yeah, I get that. Just pack some clothes and toiletries," Nat says flatly. "And prepare to swear on the fucking Bible to doctors and surgeons and fucking cops if we have to that his name is Chris Stanton and he's your little brother. We’re about to put on a show, Jake."

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not leaving him. You are going to be the most concerned and caring big brother the world has ever seen. When he gets out of surgery, you’re going to meet him in recovery, you’re going to stay with him in his room day and night. You’re there from day one until he walks back out the door.” Nat’s jaw is set again. “And he will be walking back out that door with us.”

“Visiting hours-”

“He can’t make his own medical decisions,” Nat says, leaning over a little, staring Jake right in the eyes. “So someone has to be there all the time. Do you understand me? He can’t.”

“He’s not-... he could, if he was a little further along-”

Chris whines, and his hand grabs weakly at Jake’s and squeezes. Jake can hardly feel it. 

“He’s not. Okay? He’s not that far into recovery yet. We’re going to pretend he’s a lot less capable than he is, to get him through this. We are going to pretend he can’t do it himself, because right now it’s not pretending, he wouldn’t remember what to do yet. And I feel like shit treating him like a toddler, Jake, I really do, but… but he can’t do this alone, and I can’t exactly tell them it’s because he was a pet and they’re trained to be dependent, now can I? We’re going to have to lie about his condition.”

“That wasn’t actually a lie, though, right? We do think he is actually-”

“Yeah. We do. But he’s not incapable - or he won’t be, once he’s older. That’s what we have to lie about. And I don’t-... right now I don’t give a shit about a damn thing except buying him more time to fucking grow up.”

"What about his barcode?"

Nat takes a deep breath. "My contact is going to bandage it over, say it was part of when he passed out and they’ve taken care of it and we're going to hope to Christ no one who they don't trust checks under it. We're out of options, Jake, unless you know how to do an appendectomy and you’ve just been holding out on me. I’m not prepared to do kitchen table surgery. Are you?"

There’s a pause while they stare at each other, and then Jake takes in a deep, steady breath.

You can do this. Chris needs you to do this.

"His name is Chris Stanton," Jake says, meeting her eyes, "and he's my little brother, and he's autistic. I’m his medical power of attorney, I make medical decisions when he’s incapcitated. He’s scared of hospitals because of bad childhood experiences and needs someone nearby at all times or he’ll lose it.”

Nat gives a terse nod. "Good. Pack your shit, and hope his fucking appendix hasn't burst while my contact dicked around." 

Nat went up the stairs like a lightning bolt, and Jake let out a shuddering breath. 

By the time they hear the ambulance pull up a few minutes later, sirens and lights carefully off, they're packed and ready to follow in Nat’s old truck.

Chris's fever is still rising. 

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[shinobicyrus]

Meeting for the First Time Again

A short little DS9 fic inspired by @c-rowlesdraws more alien redesign of Dax. Here’s a re-imagining Sisko’s reunion with his old friend.

Besides bearing DS9’s new Science and Medical officers, the USS Bhaskara was offloading much-needed support personnel and medical supplies for both the station and Bajor. With the Enterprise being called away earlier than anticipated, the Bhaskara would likely be the last Federation ship any of them would see for weeks.

Major Kira had accompanied Sisko aboard, and had stood straight-backed and on edge during the formalities between him and the Bhaskara’s captain. Charitably, Sisko figured it might not have been comfortable for her to be stuck in the unfamiliar close quarters of a Federation starship, or it maybe being surrounding by over a hundred sapients of a dozen different species all in their matching, pristine uniforms.

He still hadn’t come to a final verdict with her, yet. Certainly she had no love for the Federation. Hadn’t been at all shy to disclose that fact either, which he couldn’t help but privately admire. It was the kind of refreshingly straightforward attitude that Sisko didn’t encounter as often as he liked, anymore.

At least he knew where they stood. There may never be any friendliness there, but there could at least be a mutual respect, if they didn’t give each other brain damage butting heads all day.

Well. That was what their new doctor was for.

He was human and very young. His blue uniform was freshly replicated, and a medical bag hung off of his shoulder as if he expected to start performing first aid the moment he stepped off the ship. Sisko had read his file. Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir had the highest qualifications of any medical practitioner he’d ever seen, and the academic accolades to have his pick of duty assignments.

Instead of research or a ship’s physician, he chooses a barely-functional Cardassian monstrosity on the furthest fringes of Federation space.

No one makes that choice unless they have something to prove. That never boded well. Sisko could only hope the few weeks tending to a people trying to recover from decades of slavery and genocide will give the good doctor a good dose of sobering reality.

Thankfully, Captain T’Shel was vulcan and took zero offense when Sisko politely declined their offer of a light tea in their stateroom. With the amount of work still needed to get DS9 up and running, it was only Logical he take his officers and return to work as soon as possible.

Their disembarkation went without incident, though Sisko half-expected the airlock to jam again. Next to him, Doctor Bashir took in the grim Cardassian architecture of the promenade with that eagerness unique to academy graduates on their first assignment; his eyes sparkled with adventure and Sisko marveled that he himself had ever been that young. 

DS9’s Science officer was more sedate, flowing over the tall rim of the airlock on many legs with a smooth, liquid grace. Two pairs of stubby but strong limbs pushed her long body upright and brought her flat, vaguely amphibian head at about his chest-level, passably mimicking a biped.

“Commander.” Major Kira looked uncertainly at her charges. “If you’d like me to give these two a tour of the station – ”

“You and Doctor Bashir go ahead, Major.” He turned to the trill and saw her already looking at him. The face of a stranger. Still, he smiled at her. “I’m afraid I have to put Lieutenant Dax to work right away.”

Dax nodded, unperturbed at being put to work so soon after a long starship journey. Not even time to throw her pack into her new quarters.

Major Kira for one just seemed relieved. The sidelong glance she gave Dax made it clear how unused she was to dealing with non-humanoids. Sisko couldn’t bring himself to judge – all of her interactions with off-worlders before now had involved Cardassians.

Before she could herd him away, Doctor Bashir half-ran past Kira to Dax’s side, stopping them from leaving. Sisko was too surprised – and too curious of Dax’s reaction – to chide him.

This time.

“Jadzia!” He adjusted the strap of his bag, completely heedless of the disgruntled glare Major Kira had leveled at him like a charging phaser. “I was thinking. Maybe we could…” He cocked his head, boyish smile shy but still precocious. “Get together later. For dinner?”

Dax did not answer immediately, as if he...she were weighing the question. As one second, then another ticked by without a response, Sisko watched the fear creep into Bashir’s eyes as it slowly dawned on him that he was holding up his commanding officer. Sisko said nothing to add or alleviate his anxiety, and Bashir stammered, looking to him and then back to Dax. “O-o-or a drink?”

Dax blinked slowly. Her mouth curled into a shape a human would find friendly. Her voice was thick, melodious and warm like rain on a muggy day. “I’d be delighted.”

Three words was evidently all it took to leave Doctor Bashir a dumb, grinning blob of hormones stuck in place in front of the airlock. Dax and Sisko left him to be pried off the deck by the Major.

They walked side-by-side down through the promenade. Sisko kept his strides small so the four shorter limbs on Dax’s lower body could keep up without much difficulty.

While trills could stand upright just fine, walking without all eight limbs was another matter; like expecting a human to hop around on one foot all day. Any Federation-raised citizen wouldn’t think twice about trill walking past low to the ground, but Curzon had stubbornly mastered the art.  

‘Gotta look them in the eye, Benjamin. Think I could have gotten anything done at Khitomer crawling around the Klingons’ pointy boots?’

Watching her walk was what did it. The dignified posture, head bobbing and both pairs of upper-arms clasped behind her back. It was all Curzon, but eerily incongruous. Like looking into the mirror and seeing the wrong color uniform.

Sisko leaned down to ask, “He’s a little young for you, isn’t he?”

“Trills mature a little faster than humans, but we’re close in Standard,” Dax said. “He’s twenty-seven and I’m –”

“Three-hundred twenty-seven?”

“You know I stopped counting, Benjamin.”

“How convenient for you.”

Dax chortled a bubbly trill laugh. “What was that human expression you told me once? About youth and old age?”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“A pitfall I’m glad to have avoided,” Dax grinned.

“You’re dodging the question.”

She stroked her whiskers like Curzon used to do when he was pretending to be a forgetful old man. When...she was pretending. “And what question would that be?”

“Whether the man knows he’s chasing after someone who’s technically older than his great-grandparents.

“Of course he knows,” Dax’s upper body stood a tad straighter. “He finds it fascinating. He’s never met a joined species before.”

“‘Fascinated’ isn’t the word I’d have chosen to describe it.”

“It’s the spots. And the arms,” She raised two of them to fend off his raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry Benjamin, I’ve been around humans long enough to be able to spot a harmless crush. He’ll sigh and pine at the ‘unattainable older woman’ shield he put around me until he gets over it.”

“I’ll trust your expertise on the matter,” Sisko said wryly. “While we’re on the subject, what’s your opinion of him?”

“My opinion?”

“You've trained your share of clueless ensigns and terrorized enough trill initiates...”

“That’s true,” Dax agreed. “I happen to remember one young cadet who swore he’d be captain of a starship by thirty.”

“And an admiral by forty.”

“How is that going for you?”

“Further along than Cal. And you’re changing the subject.”

Those whiskers, again. “The subject being?”

“Come on now, Dax. You two were stuck on the Bhaskara for three weeks. That’s more than long enough for you to get a good read on him.”

“Is this an official request from my superior officer?”

Superior officer. Curzon. That…was going to take some getting used to. “If it has to be, but I’d rather be talking with an old friend whose opinion I trust.”

Dax looked pensively at patterns on the deck plating as they walked. “He’s...young. Eager. Brilliant and knows it, but even the arrogance feels like an affectation. Almost obligatory. At least, it’s flimsy enough that I doubt it will last long outside of a competitive Academy environment.”

“He specifically asked to be here.”

Dax’s hum was like rippling water. “He told me that as well.”

“That sounds like a man with something to prove.” Sisko didn’t hide the disapproval in his voice. From another officer under his command, maybe. Not from Dax.

“Yes, but it’s to himself first and foremost. I’m not a counselor Benjamin, so I couldn’t tell you why, but  I’m confident his rough edges will be smoothed over with little bit of time, wisdom, and real-world experience. And,” she added with a thin smile. “The guiding hand of a wise mentor.”

“I hope I can live up to your example.”

“Oh, I meant me. You’ll do too, I suppose,” Dax winked. “I taught you everything you know.”

For the first time since he boarded that godforsaken Cardassian station, Ben Sisko laughed. “Not everything, Old Man.”

[soldierswar]

Kobik - Chapter VI

Bucky x Reader

Angst

Previous chapters in Masterlist

Summary: You, Bucky, Sam, and Kobik face disagreements on what the next step is. But when you eventually come to agreement trouble arises.

“I’m coming with you,” you declared.

“Are you crazy?” Bucky argued.

“I agree,” Sam added.

“As in for the first time ever Bucky’s not the crazy one. And besides, we don’t even know what our next step is in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes, crossed your arms, and laid your head back against the couch.

About an hour ago Sam called two agents of some type of organization you had never heard of before to come in and take the two guys in for medical attention before being interrogated. And by the looks of it, they might be getting serious medical attention for probably the next few days. This meant that if Sam and Bucky wanted to get this done themselves, you were all technically still on your own with this one.

They also wanted to take Kobik in with them. But both Sam and Bucky convinced them that she needed to stay with the three of you. That didn’t take much convincing because before Kobik practically collapsed in Bucky’s arms due to exhaustion, she was attached at your hip while they asked both you and Kobik questions. The poor kid had used up so much of her energy. So while the three of you were trying to work things out, she was comfortably snoozing in your bed for the night. Chances were that none of you were going to sleep anyway.

“So what now?”

Neither had answers.

“Listen,” Bucky said.

“This isn’t for you to worry about, okay?”

“Not for me to worry about?” you retorted.

“This was for me to worry about since the minute you brought me into this by bringing Kobik home.”

Bucky had guilt written all over his face. But guilt wasn’t what you wanted him to feel.

“Listen,” you said.

“You’ve trained me for countless amount of hours. And if today hasn’t proved that you’ve done a great job at it I don’t know what will.”

You turned to Sam for backup. He had to know that you were right to an extent. And he seemed to be thinking about it.

“She might have a point, Buck.”

You smiled, and instead of looking at you, your husband was too busy giving Sam the infamous Bucky Barnes death stare.

“I trained you for last-resort situations like this. Not for you to actively go out with us.”

“Well what’s the other solution?” you argued.

“Just have the two of us wait around for another ambush?”

You looked over to Sam again for some backup, but he seemed to decide that it was best to just mind his own business and went to go grab a glass of water.

“We don’t even know what we’re walking into. And the last thing I’m gonna do is have my newly pregnant wife follow us around doing dangerous shit like this.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam choked.

“Okay to be fair,” you started, putting a finger up.

“We don’t know how new this is.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed.

“Then what’s your bigger and better solution Bucky?” you shouted shooting up from the couch.

“You say you want me to be quote on quote safe but I don’t know if you noticed but keeping me at home to play fucking house didn’t exactly go as planned!”

“Y/N I’m sorry—”

“Sorry isn’t a solution!” you cried.

“Sorry isn’t going to keep Kobik away from those people. Sorry isn’t going to magically undo everything that’s happened or what could happen soon whether I’m pregnant or not. And sorry isn’t going to stop me from doing whatever the hell I can to protect that little girl from going through any more pain!”

Your voice cracked during that last sentence, and you found yourself choking on tears that had yet to fall.

You could see it now that Bucky was understanding why you were so adamant about this.

“Y/N?” asked a soft, sleepy voice from across the room.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed and sat back down on the couch inviting her to join you and sit on your lap.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up kiddo,” you said softly while hugging her.

She shrugged and let her face collapse on your shoulder.

“What are we gonna do now?” she whimpered.

She knew that this wasn’t over. If anything she didn’t know if any of this was ever going to be over. And frankly, neither did anyone else in the room.

Sam came back around and leaned against the wall facing towards you and Bucky. Sam was eyeing you, and you eyed him back not to say anything more about the news that he just heard.

“We don’t want you to have to worry about that anymore, okay?” Bucky told her.

She didn’t respond. For a moment you weren’t sure if she just wanted to ignore his words, or if she just fell asleep again.

“We can find them. And find out who the bad man is.”

You rubbed her back soothingly over ambitiously attempting to get her back to sleep so you would no longer have to worry about her trying to get in on this.

“The people that came to get them are going to ask them questions. They might be able to find out,” Bucky stated.

She shook her head.

“I can find out.”

He narrowed his eyes curiously.

“What do you mean you can find out.”

And that’s when you remembered.

“Kobik, no,” you ordered.

“You are not reading their minds.”

“Reading their minds?” Bucky questioned.

“What is she talking about?” Sam added.

“What he said.”

Kobik reached out to touch Bucky’s hand to try to demonstrate and read him, but he pulled away before she could. There was no way he was going to let anyone read his mind. Especially not her.

“You didn’t know about this?” you asked.

“I knew that she could do some things with people’s minds, but I didn’t think that mind-reading was one of them.”

“So the cyborg doesn’t know everything.”

You couldn’t help but snort. And Bucky directed his .5 second long dirty look at you.

Kobik jumped off of your lap and sat in the middle of the couch between you and Bucky and directed her gaze to you.

“Why not?” she argued

“Because,” you counterargued.

She pointer at herself with both hands.

“Well if you want to find what you’re looking for, you need help. Duh.”

“Kobik…” you said in an odd motherly warning tone that had never really come from you before.

She crossed her arms and stared at you defiantly. Oddly, very similar to how you did before she showed up.

“Frustrating isn’t it?” Bucky teased.

For a split second, you envisioned killing him.

“Why won’t you back me up on this?” you looked back and forth between Bucky and Sam.

Bucky was too busy thinking to meet your gaze, and so was Sam. Kobik kept her attention on Bucky with her arms still crossed but now with a mildly hopeful expression.

They were not…They were not seriously thinking…

“Okay, why are you both considering taking Kobik but you were quick to tell me to back down?”

“She’s the one with the powers,” Bucky stated.

“And we’ll make sure that Kobik’s okay. They’re most likely heavily sedated in the hospital.”

“They’re pretty easy to get to without anyone even knowing a thing…Trust me.”

Sam silently agreed with him.

“Well, what about security?” Sam added.

“I’ll take care of that.”

“What do you mean by that?” you enquired.

“You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“You might have to,” he said.

“And what do you mean by that?” you frowned.

“I think it means,” Sam interjected.

“That you and Kobik are both getting your wish.”

…

One hour later

“Sam Wilson, when did you learn how to hack into a hospital database?”

Sam was sitting in the passenger’s seat on his laptop looking through the inpatient list of the hospital.

“I think you forgot that I used to work for Tony Stark, and I spent two years helping Steve try to find your husband. Long story short, it’s come in handy.”

You tilted your head and shrugged. Fair enough.

“Okay, I think I found them.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.

“Well, they’re the only two people in the hospital with security registered to be at their doors. So why don’t you tell me?”

“Okay, okay.”

When he pulled into the hospital parking lot you took in a deep breath, and Kobik took your hand. She had been quiet for the whole car ride.

“You sure you know what to do?” you asked.

She nodded confidently.

“Okay,” Bucky began.

“So once I send you the message to get inside, we have about 5 minutes before hospital security gets suspicious about what’s going on with the camera system, and maybe 2 minutes after that before they start taking action.”

You looked at Kobik.

“How long do you think you’ll need?”

She looked up and thought about it.

“A minute.”

You felt relieved. You could probably pull this off.

“Okay,” you said.

“Let’s do this.”

…

Bucky was nowhere to be found on the hospital ICU floor. Which was in fact a good thing because neither was the security guard that was supposed to be guarding the door of the man whose room you’d be infiltrating. If everything went according to plan, the security guard should probably be inside of the room knocked out, and would be for a good couple of hours. You didn’t ask how Bucky just had a syringe of some type of knock-out drug on hand. But once again, you didn’t want to know.

Nobody looked suspicious of anything, so things were going pretty well. From what you could tell nurses were used to seeing security guards go in and out for coffee breaks without covering each other…which definitely seemed like a recipe for disaster. This whole situation kind of proved that.

You walked up to the nurse’s station.

“Visiting hours are over, ma’am,” said a very tired-looking nurse.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized innocently acting like the biggest bubblehead.

“It’s just…My husband is on this floor in room…536? I forgot my wallet here this morning and I really need it as soon as possible. And my daughter would really like to see him for a couple of minutes. She was at school when I was last here.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but his expression softened when looked down at Kobik who was incredibly good at a fake pouty face. Who could say no to that little face?

“No more than 5 minutes, okay?” he sighed and smiled kindly.

You nodded gratefully and went on to find the room that you actually had to go to.

“Room 536 is on the other side, ma’am,” said another nurse.

Shit.

“Hey, nurse!” yelled a familiar voice from across the way.

It was Bucky…And he was wearing a security guard uniform.

“I think I need help with something. Are you busy right now?”

His voice carried so well that everybody had his attention, and nobody was going to ignore someone who was supposed to be guarding very dangerous people.

Kobik pulled you to come along instead of staring at Bucky like a dear in the headlights.

Just like Bucky said it would be, the door was unlocked. When you walked in, the designated security guard was peacefully snoring on the bench by the window. Poor guy was going to be so confused when he woke up.

Kobik was already standing, (or rather hovering over) who you had dubbed ‘grey shirt’ during the attack. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on his arm.

You had worried about what would happen if he woke up and caused a fuss. He may have been restrained, but one yell for help and you’d be busted. But Bucky was right. He was very drugged up and didn’t even twitch at Kobik’s touch.

Her brows began to furrow after holding on for a little while, and you could tell that she was seeing things and people that she didn’t want to see and that it upset her. You wished that you could just take her place.

After a couple of minutes, she let go. Her gaze was intense and sharp. Her eyes also glowed.

“He’s in New York,” she said.

“They’re all in New York.”

Suddenly your phone lit up in your hand. It was an urgent text from Sam to you and Bucky.

‘Time to go. NOW.’

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“We gotta go.”

She made her way back to you impossibly quickly and took your hand to exit the room. When you swung the door open Bucky was right there standing guard.

“You’re not supposed to be in here young lady,” he teased flirtatiously.

“What can I say I have a thing for running into men in uniform,” you winked before smacking him on the arm before beginning to walk down the hall at a fast pace as he followed.

“They’re all in New York,” Kobik told Bucky.

“What?”

“The bad men talked about moving from Sweden to New York. They’ll be here for a couple of weeks. Or until they find me.”

He swore under his breath.

Your phones buzzed a few times but you were too busy making your way down the stairs and steering through hallways to get the hell out of that hospital to check. You figured that you’d take time to pause and look as soon as you got outside.

“Nobody’s following us right?” you huffed trying to keep up with Bucky and Kobik’s superhuman paces.

They both scanned the surroundings and determined that you were safe.

Finally, you reached the glass doors of one of the back exits to the parking structure. Mission accomplished.

“Oh thank God,” you sighed making your way down the outdoor steps.

“Y/N?” said Bucky worriedly staring down at his phone.

“I think we’re about to have company.”

Before you even had time to process his words you heard the click of three guns from behind you. And you had a strong hunch that it wasn’t hospital security.

“Hand the kid over to us, and you go free.”

Fuck.

Tags: @teenagedreams-bucky @typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae @flightsandfantasy @noiralei @unstablesleepygal

[sunnysviolin]

Please I'm begging you I need to hear how the kids react to the wedding.

Omg I woke up to the best message!!! SO this got incredibly long and I (hopefully) put it under a read more haha!!

Mari and Hero initially think that they should tell them one by one. Then they realize that once Kel knows, the world will know.

They told Hero’s parents in the middle of the night, so Kel knew Hero came home, but not what happened

When they told Mari’s parents that morning, Sunny was conveniently staying over at Basil’s house so he didn’t hear the big giant argument that happened

In the end Mari texts their group chat after her parents leave the dining room, and tells them that she and Hero came home unexpectedly, and that she wants them all to meet in their secret spot later that afternoon

She wasn’t nervous when she told her parents, but for some reason telling the kids scared her. She knew they would be ecstatic, but it was still frightening

Hero had the same exact nerves, so he suggested that they make a picnic for everyone. Doing something familiar would help.

So Mari and Hero run around town all day, grabbing ingredients, flowers from the Fix-it Store, and so much more. They set up the blanket and basket in front of the dock, arrange the flowers they brought, and they’re just putting the finishing touches on everything when they hear laughter from afar

The kids come in together as one messy group. Kel is carrying Sunny on his back while arguing with Aubrey passionately. Basil and Aubrey’s are linked at the elbow, with Basil awkwardly trying to mediate between the two who were sharing good natured insults.

When they see Mari and Hero, Aubrey breaks away from the pack to throw herself into Mari’s arms. Hero has his car at school, but Mari doesn’t so it’s been weeks since she’s seen any of them. Aubrey is squeezing her too tight, and her hair is a shockingly bright pink now, but she smells like home, and the nerves that had been fluttering in Mari’s chest settle as she hugs the younger girl back.

Kel sets Sunny down and follows Aubreys example, tackling Hero down. Kel saw his brother just that morning, but the Cain instinct is Strong™️ Basil and Sunny approach more sedately, and exchange their own hugs with the rest, and then they all sit down together for their picnic

It’s like no time had ever passed. They catch up on each other’s news, seamlessly falling back into their normal roles.

Mari braids Aubreys long pink (PINK!) hair, listening to her talk about her budding crush on the girl who lives down the street. Sunny and Kel tease her for it, but Basil has been helping Aubrey to pick out tiny gifts to leave every day in her locker. It’s going well.

Kel is trying out for the basketball team, and it looks like he’s going to make varsity this year. He even made some friends on the team

Basil is president of the gardening club, which is both a surprise and a relief. Basil was nearly as quiet as Sunny, so finding out he had taken on a leadership role, even just in a club, was amazing

Speaking of Sunny...well Sunny didn’t really say much, but he watched them both with happy eyes and rested his head against Basil’s shoulder. The others talked enough for him

Hero and Mari elect to listen more than they talk at the beginning. Hearing all of the updates is bittersweet, some childhood nostalgia gripping at their throats. It was great that the kids were growing up, but still sad.

A part of Hero never wanted his brother to get taller than him. Kel was supposed to be a ragamuffin little kid, not a tall basketball star. Mari seemed to instinctually know what Hero was thinking, and she put her hand over his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Kel stuck his tongue out at their PDA but all four of them seemed thrilled to see Hero and Mari acting affectionate. It was no secret that the couple had been having troubles, but those troubles seemed to be disappearing. Aubrey reaches over to smack Kel for acting childish, and they erupt into a classic Aubrey/Kel showdown

There’s a natural lull in the conversation after the two finish their snapping, and the kids look at them expectantly. Mari hadn’t come home to visit at all yet, so the two of them show up in the middle of the night had to mean something.

Now that it’s the moment, neither of them know how to start. Hero begins to start his explination, when out of no where, Sunny sits up and looks at Mari

“You’re getting married, aren’t you?”

The rest of the kids: *laughing at Sunny*

Hero and Mari: 0-0

The laughter dies off the longer Mari and Hero just stare silently at Sunny. Eventually they began to press for answers, and Mari just pulls Sunny into her arms, while Hero demands to know how Sunny could have possibly known

Sunny shrugs and hugs his sister with a uncharacteristically wide smile.

The group explodes into happy shouting and screaming. there’s a lot going on, and no one is really sure who they’re talking to or who they’re hugging, but it’s perfect. It’s wonderfully perfect.

Once the excitement winds down, Aubrey pulls herself up in typical Aubrey fashion beginnings to make plans for where the bridal shower should be, and debating what type of neckline would look best for Mari’s dress.

Kel is more excited for the fact that he has a younger brother now!!!! Sunny is indulging Kel in this, letting the taller boy noogie him and call him “little bro” Basil looks like he wants to intervene, but Hero can’t help but laugh

They stay in their secret spot until the sun dips low, planning and enjoying being all together again. Everyone helps with packing up, and they unanimously agree to sleep over together at Mari and Sunny’s house

Hero ends up walking alone with Sunny in the back, slightly set apart from the group. It’s here that he asks again how Sunny knew

“Mari was sad. She and I talked on the phone yesterday afternoon, and she pretended that she was okay, but she wasn’t. She isn’t sad anymore.”

Hero let’s the words settle over him with a deep sigh. He wraps an arm around Sunny, relieved when the younger boy leans into it instead of away. Hero knew he was part of the reason Mari had been so sad before, but now he got to spend the rest of his life making her happy. Sunny whispered his next words, but Hero managed to hear them

“I’m glad we’re gonna be brothers for real.”

“Me too.”

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this. 

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

--

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation. 

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror. 

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot. 

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!” 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!” 

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see. 

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.” 

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!” 

Gasps, all around. 

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!” 

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.” 

Nino snorted. 

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!” 

He flicked the rim of his hat. “Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.” 

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies. 

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?” 

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least. 

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.” 

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.” 

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...” 

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged. 

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body. 

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way. 

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur. 

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?” 

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.” 

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out. 

Only to find out he was already let go. 

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer. 

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife. 

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought. 

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague. 

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm? 

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests. 

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was. 

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!” 

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?” 

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.” 

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...” 

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class. 

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught. 

Poetry in motion. 

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“ 

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.” 

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!” 

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.” 

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!” 

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it. 

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead. 

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar. 

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused. 

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.” 

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?” 

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.” 

“Do you want me to call him?” 

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.” 

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?” 

“Oh heck yes!” 

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet. 

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock. 

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious. 

Finally, she reached her apartment. 

“Home mom!” She called. 

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air. 

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked. 

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.” 

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look. 

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!” 

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!” 

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?” 

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning. 

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?” 

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!” 

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.” 

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!” 

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...” 

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again. 

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg. 

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.” 

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.” 

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.” 

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?” 

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.” 

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door. 

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang. 

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had. 

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague. 

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.” 

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose. 

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.” 

“Who’s side are you taking?” 

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.” 

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now. 

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.” 

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson. 

Then Plagg raised his hand. 

“Yes Adrien?” 

“Before we start class, I want to say something.” 

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.” 

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?” 

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists. 

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.” 

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms. 

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!” 

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up. 

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort. 

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back. 

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.” 

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now. 

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now). 

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…” 

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.