#but at least for now my brain refuses to like. repeat what its already said even if its just copy + paste so like. i'm so sorry

[tiredassmage]

also i promise i'll hopefully. sometime this week [maybe this month. this week is busy. maybe by the end of the month is a more feasible goal. anyway] actually manage to translate whatever the fuck is going on between alucren and tyr [one-sided as hell, btw] out of my dms and into like. a tumblr post but i just. i just need you all to know he's a delight and he's an idiot and he's my hamster running endlessly on a wheel and also he's a bag of m&m's that's stuck in the vending machine and i'm shaking him around. anyway.

you can, however, have this in the meantime.

and my single incoherent, possibly, without context giggle about them tonight is both of them are so fucking imperial sometimes in. usually slightly different flavors of it but also somewhat similar but also. shakes them. [laminated paper wobble noises] y'know?

anyway alucren's a fucking loser and i love him.

[the-astrophel-system]

Why Alters Are All You, & The Formation Of DID

Tw for talk of abuse (implications to different types), trauma, unsafe caregivers, trauma responses, homophobia, and brief talk of death. We're talking about the formation of DID, childhood trauma, please be cautious if you continue.

Let's discuss what people say is the basics of Dissociative Identity Disorder, its formation. The current leading theory is the Theory of Structural Dissociation (ToSD). Yes, we still need to know more about this disorder, but this is the current leading theory and was written by Ellert R. Nijenhuis, Kathy Steele, and Onno Van Der Hart. They took some research, ideas, and words from other authors and researchers, added their research and ideas, mixed it all together and presented us with the ToSD in their book: The Haunted Self.

Now, there are plenty of problems with the theory, and I know that Hart and other researchers you see in this field haven't been the best people. However, it is currently the leading theory. Colin A Ross spoke about numerous problems with the theory, but he even states that this theory is a significant contribution. While yes, it isn't perfect, and any scientific theory can and should be constantly improved on, its pretty damn good. What I understood from reading Ross' response, the understanding it gives us of DID is good, the issue is when it addresses other disorders, or lack there of. I will state, before going onto my point of the post, that Ross mentions that there is confusion of what counts as an emotional part (EP). In the sense of, how differentiated does an EP need to be, to count as a separate dissociated state?

I don't want to go into that all today, because I'm not a professional and cannot confirm what would count, at least in Ross' eyes.

What I want to talk about, is what the ToSD does give us, and why it explains that all parts/alters are You.

Now, I know I will get a lot of hate for this. So all I'll say is that: I'm willing to discuss this matter further, however I will not tolerate any insults, threats, belittlement, or any other kinds of hate. If you are mature, I'm open to discussion.

The ToSD states that everyone is born with ego states. These states are in charge of meeting specific needs. A child needs love, affection, food, comfort, sleep, etc etc. If a child is able to dissociate to a high level, has a disorganised attachment to their primary caregiver (which is inherently traumatic), and experiences repeated childhood trauma, they can potentially develop DID.

If a child experiences trauma, their brain is going to do its absolute best to protect them. They may fight, flight, or freeze (especially if it is repeated). Maybe all three. That child may subconsciously think that if they were a different gender, or a different age, or maybe if they were stronger or scarier, they could prevent this from happening to them. Maybe they felt like they deserved this pain, that they're an awful monster, or just a toy or an animal to their abusers. Maybe they just refused to accept this was happening to them because if it did, they would be dead.

Their brain will do anything it can to try and prevent and explain this trauma.

They may try to seek help from caregivers, but remember, in the case of DID, that child will have some kind of disorganised attachment. That child will not feel safe enough to tell them about this trauma, or if they do, they aren't supported in the way they need to heal and process. Maybe their caregivers are the source of this trauma, they have already tried to tell them to stop.

Nothing is working, this child is essentially trapped.

So, like I said earlier, this child's subconscious is working on overdrive and trying its absolute best to survive this. Dissociation is a very complex and extraordinary coping mechanism.

So the child pushes away the trauma, dissociating so chronically they disconnect to everything happening, and themselves. This dissociation is keeping those different ego states separated, preventing from them integrating during childhood. Instead, this dissociation basically creates amnesiac barries between each ego state. If that dissociation wasn't there, those states would try to integrate, but because some experienced trauma, they cannot harmoniously coexist. This is the differentiation between ANP's and EP's. ANP's (apparently normal parts) are the parts that are in charge of daily living, they are disconnected from any trauma. EP's (emotional parts) are the parts that remember or are connected to different traumas. EP's dont have to be emotional, it simply is to refer to the parts that are connected to trauma.

Anyway, mini ramble aside. ANP's and EP's are separated from each other, they still are aiming to meet certain needs for the child/person now. That's why it is so helpful or common for systems to catagorise alters into roles. Some parts are simply trauma responses, some exist to make friendships and connections, some have very specific roles/needs they meet, some alters exist to soothe, or protect, or whatever. They are still dissociated parts, aiming to meet needs.

All alters are still dissociated from each other, and some may believe they are the only one there, or the "original" because they are an ANP or host. Again there is not an "original" because the full personality was never whole to begin with. You started with different ego states, and you still are different ego states (obviously alters have grown and developed (but still not fully)).

So with that being understood, lets address the title of this post. All alters are You. Thinking about everything I have addressed for far, all alters are dissociated from each other, so what do you mean there can be a "You"? Again, I'm not talking about an "original", I'm talking about all aspects of the Self that is being dissociated from.

I used to find this fact absolutely ridiculous and hurtful and dismissing. But after starting to learn more about this disorder, working on self validation, and starting on trauma processing, it has made it so much easier to understand.

I, Virgil, am a part of Clem and Skye. Clem and Skye are parts of me. And this is the same for all alters. We are all different ego states that are dissociated from each other, from the Self.

So, what happens if we all fuse? And no, I'm not saying that's the only way to heal, I'm just trying to put this in perspective. If we all fuse, we would be dissociating so much less, we would be fused ego states and we'd create a fully formed and developed personality. We are all parts, and if we fuse, we create a whole.

A whole that we are no longer dissociating from. We will be the whole Self, the whole "You". We will not be dissociating from each other.

I cannot express this enough, fusions happen when you no longer need alters to be separated, they can exist harmoniously, they share emotions and thoughts and feelings and they are not dissociated from each other. There is no memory amnesia, or identity amnesia between them.

Again to clarify, all alters are dissociated ego states that grow and develop, and then if you all fuse, that is when the Self is no longer dissociated from. You'll finally be a complete You.

Another thing I want to address is differing opinions of alters. Let's use another hypothetical. Let's say you have like five different alters that are all queer in some way, but you have five that are cisgender and straight. Two of those cishet alters are homophobic and transphobic. So, if you all fuse, what will you identify as? While I cannot say anything for certain, I can take a big guess and say that no matter what you identify as, you may not be homophobic/transphobic. In this hypothetical, I'm assuming those alters have those beliefs because of things they experienced growing up. Internalised homophobia and all that. As you process trauma and become more accepting of yourself, and you fuse, I would guess those parts are no longer dissociated from that queer identity, whatever that identity may be.

I hope this makes sense. While alters can and do grow outside of trauma, those foundations are shaped because of the experiences of the child. Age, gender, opinions, personality, species, and even sexuality, can all be based and rooted in that trauma and experiences.

Healing from that trauma means reconnecting with the Self, whatever that looks like for you. It may not be the singlet persona many systems use, it may not be the host, it may be something different than what you originally thought. But it will be You and it will be right. It will be the Self that you've finally reconnected with.

Anyway, I think I've rambled enough. TLDR: all alters are You, and if you fuse, you will reconnect with the Self that was originally being dissociated from.

small edit: it is okay if you aren’t ready to accept alters and trauma. but that doesn't change the fact that you're all dissociated parts ✌️

[theewokingdead]

Random References - Benergy Universe

Pairing: Benny Miller x wife!Reader Summary: Benny is known for saying and quoting random things. What happens when he catches you doing the same? Word Count: 400+ Rating: No rating but my blog is 18+ Warnings: First person POV, Language Notes: If you don’t know these references, you’re too young. Here’s the cartoon, titled "Rejected" by Don Hertzfeldt, which found its way onto the internet in the early 2000s. Yes, my husband will yell random lines from it all the time, yes the kids find it hilarious, and yes it drives me insane lol.

Main Masterlist | Benergy Series Masterlist

“Nanny Plum. Nanny Plum.”

The name escapes my lips in a shrill sing-song voice, complete with a poor attempt at a British accent. I don’t mind letting the kids have screen time, but God I hate children’s shows and their annoyingly catchy songs and lines. They tunnel into my brain and burrow themselves deep, hibernating until they are suddenly roused, and refusing to leave until they eventually die off.

Sophie’s latest obsession is a cartoon on YouTube about a fairy princess and an elf. I heard someone singing the name Nanny Plum literally just one time, and now I find myself mindlessly repeating it while cleaning the glass shelves of the fridge. As if I wasn’t irritated enough by having to clean up whatever Benny allowed to ooze all over the place.

“Nanny Plum. Nanny Plum,” I sing aloud again. I want to get it out of my head, but I just can’t. To make matters worse random rhymes that follow the tune keep spilling out of my mouth. I scrub a little harder at the sticky shit before grumbling, “Want to shove my foot up Benny’s bum!”

Of course, that would be the moment Benny walks into the kitchen.

“And you tell me I say random shit!” he points out, pretending to be offended.

“I never said I don’t say random things too sometimes,” I defend. I’m fully aware I’m a bit of a hypocrite, giving him shit for always shouting the most random things when I know damn well I do it too.

“Sometimes,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“At least I’m current. I’m not the one who walked across the house with a bowl of ice cream shrieking ‘My spoon is too big!’ like anyone knows what the fuck that references anymore.”

“That video is a classic!”

“Yeah, a classic. As in it’s old. Leave it in the early 2000s where it belongs, Benjamin.”

“You know, I don’t think you appreciate me enough. The girls think I’m hilarious,” he retorts, grabbing an apple off the counter before walking off without another word.

Rolling my eyes, I return to my task. Now that he’s out of sight a small smile creeps onto my lips. As annoying as he can be, I love the shit out of him.

Just then, I hear him screech at the top of his voice, “MY ANUS IS BLEEDING!”

It’s so unexpected I startle.

“Jesus Christ, Benny!” I shout. How does he remember this random shit? “Wait until I shove my foot up your ass! Then we’ll see how much it bleeds.”

A booming laugh echoes from down the hall. “I’d like to see you try!” he calls, opening the front door. “Love you, babe!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, knowing the door has already shut behind him. “Love you too…asshole.” I huff and return to my scrubbing, doing nothing to stop my lips from curling into another smile.

[jaskierx]

People are interested in your opinions because you at least still seem to have a functioning brain ha.

Yeah I pretty much agree with what you've said. The situation sounds complicated and even he has talked about how he got caught up in the mainstream success and has some regrets. I'm guessing when you're used to not having much and suddenly get offered everything it must be a bit of a mindfuck. It's just uncomfortable to me that people feel they know everything from select pieces of information, as you said, we don't know them and never will.

Unfortunately Reddit is full of people to whom nuance doesn't exist as a concept. They refuse to consider that these event were almost 10 years ago or that we've only gotten one side of the story. Nope, there has to be a villain and how convenient, its this guy we don't like and we now get to be morally right for doing so.

yeah absolutely. if it was chelsea that they all already hated, they'd be yelling about how she shouldn't have prioritised her career when he was the one making the stupid amount of money, or how she separated him from his kids, or how she proved that she didn't care about him when she decided not to put the marriage first and move to australia temporarily while he did his job. people are gonna frame stuff in whatever way portrays their fave in a good light and vice versa.

there isn't a bad guy here. sometimes marriages and relationships don't work out. sometimes people are right for each other at one time in one set of circumstances and then shit plays out in a way that means they stop being compatible in a way that they either cannot fix or don't want to fix, and that's just how it goes. it's not my business to know the exact day by day details of what their breakup was like when i'm just trying to enjoy a tv show that he's involved with lmao

(i've had quite a few similar asks about taika and chelsea and That Interview etc so if i didn't answer yours please know it's just bc i'd have basically repeated what i said here)

[1autistictacticalrefrigerator]

( This is my first time writing a- what? AU? Headcanon? Don’t rip on me if its a little bland or if someone wrote smth similar to this 🫵😔)

So I’ve seen people draw König with a t-shirt or a shirt for the sniper hood, and that gives me a idea. Ok hear me out..

ClosetMonster!König and ClosetOwner!Horangi.

Horangi, as a child, used to hear and fear things that bump in the night. He was afraid of the closet, and what lies inside at 3am. His father would check the closet for Horangi, and tell him, “See? Nothing to be scared of, my boy.” His mother would say that it was just him being imaginative. She told him it was a phase, that when Horangi grew up, he wouldn’t “hear” things coming from the closet anymore.

….Except he didn’t stop hearing the sounds. Of course, as Horangi grew up, and joined the military, he learned to not be scared of “closet monsters” or anything along those goofy lines. He didn’t even believe in it anymore. However, sounds from his closet was definitely there. He was sure he wasn’t delusional, but just in case, to not sound like a fool- he doesn’t tell anyone which he later is grateful for when he wakes up in the middle of the night on a cold, cold, day. Horangi couldn’t sleep, so he decided to sneak out and go for a jog. Maybe that could help calm his mind. He couldn’t go out with his top half bare, so he reaches for the closet, and opens it to try and grab a jacket, or shirt, or something to put on.

BAM!

The closet door flies open with what seemed like the sound of panic. Not from Horangi, though, who already scrambled onto his feet and was reaching for the gun on the nightstand.

“Who the fuck-“ Horangi started before looking up, and he rubbed his eyes, two times, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He even pinched himself to double check, but that creature was very still there- a monster, that towered over Horangi. Horangi could tell it was upset, but this was a matter of fight of flight for Horangi. Horangi stands up. “Who are you? What’s your name?” Since the monster didn’t seem to show any obvious signs of aggression, Horangi stops pointing the gun at it, not wishing to trigger it- however, still not dropping it just incase the thing goes all ham all of a sudden.

Then the monster stands up. Maybe for intimidation? But when it stands, you could see it’s full monstrous hight, and it’s huge frame. It was humanoid, though, so Horangi was secretly glad he didn’t shoot it on the spot, or else Horangi would’ve felt a little awful for doing so. Horangi didn’t have time to react next though, monstrousy huge claws already were reaching towards him. Ready to grab him.

Horangi suppresses a scream. He’ll have to take care of this giant quietly, meaning he can’t use a gun, or else nearby people’ll be alerted. Horangi ducks and grabs a nearby knife, plunging it into the monster’s tough hide. “OW.” The beast barks. “Stop!”

Horangi freezes- he didn’t necessarily think the monster could speak human language. Okay. Now Horangi feels extra bad for stabbing it, but still. It was HIS closet. And HIS room. The monster can’t stay. The monster grabs Horangi’s wrist forcefully with inhuman strength, making Horangi drop the blade.

“The last owner of this room was nicer..” The monster muttered, “At least they left me alone.”

“Uh, hello. Your in MY room.” Horangi retorts.

“Sure, but this closet was MINE before it was YOURS.” The monster snarls, still refusing to let go of Horangi’s wrist even though Horangi tried to tug it away.

Then for a moment, the two just stayed still. Horangi’s brain was spinning. So this monster can speak. Maybe we can negotiate. I need to get rid of him before it’s officially time to get up.

“Can you get out?” Horangi says, breaking the silence and growing tension.

The monster looked horribly offended, “What?”

“I said, can you get out.” Horangi repeated. What am I doing..? This is stupid.

“How about you get out instead?” The monster spat back.

Horangi blinked. This thing either has intelligence, or I’m just REALLY dumb.

The monster slowly lets go of Horangi’s wrist. “Leave me alone. Or I’ll make you.” It hissed. Then the monster turns around and walked back into the closet, shutting the door in a mood.

“WAIT! We aren’t done here!” Horangi rushed to open the closet again, only to find it was sealed shut. “Can you at least give me my cloths..”

How can someone that big fit in there anyway? Horangi thought. Well there was no hope now. He sighs, climbing back into bed. Maybe the monster would be less angry at him in the morning and then he could talk to it.

…

When Horangi woke up, he saw a pair of cloths neatly folded in front of the closet. Horangi couldn’t help but smile. Maybe they aren’t impossible after all.

Once he was dressed, he decided he’d get some food for the monster as a thanks. After all, the monster seemed persistent in staying in the closet. If Horangi had to share his room, he’d much rather have a less sour roommate who might jump him when he’s getting shuteye.

When Horangi returned with the food, he was hesitant. What did the monster eat? What if a human offering his kind food meant war or something in their language?? Oh well, that’s gonna be it’s problem.

Horangi tries the closet. It wouldn’t budge. Alright- so maybe trying to invade someone’s personal space without warning was rude. Horangi tries a different approach. “Hey, open up? Are you hungry?” Horangi says softly.

The closet was silent. Horangi was just about to give up and leave when the closet opens slightly.

Horangi quickly turns back around, giving the monster distance to come out. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” Horangi coaxes, it was like coaxing a small little lost puppy, in all honesty.

“I’m not scared of you.” The monster mumbles.

He mumbles a lot.

“I’m more dangerous to you than you are to me.” Then it pauses. “What do you want.”

“Hungry..?” Horangi asks, holding out the tray for the monster to grab.

“Are you trying to poison me?” The monster asks suspiciously.

“No.” Horangi says flatly.

“I haven’t ate in a while.” The monster slowly said.

“Then take it.” Horangi said with a hint of impatience. He quickly realized that might’ve been a tad hostile- “If you want.” Horangi quickly adds.

The monster peeks it’s head out of the closet. The first time Horangi saw it was when all lights were off, but now Horangi gawked in disbelief. The monster looks even more human in the light.

“..whoa..” Horangi whispered to himself, mesmerized.

The monster wasn’t very scary in Horangi’s opinion, in fact, it looked kinda hot. No- “kinda” was a understatement. Very hot seemed like better adjective.

The monster finally steps into the light, Horangi was sure he was blushing. The beast had muscles in all the right places, it was tall, and it’s eyes spoke and told stories more than his words did.

“Thank you.. erm..” The monster gestured towards Horangi as it accepted the food.

“Horangi.”

“Thank you Horangi.” The monster’s eyes crinkled.

Is it smiling at me?

“Yeah not a problem..” Horangi nods. “Um, what’s your name? Since you know mine and all.. feel like it’s only fair if I know yours.”

“The name’s König.” König said.

“Well König, I need to go. Can you like.. keep a low profile or something…?” Horangi asks, “Please.”

“I’ve been doing that.” König nods, “Goodbye Horangi.”

And with that, Horangi turns towards his door. He had just made friends with a beast.

…

The next week or two has been the same, Horangi fed König, König thanked him. Not much progress had been made except that sometimes Horangi would talk a bit to König about his day. That is- until the day Horangi comes back injured. Some idiots decide to play a prank on Horangi, but it ended nastily. Horangi was ready to throw hands before he remembered he could get in trouble for doing that, so he stormed back to his room. That night, things between Horangi and König changed.

König could probably hear Horangi stomping back to his room since Horangi was making a almighty racket doing so. When Horangi threw open the door, it was clear he didn’t want to talk for the day. In fact, he hadn’t even spared a look at the closet. That hurt. So at night, König steps out.

“Are you okay?” König asks.

Horangi sighed.

König could see Horangi didn’t stop by medical to get his injury patched. König tried to recall a conversation he had with his roommate.. something about Horangi hating having to go to medical. Well thats okay. König thought.

König scrounges for a medkit in Horangi’s room, earning him a confused look. When König found it, he walked over to Horangi, slowly reaching for Horangi’s wounded arm. Horangi didn’t protest. Maybe he trusted König? Regardless, König felt happy he didn’t pull away.

As König tend to Horangi’s wound, his eyes finally meet’s his human roommate’s. Horangi’s eyes spelled shock and adoration. The fact that König is treating even the most simplest of wounds with such sincerity and care. König finishes bandaging Horangi’s wound.

“Thank you.” Horangi whispered before yawning.

“You should sleep.” König insists.

Horangi grins, already slowly dozing off, “Yeah.. goodnight König.”

And both of them knew after their eyes locked, that things’ll never be the same again.

Fin.

[hemmicknicky]

heres the first scene of the fic bc my bestie and go-to beta can't read it yet and i need to scream somewhere

“I’m asking nicely,” Nicky says from the other side of the line.

“And I’m refusing.” Neil answers. “Nicely.”

“There’s no better exy team than Palmetto’s State Foxes,” Nicky argues sarcastically. 

It’s not that Palmetto is worse or better, it’s that South Carolina saw his mom die. He doesn’t want to set foot there again, Neil has any other college to choose from.

“Are you out of arguments?” Neil asks him. He turns his pillow to its cold side. It’s 4AM, he needs to go back to sleep, Neil doesn’t even know what Nicky is doing awake or why he’d call him about this now.

“I have no other argument other than I want to do college with you,” Nicky says. “Also, I already told coach Wymack you said yes. You need to be here next week.” So that’s why.

Neil has to process that response. “Why would you ever do that?” He asks before realizing he doesn’t care. “This is not my problem.”

“I had too much confidence in my nonexistent arguments,” Nicky answers. A pause. “We’re missing a striker. We can’t play without you. Coach stopped looking when I showed him your tapes and I told him you were in.”

Neil is angry at being cornered like this. “Literally not my problem,” he repeats.

Neil is about to turn around and go back to sleep when Nicky speaks again. “You have a secured spot with the Foxes,” Nicky says like Neil didn’t figure it out. “We’re not good at anything but getting on each other’s throats, but you are already a starter.”

“Why are you calling me about this now?” Neil asks because he doesn’t know what to say to that.

The gears in his brain start turning. It’s not like his mom is going to come back to life to torture him again, and it’s true that it’s a blind bet that he’ll be a starter somewhere else. Is this worth it? Neil finds the immediate response is that exy is the only thing that makes anything worth anything.

“I already bought you plane tickets,” is Nicky’s reason. “And it’s too late for a refund. At least think about my wallet.”

“First of all,” Neil says. “Your wallet is also not my problem. Did you have to call me at 4AM?” His voice begins to sound drowsy around his yawning.

Nicky laughs on the other side. “Sorry, thought maybe if I called now you’d think it was an emergency and you’d pick up.” That’s exactly what happened, but Neil is not about to validate him. “Is that a yes?” Nicky asks at Neil’s silence.

“I’ll think about it,” is what Neil answers though he already made up his mind.

Neil is in South Carolina seven days later.

[hiphop-rap-and-basketball]

Ya lil’ Glasses | LaMelo Ball One Shot

Pairing: LaMelo Ball x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,588

Summary: You and LaMelo Ball both attend UCLA for undergrad. Of course he happens to be that hype kid the class that’s loud with his friends. You both get paired up to do a project together for the class. He’s kind of mean and pokes fun and although he gets on your last nerve, you may or may not find him just a little tiny bit cute. Maybe.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, mentions of sex, female and male anatomy, orgasm control, possibly cliche, M/F.

A/N: damn forgive me it’s been a while since I’ve written smut, butttt I’m on a roll with writing lately soo that’s not stopping me. Let me know what y’all think ;) enjoyyyyy and happy reading

•••

You cannot believe you were paired up with Melo Ball for the most important assignment of this course for the semester. Yeah, it’s UCLA but they really just let any good sports player in and you cared about your education. He did not. All he did was mess around and crack jokes

with his friends in the class. Imagine acting like that in college, couldn’t be you.

When it came down to finally finding a time to work on it together, you could not wait to get it over with.

The first time you met with him for the project was in the common hall. You both settle down in your chairs and you pull out your laptops. As soon as Melo pulled his stuff out, he hopped on his phone.

“Can we just come up with an idea and be done today?” You ask, not really in the mood to ask for his full attention.

He looked at you before clicking his phone off and licking his lips.

“Yeah sorry, sorry, I gotchu.”

You cannot help but roll your eyes. He sits there in silence for a moment and actually starts shooting out ideas. You start writing them down until you finally agree on one.

“I think that’s a pretty good start,” you say, proud you guys at least got something down.

“I think so too. What you doing after this?” He asks, running his hands over his curls.

“Track practice at 4, shower, hopefully dinner after,” you say as you close up your laptop.

“You run track? Running is gross,” he laughs.

“How you gonna say running is gross when all you do is run up and down the court?” You ask, a little too loudly, someone shushes you and you both crouch down and begin whispering.

“Basketball is more than that,” he shot back, “you wouldn’t know.”

“Oh here we go, you all say that,” you respond, flicking your wrist at him.

“You all?? What that mean?” He asks.

“As in all the basketball players,” you laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you let me know when track become a real sport,” he fires back.

“It is!” You slam your fist on the table and he smirks, as if he is happy to get you all riled up.

“Mhmmm,” he replies.

“Over this conversation,” you say, getting up and throwing your backpack over your shoulder.

“When you trying to meet next?” He asks calmly, standing up close in front of you. You were looking up at him now, him being more than a foot taller than you made you feel small.

“I’m free all afternoon Wednesday, my class ends at 12:45p.m.”

“You would know when your class ends, nerd.” He responded.

You cock a brow at his attempt at a roast.

“Shut up,” you responded.

“Wednesday at 2p.m. Your dorm. How’s that sound?” He smiles.

“That works,” you shrug. He smiled at you before walking away. You both go your separate ways.

Wednesday came around quickly. Your head hurts today, so you decided to put your glasses on instead of wearing contacts. Even though you knew that would not help you deal with Melo’s bs. He was extra unfocused today.

“How was your dayyy?” He asked as he walking into your dorm room. He looked huge walking through the door it was kind of funny actually.

“Fine, and yours?” You ask, feeling obligated to do so since he asked you first.

“It was alright, better now that we are here working on our project together bestie,” he jokes, plops himself down on your bed to make himself comfortable. You sat on your desk chair facing him.

You caught up with a couple ideas and worked on some your work, actually getting something done, for now.

You had to show each other your screens, so you awkwardly sat next to him on the bed. He sat up. The two of you now with your backs up against the wall and feet hanging off the bed. You sit in silence for a moment.

“I like ya lil glasses, can I try them on?” He asked, smiled and looking in your direction now.

“N-“ before you could answer, he already swiftly pulled them off your face and put them in his anyway. You roll you eyes.

“Do I look smart?” He asked with the cheesiest smile on his face.

“You look stupid,” you reply coldly, although you secretly kind of liked how they looked on him. They fit his face well.

“I think you’re mad they look better on me,” he replied with a scoff.

“You’re sooo annoying,” you reply. Surprisingly feeling yourself fight a smile. “Can you focus please?”

He does the opposite of focusing, eyes looking around your dorm room for a moment.

“Have you ever had sex with a guy? Are you even straight,” He asked, catching you off guard. You took full offense to his question. Not because of him questioning your sexual orientation, but rather him thinking that was his business.

“That’s a personal question,” you respond quickly.

“Seriously? You have this single dorm all to yourself. You don’t even use it to its full benefits. You know how many girls I’d be bringing over if I lived in a single,” he tossed his pencil up in the air and caught it as he spoke.

“I’m here for my sport and to learn, not everything in college is about seeing how many people you can have sex with, Melo.” You responded, typing away at your computer.

Melo slowly lifted your computer off your lap, placing it on the opposite side of him.

“Hey-“ you reach out your hand to it. The room suddenly feeling a lot smaller than it was now that his face was right next to yours and you had nothing to do to keep your hands busy.

“Have you ever even kissed a guy?” He asked, you loosen up at his tone, which oddly enough seems a bit more sincere now.

“Um, no, no actually I haven’t,” you responded quietly, looking down on your lap.

“I don’t believe that.” He responded. “Stop lyin.”

“It’s true,” you shrug, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, making your heart skip a beat or two, but you’re usual chatterbox brain was too nervous to agree.

“Beauty standards have nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone yet. I simply choose not to settle-“

He cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck with his large hands and pulling you in for a kiss. It lasted for what felt like forever but it was only about 10 seconds. Although you were surprised, you did not want to fight it, and you even found you hands settling on top of his shoulders before he pulled away.

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what in his right mind made him want to do that.

“Anyway, I’m ready to focus now,” he smiled, got up and sat in desk chair you were sitting in first.

You sat there eyes wide, trying to process what just happened.

“Um.. yeah… yeah okay,” you say slowly.

You sat there and decided to not acknowledge what just happened as well. Trying to focus on your work, you could not help by to continue replaying that moment in your head. The kiss on repeat for a while. A couple days even. You saw him in class and he was so nonchalant about it. It started to bother you.

It took everything in you not to ask him about the kiss. Not wanting to seem desperate but at the same time what the fuck. That caught you off guard completely.

The next time you too worked together, you worked in his dorm. His roommate was in there with you guys, engaging in the occasional conversation with the two of you.

This time, you actually cared about how you looked, wearing a little make up and wearing a floral sundress that stopped midway on your thighs.

When you walked up to the door, Melo looked you up and down for a moment before letting you in. He had shorts on with no shirt. His athletic build made your cheeks turn hot and look at the ground quickly.

“Welcome in,” he gestured. You walk in and it looks just as you thought a guys dorm room would look like. A damn mess.

You watched him with his back turned as he stood by his closet of clothes, muscles taut as he pulled a new shirt over his head.

You shuffled to get your stuff of your backpack out before he caught you staring and got to work.

His roommate was cute, and you did not care that you were flirting it up with him right in front of Melo. He kissed you with no explanation. You were determined to figure out why.

“Alright, I’m heading to the gym,” his roomie stated and you smile.

“Have funn,” you reply. You watch him walk out the door, looking down at your lap to flatten your dress then look back up at Melo. His face very clearly annoyed and unamused.

“What?” You smirk, asking in an oh-so innocent tone.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head in response.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “You sound a little pressed.” You push, big smirk on your face as you spoke.

“I’m good,” he replied coldly.

You confidently put your hand on his shoulder and replied. “Okay,” in a sarcastic tone.

He was not fucking with that. He pulled your arm down from his shoulder and pulled you into a kiss, this being your second time feeling his lips on yours. This one was more intense. You remember thinking of his lips and how they felt from the last kiss. Feeling them again made your heart pound with excitement.

“Shut up and don’t make me admit to jealousy,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

His hands gripping the back of your hair and he spoke, eyes bouncing from your eyes and lips.

“Hmmm, I think you just did,” you nod your head and shrug your shoulder. He was not having your sarcastic tone. He pulled you closer to him, this time he was laying down and you were sitting top of his lap. He refused to break the kiss, hands from down your neck to your lower back.

In your mind, you were strategically making sure you were right on top of his dick. His lips felt so good to feel again. You were so lost in the heat of the moment now, as he began using his tongue in your mouth, you let out a small moan for the first time.

He let go of the kiss for a moment and smirked.

“I wanna hear your beautiful moans,” he admitted, voice deep and full of lust.

He flipped you over and now your body was underneath him on his bed. You lied down flat on your back. He hovered himself over you.

Kissing you a couple times more, before kissing his way down your neck and stopping at your breast.

“You knew what you were doing wearing this shit,” he stated sternly.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

“You gon stop giving me that smart mouth,” he replied, smirk on his face before making his way down further. Your heart beating even fast now. He lifted up your dress to find you only in a thong.

He quickly looked up you with a smirk on his face, shook his head and carried on. Yanking your panties off, his lip made their way to your clit like a magnet.

You moaned softly at the pleasure, in fear that someone might hear the two of you.

“What if he comes back?”

“I don’t give a fuck, he could watch,” his voice low and eyes hooded, way too focused at the task at hand to even look at you.

Licking and teasing at your folds, you feel yourself getting closer due to all the tension you had built up since you arrived to his dorm, your mind flashing the sight of him when you walked when he was just no shirt on. His dick print very clear through his shorts.

As you felt yourself getting close to the edge, he stopped, and looked up at you.

“Whyyy,” you groaned put your hands over your face in frustration.

“Because, you was talking all that shit,” he said with one finger in your folds as he rubbed it slowly.

“Please,” you said and his surprised eyes look into yours.

“Nope,” he smirked. Now you were not having it.

You reach down to his shorts and very clearly feel his hard member. You looked up at him with pleading eyes as you began to rub it slowly.

He leaned down and started kissing your neck. You and him both knew he did not want this to stop, and he was fighting with every ounce in his bones not to rip your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

But you knew how to get what you wanted.

“Then it’s my turn,” you smile, pushing him off you and getting down on your knees on the side of his twin sized bed.

Knowing you have never done this before, you were slightly worried you would not be that great at it. You moistened your mouth as you pulled his shorts down, you did not have anything to compare his size to, but you were guessing it was bigger than average.

You admired it for a moment before taking it into your mouth. You heard him suck in his teeth as you took a few licks.

“What’s the matter?” You ask innocently looking up at him through your lashes while you swirled your tongue around the tip.

He bit bottom lip threw his head back, you knew that no answer meant that shit was hitting.

“Keep doing that shit with your tongue,” he groaned quietly.

You keep going at it for a while, and stopped when you felt him starting to thrust into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he groaned as he pulled you on the bed, you watched as he began to slowly push himself inside of you, wincing at the pain, he went slow and you warmed up. He looked so good while he stroked you. You started to feel better and better. He watched you as you took all of him now and proudly.

“I told you to stop talking all that shit,” he groaned.

“I don’t regret it,” you smirk.

“You bout to,” he stated as he began to speed up the pace.

You moaned louder as he continued to thrust into you. You could not believe this moment was actually happening. Him giving into it fed into your pride.

You watching at he admired every ounce of body, gripping and tugging at your soft spots. He held your hips as he picked up the pace.

He pulled out and finished himself off on your stomach. You lay there feeling a mess, he gets a towel and you guys get yourselves together throwing the occasional smirk at each other.

“You look so pretty taking this dick,” he stated, grabbing your neck and kissing you slowly. You smiled into the kiss.

“I’ll do it again,” he confirmed, both hands holding your face as he kissed you hard, tonguing you down.

“Chillll,” you laugh. “Let’s get this damn assignment going already.”

[dreamkidddream]

Hiya~ Can I request quote 9) "Are you jealous?" for Lucifer in Obey Me! pretty please😊

This was so much fun to write! Luci know that he gets jealous but never wants to admit (his jealousy is worse than Mammon but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭) and sorry this got kinda long! Reader is gender neutral!

TW: suggestive/spicy themes, but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned

Prompt: “Are you jealous?” with Lucifer!

Lucifer is pissed.

He’s tapping his foot, and constantly checking his phone, waiting in his study for you to either walk in or call him. It’s late, and you’re still not home yet. He asked his brothers where exactly you are, and when Asmo told him that you’re out with the same “friend” you seem to blow all of them off for some time now, it just makes his mood turn even more sour, the scowl on his face deepening.

Now, Lucifer is not opposed to you making friends, as long as they aren’t a threat to you, his family, Lord Diavolo and the other exchange students. He understands that it’s very easy for you to connect with others, intentional or not, and he encourages it to a certain extent. However, this same “friend” that you’ve been increasingly been hanging out with for the past couple of weeks is starting to rub him the wrong way. Of course he’s met this “friend”, a classmate from your Seductive Speechcraft class (which just made him feel more unease with you being with them), and they seemed harmless enough (for a demon at least). Annoying, but harmless, at first.

Then began the constant need for your attention.

It started with the messages and calls under the guise of studying, the “innocent” demon begging you for help so that they can pass the class, and you being the naive nice human that you are of course obliged their request. Then it escalated from once a week, to three times a week, to almost staying after school every day just to “help”. He didn’t like that, as it’s him or his brothers that always walk you home every time, and this demon (who he found is Yuki, a demon who feeds off of sexual energy nonetheless), is messing with the routine, but he kept his cool and forced his brothers to do the same. He- They weren’t happy about this, but at the end of the day, you’re still coming home to him- them, and nothing is changing that. Not to mention how he made sure that someone had their eyes on you, whether it’s Mammon, Beel, or even himself (which he preferred).

Until Yuki decided that you need to hang out more, without him or his brothers.

That’s when he made it known of his dislike towards them, and dislike is putting it lightly.

You started to come home right at dinner, right before Beel devoured your plate. Mammon obviously voiced his displeasure aloud, with the others silently agreeing or making passing comments, but Lucifer would just shut the conversation down before anyone gets too upset, mainly for himself. He doesn’t want to lose control over something trivial like this, he can’t, he won’t- he’s well above some minuscule pest like them, and it would be a waste of time and energy to be worried about someone who is clearly below him!

He’s already irritated with Yuki integrating themselves into your everyday life, but he’s also trying to fight the increasing sinking feeling in his stomach the more you both bond.

The more you two become more than acquainted with one another, the more Lucifer tries to fight and hide this feeling. He buries himself in more paperwork, practically locks himself in his study, avoids anyone’s questions or concerns, and has become overall snappier than usual. He’s even snapped on Lord Diavolo, Lord Diavolo of all people!

(Granted Diavolo just thought it was overall stress, so he just simply laughed it off, but it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone, including you).

Now Lucifer is not stupid, he’s a very intelligent and powerful demon, and he doesn’t have to say it to be known. He made sure to do some research himself on Yuki, and didn’t put anything past them. You’re still surrounded by demons who wouldn’t hesitate to swallow you whole if allowed, and some are still desperate enough to try anything, so he’s very cautious with others being around you.

Which leads to now, you being out again with that demon at The Fall. Ever since, Lucifer retired to his study, constantly checking his phone for any updates. He refused to look distressed in front of everyone, and he knows that you’re smart and not so gullible, you’ll be okay, you had to be.

It’s well going on 1 in the morning, and you still haven’t answered any of his calls and texts? You swore that you would always answer him, so something had to happen. What exactly were you doing? What exactly were you two doing? We’re you okay? Are you safe? Has that Yuki tried anything with you?

Were you two doing anything now?

All of these questions swirling around in his head, his worry only adding on to his frustrations and building tension going through his body.

He already marched down to the door, coat forgotten and tie undone, flinging it open and scowl so deep that his fangs were bared. That Yuki better hope that you come home in one piece and spotless, or else he will make sure that they regret being alive-

He couldn’t wipe the surprised look on his face when he made eye contact with you, who was matching his own expression, hand frozen in the air mid knock.

“Lucifer? What are you still doing up? Are you about to go somewhere?” His expression quickly morphed to one of high distaste, the irritation displaying clearly on his face and his grip tightening on the door.

“I was still awake waiting for you. Have you forgotten how to use a phone, or are you too good for one now that you’re with your ‘friend’. And I remember specifically telling you to let me know when you leave, did I not?”

“Oh. Well...my phone kinda died, but I was already on the way home and-”

“By yourself?! Do you know how irresponsible that is? Do you forget that you’re a mere human?”

His irritation is rising to pure anger at this revelation. So that demon didn’t even have the decency to walk you home? To make sure that you arrive safe? And yet you still have the nerve to spend time with them and practically ignore him?!-

“Well- um, Lucifer? Lucifer!”

He snapped out of his murderous thoughts, and stepped aside to let you in.

“Come inside now, it’s late, and we have much to discuss.”

Your face scrunched up, showing confusion in how he’s acting. You know that’s he mad about your phone being dead, but he’s mad enough to leave the door barely hanging on its hinges? But you knew that arguing or pointing it out would just make things escalate, so you just stepped past and began to make your way up the stairs.

You can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head, but you just didn’t understand why. It’s about more than just your phone, it seemed like he’s been on edge for awhile now. You want to approach him, to ask him what’s wrong, to have him open up, but of course Lucifer being Lucifer, it was to no avail.

You racked your brain as he lead you to his room and began the “conversation” about how irresponsible you were being (really it’s just him getting whatever he needed off his chest and not you giving any input). Was it because of you going out so late? No, you didn’t drink, you and Yuki stayed together the whole night, and you let him know hours before. Was it Yuki? Now that you’re think about it, he has been frowning more it seemed like every time you brought up their name-

The pieces are starting to fit together now.

Oh my Diavolo.

You couldn’t stop the words escaping from your mouth before you could realize it.

“Lucifer, are you jealous?”

He choked in the middle of his sentence, and the room went quiet. You’re pretty sure that you can’t even hear him breathing, and his face just went entirely blank, no expression whatsoever.

Oh no, you broke him-

A gust of wind erupted, so strong that you had to shield your eyes for a second, and when you removed your arm, you were met with massive black wings and a very enraged demon.

“Excuse me?”

You stepped back until you stumbled onto the bed, as he stalks closer and closer to you.

“Care to repeat yourself?”

You knew better than to respond, and you felt frozen on the bed. You also know that Lucifer won’t attack or try to kill you, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he has moments where he’s very intimidating, one of those moments being now.

He’s looking down at you like a predator would to its captured prey, his ruby eyes glowing deviously in the dim room. He didn’t stop moving until he was on top of you, caging you in.

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed. “I am the Avatar of Pride, the most powerful being in this house, yet you assume that I’m jealous of a demon that’s beneath me? You insult me, MC.”

He took hold of your chin, “Do you not remember what I said when we made the pact? You are mine and mine alone. Not anyone else’s, but mine.”

You felt like your nerves were getting the best of you, but you couldn’t force yourself to tear away as he leaned closer. He sealed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, one that you gladly accepted, not before uttering the words that made your heart race even faster.

“Maybe I should remind you of who you belong to, hm?”

—-

“Had a fun night, MC?”

“Yeah, it was”, you coughed in your hand. “Very nice, very fun. We had a great time.”

“Hmmmmm...you and Yuki or you and Lucifer?”

“Asmo!”

He giggled, “I’m just saying dear. I don’t sense the pent-up sexual frustration from Lucifer anymore, and he seems back to normal and even relaxed. Though I must say MC, I wish that you had spent the night in my bed instead.”

“Of course you do Asmo.”

“Besides, I would have covered your hickeys much better-”

“ASMO-”

“MC, are you ready?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear has never been more true than now, as Lucifer appeared behind you both, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry.”

“Eh? Where are you two going?”

“Out.”

“And without me?!”

“Yes. Now, leave us be”. Lucifer moved his hand from your shoulder to your own hand, leading you both out the door. You two had plans for the day after the...eye-opening talk from last night, and he didn’t want to waste anymore time than he already had.

Bonus:

Asmo waited until he heard the door click, and then quickly whipped out his D.D.D. to text Yuki. He knew that the plan was going to be a success! A tense Lucifer made things more difficult for everyone, and he has too much pride to open his mouth so he decided to step in and team up with Yuki, who already knew about the whole ordeal.

Lucifer was already on the edge of snapping and letting his primal instincts take over anyway, so Asmo just gave him a little push in the right direction.

Thank Diavolo the plan worked, or else it would be hell for them both. He did owe Yuki some exposure on his socials in exchange for this and backing off of you now, but it was well worth the trouble.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[teddy06writes]

Locked Away

Requested by this anon: “Heyo! Can I please request an Awesamdude x Fem!Reader in which the reader is an inmate at Sam’s prison? Not Stockholm syndrome or anything because the reader already had a crush on Sam before being put in there. Thanks!” 

And also this one: “ please i will cry if i don’t get more awesamdude content. i’ve scrolled to the very end of his every hashtag.” 

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, manipulation (dream’s the reason your in prison), character death

premise: In game AU; or the past three months you’d been under Dream’s control, only half aware of what was going on, the last thing you can remember from before was talking to Sam almost telling him your feelings, but now, as you are suddenly yanked from his control you find yourself being thrown in prison, now under his watchful eye

{oh there is no fluff here fellas} 

“blep” talking

‘belp’ talking but its the green bitches voice in your head

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were drifting, drifting through your strange, foggy world, doing your best to forget about the way you could barley control your own body, just a puppet on strings, when yelling, not of the voice that you’d been hearing, but of someone else, cut through the  smog. 

-“It’s over!”-

-”none of this will ever be over”-

The voice, it was your own but it didn’t belong to you. 

-”Dream has Surrendered (y/n), we can’t allow you to continue on his work”-

Growing bored you begin to drift away again, barley seeing, or feeling the people dragging you away. 

Sometime later, you’d been drifting, and then were suddenly plummeting back down into your body, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you regained control of your own body. 

“What the fuck?” A loud voice asked. 

You jerked your head up, turning to see that it was Sapnap who had been restraining you as you shuffled along, weakly asking, “Wha-? Sapnap- what’re you? Wh- what?” 

You looked around frantically at the smooth Blackstone walls, and down the hallway to where Bad and Sam are moving through unlocking a series of locks, “Where? Wha- Where I am I? Wh- wh- wh- what’s going on?” 

“Yeah nice try,” Sapnap scoffed, “I’m not letting you go because of fake amnesia.” 

“No- it- I-” Panic was rising in your chest as Sam and Bad finished with the locks and pulled open a door to what looked like a cell. 

“You think we shackle her like we did with him?” Sapnap asked, all but dragging you forward. 

Bad was clearly about to nod when Sam stopped him, obviously conflicted as he searched your eyes, “No. She won’t need them.” 

“What is happening right now?” You asked desperately. 

Ignoring you Sapnap nodded, pulling your forward and pushing you into the cell, the barred door closing behind you, “Well, you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go talk to Dream.” 

“Be careful.” Bad advised and Sam began to relock the door. 

You slowly, shakily, pulled yourself to your feet, look through the bars at Sam and Bad, “What is going on?”

Bad frowned, almost glaring at you, “(y/n) this is what happens to people who do bad things. Siding with Dream is just about the worst thing you could have done.” 

“Side wit- side with Dream?” You blinked, rubbing at your temples as panicked tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, “I- I didn’t- I wouldn’t-” 

Bad simply turned away as Sam finished the locks, taking in a shaky breath, “We trusted you, you know?” 

“I- Sam- I didn’t- Sam I don’t know whats going on? Where am I? I didn’t- I didn’t side with Dream- I would never side with Dream.” You said desperately. 

“This is The Prison (y/n), entirely unescapable, made for people li- like you,” His voice wavered, and quickly he turned, “There's no getting out.” 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, small sobs echoing through the empty halls of the prison; in his office Sam felt each new sob in his chest; in his cell, with each new sob Dream’s smile only grew larger.

~~

Sam sighed, blocking out Dream’s monologue as he slid the tray of food through the opened slot in the door. 

Dream’s cell had no bars, just a full steel door, and a tiny window in the ceiling, yet the man seemed to enjoy it, far to much. 

“You know how funny it was to see (y/n) getting dragged in here?” Dream laughter shrilly. 

“You were in here, there was no way you could’ve seen anything.” Sam replied sharply. 

“Oh but I hear everything,” Dream laughed again, “Stupid bitch didn’t even know what was going on, god I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get in her dumbass head.” 

“Don’t call her that,” Sam hissed, slamming the slot shut and locking it, “I don’t want another word out of you until you’re giving me that fucking tray back.” 

Ten minutes later the hallway your cell was in was deadly silent other than Sam’s footsteps, “Food time.” 

He slid the tray into the slot of your door, and look picked your head up from leaning back on the wall to look at him, “You do realize something’s wrong here, right?” 

“I mean, you siding with Dream was certainly wrong.” Sam muttered. 

You sounded utterly broken and defeated as you moved to lay back on your cot, turning to face the wall, “I didn’t realize manipulation was a form of agreement.” 

Sam sighed, “Are you gonna eat this or not? I’m not suppose to leave till you do.” 

“Then I guess your going to have to sit here.” 

The first 15 minutes passed in silence, Sam resigning to sit on the floor outside your cell as the minutes ticked on, eventually asking, “You were saying you didn’t remember anything, what exactly do you remember?” 

“You.” The word was simple enough, “We were talking- you said you thought you could do something. Tried to walk me home but I said I’d be fine. Dream was waiting at my house.” 

Sam hummed, a slight anxiety rising in his chest, “What did I think I could do?” 

You sighed, studying the Blackstone wall, “You said ‘I think I might be able to love you’ but with whatever I did there's no way it’s true anymore.” 

Sam stayed quiet, thinking back on that night nearly two months ago, plans for the building of that very prison were being finalized, he’d felt so on top of the world he’d admitted the feelings weighing him down, but then you had become strange, distant. 

“Why did you do it?” He asked eventually. 

“Do what?” 

“Y- you were helping Dream, with fighting New L’manburg, exiling Tommy, blowing up L’manburg again, you- you helped him round up the things that hold power.” 

You frozen, distant foggy memories flaring up in your mind, a thousand answers presenting themselves, ultimately deciding on, “Do you know what it feels like, to not be in control of your mind? To be stuck in the passengers seat as a madman takes to the road?”

He was silent as you continued, “To have your consciousness so nearly severed from your body that you can barley see or feel what’s going on? I didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He was just there, in my brain. Do you know what that’s like? I’d say you shouldn’t. Just take that food back and leave. Let me go back to dreaming of a future I missed out on.” 

~~

“How did it happen?” 

Another quiet question, another quiet silence interrupted. 

“It’s- foggy,” You admitted, more to the ceiling than to Sam, “But I think- I think it was like a switch got flipped. Could still be flipped. Then he’d be in control again.” 

A week had passed since you’d been locked away, and still Sam would sit, until you finished your food, or, more like, until you finally pushed the food away, still refusing to eat despite the pangs of hunger. 

“I- I didn’t kill anyone, did I?” You hazarded. 

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “Even if you did, that wasn’t you. Nothing you did then was you.” 

“Stop doing that.” You muttered, rolling over to face the wall yet again. 

“Doing what?” 

“Saying things you would’ve said before,” You said bitterly, “You can’t treat me like a monster one second and then like a lover the next. I may be a monster thanks to him but I do not think I deserve that.” 

“You’re not-” 

“A monster?” You cut him off, “That why I can still fucking hear him sometimes? Taunting me? Threatening to take over again?” 

Sam froze, looking back through the bars to your turned back, “You can here him?” 

Your hands began to shake, thinking about the barren whispers that filled your head at night, forcing yourself to sit up and turn back to him, plucking a small piece of bread from the tray, “Sometimes.” 

“How? His cell is on the other side of this place.” 

“He’s in my head, still hasn’t fully left, that is,” You sighed, biting off a small chunk of the bread before tossing it back on the tray and pushing it toward the door, “Thank you.” 

Reluctantly Sam took the tray, standing up and starting to trudge back down the hallway, “I won’t let him hurt you.” 

Soon, he journeyed back down to the level where Dream was being held. 

“I had a feel you’d be down here.” Sam could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice. 

“What did you do to her?” 

Dream chuckled, “I guess that depends on what you mean. Technically I didn’t do anything, that was all her.” 

“What did you do?” He repeated. 

“Nothing of consequence. For me at least. Honestly it was really quite easy to get in her head, didn’t even fight it,” Dream shifted, letting out a harsh laugh, “Part of me thinks it was like she was already that bad. Just as evil as me.” 

Sam crossed his arms, “No one could be as evil as you, least of all her.” 

“Of course you’d think so,” Dream laughed, “Course you’d think better of a monster.” 

~~

‘you think he’s ever going to forgive you?’ 

‘you’re a monster (y/n) nothing can change that.’ 

‘no matter how much you beg, no matter how much you try to get them to understand it was me, they will never let you out.’ 

His voice haunted you, keeping you up far into the night, words etching themselves into the walls of your mind. 

‘he will never forget what you did.’ 

‘you ruined people, you worked for me, and that makes you evil.’ 

‘Your a monster. And even if you weren’t one before, I’ll make sure you become one.’

“You don’t control me.” You muttered up into the darkness. 

‘oh (y/n) your so naïve.’ 

“Shut up.” You muttered more forcefully. 

‘you think I can’t control you from here? you are a fucking fool.’ 

Almost immediately a feeling of panic surged through you as something changed, the switch in your head being flipped once again, the last thing you could truly hear as he took over was two harsh words. 

‘you’re mine.’ 

~~

It was early in the morning when Sam had woken up to a panicked sounding Bad over the coms, “I don’t know what's happening!! It- it sounds like- like someone's trying to kill her!” 

Almost immediately Sam was up and sprinting down the corridor.

It took him all too long to reach your level, where Bad was frantically trying to undo the locks on your cell. 

“Get out of the way!” He yelled, pulling out the master key card as he heard the obvious sounds of someone being choked. 

It took yet a moment longer to get the cell door open, to find you one hand clamped around your own throat, the other desperately trying to pry it off. 

“Bad go get healing pots!” Sam yelled, immediately rushing forward to help you as Bad went running. 

It took him a moment to wrench your hand away from your neck, just long enough for you to cough twice, looking up at him in fear, “Sam, run.” 

His brow furrowed, looking down at you confused as your face seemed to shift, and then suddenly you were throwing him across the room.

Sam watched, dazed as you bolted out of the cell and down the hall, master key card in hand.

By the time he had dragged himself to his feet, and his vision had cleared itself of the spots that had drifted through there were several alarms going off, and distantly, he could hear people running.

“Bad! Ant! Give me an update, what’s happening?!” He yelled into the coms, already starting to run to where he suspected the noise was coming from.

“The key cards! She got the key cards! They’re headed for south sector!” Ant yelled back.

“I want someone back in the control room,” Sam ordered, “Turn the mining fatigue up, set the lava traps and get guards on the outer perimeter. We can’t let Dream escape.”

Sam continued to run, listening to chatter over the coms as to where you were headed, quickly gaining.

~~

“Freeze!” Sapnaps loud voice echoed through the corridor.

Dream turned from where you were toiling to break the wall to see Sapnap, Antfrost, BBH, and Sam all aprouching, crossbows drawn.

“Surrender now and we won’t take your last life.”

Dream merely laughed, looking his former friends in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”

“It’s four on two, seems like pretty good odds in our favor.” Sam hazarded, stepping forward and breaking the line.

Dream seemed to size him up, before glancing to you, “Kill them.”

The words were simple, and clear.

You stood, dropping your pickaxe and donning the armor nabbed while on the run.

“(Y/n), don’t-” Sam said cautiously, lowering his crossbow. 

Dream sneered at him, drawing the other sword taken from the armory as Sapnap drew his own, “(y/n), fight him, I can take care of the rest.” 

You nodded obediently holding up your sword before launching yourself towards Sam. 

Sam raised his shield, blocking your first thrust, and then the second, quickly trying to back away from you as Dream attacked his comrades, “(y/n) don’t do this!” 

His words fell upon deaf ears as you attacked again, this time grazing Sam’s arm with your blade. 

He yelped in pain, instinctively starting to swing back, though not heavily enough to hurt you. 

The sounds of fighting echoed through the corridor as you and Dream clashed with the guard, the men Dream attacked falling quickly until it was just you and Sam battling it out. 

You slashed again at his arm, this time penetrating deep into the exposed skin on his inner arm, using his pause and yell of pain as time to kick him back knocking the sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground with your boot. 

Your sword poised at his throat you looked to Dream, waiting for confirmation. 

When the man nodded Sam desperately reached out to you, “(y/n), (y/n) please- don’t- plea-” 

~~

You’d been drifting again, thinking of the night before Dream had taken you. 

It had been late, you had stayed to long gazing at the sky, and Sam had found you sitting by the prime path. 

He’d sat down next to you, and for a while you talked about everything and nothing all at once, until you’d laughed, and in some sort of sleep drunk state, leaned in and tried to kiss him. 

Much to your surprise he had kissed back, giving you a murmured confession, the same one you heard now, yelled and frantic.

-”(y/n) please! I- I think- I love you- Don’t do this! Don’t-”-

The strings were cut, and you plummeted back into your own body in time to see a blade cutting into his neck. 

“S-Sam?” Your eyes traveled up the blade, to the hand clasped around the grip- your hand. 

“Sam!” You were desperate now, tossing the sword away with a clatter as fresh tears sprang in your eyes. 

Distantly you could hear Dream laughing as you leaned over Sam’s body, “Sam no! Sam- Sam- I told you to run- I told you to run! Why? Why didn’t you? Sam! Please! No!” 

The only thing you got in return was Dream’s wild laugh, and the blade being thrust into your back. 

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

[shingia]

Heya. I know this is very angsty of a request, but I saw the fic of characters reacting to their s/o who [tw] relapsed into self harm and was wondering if you would do some for asahi, ushijima, and oikawa?

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

hi ! ofc you can honey <3 i hope these will bring you as much comfort as you need, and plz don’t hesitate to dm me if you need to talk to someone, or to reach out for help in any way. here’s a hug for you bcs you deserve it, love you 💗 

also im sorry but i really couldn’t imagine asahi ever arguing with his s/o so i didn’t include this in his fic (he really is too precious)

warnings : mentions of self harm, one mention of blood, some self-depreciating thoughts. please do not read if any of these might trigger something, stay safe everyone <3

➾ 𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢

asahi trusted you blindly. and everyday, he had to make an effort to persuade himself that you trusted him in return. you did of course, how could you not trust the one that had helped you through so much ?

but this wasn’t about trust ; it was about shame. because the last thing you wanted was to find in his eyes the anguish and fear as they were a few months ago. you couldn’t do that to him, yet you kept doing that to yourself.

however, you had the misfortune - which was more of a blessing really - to have a very observant boyfriend who cared about you. and he cared enough to gather the courage to finally ask you about what he had hoped you’d come to him for. sat next to you on the couch, he took the plunge. 

« do you… do you remember when you promised to always come to me if you needed help ? ». there, he had said it. and from the way that his arm tightened encouragingly around your waist, you understood what he meant by this innocent question. he kept speaking : « you know i trust you, right ? i really do. but something tells me that maybe you forgot about this promise recently ».

each of his words was carefully chosen, more than usual. because even if he didn’t show you, he was terrified of messing up. the fact that you were reluctant to answer was enough for him to understand that he had guessed right. but what confirmed it was the single tear that slowly streamed down your cheek.

« oh angel, no, come here. come, you’re ok now… » he spoke in a tone that was more comforting that anything you had ever heard. his arms were wide open for you to snuggle in, and when they wrapped around you, his words replayed once again in your head. i’m ok now, i’m ok now… you repeated internally. and you were, asahi was a man of his words after all.

« i’m sorry for being weak » you finally said after a few seconds of silence, voice half-muffled by his embrace. his warm fingers traced the outline of your face, encouraging you to look up to him. not because he needed to see your face, he already knew it by heart, but because you needed to see his. « weak ? y-you’re the furthest thing from weak. how can i even put it..? you are one of the strongest person i know, and i wouldn’t be half the man i am today if it weren’t for you. 

you wanted to thank him, but exhaustion took hold of your body before any word could leave your tight throat. and when you woke up - two hours later according to the clock - asahi was still there, holding you tight against his heart like a promise to never let go of you anymore.

➾ 𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

ushijima hated to waste time and energy on ‘petty fights’, as he liked to call them. but it was really frustrating to always feel like he avoided confrontation ; arguments were necessary in a relationship, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

whenever you got into fights, you were always the only one to get angry, which never failed to make you feel guilty afterwards. and eventually, this feeling of guilt started to become permanent, taking so much place in your brain that you had to sacrifice a part of the self-confidence you had built up the past months. but you didn’t know how much longer you could conceal it.

tonight was the first time you were sleeping together since your most recent fight, the one that had damaged you so badly. and you couldn’t lie, feeling his warmth next to you after about three days spent ignoring him almost felt like a reward. but a reward for what ? you were certainly not proud of what you had done, and you were terrified at the thought that he’d ever notice it. but unfortunately, your efforts to pretend like everything was ok were put to an end in the middle of the night, at about 3 am. something silly, really : ushijima had just turned around in his sleep, and his shoulder accidentally weighed on your wrist, making you hiss in pain. he immediately opened his eyes at the sound, his hand immediately finding its way to your side - he was always a light sleeper with you.

« are you ok ? » he asked, propping himself on an elbow, barely distinguishing your silhouette in the dark. « yeah, just my wrist. come on, let’s go back to sl- ». oh… that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. it was hard to gauge his reaction since you could not properly see his face, but since he sat on the bed as soon as you interrupted yourself, you understood that it had not fallen on deaf ears. « are you comfortable with me turning on the lights ? » he asked, obvious concern in his voice. saying yes was tempting, because you knew this was a serious matter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you like this, vulnerable and ashamed.

ushijima accepted it of course, he knew he was not the best with words, so the least he could do was to make sure you were comfortable with whatever he decided to do. « is it ok if i hold you ? » he asked once again, his tone a bit more hesitant. the muscles in your jaw tensed at his words, it was more than ok, or at least you wanted to give it a try, but the worry you had caused him was bringing you back to the familiar feeling of guilt.

however, when he carefully made you rest on top of him like he had always done, something inside you felt healed to know that whatever you were going through did not impact every aspect of your life. his embrace felt the same, so did his heaving chest that rocked your body to sleep every night. surprisingly enough, you did not shed a tear. because the comfort finally felt stronger than the pain, you refused to let anything trouble this moment.

« are you ready to talk about it ? » he questioned, his voice rumbling like a soothing storm in his chest « or do you prefer to wait until tomorrow ? ».

ushijima might have avoided many discussions with you, but this one ? he simply refused to. and if he was more than ready to help you overcome your pain, he also knew not to pressure you into talking. words would come, eventually. but actions were always first.

➾ 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

despite his usually confident behavior, oikawa knew he had a tendency to second-guess each and every one of his actions, and to beat himself up quite often.

he could not remember the last time he had felt so utterly disgusted by himself, he was usually more careful with his words. but all it took was one angry outburst from him for you to withdraw into yourself - and he had to fix this as soon as possible.

luckily for him, your relationship was strong enough not to be too affected by this argument - which had not been your first, but definitely the biggest one. however, you had been affected. a lot actually. but you knew better than to talk to him about this, knowing that he would obviously take the blame for your relapse.

but oikawa was attentive, and, clever as he was, it did not take long for him to guess what you were going through when he saw the red-stained tissues in the bathroom trash. it had been two weeks since your fight, and just the thought that he had left you alone with your struggles for so long made him want to throw up.

without wasting any more second, he burst out of the bathroom and made his way to the living room where you were absent-mindedly watching a movie. he would have preferred to have a discussion with you with a clear head, but the sight of the tissues kept spiraling in his head and he was incapable of doing anything else but to pull you in for a hug whose suddenness made you gasp.

oikawa’s hugs were usually soft, with little kisses here and there and a few compliments chuckled in your ear. but today had nothing to do with those. his arms were engulfing your figure in a desperate need to feel you against him, like he was trying to make up for all the time he had left you alone. « i’m so sorry, so sorry baby… can you forgive me ? » he breathed out, his voice cracking with emotion. obviously you knew what he was referring to, how could you not know ? and just like him, the thousand words on your mind only transcribed in your arms wrapping around him, closing the last few millimeters that separated you as you frantically nodded your head yes. 

you did not think he had anything to be forgiven for, and sadly, you also knew that he would continue to blame himself no matter what your answer had been. that was actually your biggest motivation to begin your recovery journey. oikawa needed to know that, from now on, you’d turn to him instead of your old habits. and you wanted nothing more than to make him happy, so, since his happiness seemed to depend on yours, it could be considered a package deal towards a better future, together.

before you leave, here are links to two mental health support apps that i hope will help you deal what you are going through right now. i know it’s not much but i’ll be the happiest girl if this helped someone in the tiniest way. take care of yourselves ❤️

Calm Harm - Play Store | App Store

Wysa - Play Store | App Store

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[junicai]

i search the universe.

| order no. | 5/21

| summary | Are ‘exploring’ and ‘being hopelessly lost’ synonyms? According to Jongin, they most definitely are.

| word count | 1.9k

| warnings | mentions of kidnapping but it’s just an old lady looking out for Aria when she’s with two very suspicious looking older men, sasaengs 

| era | circa. January 2020 

a/n: this definitely took a turn from the request, but i hope you still like it! if you’re not vibing with it, you can dm me, and i’ll see what i can re-write. thank you! 

The tour was set to kick off again in San Diego, California, after a pause for the duration of December. The time off was greatly appreciated; Aria found herself sleeping for twelve hours at a time occasionally, her sleep schedule trying to right itself after having been flipped on its head too many times to count. 

The flight from Seoul to California was long, and Aria had slept for a grand total of twenty minutes by the time they touched down on the tarmac runway again. 

It had been Jongin’s idea to go exploring before their first schedule that evening, an invitation that was proposed to all the members but only accepted by Taemin. When Jongin’s deflated look was fixed on Aria, she crumbled like the weak woman that she was, and agreed to accompany the two older men on an impromptu trip around the city. 

She’d never even left Ireland prior to joining the company (bar skating competitions, but those were less of a trip and more of a airport-taxi-hotel-rink-repeat combo, if you will) so each new city was met with widened eyes and dramatic oohs and aahs.

The trio had dropped their suitcases into their hotel rooms - Jongin rooming with Taemin this time around, and Aria with Ten - and pulled out a light jacket for outerwear, in Aria’s case, before they were marching out the door, masks pulled up over their faces. 

Aria’s hoodie that she had worn on the plane lay on the bedspread in her room, her phone forgotten in it’s pocket. 

The air was cool but not biting outside, and as Aria linked her hand into Taemin’s, the sun was still above the horizon. Jongin slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“The interview is scheduled for 6, which means we need to be back at the hotel for 4, which gives us,” He checked his watch, “Roughly two hours. Maybe a little more, if we push it.”

Taemin fixed him with a look. “Let’s not do that. It’s twenty to two now, lets aim to be back for twenty to four.”

Aria tugged on Taemin’s hand where the singer had still yet to let go. “Mhm! that way, if things go skywards, then we have time to take a back route or something.” 

Jongin nodded, satisfied. “Okay! So, where first?”

Aria exchanged a look with Taemin, before starting down the street. “Let’s find out!” 

With each building, came a new attraction to stare at. Small stalls sat at the street corners, attendees calling out to them to barter their goods. The buildings seemed to climb into the sky for miles, never-ending as far as Aria’s eyes could see.

The city was bustling with noise, cars passing on the wide streets with sharp beeps! that sent Aria jumping into the air occasionally, much to the chagrin of Jongin. 

He caught her waist when she jumped backwards the first time, stopping her from flattening him onto the sidewalk. “You alright there?” He leaned forwards with a teasing grin. 

Aria had huffed, swatting his hands off her waist before fixing her shirt. “Fine.” 

The grin had stayed plastered on Jongin’s face for the next two blocks, widening further when the girl jumped again at the sound of a harsh tire squeal and a series of rapid-fire beeps following it. 

Taemin lead the two away from the commotion, and they continued their in-depth exploration of the city and it’s secrets. 

It was wonderful; Until it wasn’t.

Honestly, they probably should have realized when they started being followed. It happened regularly on the streets back home, but here, they were off-guard and so the first flash of a shutter going off send Taemin stumbling backwards slightly. 

All hell broke loose from there.

A group of fourteen or fifteen teenage girls gathered, the leader of which had her phone gripped in her hand. “KAI OPPA!” She screamed, and like a battle cry - the others joined her.

Aria felt frozen, her legs refusing to cooperate with the frantic run, run, run run run that her brain was playing on a loop. The group advanced quickly, moving around the street corner and were only a few yards away when Jongin grabbed her wrist, fingers encircling tightly, and pulled her into motion. 

They ran on autopilot, blind as to where they were going only knowing that they couldn’t stop. The pounding of feet was still deafening behind them, and Jongin speeded up, Taemin following suit. 

It wasn’t long until Aria felt like she was doing less running and rather simply being tugged along by her wrist; legs pumping as fast as she could made them, but her strides were nearly double what she’d normally take even at a flat out sprint. 

Taemin tugged them both into a small alleyway, hoping that the shade the towering buildings offered on either side was enough to shield them from the fangirls’ piercing gazes.

Aria bent over, hands on her knees, panting.

“Oh god,” Jongin coughed out. “Not a single day, huh?” 

Taemin nodded sadly in commiseration, catching his own breath. “How did they even know it was us?” 

“The hair, probably,” Aria mumbled, already pulling her hair back into her hood. The bleached blonde and sky blue streaks combination was a tell-tale sign, and she kicked herself mentally for not at least putting her hair up into a bun to hide the most dramatic parts of it.

“What do we do now?” Aria looked to the two older men. “Do we just try to make a run for it? I don’t think I can remember which way we even went, we were just running. Oh god, are we lost now? Can we even get back to the hotel?” 

Taemin extended an arm, wrapping around Aria’s back and pulling her into a hug, before subtly moving them both behind a large sign that blocked them from view.

The group of girls passed by the entrance to the alley, chattering loudly. 

“Where did they go?” 

“Did you see which way they went?” 

“Taeminnie oppa~ Saranghae, come back~”

“Who was the 

“Okay,” Taemin took a deep breath. “Okay, we’ve done this before. My phone died somewhere back there, but Aria, do you want to call Baekhyun hyung while Jongin tries to figure out where we are?” 

He received two nods in return, and Aria’s hands patted her pockets. The empty lining gave underneath her fingers, and her stomach sunk slightly in dread. 

“My phone isn’t-” She looked up to Jongin with wide eyes. “I left it in the hotel room, I think, when I changed my jumper.” 

Jongin put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothingly. “It’s okay, we still have mine.” 

Aria’s breath was coming in slightly labored, with a light tremor that shook her chest. 

The ringing sounded loud as it echoed down the alley, and Jongin scrambled to turn the phone on silent. 

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice was tinny through the phone’s speakers, and Jongin moved down towards the end of the alley, out of Aria and Taemin’s earshot.

“Hyung,” Jongin spoke, heavy with relief. 

“What? You’ve just woken me up-” Jongin interrupted Baekhyun before he could start yelling down the phone. 

“Hyung, we got followed.” 

“By who?” 

“Fans, we think. They spotted us a couple streets ago, we ran and now we don’t know where we are.” 

A muttered curse came down the phone line, and what sounded like Baekhyun shutting a door. “Right, find out where you are, and I’ll get the manager to come get you lot. This is why I said no to going out, you’re all tired and then things like this happen Jongin-” 

“Hyung! I know, and I’m sorry you can scold me for it later, but right now,” He tossed a glance over his shoulder to Aria, who was encircled in Taemin’s arms. “Aria’s freaking out, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t think hiding in an alley is helping.” 

Baekhyun was silent, breathing out another curse. “Taeyong, he told me - it happened a while ago, and he didn’t tell me a lot, but enough.” 

“Hyung?” 

“Aria had a bad, altercation, lets say, with a sasaeng two years ago. I don’t know what exactly happened - Yongie didn’t tell me - but I’ll bet that’s why she’s freaking right now. Maybe just-” 

The line cut out. 

Jongin shook his phone, clicking the power button. “Hyung? Hyung?”

Taemin looked over. “Is everything alright?” 

“Phone’s dead.” 

Aria’s head peeked up, wide eyed. “Really?” 

Jongin nodded. 

“So- so what do we do? Did you talk to oppa?” 

He bit his lip. “Yeah, yeah I did. We’re gonna go find another store that’ll let us use their phone okay? And we’re gonna call the manager.” He turned to Aria. “Do you think you could talk to someone right now, Ari? Is that okay?” 

Aria took a deep breath, closing her eyes and exhaling smoothly. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.” The tremor in her hands told otherwise, but she tucked them into her pockets to hide that fact.

“Okay. Okay, let’s go.” Taemin peered around the alley walls, looking and seeing no gang of girls waiting to pounce on them. 

The trio stepped out from behind the building walls, and quickly jogged their way into the nearest café - two storefronts down. 

“Miss? Miss, I’m so sorry to bother you, but could I borrow your landline for a moment? My own phone’s dead, you see.” Aria cleared her throat, peering up at the kind lady behind the counter.

Her wizened eyes took in the small stature of Aria, and the two men standing at the doorway, peering outside. They looked suspicious; hoods pulled low over their eyes, and masks hiding the bottom half of their faces, staring out the window as if they were waiting for someone to show up; and they were ready to flee.

 Slowly, an understanding dawned on her - connecting the wrong dots together and garnering a jumbled up picture of the truth.

“Oh, dear of course, just come behind here and I’ll call someone for you - do you have your mother’s number with you? Your father’s?” She began to usher Aria behind the counter.

“Oh, no, miss, that’s alright, I just need to use your phone for a moment-”

The lady leaned closer. “Dear, if those men are trying to take you somewhere, you’re absolutely welcome to stay in the back room. Do you want me to call the cops?”

Aria choked. “Oh! Oh no- oh those are my brothers miss! They’re not- I haven’t been-” 

The lady looked on with squinted eyes. “They can’t hurt you dearie, you’re safe now-”

“No, I promise you miss, they’re my brothers, they just don’t speak very good English. Can I please use your phone? Please?” Aria was begging at this point. 

Reluctantly, a phone was handed to her, and she wasted no time in inputting Baekhyun’s number. It rang once, before being picked up.

“Oppa?” 

[sweetestlamb]

No Limits

Summary: Today's episode but minus the lies and with extra sexual tension but it gets resolved, somewhat.

Author's note: Today's episode called me a 🤡 too so in between writing my update for BMTL I wrote this drabble to ease my pain I love that the show keeps teasing us I really do it's delicious but I just wanted them to kiss sooooo badly today so here we go! I could keep going if people like 👀👀👀

P.s. Can an Italian tell me what exactly Vinny said to her in episode 3? Netflix says it was stupid idiot but that's stupida idiota and that doesn't sound like what he said to her in the clip. Help a writer out 🥺

She doesn't know if her father would be proud of her, or what she's been doing after turning away from Babel and reforming into a "good guy", it's borderline sanctimonious to consider herself a hero when she had spent most of the night torturing people. The ominous sound of toxic gas flooding the car still swooshes in her head, there was a moment when she'd truly considered going through with it.

Committing murder.

And he hadn't moved a single muscle to stop her, hadn't even uttered her name to pull her back in on the straight and narrow path to righteousness. In the end that had been enough to stop her, he trusted her enough to make the right decision. Every fiber of her being wanted to snuff out their lives the same way they had done to those innocent suffering families, but it was a line she couldn't return from. She should save it for a special occasion, they weren't worth tainting her soul. But there was someone else who was, Babo.

When the opportunity came, she wouldn't hesitate. Her father would have to look away because she wouldn't be stopping that time.

Before she realizes it they are outside her house, her late father's house and he's telling her good night. She'd ran out of excuses to keep sleeping at his apartment. Wanting to see him first thing when she woke up wasn't a reason she could say out loud to him, at least not sober. She was no longer scared of bumps in the night, being alone seemed more terrifying now.

"Drink with me." She whispers instead, falling back on a tried and true plan. They have become regular drinking buddies, using alcohol to cope and detach from the heinous things they see and do daily.

He looks over at her, wistful and searching before nodding solemnly. He unbuckles his belt and slides out of the car, though it is marginal she can see the hesitation in his movement and the night catches up with her. The blood is soaked into the pristine white of his collar, she recalls the hollow feeling in her chest when he didn't answer her calls and she was left with her torturous imagination. His possible death making desperate tears fall despite promising herself she wouldn't cry again.

She makes her way to the bathroom as soon as she enters the eerily quiet space, noticing the way Vincenzo peeks around the corner always on guard and she's thankful for his presence. With him, she's safe.

Pulling open her medicine cabinet she collects packets of gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic alcohol and a bandage, holding the small bundle in her arms before walking back to the living room. She finds him staring at the embarrassing photos of herself that her father had hung on the walls, she couldn't bring herself to take them down. There was so little of her father left.

"Don't let the hair fool you, I was still a heartbreaker back then. I had boys chasing after me." She lies with a smile and when he turns to look at her with those huge eyes she pauses mid step, his eyes survey her face in a distracting sweep before he smirks and walks away.

Maybe summer has come early, that would explain the sudden overwhelming heat that curls around her.

Shaking herself from her daze she calls out to him, "Hey! Come here before you bleed to death. I don't want the mafia coming after me."

The look on his face is his patent I'm going to refuse because I'm a pouty baby look and she intercepts it as she has become custom to doing, grabbing his hand and yanking him over to the kitchen table. For someone so intelligent he still hasn't learned that his refusals are futile around her.

"I'm fine. It's a shallow wound, it'll stop on its own." He argues and she wonders how many other times he has simply left a wound to fester and painfully heal on its own, was that his penance?

She shakes her head, "Why suffer when I can help you? Stop being so stubborn you're reminding me of a certain patient who you love scolding." He grows chillingly still at her words, and again a thought tingles in her mind that there's something she's missing but she presses it aside and pushes him down into the seat.

He doesn't put up a fight, going a little too easily.

"Open your shirt."

He stares at a point on the wall across the room, not responding to her command at all at first and then he looks up at her with dark eyes. She swallows deeply, raising a single brow.

When he continues to look at her without obeying her instructions she grows impatient, repeating herself, "Come on open your shirt I need to clean the wound."

Still he doesn't react and she carelessly tosses the supplies on the table, reaching out with steady fingers to unbutton his starched white shirt. He discarded the jacket earlier, so there are less layers obstructing her way. His face is unreadable as she grabs the smooth button and slips it through the hole, she gets two buttons undone before reaching the center of his chest and as if jolting back to life he suddenly grabs her hand halting her movement.

She stares at him in question, hands still on the button before he sighs at her, "I can do it myself." There's a tightness in his jaw that she can't explain and she has to stomp out the desire to run a finger across that sharp jawline.

"Okay. You do it."

Looking away she tries to give him some space but the sounds of him undressing capture her full attention and she feels her eyes shifting back captivated by the fluid motion of those dangerous hands. Knowing what they are capable of does nothing to douse the fire under her skin. Frustratedly he has a thin white shirt under the dress shirt and she can only faintly see his toned body through the material. She stares harder willing herself to develop x-ray vision, unfortunately those powers do no manifest.

"Surely I don't need to get shirtless right?" He inquires with a smug air and she glares at him, they've been playing this game for a while now. Longer than two adults should be as far as she's concerned.

In lieu of responding she picks up a fluffy cotton ball and saturates it in alcohol before dabbing at the blood on the nape of his neck, as she swipes higher he hisses at the sting and she remembers what her father would do for her when she was young and had scraped her knee. Leaning over his shoulder she puckers her lips and blows, cooling the burn.

She continues this until the cotton is soaked from the dried blood and alcohol and blowing one final time she draws back, this time she feels smugness simmering in her belly. His eyes are blown and pointedly looking away from her, she notices his tight knuckle grip on the seat of the chair as well.

"I'm all done." She announces moving away walking to the small garbage in the corner of the room. His breaths are loud in the quiet of the room, her heart echoes in tandem. Taking a deep breath she speaks without turning around, "You remember where the clothes are right? Get changed so we can drink."

She moves to the fridge to take out the platters of food they had purchased at the market earlier and the bottles of makgeolli, it was that kind of night.

He looks soft and harmless when he comes back out in a large knit sweater, without gel his hair flops across his smooth forehead and she's still not used to this sight, there's a level of domesticity that she's never had with another person. A man.

"I'll go change too." She whispers sidestepping around him, her hands brushing against his.

It's easy to get lost in their escape, slamming back gulp after gulp of the strong cloudy rice wine until her thoughts start to blur and she doesn't know what she's saying out loud and what's only privy to her brain.

When she hears herself monologuing her thoughts as she had ran into his arms in the underpass all she can do is scream internally, she can blame the alcohol but only for lowering her inhibitions really, it hadn't manifested the thoughts.

He looks stricken and oddly amused by her musings until she tells him to get up. That smile is wiped clean off his handsome face.

"I need to test it. Come on stand up." His reluctance is noted but unable to deny her once more he stands, a long suffering look on his face.

She tells him her plan, it sounds crazy even to her but for some reason he doesn't refuse or question her at all. Agreeing to all her stipulations and she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not an Italian stallion.

Ten seconds.

That should be enough to hold her over tonight after he leaves her alone. If she can't lay beside him she needs a tiny piece of him.

Taking a running start she dashes across the small distance, slamming into his hard chest enjoying the juxtaposition of his solid body through the soft sweater. He smells amazing, even without his clothes that expensive cologne still lingers on his skin and she nuzzles into his shoulder. Curling her arm around his body she drags him tighter against her chest, her nipples pebbling with the close contact.

It's been longer than ten seconds and she knows she should stop.

But she really really doesn't want to.

Twisting onto his other side she prepares to let go, already regretting it but her sober thoughts are now pushing to the surface and she realizes what this looks like. Peering up at his face she expects to see that unreadable face again, he's annoyingly good at hiding his true emotions it makes her second this all the time.

Her insides churn when she sees the very face she expected. So she detaches and takes a step back prepared to dismiss this whole ordeal, the words denying her feelings for him already on her tongue when the biting sound of wood scraping against the floor fills the room. Jumping a little at the noise she glances over to the direction of the sound and sees his hands holding the chair in a punishing grip. He immediately releases the object at her glance but it's too late, she's already connected the pieces.

"You're holding back." She confidently states stepping back into the space she'd only just abandoned.

She doesn't ask why, that much is all too obvious.

I didn't want you to get hurt.

Being with him will put her in danger she's seen enough mafia movies to know that friends and love ones are always the first to be taken as leverage. So he'd decided all on his own that this, couldn't be and she was better off without him.

"Stupid idiot." She tries her best to repeat those explosive words with the same emphasis he's used when he had spat her in face not too long ago, watching with satisfaction as surprise shrouds his face as the Italian glides off her tongue. She'd been practicing for a while now, mostly curses words.

Fanculo, was still a favorite. What a fun way to say fuck.

She doesn't give him a chance to question her sudden switch in languages, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, even more so than the hug they'd just shared.

"We're supposed to share everything, even passion." She boldly declares watching with fascination as he still tries to hold on to his semblance of control, the chair squeaks loudly under his hold and she lunges forward putting them both out of their misery.

It feels like coming home.

If your home was a sauna built on an active volcano.

Unlike their hug earlier this time there's no hesitation as soon as her lips touch his liquor moist ones he's already opening up and devouring her tongue. His immediate response makes her hungry for more, peeling his lips open with her teeth she sucks the remnants of the wine from his mouth, eagerly lapping and searching for more. He grunts at the rough treatment but doesn't back off, rather he sinks those capable hands into the depths of her hair caressing her scalp as he tugs at her head, tilting her to the right and moving instantly to the left slotting them even closer together.

The sound of their kissing is messy and loud, echoing in the still of the night.

She breaks apart with sloppy pop, gasping for air and his flushed red face greets her looking every bit as wrecked as she feels.

"Already regretting it?" He teases with an edge that's a bit too real and she yanks him forward, pressing him down into the chair and crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs and their cores meeting through torturous layers. She's burning hot and moist where he's aching hard and rigid.

"Regretting waiting this long." She replies in a clear challenge waiting to see what he'll do.

"We shouldn't do this, partners is enough. You're already in enough danger as is, if they find out that we're..."

He trails off unable to finish the sentence but his clenched jaw speaks volumes. She chuckles coyly from her spot in his lap.

"What? What are we doing? What do you wish we were doing Mr. Vincenzo Cassano? Fucking? " She grinds down into his groin simultaneously and instantly he grips her hips, halting her movement with a bruising hold.

"You're playing with fire." He warns her, she can hear the metallic click of his ever present lighter at his words.

She should be scared of him, he was a world apart from what she was used to even when she'd been working with Babel, manipulation and bribery those things she could do without batting an eye but murder and torture? She'd had never done anything like this before, never. Not until this Italian Korean enigma had walked into her life and shaken it up like a margarita in a mixer. Was she making the right decision? She had no idea, right and wrong had become blurred a long time ago for her. All she knew was that the idea of not kissing him for another second made her want to pull her own hair out.

"I trust you not to burn me up. Too badly."

His eyes flash dangerously at her words and this time he's the one to initiate this kiss, cupping her head gently and dragging her into a sweeter embrace, a simmering heat now licking at her skin. She moans softly as he slips a wet tongue into her mouth, stroking at her back before pushing his hands up the back of her shirt, his hands are sweltering hot on her naked skin and she arches at the rough touch. They kiss languidly breaking apart only to come back together, each kiss wetter and more mind numbing than the last. With soft suckles to her bottom lip he pulls away, she stares at his soft smile as she chases after his retreating lips. Not ready to stop yet. She won't be ready for a long time.

He glowers at her and she waits impatiently for his next move, with strong arms he lowers her onto the table dishes clanging as he shoves them to the side laying her down like she's his last meal. She expels a loud breath allowing herself to be placed on the table, gasping as he stands looming over her.

"I'm the one in the mafia so why am I terrified of you?" He whispers too honestly, looking devastated as he stares at her helplessly all too ready to bolt.

"You don't want to get hurt."

He stares at her with liquid eyes emotions all but spilled across his face, with a whimper he closes the distance between them once more with her guiding hand on his back, this time they meet in the middle surrendering to the flames.

[neonponders]

👀 👀 👀 👀  Oh jesus oh lord. Deeper Than Skin is finished so I’ll enable another wip.

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I hope you don’t mind me using your tags on this vampire!Billy / blood donor!Steve post as inspiration! Your brain is just too big for me not to pass up an opportunity to write vampire shenanigans.

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve didn’t judge people who worked as donors—

Fine, as an adult with a better awareness and compassion, Steve didn’t judge donors. He might’ve said some shitty things to Jonathan Byers when he worked to make his family extra money.

Honestly? Steve admired that. Jonathan being underage and having the guts to figure out how to get into the donation clinic, and then to let…

Steve knew he was a coward in a lot of ways. He knew it when he called Jonathan a queer who enjoyed leeches sucking on him. He knew it when he lost to the punches Byers threw. For a skinny, half empty blood bag, the guy could really hit. And Steve knew it when he almost ran away from Nancy and Jonathan fighting off the rogue vampire who kidnapped little Will Byers.

But Steve didn’t run away.

Just like he didn’t run away from the couch he sat on with his mother while his father explained…a situation that left Steve digging deeper and deeper into the gap between fear and bravery. Maybe call it disassociation. Or confused shock.

“You what?”

Harrington senior never took well to being interrupted. But he sighed from across the coffee table and reiterated, “The family is in debt.”

“No. You. You’re in debt. This is your problem.”

The man certainly didn’t take well to having his own mistakes shoved under his nose. “This isn’t for debate. This is the way things are and need to be.”

“No,” Steve repeated like a broken record clinging onto its song. “This is your fault. Who’s made me work minimum wage jobs to teach me a lesson? Who’s refused to pay for me to go to community college? Who hasn’t let me work in their company? And who made the shitty gambles with your company’s stocks? You shoved me out, so it’s definitely not my problem—”

“The contract has already been signed.”

Now his mother shifted her posture on the couch beside him. “Excuse me?”

Steve’s father moved his blunt nails over the armrest of his wingback, fidgeting. At least something put fear into the old bastard’s heart.

“There’s nothing I could do. The market has been evolving ever since vampires gained their rights and opened up their decades and centuries old bonds—”

“Vampire legislation passed over a century ago,” Mrs. Harrington purred. Sometimes the worst anger was the quiet kind. “You have no excuse. You lost the game, and you sold our son. Is that what we’re to believe?”

“That’s not possible,” Steve intercepted. “Slavery isn’t a thing anymore. Even I picked that up in history. And I would have to be there to sign the contract! It’s my—”

“Steve,” his father silenced. “When enough money is involved, anything is bought. And you’re not like anyone else.”

Mrs. Harrington fumed, “Do not talk to him like he’s a prize pony!”

“Except to a wealthy vampire, he is.”

Steve could only sit in weighted silence for a moment. He always joked to himself that he’d be disowned one of these days. For being a disappointment. For all of his bad grades. For giving his friends alcohol and cigarettes. For only being able to get jobs that required no qualifications or experience level at all. For discovering he liked kissing boys at the grimy music venues Robin took him to. Maybe living at home for too long. Or leaving the smell of burnt pancakes in the air too often because he always struggled with the first one—

“Vampire?” he croaked. For some reason it hadn’t dawned to him until now but…shit.

Holy shit.

Steve wasn’t being sold off to be some billionaire’s secretary for life. He was being…truly sold. Like…goodbye, Steve, who likes spring nights and summer mornings. His favorite food is breakfast and he wishes he kept with the music lessons his mom paid for instead of being peer pressured into sports. Whose best friend was Robin Buckley because she was brave and funny and stuck with him during his ironic and a little bit terrifying queer awakening…

Hello, Donor 0235. Blood type O. Allergic to nickel and checks off all vaccination requirements.

“Steve’s not wrong,” his mother echoed like a voice deep in a cave, drawing Steve out of his thoughts. “He is the one to sign the contract. Not you.”

“He is still classified as our dependent and on our insurance,” his father refused.

“So being an adult means nothing in this country?”

“They have our family records, Annette!” he exclaimed. “There is a dual government in this country even if nobody below upper-middle class sees it. The human government had to cede a great deal because the vampire population is massive. And they’ve kept track of all the Sanguis families! Name changes, and two World Wars did nothing to save us—”

“The what?” Steve all but whispered.

His mother rotated her hips to face him. “We only have legends about how it happened. Paleolithic gods making deals, vampires crossbreeding humans to make a certain kind of blood donor, human evolution after symbiotic deals were struck—but that doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people in this world with abilities that preserve themselves against vampires. That’s why you healed in less than two days after that silly fight by the movie theatre.”

His father intercepted, “The genes skipped your mother but fell to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened as his mother confirmed, “To protect us, girls have been promoted in the family tree for generations. Through marriage, their names could change, and make them harder to track.”

Steve countered toward his father, “So this really isn’t your place to sign my life away. Like five times over.”

“I quite agree,” his mother turned back to the man she’d married. The man who was supposed to protect her and her children with his name and promising, growing business.

At least Steve wasn’t the only failure in the family.

His father massaged his forehead and defended, “As I said. Humans’ government is far easier to corrupt our way into forgiving any debt. The vampires, however, are inconsolable. The bastard would have my business, the cars, our house, and taken his time discovering Steve on his own if I hadn’t—”

Steve took after his father, but he was his mother’s son as they both stood up from the couch, furious that this man had thrown his own kid under a vampire’s bus—

“Get out of the house, Steve.”

His head whipped around at her. “I-What?”

“Get out of the house,” she seethed, but not at him. “I don’t care where or what you do. Go.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice but he hadn’t managed to grab his car keys or his shoes before the house and his ribcage trembled with his parents’ arguing. He went in his socks outside and put the shoes on in his car.

Then…he didn’t know where to go. Running the hell away seemed like the obvious solution, but if vampires really had such a network, what was the point? And if he left, what would happen to his mom?

Steve drove on autopilot to the video rental store. Robin. All he had was Robin, who took the lollipop out of her mouth when the bell on the door twittered. “Hey, dingus, it’s your day off—Steve?”

He couldn’t really remember driving. That probably should have raised more red flags than he already had, but for now, the black and neon carpeting of the Family Video was blurring and swirling…

“I’m gonna throw up,” he heard himself say.

And Robin in that distant, echoing cave his mother had spoken from, “Outside! STEVE!”

[peralta-guaranteed]

i randomly remembered when enzo broke his arm around a year ago, i know it sounds mean but could you possibly do one of mac/maya doing the same (nothing major to cause it)

"It's okay." Amy hears herself repeat the phrase for probably the hundredth time now. "It's okay." It's probably supposed to calm them all down, all three adults and one little crying, screaming boy in the car, but it's barely working.

"It's not!" Jake hisses into her direction, the fear and panic and worry in his eyes more than obvious as he clutches Mac's head against his shoulder some more, tightens the grip around his back.

"It's gonna be, though." Rosa says from the driver's seat in front - she was clearly the calmest of all of them after what happened, so she'd grabbed Amy's purse, pulled their car keys out of it, and then pushed all three of them into the backseat before starting the car. And now she was making her way to the emergency wing of the hospital at about 15mp/h higher than allowed in the inner city. "The arm's broken, but not in a bad way. It's gonna heal."

"How can a bone break in a good way?" Asks the man who once stated that as long as his blood was still inside him, things were obviously good. Mac starts wailing a little louder in his arms.

"You're stressing him out." Rosa states, matter-of-fact, before slowing down just a little before a right turn so the kid in Jake's arms doesn't get jostled too much.

"It hurt." Mac sniffles and looks over at Amy with the reddest, most tear-filled eyes she's ever seen, and it takes a lot not to cry with him.

"It's gonna be okay, peanut. The doctors like uncle Jorge are going to fix it." She tries to calm him, and maybe Jake a little bit, who nods and scratches through Mac's hair like he does when he's trying to lull him into sleep.

-*-

They make it to the emergency room in record time, frankly, and if Rosa's rushed past some traffic lights and speed radars, Amy's not going to complain once the tickets come in the mail.

A bored-looking nurse informs them that there’s only enough space for one parent in the room during the x-ray and the cast and treatment, and Jake wants to debate for the first time in his life, because that’s obviously bullshit, but Amy puts a hand on his arm and then lifts Mac out of them.

“Sit with Rosa”, she says in that voice she’s started using after Mac, that mom-voice that’s always right, “Calm down, and we’ll be back before you know it. And it’s all going to be fine.”

She’s off with the crying toddler and nurse before Jake can really protest, and Rosa is already sitting in a corner of the waiting area, so he drops down next to her instead and buries his head in his hands.

“Dude, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Kids hurt themselves all the time. He’s gonna bounce back like always.”

“I broke his arm, Rosa.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as the weight of that statement settles. Rosa gives up her nonchalant pose to lean forward as well, trying to get into Jake’s field of vision, but it’s kinda hard when he’s staring down onto the floor.

“You did not.” She hisses. “Jake, you didn’t. He fell. He was climbing. It happens.”

“I helped him up on that tower, he’s too little for it-”

“It’s on the playground, he was gonna go for it eventually-”

“I was right next to him-”

“So were Amy and I-”

“You were talking-”

“So at least you were paying better attention-”

“I coulda grabbed him, I shoulda-”

“You did what you could, immediately and without question. It’s not your fault the kid drops faster than a cannonball.” Rosa ends their little squabble, and the old lady across them lets out a little harrumph, but Rosa shoots her the deadliest glare she can muster, which means a lot. “You were over there in a flash, Jake, I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

“Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t good enough.” He mumbles into his hands, rubbing across his face and his hair that’s already a mess. Rosa watches him for a moment, and calculates. Pieces together the evidence, like she does as a detective, and comes to a solution that most people probably won’t like, but those usually get her results.

“Do you want to leave?” She asks, and he looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Amy’s got it under control, she told you. It’s probably gonna take a while, anyway, we can dip out for a drink to calm down and come back and they’ll be none the wiser.”

“Are you insane?!” Jake hisses back now, giving her exactly the reaction she’d expected. “I’m not going to leave my son in the hospital to go to a bar-”

He stops and stares at her, and it seems like his own detective brain is finally catching up with his panicked dad brain, because he sees what she’s doing. So she nods.

“You’re still good. You’re still better.” She says, and they don’t need to mention who he’s better than. It was the first of his stories that he told her, after he hurt something in his wrist at the academy - how that wrist never really healed right anyway, not since he was 5 and Bobby Linder drove over it with his tricycle by accident and his mom had to rush him to the hospital and his dad asked ‘what is that?’ with beer on his breath when he showed him the cast later. They’d known each other for barely a month back then, and Rosa was still refusing to think of anyone as her friend, but the way he’d looked at his wrist in its bandage and smiled the most broken smile she’d ever seen had set something off in her head. Something that yelled Protect at her every time he mentioned his dad later, something that made her threaten Roger Peralta with one of her knives after their graduation when Jake was in the bathroom ‘real quick’, but she knew he was hiding in there so no one could see his hands shake. Good thing Rosa never gave a damn about going into the men’s toilets anyway, because she sure as hell went after him when Roger had dipped out as usual.

She watches Jake’s tense shoulders drop with another sigh.

“Being better doesn’t make me good. That bar is set so fucking low.”

“I’m not having this entire discussion with you again, Peralta. We’ve been through this way too many times anyway. You. are. a. good. dad. One accident doesn’t change that.”

“Okay.” He nods, and she can tell he’s trying to imprint her words into his brain, so she continues.

“Mac’s going to hurt himself, and others are going to hurt him, and things are gonna go bad sometimes. You’ll probably be back here in the hospital a few times, considering how much he seems to love danger. And it’s going to be okay, just like Amy said, because you’re going to be there, and you’ll help him through it, and take care of him while he heals.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, and Rosa leans closer to him some more, and finally gets into his field of vision.

“And you’re not going to even think, for one second, that you could be anywhere as bad of a father as that piece of shit. And you’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad.”

He nods a third time, and she remembers how he jokingly told her once, after a few drinks, that the little screaming voice of conscience in his head always alternates between either Amy’s voice or her voice. She hopes she’s given him some new tracks to replay if he needs to.

“Thank you, Rosa.” He says, and leans back in the most uncomfortable chair either of them have sat in, and they’ve both been to prison. He tilts over when she leans back too, lands his head on her shoulder, and she doesn’t shrug him off for once. She can have a soft spot for the Santiago-Peraltas when no one else is there to see, she supposes.

“You looked like you wanted to punch out that nurse.” She says with a quick grin, and hears him snort.

“Was thinking about it. Not enough space for two parents, what kind of bullshit is that?!”

“You couldn’t throw a proper punch anyway.”

“Hey, I know how to hit people. I trained to do it just as much as you.”

They share a giggle as the exhaustion and stress of the last hour flows out of them, and the old lady across them seems mildly shocked rather than annoyed by now, but who cares.

-*-

Amy comes back with Mac in her arms an hour later, and they’re both all smiles. Mac sports an impressive new sticker collection on his shirt, and a lollipop that’s painting his lips orange. (Amy’s have a slight tint to them as well.)

The cast on his arm is bright green, and he carefully lifts it to show Jake as he switches from his Mama’s arms into his. (Jake had jumped up from his chair so fast he almost threw Rosa, who was also getting up, to the ground.)

“Like ninja!” he says around the lollipop, and Amy wipes a bit of spit away before it can drop on Jake’s shirt.

“Yeah, just like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, buddy.” Jake nods because of course he understands his kid’s train of thought better than anyone else, and kisses Mac’s temple, stays there a second longer for that perfect toddler scent, even as it’s mixed with hospital disinfectant and playground mud.

“Look, RoRo!” Mac yells into his ear and leans over to show Rosa as well. “Turtle shell!”

“That’s pretty cool, dude.” Aunt RoRo answers as she inspects the cast to see if it’s well done or if she has to go back there and punch out a nurse herself. “Let’s get you three home.” She says after concluding that the cast is acceptable enough to let the poor hospital workers alone.

-*-

She was planning to drop them off, park their car and then head for the precinct where her bike is waiting for her, but Amy invited her up for some coffee for ‘her nerves’, and Jake offered dinner as a thanks, and Mac absolutely needed to show her the new toy he got in that package from abuela, and then suddenly she’s on a playmat on the floor for an hour after Chinese takeout and pretending to be a Ninja Tortoise or whatever. That soft spot is gonna be more trouble than it’s worth, she thinks for a second before Mac smiles at her as his Jedi figure shoots lasers at her turtle doll, and immediately realises it’s worth so much more than any trouble. Mac looks at his cast a little worried, whenever he thinks no one is watching him, and god, could he be any more like his dad? At least she and Amy already have a good instructions booklet on how to handle him, in that case.

“That green cast is pretty cool.” She says when she catches him look once more. “But you know what would make it even cooler? Drawings.”

“Drawies? On my arm?”

“Yeah, buddy. We can draw on it with a sharpie.”

He’s up and running to Amy, asking for a sharpie, in no time at all and yep, he is just as easily distracted as his dad. Mac grins wide and unworried now as he climbs on Jake’s lap on the couch, asks Amy to draw something when she returns with a set of markers, calls Rosa over to draw something too.

Amy does a little bear, his favourite animal at the moment. Rosa does a rocket ship and a pirate ship, the two best ships in the world, as they both agree. Jake does a Ninja Turtle cartoon face yelling PIZZA!, which is obviously Mac’s absolute favourite the moment it’s done.

When Jake wants to cap the Sharpie after his work of art, Mac grabs his hand and pulls it back down. “Steady, peanut. Don’t wanna scribble over Aunt RoRo’s cool ship, right?” He says with a grin over to her as she rolls her eyes. Mac’s already tried to cover several walls, most of his storytime books, and the kitchen table with his drawings as soon as he’s handed any sort of writing tool, so Jake won’t let go of the marker just to be safe, but he does let Mac’s little hand guide his big one as he makes him draw a wonky heart, right on the cast over the back of his hand, and then places a kiss on the same place on Jake’s hand.

You’re not going to believe, whatever anyone says, that Mac doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you as a dad the little Rosa voice in Jake’s head repeats as he smiles at her, and she actually smiles back.